Jimmy Carter, a man of the people.

I have always felt Jimmy Carter and I had a link since we were both born on October 1, albeit 17 years apart.  Same zodiac and all that, you know.  Libra which is the scales.  According to a site on the Internet  called "getsmarter.com" that I am quoting  "Typical Libras are talkative individuals who value fairness, beauty, culture, diplomacy and balance, states Astrology.com. They're also deep thinkers who like to spend time contemplating harmony and strategizing about things which they feel impassioned."

Jimmy Carter came on the scene while we were still reeling from Richard Nixon, Watergate, Gerald Ford and a financial crisis like never before seen.  Ford had fairly well stabilized the nation, but we were looking for an honest face to put forward and who better than a peanut farmer from Plains, Georgia?  He walked to the White House and we all knew we had a down to earth country boy in power.  One month later he was white headed!  The real world was upon him.  But he tried.  His time in office was one of good will and the only fault they could find with him was that in an interview he had stated that he may have committed adultery "in his heart", because to look at a woman with lust in his heart was to commit adultery in his heart.  We have come a long way since then!

The Carter years were, in my opinion, years of innocence and hope for the future.  As I recall President Carter did not do a lot to change the world during his 4 years, but he was honest and a very religious man.  There was never any doubt that he was a God fearing man.  And when he left office he immediately went into public service.  One of his favorites was Habitat for Humanity.  In that he worked tirelessly.  There are so many things he did that showed God in his life.  I am ill equipped to find words that do justice to this man who has battled cancer for many years and never stopped his hammer.  It is a way of life with him.

There is one man who impressed me with an article he wrote about Jimmy Carter.  His name is Leonard Pitts, Jr. and he writes for the Miami Herald.  He was kind enough to let me share his link with you so you can read what he wrote.  I thank him for that! He is so much better at expressing my feelings than I am!     Click here for Leonard Pitts, Jr. article.

What a wonderful week it was!

Obamacare, commonly known among those in the know as "The Affordable Care Act,"  stands as is.  After a massacre in Charleston of 9 Blacks in a church, the Rebel flag has been removed from the flagpole at the Capital.  And discrimination for my gay comrades has ended and they are free to marry.  Imagine that!  I took up the banner of gay rights over 30 years ago, so this was a real victory to me.

Of course, with the SCOTUS ruling, comes the "Bible Thumpers."  Relax!  I am one myself.  I tout the Bible to anyone that will listen.  I preach love, understanding, forgiveness, acceptance, kindness, and truth.  But being on social media, there is always an opinion and a lot of links to prove a point.  So it upset me yesterday when a link was posted to "prove by the Bible" that gays can not only not marry, but as near as I can tell, not exist and will burn in hell!  To this I will hit the unfriend button every time.

I have lived and worked along side some of the sweetest people in the world who happen to be gay.  30 years ago, when I took up this banner, I knew there would be no turning back.  And I haven't.  My God made my gay friends just exactly as they are.  My God does not make mistakes.  The Old Testament is full of all kinds of things you can not do.  You can not eat shell fish, nor the cloven hoof, and if your brother dies without leaving any children you have to marry his wife and carry on his seed.  But that is the Old Testament.  All things are now new.

I was a care giver through the height of the AIDS epidemic and still volunteer with Southern Colorado AIDS Project (although it has a different  name now).  I was there when the Privacy Act was being implemented.  I was there to hold frail bodies as they left this world.  I was there when they thought AIDS could be caught by touching.  I was there as a shoulder to lean on or as a whipping post for someone lashing out at mans inhumanity to man.  I was there when the medicines were being introduced that have now changed the death sentence of AIDS to a manageble condition.  And through it all, the one group we could always count on for support of a financial nature or a shoulder to lean on when we were tired was the gay community.

The gay community that was called names because they were different.  Because a woman loved a woman or a man loved a man.  Hated in the name of love!  Does that sound like a Godly person to you?  "Judge not lest ye be the judge."  I am proud to be who I am, a straight woman with a whole lot of gay friends.  I am proud to set beside my gay friend in church because I know if I need something, he will be there!

So today I will go worship my God.  My God who accepts me as I am.  My God who loves all people and I will thank the Surpreme Court Of The United States for being unbiased and showing me that , yes there is justice in this world and right does sometimes win.

High Tea Time!!

It is once more that time of year.  The date is  May 9 at 228 Evans Avenue  for the Second Annual High Tea at First Congregational United Church of Christ.  It is one of our favorite fundraisers and  many people really look forward to it.  The ladie's and the gentlemen like to put on thier hats and head over for an afternoon of fun, companionship and gastronomical delights.

This year Jerome will be delighting us with some classical pieces on his violin.  As I understand it, Beth will be his page turner!  Nice when people pull together.

Now these look like some rowdy women here!

Just a little sampling of what is in store for your enjoyment.

Last year we had Pastor Jeannine to help serve and she will be sorely missed this year, but I am sure she is peeking down and cheering us on.  Gone, but not forgotten.

So, here is the deal.  I need to know if you are coming!  Give me a call at 719-546-1555 and let me know.  You can pay for the tickets at the door, but I do need a head count by May 3.  It starts at 2:00 and tickets are $20.00.  I would love to see you there.

Click here for video of last year's tea.

Lou Mercer 719-546-1555

Let me be clear on this poverty thing.

Maybe we are getting lost in semantics here if indeed semantics is the word I want.  I very much appreciate the comments I am receiving when I write about my childhood.  "Oh, grandma, so sorry."  "I just never knew how hard you had it."  "This is so very sad,"  The thing is here, I did not have it bad.  Granted we were poor, but back in the times I grew up in, most people were.  We may have been poorer then most, but there were families living in box cars and chicken coops and eating less than we did.  While I never knew these people, I knew of them.  That was enough.

My mother was there and my father was there.  My sisters and brother were there.  My family.  What I remember most about growing up was not what we ate or did not eat, only that we survived.  We survived and moved on to better times, but we survived.  We grew up playing "Kick the Can". "Blind Man's Bluff, " and "Red Rover, Red Rover."  We could always drag enough kids together to play something and when darkness fell and the streetlight came on over on the other corner, we better get for home.

Clod fights were common place and we needed to use our good common sense when choosing a clod out of a plowed field to lob at someone.  If it was too soft, it fell apart in the air.  If it was too hard it could do some real damage.  Of course, it it was too big and too hard it could kill some one.  As you see we all survived to adulthood and in that day and age, that in itself was a miracle.

I remember setting on the side of a dirt road in my little cotton dress and my bare feet trying to build an ant hill for an ant I had found that I thought was an orphan.  I remember pulling dead wood off of a Cottonwood Tree and lighting it on fire and then blowing on it to keep it burning because I thought it would pass as punk for a fire cracker in case I ever found one of those.

I remember wading in the Arkansas River and the water was so clear I could watch minnows swimming.  I could cup my hands and drink it.  And I could lay in the cool water and then jump up and run home in the warm sun and be dry when I got there.  I was brown as a berry .  Of course I was barefooted!  We got new shoes in the fall when school started and when we grew out of them we passed them down.  I have a closet full of shoes now, but I still long for the days when shoes were an option.

I remember setting on the front yard with my brother and listening to the Grand Ole Opry from WSM in Nashville, Tennessee!  I remember Minnie Pearl and Roy Acuff and a host of others.  I remember stars so bright they were diamonds in a black sky and a moon that lit up the yard like a spotlight.

I remember so much that I have no words for most of it and that is what I am trying to get across here; not the poverty, but it has to be told because it was what it was.  So when I tell you about something, try to see past that to the lesson that is there.

Making soap was how we got soap,  Times are different.  Now if you want soap, you go buy it, but it was not always that way.  We rendered out fat because we needed lard.   We played our little games because that is what we passed time on our way to adulthood.  We had a checker board instead of an XBox.  We played Dominoes instead of turning on a television or booting up the computer.

I grew up in the best of times and I am going to continue to tell you about them.  There was a time that poverty was an inconvenience, but never a time it caused me to lose my zest for life.  It was a time to be gotten through and a time to be thankful when it was over, but there is not a childhood memory in this head of mine that is dominated by poverty.  Poverty was for the people we saw pictures of that were guant and sad looking with a look of silent pleading in thier eyes, not for those Bartholomew kids at 709 Strong Street in Nicherson< Kansas!

PEACE!!

Oh, damn it anyway!!

Today I decided to pick up the phone and call the credit card that I had charged when I got tires for the Ford before I sold it.  My intent was to pay the card off so I did not have to worry about it any more.  So I dialed the 1-800 number and waited.  Soon a voice came on the line  instructing me to "press 1 for English."

Wait a minute!  Press 1 for English?  Who are we kidding here?  Where am I?  Am I not in America, the land of the free and the home of the brave?  The land where the Constitution is written in English.  The Bill of Rights is in English.  The Declaration of Independence is written in English.  My President speaks to me on the television in English.  Press 1 for English?  I think not.

I hung up the phone.  Of course I called back later and pressed 1 for English because I did want to pay the bill, and English is the only language I know.  So here I set tonight wondering if I am unreasonable?  I hear about minorities and I now think I must be the minority.  If I had not pressed English, what language would I have gotten?  The voice did not mention any other language,  just told me to  press 1 for English.

Now, as I think about it, a lot of things have changed and I just did not notice.  I was talking to my son this evening and learned he had lost his cell phone for some reason and he needed to make a call.  There are no pay phones, or so he says and I have no reason to doubt him.  I know there used to be pay phones every block or so, but now I try to think if I have seen one and I don't think so.  Not much need for them when everyone has a cell phone stuck in their ear.

I know vinyl records, 8 track tapes, and cassette players have all been replaced by MP3 players and Lord only knows what else.  Cars have camera's to see behind you when you reverse the car.  Wifi is every where.  Money has been replaced with a plastic card.  Theaters are about a thing of the past.

I long for the good old days when we hung our clothes on the line to dry.  A night on the town consisted of a trek up the long stair way to the second floor to dance at the "Crystal Ballroom"  where the big shiny ball hung above our heads and caught the light as it spun slowly around.  I always thought it was magic.  All the songs were in English.

I know our world is changing and apparently I did not get the memo when English was made a secondary language and I had to press 1 to hear it.  My food has been genetically modified so much that I can leave a tomato on the counter for a month and it looks the same as the day I put it there.  I can leave a loaf of bread on the counter and it just sets there until I either eat it or throw it out.  Can't even make penicillin out of it.  My 7 year old grandson has hair under his arms thanks to growth hormones in the meat products we eat. Technology is such that news from around the world is in my front room 3 minutes later.  I have come to accept this as normal, but press 1 for English just might be the straw that broke this old camels back!

Ah, the innocence of youth, or Santa Claus is coming to town.

Do you remember the innocence of youth?  I mean your youth?  Remember when the world was fresh and new and every discovery was a miracle like a flower opening before you.?  Growing up was fun and each day taught us something new.  I think I was probably in the third or Fourth grade when I discovered there was a world outside of Nickerson, Kansas.  Back then life was dirt roads, playing in the creek and waiting for Momma to get home and feed us.  There was no television to watch at our house.  The radio was for listening to the stock market report so dad would know how much the wheat would bring.  At some point in time I recall the President of the United States talking to us in what was known as "a fireside chat."  That was fun and we always set around the pot bellied stove and listened.  Made it seem like we were right there with him.  And we always slept better after he reassured us that the nation was in good shape and better days were coming.  Seems he promised us a chicken in every pot, or something like that.
It seems in my mind that I can remember Roosevelt talking.  I also clearly remember hearing the words "The war is over!"  I can clearly see us setting around the radio in the last home we owned in Nickerson.  I know looking back, that this is not the case.  Roosevelt gave his last fireside chat in 1944.  I would have been 3 years old.  World War II ended in 1945 when I would have been 4 years old.  We did not leave the Ailmore place until I was in 2nd or 3rd grade.  So I think we no doubt listened to Roosevelt while on the Ailmore place and I transferred that in my little brain to the house we owned.  When I heard the war ended we had to be the same place.  The memories are there, just not quite like they really happened.  Or maybe I heard a re-enactment and took it as a memory.
And what does all this have to do with Santa Claus, you may ask!  Well, I have a little friend and her name is Madison.  We call her Madi.  She is 9 years old and she is beautiful.  Remember the Breck girl?  Madi has huge blue eyes, a Madonna face and a smile that is like a glimpse into heaven.  The best part of it is she has a pure innocence that almost brings me to tears.  She always hugs me and asks how I am.  Just an honest to goodness little angel that cares about all the people in her world.  And today she explained to me about Santa Claus.  Did you know he lives at the North Pole?  He spends all year making toys.  The conversation was two sided.
"Well, yeah Madi, but there is a recession going on so things aren't looking so good for you this year.  How is he going to get toys?"
"Well, he will make them."
"Well, he can't make them if he does not have money for the raw materials!"
"Well, he has money!  He has more money than anyone in the world."
"Ok, but he is old and fat, so how can he make toys for everyone in the whole world?"
"Well, Lou, he has helpers.  Do you know he can hear everything you are saying and he probably will not give you any toys.  Nothing!  Because he knows everything!  And he sees everything!"
Well, when I found out that he could hear and see everything, I acquiesced and recanted so I could get back on the good side of Santa Clause.  This made Madi happy and she thinks I may get something this year.  I sure hope she is right.  And I do so hope she maintains her beliefs as long as possible because all too soon she will be walking across the stage to get her diploma and heading out to take her place in the world.  A world that will no doubt get bigger every day for her.

Love you, Madi!

I hate the time change, but guess what I found!

I woke up this morning at 4:15 AM.  That is because I usually wake up around 5:00 AM or so.  I laid there for a while and had a little talk with God.  Then I planned my day.  I tried to sleep and may have dozed off for a bit after cussing the government for the stupid time change anyway.  I am sorry, I just do not get it.  I know they are trying to save daylight hours, but come on people, are you really buying that?  My days are 16 hours long and I am going to be in the dark on both ends of it.  I have been closing up the geese at 7:00 PM when it starts to get dusk and letting them out about 7:00 AM.  Now it will be 6:00 PM and 6:00 AM.  It will be the same degree of darkness and they do not know the time has changed.  Only I know now that the time schedule has been altered thus screwing up my whole schedule.  Like I did not have my mind in enough different places.  Hell, it was yesterday that I finally put my shorts away because I thought August was now over and I know we don't wear shorts after Labor Day.  I completely missed Columbus Day,  The State Fair, Beulah Art Sale, the turning of the Aspens,  3 of the kids birthdays and God only knows what else!
And now I set here with my muddled little mind wondering where in the hell Summer went!  Seems like only last week I was bent over tending the tender little plants and digging out the lawnmower to chop the weeds into submission.  I tried to do my "year in review" and thought it was 1997!  Ever hear that old saying, "When you are over the hill, you pick up speed?"  That is sure going on around here.  Point is I have a hard enough time with out Uncle Sam messing with my bedside clock when my internal clock has already thrown most of it's springs!
So, now I bet you are wondering what I found this morning, aren't you?  I found my shadow!  I have spent a lot of the past week flat on my back on a heating pad feeling very sorry for myself.  Must interject here that the little talk with God this morning clarified the fact that he had me down so I could think about some things that were a tad bit awry in my mind.  So after I told him I was pretty sure he was right about that, I got up and as one is wont to do first thing every morning, I headed for the bathroom.  The first switch I hit every morning is the one for the office lights.  That leaves the bathroom dark.  I opened the door and there was my shadow, waiting for me!  Funny how we forget the little things in life, isn't it?
I had probably seen that little fellow a million times over the years, but I had forgotten about it!  The poem we used to say years and years ago sprang into my mind.  It goes something like this:

My Shadow

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,

And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.

He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;

And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow—

Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india-rubber ball,

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to play,

And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way.

He stays so close beside me, he's a coward you can see;

I'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,

I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head,

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.

Source: The Golden Book of Poetry (1947),

Well, it goes exactly like that because I went to the Internet and stole it!  The thoughts that spring to my mind with this poem are always of Nickerson, Kansas.  I remember walking the dusty roads around the old home place in my bare feet.  My shadow was always with me and as my shadow grew longer it was closer to time to "go in".  Funny, we never called it going home, but always going in.  Always liked Friday and Saturday night because we could stay up late and play "Kick the can!".   Does anyone remember that?  We always had a can from some where and that was home base.  It was basically hide and go seek and when whoever was "it" found one of the hidden kids, they drug them back to jail.  Then when the "it" person went off searching for more kids someone could run to home base and kick the can, thus freeing the prisoners.  Ah, the good old days.  And for the record, I am sure mother always made us wash our feet when we came in from playing all day barefooted.  I know to this day, my feet are the one part of my body that is always clean.  Always without fail.
So here I set at the computer and I can not see my shadow.  I see my hands are making a shadow, but I must be setting on that little guy, cause he is now where to be seen.  And if I am a female, why is my shadow a "he"?

I think I will have a Vanilla Phosphate!

Does this look familiar?  Maybe not to some of you younger people, but my generation recognizes this immediately as the soda fountain at the corner drug store.  I got this off the Internet, but trust me, they all looked alike.  Best part was you could set there on that stool as long as you liked.  Vanilla Phosphate, Cherry Coke, Plain Coke; it was your choice.  And if you had a friend you could ask for 2 straws and share. We knew how to make good use of a nickle back in those days.

Our drug store set right on the corner and next door was the Berrington's  IGA  Grocery store.  Flemings grocery was on the other corner.  So you walked in the front door of the drug store and right inside the door was the magazine section.  They do not do that anymore because some one will "grab and run", but back then all the thieves were locked up!  Nothing but good people in our town.

Towards the back of the store was the pharmacy.  It had a little window that if you could reach that high, you knocked on and the druggist would ask you what you wanted.  He stayed behind a locked door and mixed your prescriptions when you handed him the slip.  I never really seen the druggist, but I know he was there because Mother told me so.

Scattered throughout the store was things you might need like crutches. gauze, heating pads, hot water bottles, mineral oil, epsom salts and other stuff to which a 10 year old girl pays no attention.  And the lady who held sway, kept order in the store, mixed the drinks at the soda fountain, and generally scared the living pee wadding out of us was a lady named Neva.  Dear Neva had been born with one eye that looked upward and to the right.  We were never sure if she could see out of this eye, but we were sure that we would do nothing wrong in case she could.

It used to be the greatest thing in the world to have the nickle and know we could go to the drug store.  I was not alone in my thirst for knowledge held by the magazines on the rack inside the door.  Back then there were a couple "rags" named Modern Romance and True Story.  Now inside these pages was some hot stuff.  It I was really fast, I could locate one of them and open to a paragraph and read about "married love" before Neva spotted me and asked "Are you gonna buy that?"  To which I always put the book back and headed for the soda fountain.

Back in those days places were clean and friendly.  I might be the only one in there and I could set for hours and dream away while twirling my straw in an empty glass.  If a customer came in, though, I knew they were getting busy and it was time to leave.  I wonder if that drug store is still there?  I may just take a trip back down memory lane some day.  It has only been 60 years, so I think it should still be there.  Probably Neva does not work there any more and I bet the new druggist does not even know what a "mortar and pestle" is. Not sure I have that right my own self!

I think I will stop by the magazine rack and see if they still have those romance magazines.  Pretty sure the price has gone up, but I would like to just peek inside and see what kind of "married" love is going on nowdays.  Until then

Keep your powder dry!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Memories are just that.

I have been promising a friend that I would bring him some Choke Cherry Jelly for over a week and once more forgot to deliver the goods.  So I was setting on the deck visiting and the subject of canning and jelly making came up which immediately turned to the good old days when we damn near starved to death.  See, back in those times it was a daily challenge to keep our rib cage seperated from our spine.  It took food to make that happen.  Course when two old people get together their main goal is to prove that thier poverty was worse then the other persons.  I usually win!  And I must confess, I have been known to lie.
We made jelly and preserves out of any kind of fruit that happened to fall from the tree.  Ever eat peach pit jelly?  Peaches were canned and peach preserves were made and then the peach pits were boiled and ended up as jelly.  Did you know peach pits contain a trace of arsenic?  I think that is right.  I am sure it is some sort of poison.  Know what to do with watermelon rinds?  Those were turned into perserves.  Apple sauce was a staple.  Apple cider was a luxury.  Ever eat carp?  Those were nasty, but after they were canned there were ways to stretch even those.  Carp is very strong, coarse and gives a whole new meaning to the word "fishy".

Brother Jake was very adept at bringing home a rabbit on occasion.  Now, I trust you know that we were always happy when it as a bunny rabbit as opposed to a Jack rabbit.  Jack rabbits are the males and are very tough and stringy and have a wild taste.  A nice little bunny is tender and actually pretty good eating.  Or at least they were back when we were growing kids.  Have not eaten one in years and the memory of what season he hunted in has dimmed so  I will bypass that fare on my table.
October 5 was my brother Jake's birthday.  He would have been 77 years old.  The one good thing about losing him is that we will forever live in my memory as a man of 28 years.  That is how I remember him.  He always wore  khaki pants and a tee shirt.  I close my eyes and see  his lopsided grin and the big scar on his cheek.  He had a habit of sucking air through a gap in his teeth.  Sometimes it was irritating, but mostly it was just Jake.
I guess it is only natural  when I think back on the growing up years  that I think of him first.  We were 4 years and 4 days apart.  When he went to the Army we wrote every week.  He introduced me to my first husband.  They were friends and stayed so until the day he died.  He did tell me once that he would understand if I did not stay with my husband, but back in those days when the wedding vows were taken they ended with "till death us do part." and were sacred vows.  But sometimes there are things worse then breaking a vow.
Jake was in a car wreck on October 30, 1965  and passed away on October 31.  October 30 was my wedding anniversary to the kids dad and my middle daughter, Dona, was born on that day in 1964.  Needless to say, this time of year is a little sad around here so I work way harder then I should and try not to put pen to paper.  Seems that when I see it in black and white, it is overwhelming.
So that having been said, I will stick my head back in the sand and head off for church.  Teresa and I are off to the Broadmoor on church business, so that should take my mind off life for a while.

I will be back soon though, to fill pages with my drivel.  Chin up!!

My ideas to the congregation at First Congregational United Church of Christ

On Sunday September 14 our minister could not make it to our service so I volunteered to assist Steve Parke by giving the sermon part of the program.  Since I have friends and family who read this and could not attend, here it is in all by the paragraphs I read from a book.  Enjoy and I hope you take something with you when you leave.  

Lou

 I THINK I SHOULD FIRST TELL YOU A BIT ABOUT MYSELF, SO YOU CAN UNDERSTAND WHERE I AM COMING FROM.  I WAS BORN LOUELLA BETH BARTHOLOMEW OCTOBER 1, 1941, TO RUEBEN AND CHRISTINE BARTHOLOMEW IN NICKERSON, KANSAS, POPULATION 1000 SOULS GIVE OR TAKE A FEW.  WE WERE SHARE CROPPERS WITH A MAN IN TOWN.  I HAD AN OLDER SISTER AND A BROTHER.  SHORTLY AFTER MY BIRTH WE WERE THROWN INTO WORLD WAR 2, BUT I DON’T REALLY THINK THAT WAS MY FAULT!   OVER THE NEXT 6 YEARS I WAS BLESSED WITH 3 MORE SISTERS.  POVERTY WAS OUR LIFE, BUT BACK IN THOSE DAYS EVERYONE WAS POOR SO IT DID NOT MATTER.  BY THE TIME I ENTERED HIGH SCHOOL, I BEGAN TO SEE THAT WHILE POVERTY WAS THE NORM, THERE WERE PEOPLE ACTUALLY CLIMBING OUT OF POVERTY AND LIVING IN MUCH BETTER HOMES THAN WE HAD.  WE HAD NO RUNNING WATER OR ELECTRICITY AND WE WERE OFTEN THE BRUNT OF JOKES.  MY BROTHER ALTERED HIS BIRTH CERTIFICATE WHEN HE WAS 16 TO MAKE HIM 18 AND OFF HE WENT TO THE ARMY, THEREBY ESCAPING THE SHARE CROPPER LIFE.

I LIVED WITH MY GRANDMOTHER AND GREAT GRANDMOTHER FOR A YEAR AND THAT WAS WHEN I LEARNED TO CROCHET AND TO READ MY BIBLE.  I WAS NOT ALLOWED TO READ LIBRARY BOOKS, ONLY THE BIBLE.  MY REQUIRED BOOK REPORT WAS ON THE BIBLE.  I WENT TO A CONGREGATIONAL CHURCH IN THE LITTLE TOWN OF PLEVNA.  I DO NOT THINK IT WAS A UCC CHURCH, BUT IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.

WE MOVED TO HUTCHINSON, KANSAS, MY SENIOR YEAR AND I IMMEDIATELY DROPPED OUT OF SCHOOL AND RAN AWAY.  I MARRIED A MAN I HAD KNOWN FOR 3 WEEKS, HAD 5 KIDS IN RAPID SUCCESSION, DIVORCED, REMARRIED REPLAYED THAT SCENARIO THREE TIMES, RAISED MY KIDS ALONE, MOVED TO COLORADO, MARRIED A COUPLE MORE TIMES AND THEN FINALLY MARRIED KENNY.  KENNY WAS A STABILIZING FORCE IN MY LIFE AND TAUGHT ME THAT I WAS A WORTHY PERSON, BOUGHT ME A HOME AND GAVE ME STABILITY THUS OPENING THE WAY FOR ME TO BE THE WOMAN I AM TODAY.    

WHEN I WAS YOUNG, CHURCH WAS MY REFUGE.  FOLLOWING MY FIRST DIVORCE, CHURCH WAS FORGOTTEN.  I DID SEND THE KIDS, BUT I DID NOT GO.  WHILE I DID NOT GO TO CHURCH, I NEVER TURNED MY BACK ON GOD.  HE WAS ALWAYS THERE AND SOME TIMES IN MY DARKEST HOURS HE WAS THE ONLY FRIEND I HAD.  I THANK HIM THAT HE WAS A BETTER FRIEND TO ME THAN I WAS TO HIM.  THERE ARE PARTS OF MY LIFE THAT I HAVE NEVER TALKED ABOUT AND NEVER WILL, BUT I STAND BEFORE YOU NOW, A WOMAN MADE OF THOSE PARTS.    I HAVE BEEN POOR SO I HELP THE POOR.  I HAVE SEEN DEATH , DYING, SICKNESS, AND MENTAL ILLNESS, SO I HOLD MY HAND OUT TO THOSE WHO NEED ME.  I HAVE BEEN JUDGED, SO I DO NOT JUDGE.  I TRY TO LISTEN AND HEAR GOD TELL ME WHERE TO GO NEXT, AND IT WORKS!  SEVERAL YEARS AGO HE LED THROUGH THE DOORS OF THIS CHURCH AND SEVERAL MONTHS BACK HE LED TERESA AND I TO BECOME YOUR MODERATOR.  DID YOU THINK ALL THAT HAPPENED BY ACCIDENT?  I THINK NOT.  I HOPE THAT IS NOT A DECISION YOU REGRET.  JUST STICK WITH ME HERE FOR A LITTLE BIT.

OUR SISTER CHURCH ACROSS TOWN IS TAKING A DIFFERENT APPROACH.  THEY WANT TO TIGHTEN THINGS DOWN, CHANGE THINGS, REWRITE THINGS AND I WISH THEM WELL ON THAT,  BUT I THINK I GOT THIS FIGURED OUT.

GOD ALSO LED ME TO VOLUNTEER AT HOSPICE.  I WORK THE ELEVENTH HOUR PROGRAM THERE.  FOR THOSE OF YOU NOT FAMILIAR WITH THE NEW HOSPICE RULES IT IS KNOWN AS SANGRE DE CRISTO HOSPICE AND PALLIATIVE CARE.  IT USED TO BE THAT IF YOU WENT INTO HOSPICE YOU WOULD BE DEAD IN 6 MONTHS.  NOT SO ANYMORE.  THE PALLIATIVE CARE IS FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HANG ON TO LIFE, TAKE THEIR MEDICINE AND HOPEFULLY GET OUT OF THE HOSPICE PROGRAM.  THAT HAPPENS A LOT, BUT THERE ARE PEOLE WHO ARE DEFINITELY DYING AND WELCOME THE JOURNEY WHILE OTHERS ARE NOT QUITE SO EAGER.  AS THEY NEAR THE END WE REFER TO IT AS THE ELEVENTH HOUR, AND THAT IS MY SPEICALTY.  I SET WITH THEM AS THEY NEAR THE NEXT JOURNEY.  SOMETIMES THEY HAVE FAMILY, BUT NOT ALWAYS AND THOSE ARE THE ONES I PREFER.  THAT WAS THE CASE WITH A MAN NAMED BILL.  HIS FAMILY ARRIVED, BUT NOT UNTIL HE WAS GONE.  HE TALKED BY PHONE WITH HIS MOTHER BEFORE HE BEGAN HIS FINAL ASSENT.   HE HAD A VERY PEACEFUL CROSSING AND THAT IS WHAT WE STRIVE FOR.

 SO I MEET PEOPLE WHO ARE TRANSITIONING FROM THIS LIFE TO THE NEXT AND NOT ALWAYS IMMEDIATELY.  ONE OF THESE IS SAMMIE .  MY FIRST CONTACT WITH SAMMIE WAS 6 HOURS, DURING WHICH HER FAMILY ATTENDED A REUNION.  SINCE SHE IS NEARING, BUT NOT QUITE THERE YET, WHE IS LUCID AND WELCOMES COMPANY.  SHE DOES HAVE A LARGE FAMILY, BUT THEY ARE VERY BUSY WITH THEIR LIVES WHICH LEAVES HER CRAVING COMPANY.  SHE IS A WOMAN WHO IS DEVOTED TO GOD AND SHE BOASTS THAT SHE HAS A DIRECT LINE TO GOD.  SO I TOLD HER ABOUT MY CHURCH AND HOW WE WERE STRUGGLING TO KEEP OUR DOORS OPEN.  SHE SAID SHE WOULD PRAY FOR US AND SHE HAS BEEN DOING THAT!  SHE IS VERY SIMPLE IN HER BELIEF AND HAS WRITTEN A SMALL BOOK WHICH HER DAUGHTER PUBLISHED FOR HER.  SHE SAID SHE WOKE UP ONE NIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND WAS DRIVEN TO WRITE ALL THIS DOWN AS IT CAME INTO HER HEAD.  IT IS SO SIMPLE THE WAY SAMMIE PUTS IT.  I WANT TO READ YOU 2 PARAGRAPHS AND THEN LEAVE THIS BOOK IN MAYFLOWER HALL FOR YOU.

PAGE 3, 2 PARAGAPHS.

 I CAN FEEL A DIFFERENCE IN THE WHOLE ATTITUDE OF OUR CHURCH SINCE SHE RATTLED THE HOT LINE TO GOD.   I THINK MOST OF US ARE JUST KIND OF PUTTING ONE FOOT IN FRONT OF THE OTHER AND PLODDING DOWN THE ROAD.  I KNOW I WAS UNTIL SAMMIE WOKE ME UP.  APATHY ACCOMPLISHES NOTHING.

WHEN YOU GET UP IN THE MORNING, DO YOU WONDER WHAT KIND OF DAY YOU WILL HAVE?   OH, CRAP, TRAFFIC IS GOING TO BE A BEAR!  AND IT IS.  I KNOW THE GROCERY STORE IS GOING TO HAVE LINES A MILE LONG.  AND IT DOES.  BET THERE WON’T BE 20 PEOPLE IN CHURCH TODAY.  AND THERE ISN’T.

SAMMIE  SCOFFS AT ME.  SHE EXPLAINS IT THIS WAY.  GOD LOVES YOU.  GOD WANTS YOU TO BE HAPPY.  IF FILLLING THE CHURCH WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY, JUST TELL HIM AND HE WILL FILL THE CHURCH, BUT YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE THAT IT WILL HAPPEN.  GOD CAN NOT DO IT BY HIMSELF.  HE NEEDS ALL OF US TO MAKE IT HAPPEN.  GOD LIVES IN ALL OF US AND WE HAVE GOT TO LET GOD SHOW THROUGH OUR FACES.  STRANGERS READ US.  IF THEY SEE US WITH OUR FACES DRAWN AND WORRIED, THEY TURN AWAY.  SOME PEOPLE MIGHT CALL IT KARMA, THE POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING, DUMB LUCK, BUT I HAVE FOUND THAT IF I HOLD REAL STILL, THE ANSWER AND THE ACTION SEEM TO POP IN MY HEAD.  AND IF I DO NOT QUESTION, BUT JUST DO WHAT THAT LITTLE VOICE (FOR WANT OF A BETTER WORD) TELLS ME, I FIND MYSELF WHERE I BELONG, DOING WHAT I SHOULD BE DOING.

WHAT I WANT US TO DO IS PRACTICE WHAT SAMMIE PREACHES!  GOD IS LOVE AND HE WANTS US HAPPY.  HE WANTS THIS CHURCH TO FLOURISH.  HE WANTS KIDS IN THE PEWS AND MONEY IN THE COFFER.  HE DOESN’T JUST WANT US TO EXIST.  HE WANTS US TO THRIVE!  HE WANTS US OUT IN THE WORLD HELPING PEOPLE.  REMEMBER THE SONG “THIS LITTLE LIGHT OF MINE?”  I’M GONNA LET IT SHINE.   AND “AS YOU HAVE DONE THIS TO THE LEAST OF THESE, MY BROTHER, YOU HAVE DONE IT TO ME.”  “IF YOU HAVE THE FAITH THE SIZE OF A MUSTARD SEED, YOU CAN SAY “MOVE” TO THE MOUNTAIN AND IT WILL MOVE”

I SAW WHAT HAPPENED WITH JOEY.  I KNOW WE CAN MAKE MIRACLES HAPPEN.  I SEE IT EVERY DAY WHEN I SEE A HUNGRY CHILD FED.  I SEE IT WHEN THE TRUNK OF MY CAR, WHICH IS FILLED BY TOWNSPEOPLE, IS EMPTIED AT LOS POBRES.   OUR CHURCH IS A WORK OF ART AND WE ARE THE CARETAKERS OF THAT ART.  LET US TRY AN EXPERIMENT FOR JUST ONE WEEK.   WHEN YOU GO TO BED EACH NIGHT, TURN ALL OF YOUR CARES OVER TO GOD.  WHEN THEY ARE TURNED OVER TO HIM, THEY ARE NO LONGER YOUR CONCERNS.  THANK HIM FOR ALL HE IS GOING TO DO BOTH IN YOUR LIFE AND IN OUR CHURCH.  THANK HIM FOR BRINGING NEW PEOPLE TO OUR CHURCH.  THANK HIM FOR GIVING YOU WISDOM AND THE WORDS TO SPREAD HIS GOSPEL.  DO NOT WONDER IF HE WILL,  BUT RATHER   ASSUME HE IS ALREADY ON IT.  THEN SMILE AT YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR, CRAWL IN YOUR BED AND GO TO SLEEP!  IT IS NOW IN GODS HANDS! 

The Pines at Beulah, to die for.

Loaded my friend Nancy in the car today and headed West across the beautiful Beulah Valley to my favorite place in the whole world, The Stompin' Grounds Coffee shop on Main Street.

Yep, the sign was still there!

Little Jan was still inside!

The refrigerator was still covered with bumper stickers!

And up the road was the thing that had brought me to Beulah in the first place, the dragon by John Clay.

But now Jan has a new job.  She is helping run the Pines at Beulah.

Take a tour here by simply a click!

These are cabins up the road from the coffee shop.  They have kitchens and everything you need for a little get-away in the mountains and the cost is dirt cheap.  Oh, you could go to a Motel 6 and for a lot more money you could have asphalt all around you and you could eat at the McDonald's up the block.  These cabins are nestled in the pines and have all the amenities of home.  I could see how getting together with the family could be a joy!

Nancy and I walked up the road and peeked in the windows.  Hell, I may just go hide out in one of those some time when I am wanting to get away from it all.  They even have a fire pit out back.  Course it is a propane fire under artificial logs, but who wants to start a forest fire anyway?  Not me!
I did forget my camera so the pictures above are old, but you would not have known that if I hadn't told you!
That aside, I love Beulah.  It is a 30 minute drive from Pueblo, but it is another world.  When I first came to Colorado back in 1977 one of the first places I visited was the Host Restaurant in Beulah.  That was a real treat to set in that little place and watch the Hummingbirds and the soft rain that seemed to fall every afternoon.
I did not know about the Pines of Beulah until Jan told me today.  So I made up my feeble little mind that I would blog about it and then put it on Facebook and maybe someone would want to take me up there for a nice relaxing day and night in the mountains.  Hmmmmm.  Maybe Jesse and Bernadette could go there for their honeymoon.  Or Ross and Chaz?  Well, somebody could and then they could invite me up for coffee.  OK.  So I guess I won't be going, but you could.  Be sure and click on that link below the picture for phone number, pictures and prices.
And tell them Lou sent you!!

Finishing up my grade school years.

I remember little about my grade school years and whether that is by choice or chance, I know not.  Every year we had a class picture made and every year I was on the end of the front row because we were grouped according to height and I was pretty much the runt of the litter, so to speak.  I remember we had to walk to a seperate building for music class.  Miss Barkiss was the teacher and she later married David Houston, who was the son of the Principal at Nickerson Grade School. I do know I could not hit a note if my life depended on it.  I still remember her making me stand in front of the class and how hard I tried to hit middle "c" what ever the hell that was.  I don't think I have hit it yet, though I do love to caterwaul the country music I grew up listening to on the radio.  When it was time for the annual music program, Miss Barkiss gave me the job of announcer since I could not sing, but my voice carried and she needed some one whose voice carried.  I loved that.  I could stay behind the curtain with my microphone and no one could see me.
Most of the school work I considered stupid and did not bother doing it.  Poor mother!  I remember  a few of the kids I went to school with, but really don't care what became of them, although I do wish them well.  Nancy Cuthberson who's dad was in constuction and they had 2 Great Pyrennes dogs that I was terrified would step over the fence and eat me.  Martha Knobloch was a pianist and we were taken to her recital which was held at her home and we had to dress up and we were most uncomfortable, but for years after I would point at her house and tell whoever I was with that I had been inside that home and it was beautiful!  Barbara Hawk was the daughter of the dentist and my best friend.  Mother cleaned house for Mrs. Hawk and sewed for them.  I remember once I was over there and Mr Hawk made us an ice cream with a cherry on top and mine fell off and I cried like a baby, so he gave me another one.  There was Joan Moore, Beth McGonigle, Linda Schlatter, Gary Battey, Earl Kelly, David Sjoborg who's older brother was at college and died in a car wreck.  Irene Rienke, Evelyn Piper, Loren McQueen, Kenny Fenton, Ronnie Beck, and names that completely elude me.
In 8th grade 2 new boys arrived on the scene.  Billy Newman and Steve Dorrell were from the big city of Hutchinson.  The were cousins.  I had no idea what cool was, but one look at Steve and I knew the definition of cool, super cool, and coolest thing in the world.
Remember Fonzie?   The Fonz?  Steve exuded cool and never let on that he even knew us little girls were batting our heads against a stone wall.  He wore blue jeans with the belt loops cut off so they rode down his hips just a tiny bit.  He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up exactly one and a half turns.  And the collar up in the back, but laying flat in the front.  His black hair was combed into a duck tail and every hair was held in place with axle grease.  Billy was just there, but when Steve walked in the room he arrived and when he left, he sucked the air out of the room.  He was skinny, giving him the lean and hungry look  He was my first honest to goodness crush, and bless his heart, he had eyes only for himself.
I do not remember graduating from grade school.  I don't think it was a big deal back then.  I just remember reading on my report card that Louella Bartholomew was promoted to grade 9.  That was it. Grade school was behind me.  Off to the big High School on the other end of Main Street.  But, alas, before that could happen my life took a bit of a turn and I was sent to Plevna, Kansas to take care of grandma Haas and Great Grandma Hatfield, thus seperating me from classmates I had gone to school with for 8 years.
Stay tuned.

The animals who moved with us.

Right out the back door and across the drive was a low shed.  The roof was rotten so nothing was kept in there.  Well the old cow made that her home.  She was pregnant and due at anytime when we moved in.  Seemed like we had not been there very long when she went into labor.  Things were not going well at all and the neighbor came to help.  Now, I swear this part is true.  It was decided she had "milk fever" and something had to be done.  Since there was no vet around for miles and had thier been one we would not have been able to afford him, another neighbor was brought in to advise.  His professional opinion, and he had one since he had already lost a cow to this, was that her tail must be cut open lengthwise and black pepper sprinkled in there and then taped back up.  Of course we were not allowed to watch such a gruesome sight, and I for one was very glad of that!  They decided as long as they were working on that end anyway, they might as well reach up in there and turn the calf because surely it was stuck.  I do not know to whom that task fell and I was once more glad that we were not allowed in the yard.
The calf finally made it out and was placed in the granary since it was a very sturdy place and the calf would stay dry.  Of course the cow died.  Do not ask if we butchered it and ate it, because I have no recollection of that, but I am sure if we had that much meat I would have remembered that.  I am sure she went to the glue factory.
I loved that little calf and named him Dennis.  Dennis was black as coal and had the biggest brown eyes.  I spent all my time with him trying to get him to eat so he would grow big.  Of course in a perfect world, that would have happened and he would have made us lots of money and been my friend forever, but we are in my world now.  Dennis lived three days and it broke my heart when I came home from school and found his lifeless body.  All these years later I still remember him.
Near the granary was the chicken pen.  I recall laying on my stomach and watching a chicken lay an egg.  Ever see that?  Fascinating!  The chickens were penned at night, but allowed to run free during the day.  They laid all thier eggs in the hen house so that was good.
My father also had horses.  They were work horses and he was one of the last farmers to give up the horses as work animals.  I remember the last "matched pair" he ever bought.  They were "Strawberry Roans" as I recall and I am sure that was thier color and not the breed.  They were big and a pinkish blonde color.  I remember dad braiding thier blonde tails and pulling them up into a "bob."
 As time passed the horses got older and died.  Star, the shetland pony, was the first to go.  Dead horse always was an exciting time at our house.  The "dead animal wagon"  was called and would come by hopefully before the horse began to "bloat".  The truck would back up close to the fence and the man would pull out the winch which was wrapped around the hapless animals neck.  Then he would start the winch and the animal was drug across whatever field it was in and winched up into the back of the truck.  Last time I saw old Star three of his feet were poking up over the side.
Now I know you are thinking how gruesome I am, but you must realize that back at that point in my life, it was reality.  Cold and stark reality, and there was no sugar coating any of it.  Death came to what ever and whomever and we lived with it.  We learned early on how to kill a rabbit or chicken and dress it out for dinner.  We also learned not to make pets out of our food.  That just made it harder to swallow around that lump  in our throat.
Jake's jobs were to chop wood and pump the horse tank full of water.  I think us little girl's job was to stay out of trouble.  There was a family at the end of street that watched the two little girls, Mary and Dorothy.  Donna sometimes went there because her and Mary were really tight.  Some times I liked to go there and play in thier dirt.  They had a son and daughter still at home. The daughter was a  year older then me, but I always thought her strange.  She collected comic books and baseball cards.  the son was Jake's age.  He delivered the newpaper which came out once a week.  The Nickerson Argosy, as I recall.  His name was Ralph, but we called him Hibbly.  Do not ask me why because I have no idea.  I do not think we called anyone by thier real name back then.
So the scene is fairly well set for my growing up years.  Today I am in the present and we have a yard sale at the church so I better get to it!

Cellar, outhouse and black widow spiders!

There was much to be done in our new home.  School would be starting soon and I had not yet explored every inch of the new home.  The house was simple.  Enter at the front door and you were in the "front room".  Later I learned the rich people called it the entry way, but to us it was the front room due to the very location.  It was also the "living room" because we lived there. To to the left of that was the front bedroom.  Made sense. Dad had a big bed in that room nearest the window so nothing could get us 4 kids that were piled on the bed.  Josephine, Donna, Mary and I slept in the other bed.  The center of the house consisted of the dining room and the "other bedroom" in which Mother slept with Dorothy because she was still a baby.  Sometimes Mary also slept in there.  I do not know where Jake slept.  He may have been hung from a hook.  The dining room held the big oak clawfoot table with mismatched chairs, the ironing board, a built in cupboard for our dishes, and a "icebox."    It also held a hanging bird cage in which lived a yellow canary.  That canary was my mother's reason for living, I think.  More about that later.
The room across the back of the house was designated as the kitchen.  It held two cook stoves, a set of shelves which would later become a bookself because we did have 3 or 4 books and they were on that shelf. The galvanized tubs were kept hanging from nails in this room, so it was also the laundry room.  One was a "wash boiler" because it was oblong and about a foot across and two feet long and 2 feet high.  If it happened to be raining on "wash" day, the water would be heated inside because we could not build a fire under the 3 legged kettle and wash day was wash day come hell or high water.  Days meant something back then!  I sell tea towels on ebay and they have the days with the little Sunbonnet Sue or the doggie doing things they do on the designated days.  Monday was "Wash Day", Tuesday "Iron", Wednesday "Sew", Thursday "Shop", Friday "Bake", Saturday "Clean" and Sunday was always "Church".  So if it rained and it was Monday, we would be heating wash water in the house.
There were also 2 more galvanized tubs that hung there.  They were the "rinse tubs".  When bath night came, which was always on a Saturday night without fail, the cleanest of the two tubs would be filled with warm water and we each got a turn in the tub.  First came the little kids and then the last was Dad.  Some times if the water got to thick, more water was added.  That was nice!  When we were all clean (and I use that word with the untmost sarcasm!) the tub was carried out the back door and dumped unceremoniously in the garden area.  Great fertilizer!
Along with the bathing ritual for our hygiene, there was also the need for rest room "facilities" and trust me, those were very primitive!  Out the back door and down the path stood the "outhouse".  And that, friends, is exactly what it was and what all the neighbors called it and everyone in town had one.  Course there were people in the city proper who had the inside things, but out on the outskirts where we lived it was a way of life.  It was a wooden building with a wooden bench built in and secured to the walls.  A hole was cut and that was it.  A Sears catalog was the paper used to "clean yourself "  when you were done "doing your business".  I hope you are getting a clear picture of where the black widow spiders came into this tale, because I have no intention of going into more detail than this.  Suffice it to say, I was terrified every time I went in there and I always carried a stick which I used to hit the hole with to scare the spiders away.  Apparently it worked because my vulnerable back side was never attacked.  I also lived in mortal terror that I would step inside and the floor would collapse and I would fall to a very nasty death.  I think this is the one aspect of pioneer life that I least enjoyed.  Never, ever did I even once wish I could go back to that nasty place!
Right out the back door was the area known as the "back porch" which I never understood why it was called that, but I guess it had a roof and screens to keep out flies.  Step out the door of the kitchen and on the left is where wood was piled.  On the right was the cellar.  The cellar was by definition the one place I did not ever want to go.  Never, ever, in my entire life did I actually enter the underground room.  I did make it part way down the dirt steps and looked at the room.  This cellar was dug down about 6 feet below ground level.  A roof of some sort was over the top and several feet of dirt mounded up over that.  I am sure that this would have stood an atomic bomb attack, but I was just not fond enough of living to go clear down the steps and enter that spider infested room.  Mother insisted on storing her pickles, canned goods, potatoes, yams, onions and such down there.  She would on occasion tell me to go down and bring up such and such.  If I could not get one of the other kids to do it, I went and hid until I was sure it was done.  I am scared shitless of spiders to this day and never have I ever thought a spider was my friend.  I am terrified of little spiders and the level of fear increased with the size of the spider.  Terror is the word we are looking for here.  Petrified comes to mind.  You get the picture?
Out of time again, but I will be back soon to share more with you of our new home.  Until then....

Lost! Found! Lost again! Damn!

For Valentine's day, I received flowers and a tube containing 25 pot seeds from a benevolent friend who works in the "grow".  He assured me that these seeds would grow the marijuana but not the kind you smoke.  Something about male and female and buds and other stuff that these were incapable of producing.  This fits my criteria to a "t".  I want to make stationary out of them and sell it in my online store.  See this leaf?

Isn't that pretty?  I learned how to make this stationary a very long time ago from a very old woman who wanted to pass the craft along so it would not cease to be.  She chose me!  She also gave me boxes of dried flowers, leaves, and about anything that grows.  Now I have not partaken of this leaf myself, but I am intelligent enough to know what it is and what it looks like.  And in the treasures she gifted me with was some of these.  Seems she went down on the river and came back with lots of leaves and among them was some marijuana leaves.  Now you must realize that all the greens she gathered were then placed between the pages of books and a weight applied so they would be very flat and very dry, but identifiable. 

Now isn't that pretty?  I think that is a Japanese Maple overlaid with Dill fronds.  Hard to believe that I made it, isn't it?  Making this stationary is an all day job and requires full use of the island in my kitchen.  I lay out 12 of them at a time.  First is a layer of waxed paper upon which I  place my design, cover with a single layer of tissue, paint the whole thing with thinned school glue, sprinkle each with glitter and leave to dry.  To fully appreciate my efforts, you just try to paint one layer of cheap tissue with a paint brush full of thinned glue.  When I go to bed that night the whole house  is filled with these things drying.  Next morning it is ironing time.  Then trimming and folding, so this is no easy chore.  Lastly my name is signed in gold ink and I am done.  I sell these for $2.00 each so they need to be nice.  Since this stuff is now legal in Colorado, I want to get in on the market.  Hence the growing and needing of seeds. 
Back on track here.  You now know why I wanted the seeds.  Being a pushy broad I generally get what I want by just wanting it.  True with the seeds.  So any way, here lay this vial of seeds on my counter.  Patty and Vanny were here and the seeds just laid there.  I have  a lady who is a very good friend who shall remain nameless, who helps me keep this house from becoming a true "hoarders nest."  This same lady has been known to partake of the herb.  She must eat hers cause she talks about "the bowl."  To make a long story short, she was coming by to visit and I was reluctant to let her know my future plans in the "growing of the weed" area.  So I grabbed the vial and hid it.  Now I am sure you are a step ahead of me here and you know how my mind works.  Later that day, I laid out the container I wanted to use to hold  the seeds and dirt.  Whoops!  Where did I put those seeds?
I looked in all the usual hiding places.  Patty and Vanna searched in all the drawers.  The next day Bret and Amanda came for a visit and they were full of guesses as to where they might be, but it was all to no avail.   I knew back in the far recesses of my mind that I knew where I put them.  It is just that I rarely venture back into that area of my mind, because there are things there in the shadows that scare me! 
So yesterday, Patty and Savannah packed up and went back to Lakin.  I immediately had a nap.  When I woke up, I spent a few minutes looking into corners and then decided to call my friend, John.  I explained the seed business to him.  He of course thought it was funny.  While we were talking about a fundraiser for our friend Daneya that is coming up next week, I wandered over to the sewing machine I keep here in the office.  I opened the door, pulled out the drawer and voila!  My little pink vial of seeds!  Knowing how fleeting my memory is these days, I told John of my find and told him I was moving them and where.  Now 2 of us know where they are.  I am trusting that he remembers where I put them.  That was, after all, his job.  My job is to report on me, and I might note that is a full time job. 
So once more the seeds are found.  The container to plant them in is , however, out in the shed where it is now very cold, thanks to that damn Polar Vortex!  Looks cold out there today.  I think I need to go to the El Pueblo today with my spinning wheel, but I am not sure.  Nothing is ever sure in my life two days in a row.  I was up late last night listing seed catchers on eBay in a variation format.  I am almost afraid to check those out today. 
So, I called Patty and told her where I found the seeds.  Now, I am off to figure something out, but I do not know what.  Will be in touch soon and we will return to the Stroh place, Nickerson, Kansas, and see what I remember about 60+ years ago,  because I am not having much luck here in the present!


 

Red Alert!!

　

YOU HAVE THE POWER TO AFFECT YOUR ELECTRIC BILL



"A Bridge To Pueblo’s Energy Future"

A presentation by Pueblo Citizens interested in stabilizing electric rates and reducing shocking charges.

Come and share your stories with your neighbors.

With your help we will craft a local energy economy that will benefit the entire community

~EVERY ONE OF US~

February 22. 2014

2:00 P.M. to 5:00 P.M.

SRDA Cafeteria

230 N. Union Ave.

Pueblo, CO 81003

(light refreshments provided)

For more information call

719-251-2888 or email revoltpueblo@gmail.com

Please like us on Facebook @

https://www.

Oh, Oh! Damn! Where does time go?

I looked at the calendar just now and January is almost gone.  3 days until the anniversary of my husband's demise.  This date coincides nicely with the Super Moon which I want to try to stay awake to see.  Then one
day to whip out the goodies for Addie's open house 90th birthday at the church, which is Saturday which is no longer January.  From here it is down hill through tax time, spring cleaning and garden planting, into the hot summer, through the fall and ito the freezing cold winter so I can start moaning about the lack of  Christ in  Christmas and then start the whole thing over again.
 
Many years ago I was into doing a lot of hand embroidery and made several cute little pictures that hung in the bathroom in little brown frames.  They were called Thumbprints and a little sheep looking thing said "Ewe's not fat, ewe's fluffy."  The little thumbprint then looked like a woman on top of a hill and said  "When you are over the hill. you pick up speed."  My favorite was the thumbprint with the confused look on it's face that said "Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most."  That little collection seemed to mirror my life so I threw the whole bunch in the Goodwill box and never looked back.  I am now rethinking all of that!

The wise saying about being fluffy still holds true, although the fluffs now have wrinkles in them.  The picking up speed is almost scary.  If there was a policeman in charge of time marching on, I am pretty sure I would be ticketed every day as time whizzes past me.  And as for the mind being gone, it is not so much gone as just out to lunch a lot of time.  Some one asked for my phone number the other day and I drew a complete blank.  "How in the hell do I know.  I never call it.  There is no one home."  I did, however, manage to recall the sequence of digits.  I have only had the same number for 31 years.

Most of my day is spent running either upstairs and wondering why I came up here, or going back down the stairs only to remember what I went up there for in the first place.  After a few of these marathons sprints, I usually set down in my recliner and the cat jumps up on me and holds me down.  Since I am captive at that point, I usually fall asleep.  How long I sleep is a matter of whether or not a car passes by up on the road causing the dogs to unleash a flurry of barking in an attempt to scare it away which always works, hence the term "car passes by."  God help them if they are heading for my house and come up the drive because they will be licked to death!  But barking is apparently very important to them.

Now I do not want to make you think that all I do all day is sleep, because that is far from the way it is.  I do have my little ebay business and it keeps me busy listing things to sell, making things to sell, photographing things to sell, selling things I sell, packaging the things I sold and then running to the post office with my parcels.  Anyone who is privy to my operation is amazed that I know where anything is.  Me too!  I have lost a coral and turquoise ring some where between the roof and the basement, I think.

And I do manage to do a little volunteer work sometimes.  And of course visiting.  Going to have lunch on Friday with my friends Renate and Val.  Have not decided where yet, but I am sure we will.  Oh, and I need to get the oil changed and the tires rotated.  I need to pick up a bale of straw so I can clean the goose house, but may put that off until  Spring.  I do need to get down in the basement and dig out that box of old Playboy's and get them listed.  Pretty sure I am not going to read them.  I am pretty sure the garden is going to be taken care of by my friend, Richard, this year.  He plants, weeds,  waters, and harvests and I eat it.  Well, some of it anyway.  I told him I have the dirt and that is all of my involvement in this little venture.

And now I have rambled on for a full page and said absolutely nothing.  This, dear friends, is the story of my life!

My little lunch time gathering!

Decided to have a few friends over the other day for lunch.  You know,  just to get together to jabber and catch up.  I do this a few times a year, just to keep people in my good graces.  

I made Chicken and Home made Noodles since I was hungry for comfort food and that is the best one I could think of at the time.  After eating the subject of puzzles or wood working or something like that came up jarring my memory of little 1" by 4 " puzzles Kenny had made.   I had three of them up on my desk so I brought them down and opened them up.

They very soon were engrossed in the job of putting them together.  I had shown them to them when they were in one piece so they knew it could be done.  I do not know who finished first, but it occupied them for about half an hour.

It was a fun little diversion and when they were all put together and back in the plastic bags, our conversation turned to more interesting topics, like Black Hills Energy and their outrageous charges and heartless acts.  We think we may get a little more active along those lines. 

I wish I could find me someone to use that $1200 scroll saw and I could sell these on ebay.  It was a very lovely lunch and I hated to see it come to an end, but such is life.  Faye was the first to leave because she had to go clear to Spring.  Then Sister Nancy and Sister Barbara.  That left Paul and Nancy.  I meant to send the noodles home with Paul, but I forgot.  A good time was had by all!

This has nothing to do with anything and was not the same day, but I took a picture of Ito, who lives next door and then when I got through moving it around I wound up with this!!!

 

Same picture, but  look at the snow actually falling!  How in the hell did I do that?  Ross just called and I was telling him about it and he thinks it might be something I smoked back in the 70's.  Do you see it to?  Anyone have any idea how this came out like this?  I do not have a moving picture camera.  Maybe something lives in my computer.  You do see it don't you?  If it is not there, please do not tell me!!!