Chapter One...The Ant Lion's Den

I am setting here looking at Chapter Two...The Ant Lion's Den,  the novel I started almost 2 years ago when Sherman was first diagnosed.  I had a good start on it, but at that time Sherman needed me more than the world needed another novel.  So I put it on hold.  Then he extracted a promise from me that I would write the story of Sherman and Lou had life been different.  He outlined it for me and in the book, we met, fell in love and lived happily ever after.  In real life he died shortly thereafter.
But a promise is a promise and I put the novel aside and began the perfect work of fiction and the world's greatest love story.  I failed in my mission and ended up writing a true story where we did indeed fall in love and he did propose 10 days before he died on Friday the 13th.  The book has been finished and forgotten now for over 8 months and I stare at the blank page of  Chapter Two and my mind is a complete blank..I reread what I have written hoping something of the brilliance I felt when I started it will resurface, but nothing happens.
What I am thinking of is a scene in my mind from 50 years ago when Debbie was a wee tyke and I found an old typewriter at a rummage sale for $2.00.  It was a small Royal and after I took the toothbrush and cleaned the letters and replaced the ribbon, it printed pretty legibly.  But there I sat, staring at the pure white paper that waited for me to fill up up with all the thoughts in my brilliant mind.   But it never happened.  I spent the next 50 years waiting for my stellar mind to unleash a torrent of words that would make the world fall at my feet.  But they never came.  The old Royal gave way to a nice aqua typewriter in a case.  That gave way to an electric, which was replaced by a word processor and that was traded for a computer.  And I went through a string of computers and different word programs before I poured my heart and soul into Chapter One...Loose Ends.  I was on a roll, but now I am back to staring at a blank sheet with a cursor blinking and calling me.
Someone told me I should unplug the phone, lock the door, turn off the ebay computer and concentrate and it will come.  Well, that ain't happening now, is it?  I do think I will take a nice long walk the next day that is decent.  May go up to Beulah for that.  Something about just me, God and the open sky above that inspires me.  Maybe I will not finish Chapter Two...The Ant Lion's Den, or maybe I will. Maybe I will come up with something else.  I do know that I love to write and it is a part of me that needs to be functioning.  I know this blog is writing, but I mean something that I can build out of my mind that is not real, but seems that way.  Know what I mean?
Just my thoughts tonight.

What is the second thing that happens before the book sale?

For over a year Ross and his cronies have been collecting books and putting them in my garage.  Just recently they began sorting them into subject matter and packing them in boxes that were labeled.  Now it is February 9 and the book sale starts tomorrow, so they have arrived at my garage and loaded the books into vehicles preparatory to transport to the Pueblo Community College.

So now they are gathered in my kitchen  to see just how many cinnamon rolls they can hold.  Charles only ate 2, but we managed to do away with 18.  The remainder I packed into plastic bags to ride to the site and be eaten by the workers that were unpacking the books and putting them out on the tables and racks. 

But first, Tere has to attempt to manipulate my 2 pound hula hoop!  Come on, Tere!  I know you can do it!

And we have lift off!!

So now the fun and games are over and the first truck is leaving the yard.  Now the work can really begin.  No, not really.  The whole last year has been a labor of love by a lot of people.  I am not going to throw names around because there are so many that made this sale possible.  Ross and Rebecca do most of the honchoing and are the two I deal with most often.  Course then there is Tere who can work the hula hoop, Charles who can eat the cinnamon rolls....see what I mean?  So they are all loaded (vehicles with books, I mean.) and  they are off to PCC for a fun time unloading.

Monday and Tuesday were sale days and I am happy to report that it was a fun time and we raised lots of money for the scholarship fund.  My back is almost returned to normal (and I did not even load or unload boxes) and the dishes are all done from the baking in the kitchen.

Life is good!

Welcome to my world!

So this is why I have no hot water this morning!  Better call Black Hills who has my service contract.  I know the water heater is on there.  That is why I have it.  Oh, wait while I am on hold let me just read my contract.  Yes the water heater is covered.  No, the tank on the water heater is not covered.  The tank leaking  caused the pilot light to go out which they will come and light, but it probably will not stay lit with water dripping on it from a tank that is not under warranty!  Ya think!

This is the sump pump Jesse put in for me several years back so if the water heater went south the sump pump would pump the water outside and I would not need to sop it up with this towel.

See how it is located right beside it?  To bad it does not work.  I used to pour a gallon of water in it and watch it empty just so I knew it would work.  Hmmm.  Guess it only works when you watch it.

Ater got clear over into the sewing room.  I feel so damn special!

Oh, wait a minute!  Today is Sunday!  Do plumbers work on Sunday?  Better yet do they work on SUPER BOWL SUNDAY?  Some how I think the Karma Gods have got me over a barrel here.  Ah, but there is hope.  I do not have to shower before church.  Or after church.  Or in the foreseeable future!

So those of you who have actual hot running water, enjoy!  And I will not say "Go Bronco's" because that would be like putting a curse on them.  What I will say is 

Enjoy the game!

Just a few memories of Tom and Mary...

I remember when we lived on A Street and Tommy worked at the photography store across the alley.  That was when they first met.

I remember he gave her a Ford Sunliner (the roof retracted into the trunk) for her 14th (?) birthday.

I remember after they were married and lived on 25th (?) Street that two cats were on the roof making a spectacle of themselves and I thought Tommy was going to sell the house!

I remember when Mary and I thought a tornado was coming so I left work and went to her house.  We carried food, water, blankets, and half the house into the basement and barricaded the door.  Then we realized we had left Dorothy upstairs alone!

I remember her losing her contact in the middle of 5th Street.

I remember when we were hanging clothes out at mom's and Dorothy climbed up in the cabinet and ate the Ex-lax and we had to take a cab to get her to the emergency room and how hard the cab driver laughed about what Mary was in for that night!

I remember that when one of us girls was pregnant another one was also pregnant.  Everyone of our kids has a cousin the same age.

I remember starting my nomad life and only returning home on occasion so I did not see much of Mary or any of the family for several years. I settled in Pueblo in 1977.  At one point one of Mary and Tom's kids passed through Pueblo and when they told Mary and Tom, Mary asked " Did you stop and see Aunt Louella? "  The kid replied, "Well, we thought about it, but there was no way to find her since we don't know her last name!"  Sad, but true. 

I married my last husband in 1983.   She and Tommy paid us a visit 2 or three days before  Tom passed in 1993
. 
 It was not until later when I lost my husband in 2003 that Mary came to stay with me several times.  After the last good visit we had she returned to Hutch and Donna had gotten new coffee cups in the restaurant.  They proceeded to have a picture of the 2 of them together toasting me with the NEW cups and the caption "Wish you were here!

I could tell by looking at them that they were gloating!  But you know the old saying, "He who laughs last, laughs best?"  I glanced up and my eyes came to rest on the "to go" cup that Mary had brought when she arrived and used every day she was here.  So I had my own picture made!
Click this little place here...The forgotten cup story told here!   Now that I think back, I do believe I still have that cup! 

The family is slowly dwindling and that makes me sad, but on the upside, we are being replaced and the family tree is branching out.  That is as it should be and that is good.  Like they say "Time marches on."  I remember the great grandmother, and the great aunts and uncles.  Never really had a grandfather, but always wished I had.  Never really knew my cousins.  I just knew who they were.  Never knew their kids either. 

So, I set here in my little corner of the world with my memories, because when it is all said and done they are the best part of growing older.  This old world is spinning so fast that there are times when I think I may fly off into the heavens.  Then I can see clearly, and isn't that what we are all looking for?

Forgot to do the Monsanto thing!

Well, I did not forget to do it, but I did forget to do the blog!  Man I am so far behind that I may catch myself coming.  Did not do the one on Beulah either.  This slide show was taken on October 12 which is a week ago yesterday.  This was the nationwide march against Monsanto who is altering our food supply.  We want our food labeled so we know what it has been through, but Monsanto and our government has seen fit not to do that.  Consequently our cancer rate goes up, our food allergies go up, and cost of medical for this goes up.  Now I shall go into this further at a later date and I will give you statistics that will curl your hair, but for now I just want to tell you about this march and a very nice man I met there who is the counter part of my Favorite Republican in Kansas only this man is my Favorite Republican in Colorado!
So I showed up early and did a little shopping at the Natural Foods and then drifted outside to wait for someone I knew to show up and eventually they did, but in the meantime I met a little fellow in a red coat sporting a name tag that read, well, here it is.

Let me introduce you.  This is Jerry Denney, vice chairman of the Pueblo County Republican Party.  Now, you remember that my friend, Joe is my Favorite Republican holding office in Kansas, so now I have one a little closer to home.  Had a little trouble keeping his sign right side up, but once we got that mastered  we were good to go.  He drew my sign for me.  Unfortunately I do not have a picture of it.  I do have the sign.  When he drew the skull on the sign I almost jumped out of my skin.  He drew free handed and it was symmetrical!  I was right!  He was a draftsman!  They have a way of doing that.
We visited a little while and the subject of old motocycles came up and the Matchless of Sherman's was a subject he was excited about.  I promised to email him a picture of that when I got home and I did that.  I also sent him the video of the Matchless running that Dana had posted on youtube.  I just love it when I run into someone that I have something in common with even if he is a Republican!
And it just goes to show that we as people of the human race probably have a lot more in common then we think.  We did agree that if a worm is eating one end of the corn and dying, that we are not going to eat the other end of that ear.
Oh, then I found my friend Janet! And her Idle No More group.   And  Leslie.  And Paulette.  Cindy.  Sandy.  We all marched from Natural Foods on 29th to the highway waving our little signs.  Shades of Kent State, the Viet Nam War, Segregation and Gay Rights.  Seems like I have always been on the winning side!   Sure need to be on the winning side in this one.
So enjoy the little slide show.   I will post this as soon as Jerry says it is alright to use his name.  If he doesn't get back to me soonly I will just edit the little fellow out!  In the meantime, you should type GMO into a search engine and start reading.  We are one of a handful of countries that allows our food supply to be altered and we are paying for it big time!  It has to stop!  Just trust me!

OK, Debbie, here is the salmon from start to plate.

My daughter, Debbie, called me to tell me how disappointed she was that I did not post pictures of my experiment with the Salmon and Coconut oil, so I recreated it for her eyes only!

 

Here is my frozen piece of Salmon. 

Here is my organic coconut oil from Viva Labs Inc.

Here is the skillet with coconut oil, dill leaves and lemon pepper.

And here is the finished product.  The tomatoes are from my garden.  They received a splash of extra virgin olive oil and some fresh basil, also from my garden.  There are also 3 Tostito Black Bean and Garlic corn chips.

Ah, the elixir of the Gods!  Wish you were here!

 

 

 

A book sale is easier said then done!

PFLAG funds several  scholarships at PCC.  For many years we did it by hosting a spring yard sale.  Recently we have decided that book sales are the way to go and much less work.  See, all year Ross would gather stuff for the sale and until last year it was all stored in the basement at his condo.  Then my garage opened up and that sucker was filled to overflowing.  When the idea of book sale came up it seemed perfect.  The books would be gathered and stored on site at PCC where the sale would be held.  That was right up until somebody donated 80,000 books from the library of an estate.


 
And then my garage came into play again.  A big van backed up to the door and when it left it was empty.  Not so my garage.

The first thing I did was start repacking because a lot of these were in plastic containers that they wanted back.  I tried sorting, but I really got confused!  I did manage to get a box for Louis Lamore (?) and other authors that I remembered people asking for at the last book sale.  Oh, and the Harlequins, and some where I have a box for kids books and another one for cook books.  See all the boxes on the shelves?  These picture were taken after I had been working for over 3 weeks on this.  I plan on finishing up in the next couple weeks and I hope nobody asks me where anything is located!  See how neat?

And way back there in the corner I can see empty shelves!  It is my goal today to make a path back to those shelves so they can not be empty any more.  Wish me luck!  Oh, first I have to gather up some more boxes.

Should have taken a picture of my chair, fan, and box of Kleenex where I spend a lot of time crying!  Oh, yeah, and the plate with egg roll remains on it, my bowl of melted ice cream, a few chicken bones, and my bottle of water and Jack Daniels!  As soon as all the plastics are empty, I can take a break.  I have rented part of the garage to my son-in-law for storage so this will curb my ability to say "Oh, yeah!  I have a great big garage.  Bring all your stuff out here and poke it in there."  I am bad about that!  But, then again, if no one used it then it would just set empty and empty is not good either. 

 

 

So, for now it is off to church.  Next week I may give you a tour of my lower levels here in the house!  If you cringed at my garage, you will run screaming down the road at my basement, but Hey!  If I can live in it, you can look at it!

Have a good day and remember, 

 People who live in glass houses, should not throw stones!

 

 

 

 

 



And the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado came to my house today!

And what a day it was!  Hey, Dana, come on in!  What are you riding? 

Oh, I see, it is Sherman's Black Matchless!  Lookin' good!

 

I wanna' go for a ride!  And Dana, ever the gentleman, took me!

 

And we feasted on pulled pork sandwiches, potato salad, baked beans and all the other good stuff, topped off with an upside down German Chocolate Cake.  My grand daughter helped with the cooking and the clean up.  Great to have her around and not just because she is a work horse.

So it was a very fruitful day and I am very tired.  This was the one year anniversary of when the club came to bid farewell to Sherman.  Next week marks the one year anniversary of his passing, so it was a bittersweet celebration of that time in our lives. 

So let me just thank everyone for today.  And an especially big thanks for giving me the ride Sherman would have given me.  Thanks, buddy!  Hope we meet again soon!

 

 

Finally made that hike I was looking forward to for so long.

Check out the scenery in this slide show.  Last Tuesday I finally got the chance to hike in the high country.  I forget what the name of this place is but it is out of Canon City.  Beautiful scenery.  This is the bluest sky in the world.  Almost as blue as Kenny's eyes.
I even wore hiking boots, back pack and everything.  I went with a friend who does this on a regular basis and I want to go on record as saying he was very understanding that this was my first trip doing anything like this.  You all know that I am a city girl at heart and my favorite things in life are hot and cold running water, electricity, a firm mattress and indoor plumbing.  Sad to say that there were none of my favorite things there in the wilderness, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.  No doubt he chose the easiest trail he could find, and for that I am eternally grateful.
So enjoy the slide show and I am going to go post to Long Ago and Not Very Far Away.

Steve Parke, a man for the ages.

Every so often, a man comes along who is comfortable in his own skin.  I rarely actually meet such a man, but here you see one!  Let me introduce you to Steve Parke.  And see that guitar hanging off his shoulder?  He can play that!  And he can sing!  And sometimes he lets me sing with him.  Usually that happens when he is at the Peace Flotilla at the nature center in the fall.  Everyone goes down to the river to launch the floats and we wail away.  Here he is at the courthouse steps where the faith leaders were  holding a rally to ask for civility in our discussions on gun control.  Steve is a retired minister and is often found at any gathering for anything that even faintly resembles civil rights and that means any civil right for any human, animal, or anything that comes up.

And he plays that guitar and sings for Mothers Day Out at our church.  He is now working on publishing his second album.  Don't know what it is called, but do know that I will be in line for one of the first ones sold!  Then I can sing along with him all day!

He can travel to Ireland in search of his roots, come home with a slide show of epic proportions and make us all feel like we had gone there with him!  Ireland is beautiful and he is proud of his roots!  Steve is one of the best story tellers I have encountered and I have known a few!  He is at home in the coffee shops, nursing homes, church meetings, ski slopes, gym, river walk, and anywhere he points his little nose.  And girls, he is single!

 

 

But at our fundraiser at the church last Saturday, Theresa caught a side of Steve that we had never seen.  Now I am not sure that he was setting at this vanity because he was thinking about purchasing it, or just wanted to get off his feet for a break, or what was in his mind, but we got quite a kick out of this and I did promise him that I would present him in a good light.  I at first thought he had a necklace there, but if you look closely it is his phone.  His shirt has a Coors Light advertisement on the back.  He did not wear the one I like that says "Well, just because beer makes everything easier." 

So I present to you Mr. Steve Parke, retired from the work he did at the State Hospital, retired from active ministry, but always on hand to help his fellow man, brighten our day, or pet a stray kitty on the street.  A Godly man and one loved by everyone whose life he touches and touching more lives then even he knows!

I will let you know when his new album is out and will make it available in my store if he lets me, or if he doesn't, I know how to photo shop and that cell phone may turn into a tube of lipstick!

Love you, Steve!

 

 

 

 

Pre Sale Garage Sale

 

This was the sight at my house a couple Saturday's ago.  My garage was packed to the rafters with the rummage that Ross and his helper's have been hauling in for the whole year.  They started right after the PFLAG Scholarship yard sale last year and have not stopped.  Since it is almost time again he knew this stuff had to be sorted and what better way then to drag it all out, let people paw through it and anything that can be replaced with a hand full of money becomes that much easier to move across town to the big sale the first weekend in April.  So the plan was made.

Nancy is always head cashier, so she sets at this table.  The item is brought to the table and she eyeballs it and gives them a price.  Prices are always low.  If it can be held in one hand it is under a dollar.  Two handed items are over a dollar and furniture can run all the way up to $5.00-$10.00.  Buyers are reminded that it all goes to the scholarship program at PCC.  Rebecca and her crew are always on hand helping, so it kind of turns into a party of sorts.  You all know how I like to cook, so this day it was a cook out on my big smoker.

This was the view I had of the sale.  I pulled the smoker out and started my fire.  Being the lazy white girl that I am, I just pulled it far enough out of the shed to keep from asphyxiating myself.  As soon as the coals were ready, I dumped a package of hot dogs on the grill.  Now, here is something I figured out rather quickly:  Do not set your grill with the back part lower then the front and put round hot dogs on it laying straight as they tend to roll and do so rather quickly!  There is no back to the grill and so anything that starts a down hill roll does nothing except pick up speed.  So two of the hot dogs escaped the fate of being eaten.  I still had 18 hot dogs left.  And 24 hamburgers and 8 pounds of potato salad.  Oh, and a freshly baked peach cobbler.

The pre sale ran from 11:00 AM till 1:00 PM.  Course there were early birds, but by 1:00 all the signs were down and my house is hard to find without arrows.  I had fed several people early as they needed to get back into town.  Everything being put back into the garage, which now had lots of room, we began the finishing up of the food.   So Rebecca's husband threw the rest of the meat on the grill and cooked it to perfection.   And here is our hallowed leader, Ross in his lovely Christmas apron, testing our wares.  I am happy to announce that we fed at least 23 people and had no left overs, and no one went away hungry.

And I am also happy to announce that we are ready for the sale!  Sadly this will be our last yearly scholarship sale.  When the whole year is spent scrounging things for the sale, loading and hauling  things for the sale, sorting things for the sale, categorizing for the sale, and using every inch of storage for the sale, it gets to be a very all consuming event.  So, we will now concentrate on books only.  Those can be stored at the college and pulled out and put away easily.  We may have a couple bake sales.  Lord only knows what we will do, but knowing Ross and Rebecca, I am sure we will do something useful.  It has been a long run and I will miss it, as I am sure you all will, but time marches on.

So, see you at the sale!

 

APRIL 5 & 6, 2013, FRIDAY AND SATURDAY

110 LACROSS

8:00 A M -???????



LAST ANNUAL PFLAG SCHOLARSHIP YARD SALE

 

My take on the 18th Annual Chocolate Indulgence.

Welcome to the Chocolate Indulgence chocolate competition.  Here we have Susan and Adele, ready to accept my entry.  Since Dan had to work I also took his in for him.  And you know me and my better early than on time attitude.   I was the second one to bring my items.  Judging will be from 1:00 - 3:00 this afternoon.  So I drifted off to the YWCA to pick up Dan's ticket and then up to the hospital to see John  followed by meeting Tim at the Airport for lunch.

Here are my gluten free brownies and Dan's lace cookie w/bourbon butterscotch brownie waiting on the table for the judging.

And in case you think we were the only ones, take a look here!  Plenty of competition.

There were two tables of judges.  This is the table closest to where I sat.

Ah!  The auditors who are counting the ballots. 

See, each table has 6 judges and they taste every item.  It is then judged by each judge for flavor, appearance, texture, and creativity.  Flavor counts 40 points and the other 3 are worth 20 each.  The auditors then add the points and choose a winner.  No peeking for me!  I tried, but they did not seem to like that, so I just had to wait until that evening.

 

  Poor little Lou.  In all fairness, I do not know how many of you have tried the gluten free products, but they do no stand a chance in competition with regular product made with wheat, and I knew this.  I was sure I would not win, because of that.  My brownies were very good (for the record), but they finished some where way down the line and went to the "luck of the draw" table.  I am sure they found a good home!

And the first place winner goes to Mr. Dan Leavenworth and his Lace Cookie with Bourbon Butterscotch Brownie!  I shine with pride!  Dan is quite the chef extraordinaire!

 

And this concluded our evening at the 18th Annual Chocolate Indulgence hosted by the YWCA to benefit the Women's Shelter and Domestic Violence Programs.  I am not familiar enough with the work at the YWCA to name all the people connected with the organization, so I am not going to say I am.  I do know a few people there and love them dearly.  Dennis and  Brandi are the two I deal with most.  Oh and the lovely lady at the desk.  And the girl in the office behind Dennis.  And Doris Kester's daughter.  And I love their pool!  It is 90 degrees which is good for my old bones.

 

I do know the YWCA has been a bulwark in Pueblo society forever and I am going to start volunteering there, I hope.  Just as soon as I get a little time, because I feel this organization has done more to bolster women than a lot of other places and let's face it kids, where would we be without women?

 

And am I going back next year?  Let me see.  Chocolate everything.  Eat free with your admission ticket.  Chocolate everything.  Eat free with your admission ticket.  That answer would be

"Hell, Yeah!"

 

Happy Birthday, Sonny!

Today you turn 21!

 

I know you think that this is the pinnacle, but you are so wrong.  Now you can drink legally.  You are the age of majority.  21!  Off to Cripple Creek?  Have fun.  I would like to say my work here is done, but that is not the case.

I have yet to be "done" raising any of them.  You were just the last one.  Now it is up to you to go out into the world and make a mark that will tell the world that your momma did a good job.  Tell them that you hold the same values today that I instilled in you for the last 21 years.  True I was not your mother all those years, but I was always there.  Just around the corner and a phone call away.

I was there when you grew pot in your room.  There when you skipped school.  There when you made the merit roll, and when you didn't.

And now you are living out on your own, paying your own way,  with your own girlfriend, your own dogs and whatever else, but try to remember that momma is still here.

 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MR. BRET A. MERCER!!!



 

 

Ring! Ring! Oh hell! Sorry about that.

Mother worked at that time cleaning houses for people in town.  Mrs. Hawk, the dentist's wife, Mrs. Massey, and I forget who else.  Our means of communication was a black telephone that was in a wooden box that hung on the wall.  To call some one you needed to pickup up the ear piece and then turn the crank on the side.  This would ring in the telephone office down town and the "operator" would put a plug, the other end of which was attached to her head piece, into the circuit which was lit up and say,  "Number please."  The person calling would then say the number which was usually two digits.  Later it changed to three.  The operator would then plug the wire that came from your number into the number you were calling.  And thus a call was connected and would ring and some one would answer.  I know all this because we took a tour of the phone company.  You could call it a tour if you want, but that place was so small that we could only get in two or three at a time.  The operator set on a little stool and could connect the whole town without having to move.
At that time there were "party lines."  A party line meant something way different then than it does now.  Take our phone.  We were on a party line with the Rumble' s and several other people.  Only rich people could afford private lines and we were far from rich.  The way the calls were handled was this, each person on the party line had their own distinct ring.  Ours was two longs and a short, Rumble's was one long and two shorts, and so forth.  We knew when someone got a call cause it rang in all the houses on that party line.  These means of communication were rather primitive, but they did work and they called for a certain etiquette.  If we wanted to place a call, we picked up the receiver and first listened.  If some one was talking, the line was in use, so we should hang up and try later.  If the line was free and we wanted to call some one on our party line, we simply turned the crank and rang their ring.  Like Rumble's.  We rang one long and two shorts and Mr. Rumble would answer.
Or if you are little kids home alone and bored you could pick up the phone and "listen in" which was not only rude, but illegal.  So one day we were rather at loose ends and the phone beckoned to us.  Now I say "us", but I am pretty sure it was Jake and me.  Donna may have been involved.  So we kept picking the phone up and some one was talking to some one else.  We may have tittered and they heard us.  This made it more exciting.  We were eavesdropping and they did not know who we were (or so we thought at the time.) or where we lived.  Then we discovered that if we turned the crank the phone made a very loud noise in their ear.  They were getting very upset and made threats about turning us in to the phone company.  We knew there was no way the phone company could track us down.  After a while they got tired of our shenanigans and just hung up.  So we moved on to more exciting things like wallowing in a mud hole.
And then mother came home.  So and so up the road had stopped her and told her about what her babies had been up to while she was at work and Josephine was laying around some where reading.  We, of course, pointed at the younger kids.  They did it, not us.  They were just playing and we were doing our chores and knew nothing about that.  Those kids were just trying to get us in trouble.  Mother had not forgotten when we hid behind the tree and threw rocks at every car that went by and we had tried to blame them innocent babies for that too.  I began at that time in my life to think that mother was clairvoyant and I resented those little kids because they were always trying, and succeeding, to get us into trouble.  Had we had the mindset, we might have murdered them and hid their bodies in Bull Creek, but we were just a couple ornery kids trying to find our way in the world with very little actual guidance.  Back then kids just kind of raised themselves and fathers were mainly "head of the family" by sheer virtue of having been born men.
And so I close the door on the Ailmore Place and lock it against intruders.  There are things I can see that when I went back years later were not there.  The long walk to town was maybe four blocks.  The big bridge over Bull Creek is actually a culvert.  The big beautiful home of Roy Keating, the pig farmer was just a little house with a couple of sheds out back and a couple pig stys.  The Rumble's house had collapsed and where had they gone?
I think not long after the big storm, Doc Ailmore died, so we were on the move again.  I remember that my dad had horses and a hay rack and a hay wagon.   These were pulled by a team of horses.  I was too young at the time to realize that the tractor was an up and coming thing and horses were on their way out.  All of our belongings were loaded on these two conveyances with the kids thrown on last and the horses pulled us through the edge of town to the other edge and to our new home. This one my father would buy.  We had not seen the house until we pulled in front of it and began to unload our precious belongings. 
I had way more important things to worry about because I was in school and I had to learn my ABC's and numbers and lots of other really important stuff.

Wrong day yesterday, today is October 29.

Yesterday I started to do this blog and my little mind wandered and I think I wound up chasing the cow down the ditch bank.  This is my older brother.  He is about in about the eighth grade in this picture.  I think that because back in those days, it had to be a special occasion to have our picture taken.  Those were few and far between and usually marked a very big event in our life.  See that scar on his cheek?  Today I will tell you how he got that.
Like I told you yesterday, we were living on the Stroh place right outside of town.  One day Dad went to the sale and came home with a Shetland Pony.  Oh, we were in seventh heaven.  We had our own horse.  Now why we needed a horse is more than Mother could fathom.  Years later as I put the pieces together I came to the conclusion that Dad was probably drunk and meant to buy a milk cow since ours had died.  In his befuddled mind he decided that we would get more use out of a pony then a cow any way.  The mere facts were that my father did not know he had children most of the time and while he did provide for us, the pipe and slippers and kiddies on his knee were not pictures I recall of my childhood. Back in those days, men were not "soft" like they are today and I was not the first nor the last kid in those days to only feel my fathers hand in anger, never love.  More about my father in a different blog, when I can deal with it fully.
But all that aside, a horse it was.  I remember seeing it unloaded in the moonlight.  It was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen and coming down the ramp from the trailer it looked very tall.  Daylight would bring many surprises.  I could barely sleep that night as Jake and I talked into the night about the wonderful horse our wonderful father had brought us.  From sounds drifting into our sleeping area we gathered that Mother was not near as happy as we were.
Morning found us gazing into pen where the horse was.  He was spotted and not very tall.  He had a long mane and it was spotted too.  There was a sort of star looking spot on his forehead so we named him "Star."  He came with his own saddle and blanket, but we were not allowed to saddle him or ride him until Dad was there to show us how.  We had never been this close to a horseso the chances we could saddle it up and ride away were very slim.  Unfortuneately Dad was not feeling well that day, so we only got to stare at the horse through the fence.  I think that we thought if we looked at Star long enough he would grow taller.  Ever see a Shetland pony?  They are by nature much smaller than the big ones we watched Dad work with.  See, my Dad was one of the last men in the area to give up the "team of horses" and go to a tractor, but more about that later.  This is about Jake and his scar.
Mom and Dad played cards once a week with friends and that evening the friends came and brought there kids and we were left to our own devices.  Of course we wanted to show off our new horse, so we gathered at the corral.  I do not remember the exact chain of events, but I do recall the chaos that followed.  Jake was always curious and tonight and the showing off for the kids was no exception.  I remember the kids all screaming and Jake holding his face as blood squirted every where from his right cheek.  Very quickly Mother and Jake were loaded in the back seat of the car and the couple visiting whisk them off the 11 miles to Hutchinson and the nearest medical attention. 
I do remember being so afraid that Jake would die.  We were sent to our beds and the visiting children were made pallets in the front room.  I surely drifted off, because some time in the night Jake woke me up to show me his bandaged face.  I cried.  He had been such a handsome boy and now he had this horrible injury and he would carry the scar the rest of his life.
Over the next few weeks the story of what really occured that night in the moonlight came out in bits and pieces.  Dad was going to shoot the horse and Jake confessed that maybe it was not all the horse's fault.  Seems one of the boys visiting "dared" Jake to creep up with a stick and "goose" the horse.  The horse reacted just like one would expect a horse to react and kicked backwards at the offending stick.  Jake just happened to be on his hands and knees right behind the horse.  And no one could see that coming?
Over the days and weeks ahead Jake slowly healed.  Star remained in the corral because we were all afraid of him.  Sometimes I would try to pet him and he would let me.  Dad did finally saddle him and ride, but the horse was way to short for Dad.  Josephine finally ended up riding him most.  She would put us on his back and give us a ride around the yard, but we were always terrified that Star would kick us so that was really not much fun.  I do not know if you know about Shetland Ponies, but they are mean by nature and I think they were looking right at Star when they wrote that definition.
So, my dear brother carried a very ugly scar on his right cheek until the day he died, but no one seemed to notice.  He was such a charamatic kid that the scar never mattered.  Nothing could have detracted from the personality that was my brother.  And why am I telling you about him today?
Today is October 29, 2012.  On October 29, 1965 I lived in Garden City, Kansas.  I had two daughter's ages 2 & 3 years old. I had a daughter who would turn 1 year old tomorrow.  I had a son who was 25 days old.  Tomorrow  would be my 5th wedding anniversary.  And today, October 29, 1965,  my brother, Jake, was returning home from a day at work and the driver of the pick up he was riding in went through a stop sign near McPherson, Kansas and ran into the side of a loaded gravel truck. 
Tomorrow I would not have parties; tomorrow I would travel to McPherson, Kansas to visit my brother as he lay comatose in a hospital bed with his right leg kicking as if to apply the brake.  He would not know I was there.  He would not know my mother sat by his bed from the moment he was brought there.  Or would he?  I like to think that on some level he knew.
He died early the next morning....Halloween. 

My dear brother, Jake 

 

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

10/ 4/ 1937-10/31/1965



It happened again!! Honest people!!

Yesterday was a hub of activity at the SWM's estate.  Bikers all over the place for the British Motorcyle Association of Colorado sale as per the terms of the will.  More about that tomorrow, but I have got to tell you this part first.  Remember when I left my purse in the shopping cart at Walmart just a couple weeks ago?  And remember how I got it back just like I left it?  Well, listen up.
This is a lady from St. Louis.  She went to our local Walgreen's right over there on 4th and Abriendo to buy pop and something else, I forget what.  Later in the day, she was going with Libby some where and she looked for her purse.  Then WE looked for her purse and very soon came the sinking realization that it was not in our vicinity. So she and dear hubby lept in the pickup and off to the local Walgreen.

You guessed it!  There it was.  Two ladies had found it in the parking lot in the cart and brought it and turned it in to the clerk who locked it up until someone came to claim it.  Now, I ask you, what does this say about our fair city?  I say it speaks volumes about the caliber of people that we never meet.  I know that sinking sensation when I reach for something and it is not there.  Can you imagine how this would feel to a woman a thousand miles from home?
Now granted a woman's purse is one of those items that has been known to strike fear in the heart of more than one man.  Like my late SWM.
"Do you have a pen?"
"Sure. Get one out of my purse!" 
Fear in the eyes.  "That purse?"
"Yeah."
"You mean open it up?"
"Yeah, just reach in there!"
"You mean with my hand?"
"Well, yeah, unless you have a better solution as to how to get it out."
"So, I have to open it up?"
"I thought we had established that."
"I have to touch it?"
I found it was much easier and a whole lot quicker to just pop it open and get the pen myself.  And yet I see movies where "purse snatchers" grab a purse right off a woman's shoulder and run away with it.  They apparently were raised in a different era than most of the men I know.  Or they are drug crazed maniacs.  Or they have never been in the wonderland of a woman's purse!  Where I came from no self respecting man would ever touch a woman's purse for any reason what so ever. 
Oh, dear, I see I have once more digressed from my message.  This old age is about to be more than I can keep up with.  Seems I spend half of my time getting something and the other half wondering where I put it after I got it.  No wonder I leave things in the shopping cart, but dear Liz, what is your reason?  LOL
So back to the honesty in parking lots.  Maybe it is just easier to be honest if no one is looking.  Or maybe I have just been a pessimist all along.  What ever, my hat is off to Jeffery at the south side Walmart and the two ladies at the Abriendo Walgreen.  I am proud to salute you, who ever you are!
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From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Ah, my bicycle and a chance to run head on with a Mack truck!

See me on my bike?  See my bike without me on it?  See that car in the background?  What do you think would happen if I were on the road and I met that car head on?  Think I would damage that grill and leave it a shattered mess?  Or do you think me and my little bike would lose that round?  Pretty sure I know the answer to that one.  But here is what happens every day of my life.

I go some where in the car.  Now I have always been taught that when I ride a bike I am to follow all the rules that a car or motorcycle would follow.  Stay on the right side of the road.  Stop at stop signs.  Use a hand signal to indicate what my next move will be.  Oh, yeah and obey the speed limit.  I have no problem with that.  Can't hardly keep moving without falling over most of the time, but that is irrelevant.

So here I am tooling along and up the road headed straight toward me is a bicycle.  Some times it is a kid and more often than not it is a grown up leading the pack.  Now when I walk I do face oncoming traffic, but be reasonable on this bike thing.  When walking I can easily step over it I need to while on a bike you can not.  You are in the lane of traffic and it is the equivalent of going the wrong way on a one way street!  There you are on your vulnerable little 2 wheels that probably weighs 15 pounds and here I am heading straight for you.  I know you are over on the other side of the white line, almost in the ditch, but I have no choice if you bobble just a little but to run over you.  Think you would like that?  So I can either swerve into oncoming traffic to miss you and kill myself, or I can stop and look at you like you are suicidal, which you are!

Now here is a link for you to read just in case you think I am dreaming this up.  Granted this link is to the California CDOT but last I knew they were part of the United States and under the auspices of  of the federal Department Of Transportation.  I know that you have reasoning powers so think about where you ride your bike logically. 

http://www.dmv.ca.gov/pubs/brochures/fast_facts/ffdl37.htm

When you are driving your car and you come on a slow moving vehicile you slow down.  Then you check oncoming traffic in the left lane.  If it is clear, you accelerate and move into the left lane to pass and then quickly back in to your lane.  But when a bike is coming towards you in your lane, it does not matter what is in the left lane.  You are left with no choices. 

I would not bring this subject up if it were not happening more often especially now that summer is here and more bikes are out.  I think I am going to make bike safety a priority.  I will first stop in the local cop shop and ask them if they could possible consider giving tickets to bicycleists who do not obey the rules.  I realize if I hit one of them I would not be held liable since they were clearly in the wrong, but there is that "morally responsible" thing to consider and I do so love to sleep at night with a fairly clear conscience.  I am afraid the vision of a body hurtling into my windshield would screw that up royally.

I had a grandson staying with me once who was a teenager and in college.  He rode his bike because that is what he had.  And he rode it on the wrong side of the road because "If someone is going to hit me I want to see them coming.!"  I explained to him that he would.  And he did.  He came home all scuffed up one evening.  Some guy pulled out from the stop sign and never even seen him.  Course not.  I am extra cautious, but not everyone is.  So the guy pulled out and Dameon bounced across his hood.  A second later and he would have been under his wheels; a second earlier and he would have broadsided him.  Did he learn anything?  I doubt it.  Grandma's are not real bright.

So this is my soap box for the day.  And this is your assignment for the day:  When you see someone riding a bicycle on the wrong side of the road, point it out to them that they are endangering not only themselves, but others.  They are setting an example for someone somewhere.  Oh and a little side note here, be diplomatic about it.  The finger gesture does not always convey your thoughts accurately!

 

 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  My Novel  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Libby and Jeff, look at this.

This is a slide show I took and it is completely backwards.  But you get the idea if you watch me .  There is the house, then we go inside and up the stairs to the second floor and then the dreaded third floor.  See I have it nice and cleaned out.  Bret was fascinated with the register that lets warm air come from the bottom floor all the way up.  If we fell through the register we would land by the front door.
You can get a good shot of the guano from the bats, but then see the room is so neat.  You could live up there on the third floor and then just open the book case and over you go to the secret room.  I just love this old house.

And today I took a walk before breakfast!

Yep.  I did that.  Snapped the leash on the Daisy dog cause she has become abnormally attached to me.  I guess she knows I am kind of sad, but she never gets out of my sight or away from my side.  And she cries when I leave.  Tomorrow I may take them both.  Elvira has little short legs and I will probably end up carrying her home. 
We only went about 3/4 of a mile but it was very nice.  I used to do that a lot, but rather got out of the habit the last month.  And now this afternoon I have people coming to buy some of the cake decorating stuff.  More of it that I can sell outright, less I have to list on ebay.
And so I shall be off to church here in a bit.  Course I have to plug my book while I am on here anyway.  Oh, and tell you that I am working on book #2.  I am kind of having fun with this and probably not going to have as much sex and mayhem in the next one, so better get this one while you can.

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