So it is off to Los Pobres in my new car.

So I got a new (to me) car and what better way to break it in than to go by Nancy Martin's and pick up a load of stuff Ross Barnhart had ear marked for Los Pobres.  I had about decided that it would take 2 trips when Ross showed up and taught me how to cram it full!

This is the passenger seat.

This is the drivers seat and the only one not crammed full.  That is my purse taking up residence.

Here is me and my load buckling up for safety and since I could not see out I was pretty sure I would wind up in jail. 

This was the view from the rear of the vehicle. 

Side window. 

And away we go!

And now we are coming back.  This is a memorial alongside the road .  Been there several years.  Kind of hard to drive 60 mph and get very good pictures!

But look at that empty passenger seat.  Doesn't it look inviting?

So the new vehicle has now been properly introduced to it's future as a work horse for Los Pobres and wherever else the open road calls me.  And guess what?  The gas mileage appears to be about 42 MPG.  I can live with that!

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!

Super Bowl Sunday....and that affects me how?

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, Super Bowl Sunday meant something to me. Oh, and so did fishing, skating, and the sock hop in Convention Hall back home in Kansas.  That was probably the best year of my entire life.  I had a boyfriend at the time named Corky.  Now back in the day "boyfriend" meant something different than it does today.  It meant he was a boy and he was also my friend.  I have to be upfront about Corky.  He was a dancing fool and the two of us won every dance contest we entered.  Remember years ago when Dick Clark had American Bandstand and it was in black and white?  That was us.  Corky would flip me over his back and I could land on my feet and never miss a beat.  I can replay those days in my head and feel young again.
But alas, the days of sand and shovels are far and away gone. Corky is but a distant memory and the sock hops of those bygone years are not related to this old arthritic body because if anyone threw me in the air now I would break every bone in my body when I crashed to earth.  However, the best part of growing older is the  memories, because they get better every year.  I think we won all the dance contests, but I have no little trophy's to prove it.  I can still hear Fats Domino, Chubby Checker, Elvis Presley, Carl Perkins.  My feet still tap to Blueberry Hill, The Stroll, Heartbreak Hotel, and Blue Suede Shoes, Rock Around the Clock and Chantilly Lace.
It is the same moon up in the sky and the same sun shining in the heavens, but it is different.  I was amazed when we put a man on the moon and my heart still aches as I see the Challenger explode with the astronauts on board.  The kids today can read about history, but they can not feel it.  They can celebrate Martin Luther King, Jr., but they can not know the shame and disgrace of "seperate but equal."  We knew when they called it that what it was...discrimination pure and simple.  White dating black back in those days was a death sentence for sure.  My mother lived the dust bowl years.  My father lost 2 kids to dust pneumonia.  I know it, but I don't feel it.  When I was born we were at war.  Today we are engaged over seas, but is it war?
I grew up with an outhouse and now I do not think they exist.  I grew up in the time of polio, chickenpox, measels and whooping cough.  I had a friend in an iron lung.  She died.
I never went to a dentist and had my tonsils out when I was 10 years old.  I was sickly and bled out my ears when my tonsils were infected.  And I wanted to be a missionary.  I wanted to go to Africa and take care of the poor starving people.  That never happened.  Do I have regrets in my life?  Many.  Can I change an iota of the past?  No.
So some times I get melancholy and sad.  Does it stop me?  No.  As I look back down the long road behind me and the short road ahead of me I often wonder if God gave me the chance to change any one thing along that long road what it would be.  I have my answer.  Nothing.

Dental hygiene and a trip back in time!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

January is about behind me, thank God.

Well, it has been a very rough start for this year.  We lost Pastor Jeannine Lamb right before Christmas.  Her sudden passing threw me into a new low both at church and home.  I spent a lot of time over the holiday with her life partner, Kathy.  That helped me work through it some what.  Of course now comes the work of finding a new pastor.  Kevin Olsen is doing pulpit supply for us until we can find an interim ministry so that takes a load off our shoulders.  Does not make life easier though as there are meetings and more meetings.

Also passing was Rae Flanagan, whom I had gone to church with for years.  Very nice and very classy lady.    Lee Dorsey was the last of the people I had gone to church with and my heart breaks for his beautiful daughter, Bernadette and her husband, Jesse.   I also lost a client, Irene.  On the upside, I got a new great grandson.

Ended the year having a new furnace installed.  House insurance and car insurance both jumped up 25%.  Never had a wreck in my life, but my insurance keeps going up.  Not the social security check though,  That just keeps getting stretched further to pay utilities and buy groceries.  We all know how long this cheap gas is going to last, don't we?

As I look forward to the new year left ahead of me, I can hear the limb rubbing on the back of the house roof and know that is going to need to come down and that means more money.  Car has 105000 miles on it so needs to have all kinds of little things done to it.  I think about just selling and moving into town and that scares me.  When I do that there is no going back to the big house in the country with 2 dogs, a cat and 9 geese.  It is easy to downsize at my age, but up sizing is out of the question.

So I am going to set here in my big house surrounded by all my stuff I have accumulated and think about what is going to happen this coming year.  I have lots of big plans and lots of things I want to do, but time will tell as to what happens.  Who knows, maybe next year I will be the one not here and someone else will be missing me!  That is the fun part of life; not knowing.

So for now, I am going to keep loving all my friends and acquaintances and if one of them falls by the wayside I will know I did my best and if the "fallee" happens to be me, they can shed a tear and know that we parted on the best of terms.

We are not promised tomorrow.  We have only today.

Please lock me away in a nice warm place and feed me hot food!

Welcome to the Hospice House of Sangre de Cristo on Abriendo Avenue here in beautiful Pueblo, Colorado.  

This is where I will be spending the next 2 days in volunteer training.  I had 2 friends that were going with me, but that may be changing since this is what happened here yesterday and last night.

I am not a fan of winter and I am sure not a fan of driving in this stuff, but I shall.  That is the only way I know to get from point A ( my house) to point B (Abriendo Inn).  Of course before I can do any leaving of point A I need to shovel a trail out to point C (goose house) and feed the critters.  Oh yeah, and take the sledge hammer to break the ice on point D (stock tank).  And shovel to point E (car port). All this makes me think I should be seeking a point F (nice warm 2 room apartment in an assisted living facility complete with some one to shovel outside, a  lady to clean, a dining room down the hall , and clean sheets once a week.)

But since it is too late for that I guess I will jump in the shower, go out into the cold 14 degree weather with my wet hair and every pore of my body open from a hot shower and hope for the best, which means I will walk spraddle legged so I don't fall and break something.  So wish me well and with a little luck I may get on here tonight and write something really worth reading!

There is something pathetic about Westboro Baptist Church

I got this picture off the Internet

December 29, 2014 was a very good day for myself and a whole lot of people in Pueblo, Colorado.  That was the day Westboro Baptist Church came to protest our gay marriages as well as our legalization of marijuana.  Like any of that was thier business.  Much like us going to protest their protest, but it had to be done.  The numbers were definitely in our favor.  There were 7 of them and there were over 400 of us and I was told later that there were over 50 in the church across the street that never got counted.  Of course adrenalin was high and we all hollered at them and they just smiled and called us fag lovers and such.  As I look back on that now I am overcome with a very heavy sadness.

  

I decided to do a little research into the Phelps family and it becomes even more sad when I learned that these kids are born into this house of hate and are taught from a very early age that they are right and the rest of the world is wrong.  they perpetuate homophobia as well as the beleif  that soldiers are killers and baby rapers.  In thier world there is no good and all is evil.  How can they have any happiness?  What is thier life but one big long demonstation against any kind of happiness.  They spew hate like a Roman Candle spews fireballs against a dark sky.

I know the family started with Fred Phelps and a lot of his podigy remain thier in the compound.  When Fred died they kept him around for several months in hopes that he would come back to life, but that did not happen.  His sister now seems to be the ring leader, but as it appears there is dissent in the ranks.  Outsiders have joined the ranks, but as the kids grow, they want more out of life and escape the confines.  Sometimes they are caught and brought back, but a few remain "at large."  Could you imagine growing up in such an environment?

When I was raising my kids I tried to make them happy and secure and I taught them that everyone was equal and had the right to happiness as long as thier actions did not hurt anyone else.  I tried to teach them what being a christian was and I think they mostly got the idea.  I could never fathom a parent that would deliberatlely stand thier child on the corner and place a sign in thier hand that would hurt another person.  Westboro Baptist is shrinking in numbers and thier protests are of little consequence any more, but I want you to think about this:

What if Westboro had been on God's side and had marched for love, kindness, charity, forgiveness?  What if they had taken that banner and protested murder, child abuse, domestic violence, animal cruelty?  If they had raised a ruckus over the real short comings of society, I might have waved one of thier signs.  If they had thrown groceries at a hungry family they might sleep a little better at night.

And so that is my take on Westboro.  So to bed.

Happy New Year! Or it might be subtitled "Here's hoping!"

So here I am in another year.  Who would have thought this would keep happening to me?  I am recalling a time when when the kids were little and I had a moment of clarity and purchased a life insurance policy so when I bit the big one there would be money to finish raising them.  Nice thought at the time.  So for a few years I made my payments and then seeing that I was still pretty much alive, I cancelled it, but they sent me a term life paid up till 1979.  I was pretty sure that would cover me until I met an untimely death in what ever manner it could be.  You must know that I have not always been this sweet little old lady you see before you and I have also not had much of a filter on my mouth especially when I was upset.
But, to make a long story short, I outlived that policy and several more after that.  Finally gave up on term life insurance as a bad bet on my time here on this big green/blue ball.  And now, rather then making a list of all the wonderful things I am going to do in the new year and all the bad things I am going to quit doing, I am keeping a score card!  Now, even that is a waste of time because I do not remember what I did last year so what am I going to compare it to this year?  So, I am going to just tell you a few of the improvements I have made in my life over the last ...well since I came to Colorado.
Having dropped out of school my senior year, I went to college and received a degree in accounting.
I became proficient on the computer.
I opened a store on ebay and maintain 100% feedback after 6 years.
I started attending church regularly.
I learned to weave and spin.
I quit smoking.
I volunteer my time for others through SCAP, Sangre de Cristo Hospice, Los Pobres, and anyone else who needs me.
I wrote a book and published it.
My blog is successful.
I do a little hiking in the mountains, but not alone because I am afraid of bears.
So, I am guessing I am in better shape this year then I have been a lot of years before.  And I can see a bright future ahead if I just keep my eye on the prize.  Just gotta say it though....

HAPPY NEW YEAR...2015!!

  

Welcome to Pueblo, Colorado, Westboro Baptist Church!!

Here is the front of the Pueblo County Courthouse where Bo Ortiz foams at the mouth to  marry fag dogs!!!

It was snowing like the dickens when I left the house this morning to attend the counter rally at the court house.  Like a whole bunch of other people, it was a call that could not go unanswered.  When it was time to  have the speakers (I was included in that venue) we all moved inside.  I am anxiously awaiting a head count. I have no idea how many people were there, but when we went to walk around the court house we marched 3-4 abreast and covered the whole area around the courthouse.

Westboro had 6.  We were not allowed to go that direction.  The told us to move right along, but did let me point my camera in the direction of the group.  That might be one on the other side of the fence.  Now, you all know I am a pacifist, so I would have been very kind to them, but since I did not see any, I could not "spread the love".

".

This is my son Bret and Misha, his boss who owns Heritage Organics.  I am on the end wearing my "cicil disobedience shirt, other wise known as a "tie dye."

Here is Janet Altmann and myself being very, very good.

But if you want to know what a show of solidarity looks like, please enjoy these pictures.

 They were even hanging from the balcony around the rotunda!

Westboro did not linger long!  All in all, it was sure worth the trip onto town during a blinding blizzard.  I am going to pop this over on youtube and will put a link on here.  I am, in the meantime counting this as a great day.  

And if you missed my speech, here it is in it's entirety!

The gay rights movement in the US is often traced to June 27, 1969, in New York City, when police raided a Greenwich Village bar, the Stonewall Inn, and bar patrons rebelled in protest. Seven years later, in 1976, in Dade County, Florida, Anita Bryant led the first religious campaign against gay rights.
In Colorado an amendment was placed on the ballot in 1992 by a religious group centered in Colorado Springs. 
Amendment 2 reads as follows:
"Neither the State of Colorado, through any of its branches or departments, nor any of its agencies, political subdivisions, municipalities or school districts, shall enact, adopt or enforce any statute, regulation, ordinance or policy whereby homosexual, lesbian, or bisexual orientation, conduct, practices or relationships shall constitute or otherwise be the basis of, or entitle any person or class of persons to have or claim any minority status, quota preferences, protected status or claim of discrimination. This Section of the [Colorado] Constitution shall be self-executing."
At that time there were 2 little gay guys in Pueblo, Colorado.  Fortunately there were also two or 3 mothers and a friend who had lost a friend to AIDS in a loosely held group known as PFLAG.  I found them in 1990 when they were meeting in the basement of the old Red Cross building on Pueblo Boulevard in an unmarked room to protect our identity.  Yep I was one of them.  We spoke out against Amendment 2, but in hushed tones.  We put up NO on 2 signs and they were promptly torn down.
The amendment was passed by a majority of Colorado voters in November 1992, and was to take effect on January 15, 1993. The American Civil Liberties Union, Lambda Legal Defense Fund, the cities of Boulder, Aspen, and Denver, and individual plaintiffs joined forces under the leadership of attorney Jean Dubofsky, a former Colorado Supreme Judicial Court judge, and filed a motion in Denver District Court seeking to enjoin the governor and state of Colorado from enforcing Amendment 2. On January 15, 1993, Judge Jeffrey Bayless granted a preliminary injunction, giving the plaintiffs the first victory in a legal struggle over the constitutionality of Amendment 2. That injunction was later made permanent, but was then appealed to the US Supreme Court.
Now SCEA members!  Listen up.  On the night of the election, when Amendment 2 passed with a clear majority a phone tree went into action and a business on Elizabeth Street opened for a gathering of probably 50-60 gay people.  Many of them wore “Don’t shoot!  I am really a black bear.”  Because a measure protecting the black bears had passed. 
Out of that meeting grew a need to protect our gay friends.  We knew we must let people know that gay existed and existed in Pueblo Colorado.  A group was formed at that time and christened with the name “Pueblo After 2.”  Our symbol was an upside down pink triangle.  We quietly infiltrated the straight world.  The pioneers in this movement were the 2 gay guys, Joe Roderick and our Beloved late David Hackenberry.  Thanks also to Donna, Carolyn, Warren, and the list goes on and on.  As gay people came out of the closet and awareness swept Pueblo and all of Colorado.  When amendment 2 was faded in the background we became politically active and needed a new name.  Up jumped Southern Colorado Equality Alliance.  From that came Out Front Youth Group, and other splinter groups that are now respected and do many good works.  I never thought I would live to see a gay pride parade, but now I actually participate.
We did not get where we are by violence, hatred or intimidating people.  Westboro Baptist Church would have us stoop to their level, but we will not.  We are equal citizens of this great country and we are treated as equals not because of a law, but because we are equal.  I thank Gilbert Ortiz for standing with our friends and family against the forces of evil.
SCEA, that is where you came from.  I was there.  I am a charter lifetime member of Pueblo After 2 and am supposed to get the newsletter from you, but you have forgotten about your roots.  So I just wanted to remind you.

http://youtu.be/hgpZCE6yhYw

Hard working hands and a heart of gold have gone to rest.

Jeannine Lamb

December 21, 2014

Once more our hearts have been broken.  Pastor Jeannine has gone to her final rest, but she does leave us with a legacy of hope, charity, forgiveness and a fire in our bellies!  When she came to us several years back our church was in turmoil as was the United Church of Christ across town.  She came into a "shared ministry" and she was the "shared minister".  Many hills and valleys later she was all ours!

Very seldom do I  find a minister with whom I can work hand in hand, but Jeannine filled needs in me that I did not even know I had.  She challenged me in areas where I did not even know I was lacking.  Under her guidance our church began to grow.  Our people began to thrive.  Any time the church had a function, she was there.  Mother's Day Out which is our pre-school program was the bright spot of her day as she loved the chidren.  

My first official fundraiser for the church was last May and was a high tea.  Pastor was there as a server and she worked tirelessly.  It was a rousing success!  Our soup and bread Lenten Lunches were her idea and she was the server for those.  Clean-up day found Pastor in her jeans and gloves.  From the craft/bake sale to Sunday morning Navajo Taco's or biscuits and gravy, she was there.  World AIDS day found her as our religious center.  She learned early how to handle me!  A simple "Gee, I think I would have done it this way," brought me to heel very quickly and left me thinking it was my idea.  A true master, that woman!

There was no task she would not under take, but yesterday morning when the choir at First Congregational Church marched down the aisle to sing for the very first time, it brought a tear to many eyes.  First Church has not had a choir for many years, but we do now!  Ken Joyal sat at the piano as the organ got a short rest.  The voices that rose to heaven yesterday reached the ears of God and our dear Jeannine and I know she smiled down.  I winked at her and I know that while she may be gone from our sight, she is not gone from our church.  I know that her and my dear Sammi Cody and all the saints that have gone before will lead us to a higher plain and our church will thrive and once more be a vital part of this community.  How can we fail?  We have a congregation held together by love and respect and angels in heaven smiling down at us!  How can we go wrong?

The day is finally here!

http://alongthemalecon.blogspot.com

I was so excited to see on the news yesterday that Cuba is once more open to us.  My God!  I can remember way back in the dim recesses of my mind when the embargo was placed on Cuba.  I go to the store and find "Made in China", "made in Mexico",  "Made in Taiwan".  I watch the shows on child labor in these countries and hear the atrocities that go on inside these borders and then look at a country 90 miles off our coast that has been ostracized for 50 years and I do not even remember what they did.
I do know that when Sherman was alive he wanted a real Cuban cigar.  Just one before he died.  I do not remember how much that cost on the black market.  Oh, wait.  That is not illegal any more, is it?  And these buses loaded with medical and educationnal materials aren't either, are they?

I do not even remember when this picture was taken.

I see we are releasing 3 prisoners.  There were 5.  The Cuban 5.  I assume that a couple of them could have died.  I will need to look into that.  

But for now, it is enough that we are finally after 53 years doing something.  I am glad Allan Gross is home.  I am glad that the Cuban cigar is now resting in it's place of honor in St. Louis.  I am also very happy that my friends, Amy and Bernardo can now go "home" for a visit.

Peace!!!!!!!!!

A man named David

You all know that I follow myself into the world and into whatever situation presents itself, right?  I have found myself in some rather odd places and met some really strange people, but it has always been for a reason.  The reason is not always readily known, but sooner or later it all clicks into place and I know why I am where I am or sometimes where I was and am not there anymore.  Am I making any sense?  Probably not.
So today I took myself to Sam's club.  I needed to pick up a few things.  I had no intentions at all of buying coffee and I sure do not buy the beans.  See a long time ago I used my coffee grinder to pulverize some dried Habeneros thus rendering it useless on coffee beans because of the flavor that would now be imparted to the coffee.  Habanero never loses its fire and the oil is imparted into the stainless steel blades in the grinder.  Columbian Habanero is nothing that will ever catch on at Starbucks.
So no one was more surprised then I was when I found myself clutching a 2 pound sack of Solar Roast Beans.  Hell, had I known I wanted solar roasted coffee beans I would have gone to the Solar Roast Store on Main Street.  It is a nice little coffee shop and I used to have lunch there with my friend Tere before she forsook me and moved back to Tennessee.  But there I stood and knew I had to have those beans.  The stock girl explained that if I needed them ground the man from the company was set up in the frozen food aisle to grind them.  It was beginning to look like the beans and I were meant to be a pair, so I began the meandering path back that direction.  Threw in a few things I could not live without, namely olive oil, green beans, artichokes, glucosamine, clementines, 25 pounds of flour and 10 pounds of sugar.  Oh, and 4 pounds of butter.
When I finally remembered I was looking for the coffee grinder I was almost out of time (meeting my son at 3 for a late lunch).  I handed him my bag and he dumped it into his machine and hit the button.  I hurried off to pick up eggs and when I got back he was alone and the grinder was doing it's thing.  For some odd reason I started talking about my church and invited him to our service on Sunday.  I love my church.  I explained that it is a UCC church and he told me he was partial to the UCC and usually found one when he was on the road.  He went on to explain that he is a practicing Buddhist and how Buddha searches for the perfect world and Nirvana.  I am very comfortable in my faith and enjoy discussing it with whomever I chance to meet.
Our whole conversation consisted of  a 9 minute discussion on religion.  His name is David and he is from California and he does the chants.  He will google loumercer3 and I may at some point know what I did for him or what he did for me.  Or maybe not.  Maybe that was the extent of the meeting.  I do know I am once more thinking about Buddhism.  I do know several people who practice the meditation thing and I think maybe I do to.  The difference is I call it "thinking about things" or "setting and thinking about nothing".  Or there is this; maybe I just needed to try freshly ground beans to see what real coffee tastes like.  Who knows.  I do know it was a pleasure meeting you, David, and maybe next time you are in this area you will pop into my church.  In the meantime, have a good one!

Please bring back the Pony Express!!!

So as you all know, I sell on ebay and thus use the postal service for delivery.  On orders in the United States I have tracking free.  Buy through ebay and track it righ to the door. Not so on International orders.  Oh, I get a tracking number, but it ends at the edge of the ocean or the Canadian border, so I am used to things diappearing into a customs office and never coming back.  Or if a package arrives at a post office and is not picked up I see it wend it's way back to my door.  But from here to Oregon is pretty much a straight shot, or so I thought!

A lady in Eugene, Oregon bought a book on November 13.  I immediately posted it at my Wedgewood office.  It left there sometime that day and arrived in Salt Lake City, Utah 8 days later.  That must have been one helluva trip  It remained in  Salt Lake City for several days until they got tired of talking to me.  It  then came back to Denver.  After due time it caught a wind and headed out west.

It then spent 2 days flying to Washington.  After spending the night in Federal Way, Washington it spent 2 days flying to Eugene, Oregon.  So 15 days later it arrived on her door step. Below is my tracking record.  

This is a post-only message. Please do not respond.

Lou Mercer has requested that you receive a USPS Tracking™ update, as shown below.

USPS Tracking™ e-mail update information provided by the U.S. Postal Service.

Label Number: 9449009699938911873408

Service Type: USPS Tracking^™

Shipment Activity	Location	Date & Time
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delivered, Left with Individual	EUGENE, OR 97405	November 28, 2014 11:58 am
Arrived at Post Office	EUGENE, OR 97405	November 28, 2014 8:56 am
Departed USPS Facility	FEDERAL WAY, WA 98003	November 26, 2014 2:40 am
Arrived at USPS Facility	FEDERAL WAY, WA 98003	November 25, 2014 6:59 pm
Departed USPS Facility	DENVER, CO 80217	November 23, 2014 3:00 am
Arrived at USPS Origin Facility	DENVER, CO 80217	November 23, 2014 2:21 am
Departed USPS Facility	SALT LAKE CITY, UT 84199	November 21, 2014 6:55 pm
Arrived at USPS Facility	SALT LAKE CITY, UT 84199	November 21, 2014 3:10 pm
Picked Up	PUEBLO, CO 81005	November 13, 2014 1:36 pm
Pre-Shipment Info Sent to USPS		November 13, 2014

Reminder: USPS Tracking™ by email

Seems like the real vacuum hole seeems to be beween Pueblo, Colorado and Salt  Lake City, but that is not the case.  Only God knows where that thing was.  So after many weeks I was most happy to find this email in my box:

Holy Moley, it's on the correct edge of the country!  lol

Happy Thanksgiving, Lou

:-)  Jeanne

And finally, this one:

EUREKA!!!!  Silly Sally has arrived!

:-)

-Jeanne

Now I just went and checked out the Pony Express and copied what was there for you to read:  The service opened officially on April 3, 1860, when riders left simultaneously from St. Joseph, Missouri, and Sacramento, California. The first westbound trip was made in 9 days and 23 hours and the eastbound journey in 11 days and 12 hours. The pony riders Annual Pony Express Re-Ride covered 250 miles in a 24-hour day.

So am I off base in suggesting that they might bring back the Pony Express?  I figure I could shave a good 3-4 days off my delivery time.  Let me know.

In the meantime, I do hope Jeanne is enjoying Silly Sally.  I want to thank her for being so patient.  Most people would have given up early in the game.  Sure hope to do business with her again.

I finally made good my escape.

Ah yes!  Is there anything more beautiful in the world then a Colorado Rocky Mountain shot on my Nikkon camera?   Reason being is because I am on the back  side of the camera and I know pretty soon I will be in that scenery.  I, myself and for the most part,  am a heat seeking missile, but there are exceptions to most all of my rules and this is one of those instances.  There is something exhilarating about pulling on several layers of clothes, gloves, coat, boots, flannel cap and a hood over the whole mess, jumping out of the pickup into a snow filled wonderland and tramping uphill through the forest.

Coaldale did not have a lot of snow but there was enough to lower my temperature several degrees.  And this time of year there are not a lot of tourists up there so I have the forest to myself.  Well, not exactly to myself since I did go with a friend.  Even I am not silly enough to wander off into a frozen wonderland alone.  But it is very nice and quiet there.  Time stands still and birds flit about while little creatures dart in and out of holes faster than I can see them.

Not  surprised at all to find out I could not fish in this area.  The mere fact that there was no water led me to leave my pole at home.

. Now  I want to go on record as saying that I do love being in the woods when snow is up to my knees and communing with nature and being as close to God as one can get on this earth while still breathing, but I do not like the getting to the forest nor the returning home through the slush.  I also like the fact that a pickup with a good heater and a tank full of gas is waiting to transport me to another place and time.  

So I bid the little creek farewell and climbed in the cab and awaited the magic that would take me to another place.  This was only the first morning of my two day get away. I still had the prospect of Methodist mountain and a sky full of stars ahead of me.  I will fill you in on the rest of the journey when I am not quite so tired, but for now it is off to my little bed and dreams of a wonderful two days.

Remember to stop and smell the flowers!

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!

My thoughts on the election.

To say that I am disappointed in the way the vote went would be an understatement.  Oh, I am not talking about the candidates and the Republicans triumphing over the Democrats.  That goes on all the time and will continue long after I am gone.  What bothers me is the refusal of people to make the food companies lable our food. We are herded together like so many cattle and told it does not matter.  GMO's are the way to go.  Less water.  Better yield.

I am not going to spew facts at you on this.  What I AM going to ask you to do is to use your search engine and type in words like:
Highest cancer rates world wide.
countries that do not allow GMO
agent orange monsanto

Read this stuff for yourself.  Make up your own mind.  Remember Jim Jones back in the 70's?  He made a big vat of grape Koolaid laced with poison and made his followers drink it.  If he had labled it poison, no one would have drunk it.  Now our government refuses to lable our food.  What does that tell you?  If it was safe they would paste big signs all over it, but by thier refusal to require that GMO lable they are, in essence pulling a Jim Jones on us and we are letting them.  Seeds that were once saved from crops are no longer allowed to be sold.  Seed that was sold by the pound is now sold at a per seed price.  No more heritage crops are being planted.  You have an Iternet, PLEASE use it!

I did  like this little paper.to read.  Underground Health

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!!

Goodbye to a wonderful woman

September 28, 2014

Goodbye to dear Sammie Cody

Hard working hands to heaven borne.

And left us here to mourn.

A saint  among our saviour's best

Hard working hands have gone to rest.

I shall miss my friend.   I met Sammie a couple months ago, but she had a tremendous impact on my life.  Her faith was so simple, so kind and so all encompassing that I was immediately drawn into a family filled with love.  Through her our church has grown.  We prayed for her and she for us.  She has opened my eyes in a new way to know that I just need to turn it over to God, assume it is taken care of and prepare to reap the benefits.  

I will write more about Sammie later.