How sad is the death of Whitney Houston.  The death of anyone leaves a hole in our soul and when someone who is as famous as Whitney was with her phenomenal voice, her grace, and her  beauty we are reminded that no one is exempt from this thing called death.  And no matter where we are when our final moment comes, we are completely and totally alone.  We could be in the middle of Grand Central Station during rush hour, but when the final breathe leaves our body and our eyes lock on the great beyond and its' secrets;  we are alone.
As I make my way on down my own bucket list, I some times think about what kind of setting I would like to have as I sprout my wings and leave this plain.  I do believe I would like to be up in the mountains, alone on the top of one of the highest mountains very near the edge so I could gaze at the vista that I have only seen a few times.  I am terrified of heights, but I do like to look out across the miles and realize how much beauty this world holds.  That and the fact that if I leap from a precipice there is a good chance I can catch an updraft!  This picture was taken in Rye, Colorado on the deck of a friends house.

I

I guess, the place I am located at will not be nearly as important as the state of mind I am in at the time.  I think about death and I am ready when ever the Good Lord is ready.  Now I am not trying to hurry that little fellow in any way, but he could surprise me if he wants to and that would be alright with me.  Gonna have some grouchy kids when they try to figure out my filing system.  You know, where do I bank and who do I owe and stuff like that.  Most of that is in my head and course when I leave this world that little part of my hard drive is going to crash, big time.

But today, I am not going to worry about any of that stuff.  I am going to say my prayers for all the Whitney Houstons' in the world who have embarked on their new journey.  Today will be no different than every other day that way.  And I will pray for peace, strength and understanding.  And when I lay my head on my pillow at night, I will thank God for keeping me one more day.  Then I picture my childhood home in Nickerson, Kansas, and I walk the mile to school and see momma doing the ironing for the lady in town.  Those are my days of innocence and those are what sustain me as I reach for the stars that Whitney Houston now holds in her hands.

Rest In Peace

Whitney Houston

Girl, your work on earth is through.

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Nickerson, Kansas, or the good old days.

Well, another day and another class trying to learn something.  It is amazing to me that when I was young and learning stuff was free and easy, I was not interested in the whole concept.  And now, here I am 70 years old with my mind so full of stuff that I can not pick out one vital piece of information and I now want to cram some more stuff in there to clutter it up even  worse.  But I shall clutter, none the less.
Let me see, what else have I been up to?  Well, I have been trying to figure out how to write about my childhood in Nickerson, Kansas and I am getting confused.  If I just start at the beginning that is a pretty boring story.  So I have arrived at the concept of just giving you snippets of my younger days.  Like now, the story playing out in my head is the one where I got my first bicycle. 
The local grocery had a contest and whoever came in with the most labels won  their choice of either a 3 speed bicycle or a radio.  At the same time the IGA was having a contest, but their prize was a trip to St. Louis.  I knocked on doors, scavenged through trash barrels, begged in front of the store, and otherwise just made a nuisance of myself.
Well, when the contest ended and all the labels were counted, I had like 7,000 and the next kid had 300+.  He was very upset because he wanted that bike.  His dad owned the local newspaper and I was pretty sure that his dad had way more money then my mother who cleaned their house. 
Ah, that bike was a beauty!  It was a boys bike because I did not want to wait for them to order in a girls' bike.  It was maroon and some chrome and I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. And it had the little skinny tires and it was called an "English Racing Bike".  I very proudly pushed it all the way home.  I pushed it up on to the front porch and there it stayed.  Having never had a bicycle, I did not know how to ride.  The neighbor girls had bikes.  Little bicycles that I could actually step over the bar and set on the seat.  Irene agreed to give me "bike riding lessons".  Told me it was "easy as pie"!  Ever make a pie?  It is not that easy. 
So this is how this would happen;  I would get on the bike and she would hold on to the back fender and keep me in an upright postition.  Hell, that sounded like a genius idea to me.  The first short little bursts worked well.  Now she would let me go when she was sure I had my balance.  Brilliant!  Off we went and I quickly achieved "lift off", and down the road I went.  Course any fool knows what happened next.  Dead end road so it was either stop or turn the corner.  Unfortuneately we had discussed neither of thos option in advance.  I suddenly remembered something about pedaling backwards and so I reversed my direction.  Now I do not know if you have ever ridden a bike with that kind of brake, but I am here to tell you, when you suddenly reverse the foot pedals, you stop.  That is where that old saying "It can stop on a dime!" came from.  Of course when the bike stops so does the balance thing you had going on.  This was my first wreck.  Irene was very proud that I had gone almost half a block.  I was not real sure the other half of that block was left in me.
Of course in due time I learned to do it right.  And then my new bike was waiting for me.  It was taller then me and I needed to park by the step to climb on and take off.  Now I find my whole life has been lived this way.  I know how to start and I know how to get on, I just don't know how to end the ride!  I quickly learned to ride close to a hill, squeeze the brake and then lean toward the hill with my leg extended.  That was all in the first day!  Sadly though, the first day was about all there was to that.  Remember those little skinny tires I was so proud of the first day?  They do not stand up well against the dreaded Goat Head, which is a very sharp sticker.  I would pump the tires up and ride until they went flat.  The rides got shorter and I moved on to other things, like playing "Annie Over" Irene's house.
I think that was the name of the game.  She was on one side of the house and I was on the other.  Whoever had the ball would holler "Annie Over" and throw it over the house.  You got three tries to get it over and then we had to change sides.  If she missed, she got three chances.  The most amazing part of the whole thing was that there was a lot of honesty went on without us even knowing.  If we missed the ball, we called "miss" and if it did not go over the house we called "do over!"  I guess at that place in our lives we had not yet learned how to cheat and lie.  Of course we all picked that habit up as we got out in the real world, but something else I have noticed is that as I get older, I am reverting to my honesty days.  I do not find it necessary to embellish the truth any more.  I think part of that happened when I realized I better tell the truth because I was having a hard time remembering the lies.  Or maybe I am just returning to what is known as my "second childhood." 
Either way I am enjoying this part of life and as the prize gets closer I remember the good old days with a clarity I never had when I was there.
Wonder what I will think about tomorrow!

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You have got to be kidding!!

Oh, now this is more than even I can fathom!  I am used to receiving the dating sites advertisements in my spam box through my email.  But wait a minute.  Do you know what LinkedIn is?  Well what I thought it was and what it is may be two entirely different thing.  Again I blame my naivete!  See I thought it was a place where professional people could meet like  minded people and maybe pick up a referral for a service they or I offer.  I know my son has made great contacts through there and gotten his resume in the proper hands.  So I carefully filled out my little profile and listed all the things I can do and just finished that update a couple days ago.  Today I received a list of 4 groups I might want to join. 
First one was for the Millionairs Club which I was pretty sure was out of my league, but hey, a girl can dream, can't she?  I clicked on that sucker and was amazed to find it was one of those dating sites that usually ends up in the spam filter.  I was just a  little disappointed to find that cause I thought hob nobbing with millionaires might be kind of fun.  So with a sad little sigh, I went to #2.
That was a dating service as well.  Same with numbers 3 and 4.  Give me a break here!
So the question here would be this; why does every place I go think that because I am single  and domesticated, meaning I can cook and sew, that I am therefore looking for a mate?  Or is the mere fact that I am a warm blooded being enough to qualify me as "eligible"?   Is the fact that I am living alone a desperate plea for someone to save me from this solitary existence?  Did I say that?  If I wanted a man, trust me, there are plenty of them within reach. 
Do I need to be constantly bombarded with pictures of the lonely fellow gazing in profile towards an empty window?  Looking for love?  No, not really.  Sure I would like to have someone to shovel the walk when it snows, or run the tiller in the spring, or clean out the goose house and tank, and wash the car.  Send me that ad and I will be all over that one. 
I can see that one: "Very handsome and healthy single male looking for a short, fat woman in her waning years to pay bills for, do yard work for, general handyman duties to include cleaning the car and changing oil.  I love to clean house, do laundry and entertain grandkids on occasion.  Sucessful applicant must be intelligent, selfish, cook occasionally, and go to bed early every night and get up at 4 AM because it is the best part of the day and sunrise won't happen if she is not there to jerk it out of the ground.  Age is not a factor as long as she is breathing, little over weight is preferable, bad breathe is a plus,and slovenliness is a necessity.  I require no attention, no attaboys, and sex only when she deems it necessary."
Send me that one and my name is all over that dotted line!  Not really, but it sounds good, doesn't it?
Just wanted to vent my fustrations a little bit.  I am very happy with my life just like it is and I can send that stuff to the spam box all day long and set right here and enjoy my sunrise, sunset and the weeds sprouting all day long!

When you are over the hill, you pick up speed!

Well, this is one of my more recent snap shots.  I mean this is a more recent snap shot that some one else took of me.  I even look blurry.  Age is not wearing well on me.  And it is happening so fast that I am about ready to jump out of the way of this speeding train.  By the way, my shirt says "Jesus is coming!!!  Quick   Look busy!"  Well actually my shirt just hangs there and does not say anything.  I embroidered that on there as a message to those who have the idle hands in the day to day life we are forced to live.

At one point in time I was into decorating the "Necessary Room"  with wise sayings.  The first to hit the wall was one that had a sheep and said, "Ewe's not fat!  Ewe's Fluffy!"  That was followed closely by "Of all the things I've lost, I miss my mind the most!"  I soon tired of that one and replaced it with "Either lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way!"  These little jewels were all made in counted cross stitch that I toiled long and hard over.

Well, now it is many years later and the old eyesight is matching the picture there and the counted cross stitch is a thing of the past.  I used to crochet with the smallest hook and use thread that was like a spider web and make beautiful doilies to put all over the house.  The thread I use is now rug yarn and the doilies have been replaced by a store bought kitchen towel draped through one of the handles of the stove.  I always tilled my own garden, but now I am thinking of having some one come over and do that for me.  Actually I am looking to sell the tiller and do the container gardening thing where I do not actually have to bend over.

When we moved here in 1983 it took me about 35 minutes to mow and trim the yard.  Thank God we had a hot, dry summer last year and the grass refused to grow!  The chore is now up to over an hour and that is not counting the 3 breaks I need to take to rehydrate and dry the sweat that now runs off my head in rivulets!  I thought about hiring this out to my grandson, but when I told him I would pay $20 for the work and he looked at me with disdain, I just wanted to rip his head off his body!  Proving that not only does either one of us know the value of a dollar, but also that my sense of humor is definitely down the crapper.

For the first 55 years of my life I did not need an air conditioner in the summer and a wood stove was fine in the winter.  Shoveling snow was just something I did when it fell on my side walk.  At some point in time I must have blown my thermostat, because now an air conditioner is a must and I ain't chopping that damn wood, no way.  Right before Christmas we had to really big snows and I managed to make it in or out, but this past week when I looked out in the morning and saw that crap I picked up the phone and called the step daughter.  "Was Michael on his way over or shall I go ahead and shovel this stuff myself?'  Dead silence.  We both knew the answer to that one!  And my thoughts on this were almost profound!

Why is youth always wasted on the young?  When we were kids growing up at home and it snowed, we never shoveled.  No one shoveled.  The tallest one went out first and "broke a path"  to wherever we needed to go.  Usually the first path was to the out house.  And luckily that path led past the wood pile so eliminated the need for the second path!  (My momma didn't raise no fools!)  Hopefully someone had chopped and stacked some wood on the back porch before the "storm hit" so there would be dry wood for the necessary parts of life like cooking.  We did have a propane cook stove, but we only used that on Sunday and not always then. 

Winters were hard back then.  The stove would inevitably burn out in the night so we had to rely on the pile of quilts on our beds for survival.  That and shared body heat.  Us kids slept in a pile on two beds.  Now each little angel needs their own room.  And a furnace to keep them the same temperature all night and day.  Course we did not know any better.  That was how the world turned back then.  So let me get to the point and I am sure there must be one.

I do not remember ever doing any manual labor growing up at home.  We must have because I am pretty sure there were dishes to be washed, meals to be cooked, floors to be swept and mopped, laundry to be done, chickens to be fed.  It is just that I do not remember ever doing any of that stuff back when I was young and strong and could have done it very easily.  Back when I could have made a difference in my mother's life I do not remember doing anything.  Youth is wasted on the young, like I just said.

I am drifting from my original goal because thinking back to my younger days always makes me nostalgic, so I am going to wind this up, but I will be back very soon and I am going into the years in Nickerson, Kansas in much greater detail.  For now I just want to tell you to seize the day, which in French is "Carpe diem!"  or something like that.  I now refer back to my final piece of needlework.

When you are over the hill, you pick up speed.

(And the nearer you get to the bottom, it becomes a very slippery slope!)

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I am awaiting the words of a groundhog?

Now this sounds like something an intelligent woman would do, doesn't it?  Let me see, if he sees his shadow he will run back into his hole and I will know that there will be 6 more weeks of winter.  Correct?  I got news for all of you, there will be six more weeks of winter whether or not some burrowing animal in Pennysylvania sees his shadow or not.  I live in Colorado and I know when it is winter here.  Winter does not even start till about now.    Right now it is 23 degrees and that is pretty wintery to me. 
Oh, I see by the news scroll that feeds across the top of the screen that he did see his shadow so there will be six more weeks of winter.  Glad he clarified that for me.  Know what would really impress me?  If he learned how to spell Punxsuatawney.  I was not even close, but the spell checker was.  Amazing isn't it?
Now there are signs the "old wifes" can read that will tell you all kinds of things if you know an old wife any where.  Like if the Caterpillar has lots of hair and it is very long, it is going to be a very cold winter. And if they build thier cocoon high when cocoon time is here, it will be a very wet season.  Oh, and there was that one that if the inch worm got on your foot and walked across it, you were going to get a new pair of shoes.  Course we never knew just when those shoes would show up, but they usually did at some point in time and it was all thanks to that worm.
If you spill salt you have to immediately grab a pinch of it and throw it across your left shoulder or you would have bad luck.  Oh and better see who was standing behind you or you  might have worse luck!  A broken mirror was sure to bring you 7 years of bad luck.  Bad luck usually started about the time your mom saw the broken mirror.  Never walk under a ladder cause that was bad luck.  And a black cat crossed your path you better change your course and damn quick!  So remember that inch worms are good luck and black cats are not. 
What I would like to know is who is going to teach this to the next generation?  I have forgotten most of the stuff and the generations coming up never listened so the knowledge is just gone.  I am sure some where out there that some one has written all this down and a ground hog in Pennsylvania is not the only guage of winter we have, but it is fun to watch. 
And hopefully on February 21, I will be able to give you a lesson on Shrove Tuesday and the great Pancake Day Race.  Going to be a great year so stick with me!

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Pick ME! Pick ME!

I would dearly love to blame this on some one else,  but I feel that in all honesty I must take full credit for this.  Granted I do have a lot on my mind here the past few days, but I would be remiss if I let this one go by unnoticed.  You will need all the facts.

I went to the doctor and had blood work done.  When it got back nursie dear (and you know who you are, don't you, Deb?) called to give me the  news that every thing is through the roof except my bank account.  Now granted, I was about to get around to starting to exercise pretty soon, but she informed me that I was way to late for that.  And she was most firm about it and now I know why they call her "Sarge".    So I commiserated with my buddy Tim and he gave me a tongue lashing.  "You have the treadmill all set up down stairs for crying out loud!  Just get on it and quit saying you do not have time!  Just do it!"

Well, the man is right.  So after he left I got to thinking.  I am good at multi tasking and this might work.  I had 3 seed catchers that just needed elastic in them and they would be ready to go.  So I clipped a bodkin on each end of the elastic and started it through the little opening.  That was going well and so I reached up and turned on the tread mill.  You know that safety device that hooks on your belt and if you fall it will turn the machine off?  Yeah, that inconveniently place little do hickey.  The seed catcher kept getting wrapped around that and shutting the tread mill down.  So I unhooked it from my waist and wrapped it around itself.  Then we started again, 

Well all was going real well at the slowest speed so I kicked it up a notch.  And I finished both sides of the first seed catcher.  Things were going so good I actually thought about calling Tim's wife and telling her how good I was doing at this multi tasking thing, but I decided to just finish the seed catchers first.  So I started number 2.  Then I kicked it up another notch.  I had been at this little job about 9 minutes when I dropped the bodkin.  Now what do we do when we drop something?  We pick it up.  Natural instinct dictates that.  Well, let me just tell you when I realized that was the wrong thing to do. 

It occured to me about the time my right leg hit the Oleandar tree and my left leg was sticking out of the Fig tree and my whole backside was being sanded by the sure grip coating on the treadmill which was now spinning freely at about 30 miles per hour.  That was also about the time I noticed my safety cord dangling harmlessly behind the speedometer.  As I drug my poor broken little body across the floor to jerk that loose I thanked my God in heaven and all his angels that I was alone and not being videotaped.

So here I am the next day.  I am not real sure that right leg isn't broken and it is a very funny color.  The left one is sore, but still intact.  My backside resembles chicken skin after it has been barbequed.  Some where in the melee I whacked my head on something and I am not sure I don't have a severe concussion, but for sure there is something loose up there.

So, the words of wisdom for today are this:  Leave that damn safety thing on your belt, do not try to multi task and for crying out loud if you drop something, just leave it alone.  I must confess that I could not get to sleep last night and I am not sure whether it was because of the bone poking through my skin or because I was laughing so hard at the sight that must have been!


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I miss you!

R.I.P

KENNETH ARNOLD MERCER

12/9/1931

1/30/2003

If love could have saved you, you would never have died.