Wouldn't it have been much simpler to educate the populace?

I am so disappointed in our city fathers that all I can do is shake my head in wonder.  Pueblo is now on the cutting edge because we have bicycle paths painted all over our fair city.  We now have bicycles going both ways on a one way street and cars parked in the middle of the same street.  We are accomodating the people who ride bikes, but guess what?  The bicyclists are afraid to ride in those lanes because they can see a disaster waiting to happen.

When I was young I rode my bike every where.  The first thing I learned to do was think of my bike as a car.  I must ride on the ride side of the road, just as if I were a car.  That way if a car came up behind me and wanted to pass me, the driver would adjust the speed so when the left lane was clear he could speed up and pass me.  I stopped at stop signs and yielded the right of way.  I pedaled fast enough to keep up with the flow of traffic and all was well.  I did not ride on the sidewalk.  So now what?

I was going up South Road on my way to town the other day and came around a curve and was face to face with a very old man on a three wheeler.  He was in my lane headed straight for me.  Unfortuneately there was a car in the left lane so I could not dodge him.  My only choice was to stop right there in the middle of the street.  His solution was to wave his fist at me because I was now impeding his forwar progress.  What was I supposed to do?  He was clearly in the wrong place which apparently made him mad at me.  Wouldn't it be nice and wouldn't it make life easier if motorists were actually allowed to use the roads?

The only way to make a right hand turn off Elizabeth and onto 24th is to run over whoever is in the bike lane.  And 5th street is a one way.  It should me a one way for everyone.  I don't remember many bicycles being hit necessitating the need for the bike lanes.  Someone said it is really to make people slow down.  Wouldn't it have been easier to post speed limit signs at a slower speed?  Not enough police to enforce the speed limit?  Last week three policemen showed up at a friend of mines house because animal control said he had too many cats and he would not let her come in to count them.  Priorities may be a little out of whack here.

Education is the key here.  Give motorists a quick course in bicycle etiquitte and give all the bicycle riders a lesson in riding like driving a car.  Should me simple.  If a car hits a bike and the bike is in the wrong, give the rider a ticket.  If the car is in the wrong, give the driver a ticket.  The way it is now, we just confound the whole mess and we never will get it right.  Rules are rules.  We all have them, we just need to obey them.

What a wonderful week it was!

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

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

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

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

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

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

A wolf in sheeps clothing is still a wolf!

It is amazing how the adages that I learned at my mother's knee come up in my life 65 years later.  And they are still true.  You know the ones like "Never look a gift horse in the mouth."  When buying a horse you always check in it's mouth, but if someone gave you a horse you did not.  Just be grateful for the gift. If someone gave you something and it was not exactly what you wanted, it was still given and it was free so don't complain.

"A stitch in time saves nine."  That meant if you had a small tear in a seam that if you grabbed the needle and took 1 stitch it would rip no further.  This also applied to many things in life.  If you hoed the garden regularly the weeds would not get ahead of you.  Same with dishes, wash them after every meal and you never ended up with a sink full of dirty dishes.

"You can not make a silk purse out of a pig's ear."  This also applied to many things.  In baking you needed to use good, fresh ingredients.  If you wanted to have a quality garment  you had to use quality fabric.  In dating exercise due diligence and not choose a man/woman that was lazy, dishonest, or a drinker.  You could not make a good marriage with someone who was not what you wanted.  Marriage does not change a person so if a person was a player or lazy, they would remain so.  That also fell under the adage "What you see is what you get."  and "Be careful what you wish for because you might just get it".

Some of grandma's favorites in the dating department were "Where spider web grows, no beau ever goes,"  and "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."  She was a firm believer in the woman marries man, man supports woman, they live happily ever after and die a peaceful death within moments of each other.  Well, granny was a wise woman, but life does not always work out that way.

I have a few personal favorites that I tend to use in every day life, like "Beware of Greeks bearing gifts."  "All that glitters is not gold." and a personal favorite  "Beware of the wolf in sheep's clothing."

Ah, yes!  The pastor gave a sermon on Sunday about David and Goliath.  If you recall that story it was about a Shepard boy who slew the giant.  She told how as a Shepard boy he tended the sheep and had to protect them from the predators.  Mountain lions and bears would attack the sheep and his job was to protect and save them.  Hence he was very strong and very adept in the use of his slingshot and that was how he killed the giant.  But, he had to know that the sheep were in danger.

How many cartoons have we seen where the Shepard is tending the flock and the wily wolf dresses as a sheep and goes to the middle of the herd?  There the picking is easy and the Shepard only knows that sheep are disappearing and he can not find them.  He could feasibly loose the whole flock if this continued!  Kind of like life, huh?

 Remember back over time how people have appeared in our life and we followed them blindly?  Seems we had several evangalists that were wolves in sheep's clothing and we were not alone in our blindness.  The Jim and Tammy Faye Baker come to mind, but they are not the only ones.  Religion is not the only venue of the wovles.  We read of political greats and we watch thier fall.  Newsmen embellish thier stories and then fall from thier pedestal.  Money is embezzeled by charities and the poor suffer.  Famous people draw wealth to themselves, but with fame comes power and with power comes corruption.

Not sure where I was going with this when I sat down at the keyboard this morning, but here I am.  My words of wisdom.  Do I have any?  I guess they would be, "Never let your guard down" ".Believe half of what you see and none of what you hear". " Learn to be a cynic.  Trust no one." But those may be words to live by, but they are not how I will live.  I will go on trusting and beleiving and following that small voice inside me that says, "This person needs you.  This person is different."

The world may be full of wolves in sheeps clothing but the world is also full of goodness and kindness and understanding.  I will continue to bring the sheep into the fold and if a wolf happens to wind up in our midst, we will deal with Wolfie on his level.

"You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself."

Yeah, what she said.

Happy Early Father's Day to my dad, who for years wore the hat of both mom and dad, who bought me tool sets and training bras, taught me how to fish, curse, and say excuse me, who gave me the courage to stand up for what's right, and the compassion to help others. Dad, you raised some kick ass kids! We love you!

Just read this on face book and since the world has seen it I assume it is alright to put it on this blog.  I would hope the girl who wrote it would add a comment here.  It is always wonderful to see the love between a parent and child at any age.  I know this gal's situation and that makes it even more special. I confess it also made me sad.

My mom and dad were separated in age by 20 years.  That may not mean much in this day and age, but back then things were different.  The father's job was to earn the living and the mother was supposed to stay home with the kids.  It did not work that way at our house.  Momma helped with the farming when Dad share cropped.  The 2 littlest kids were carried with her and the rest of us ran wild at home.  Well, technically, Josephine was supposed to watch us and she did.  She watched us play in the mud.  She watched us chase the chickens and torture the cat.  Donna poked her finger at a turtle and she watched us try to save her.  But that was 65 years ago.

My father was a man who lived in our home.  He had no patience for us kids.  He was just there.  I always envied the kids at school who could be seen around town walking with their father.  Or walk past and see the father figure mowing the grass.  A real sand and shovel memory if you get my drift.

It was not so with my father.  I knew none of his relatives although I was named after his mother.  He had 5 children from his first wife.  A son and daughter died as infants from sand pneumonia and 3 sons  were placed in an orphanage when his wife died.  I assume she died. Two of the 3 surviving sons were adopted.  Gene was not.  I have letters he wrote to my father from the orphanage that tear at my heart.  From the letters I learned that my father was never a caring man  to any child he had.  So it was never personal.  Just one of those "It is what it is." things.  Richard served during WWII and came home shell shocked.  Today we call it PTSD.  Earl married and had 3 children.  Gene spent most of his life in prison and finally just disappeared off the face of the earth.  He left a son named Billy who I remember only as a fact, but not a person I ever met.

My father never attended my wedding or acknowledged that there ever was one.  But he surprised me.  When I had my first baby, Debra Louann, he came by the apartment and looked at her.  When he left I found a bib in her crib.  For her 1 year birthday he had my sister Josephine make her a pretty red dress and bought her a pair of red patent leather shoes.  I have a picture somewhere.  I had forgotten all about that until   I started this paragraph!  He died before my second child was born.  I wonder if things had been different if we could have actually been friends?  Maybe....

But I can not think of that tonight.  It makes me too sad.  Life is just so full of missed opportunities.  So full of roads not taken and choices not made.  As I get older I think of all the things I should have done and all the things I should have said and I wonder if the good Lord let me live though all my past just so I could finally get it.  Lizzie, I am so glad you have this time with your father and I envy you so much.

That having been said,

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What were you thinking? What was I thinking? Is the bacon really that good?

Those of you who know me are aware that I am in pretty good shape for the shape I am in and able to do about anything I choose to do.  So this morning I was taken aback to say the very least.  I left home in high spirits and picked Teresa up and headed out for breakfast.  Our chosen venue this morning was a resturant on the Northside.  I like it because it has a very big breakfast menu.  Very good bacon also.  It shall remain nameless because I am not wanting to cast them in a bad light, just wanting to vent.  I will send them a link to this blog so they can assess thier policies.
So we entered and crossed to the Hostess area where we were met by a chipper young girl who is no doubt in training.  She was being supervised by an older lady who appeared to be very capable and imparted this to the  young trainee.  From there it was down hill.  The older lady greeted us and then looking directly in my eyes asked, "Are you capable of walking to the table in the back room or shall I seat you closer?"

"What!? What?!"  was the only response I could come up with at that moment.  I envisioned that perhaps she was going to seat us at a resturant down the block.

" Well, it is a ways to the back of the dining area and I just wondered if you could walk that far because if you can't I can seat you closer."

Now I have often used the term "I damn near had an apoplexy," and in that moment I knew how one would feel.  Until that moment I had never felt old.  I pride myself in my physical condition, and here was someone I had never lain eyes on before insinuating that perhaps I was not capable of walking across the room.

I muttered something about how I could out walk, out run, and out last her any day of the week and her time would be better served helping damn near anyone but me.  At that point I was led away by Teresa and the young trainee.  But it was too late.  The damage was done.  I even tried to tell Teresa that the remarks were maybe meant for  her and not me, but she was not buying that either.  Of course, my initial reaction was that I had misunderstood her.  My second reaction was that I should wrap my fingers around her throat.  As the day wore on and I have reflected on the interchange, I have run the gambit of actions I should take and the answer is none.
  
My first choice had been to report her to her superior because her remarks definitely hurt me.  Was I the only one she had spoken to in this way?  Probably not.  Should she be fired?  She is definitely not an asset to the business.  She probably needs her job and  she may actually think she is being kind in not making people walk far to a table.

I fully intended to quietly tell her that she should be a little more aware of how she talked to people and how she had made me feel, but she was not at the desk when I left.  I do think we can all take a lesson from this and think twice and speak once.  Words that are meant with the best intentions some times do not fall on ears that appreciate them.

So to the lady who ruined what started out to be a beautiful day in June, I have this to say;  I have forgotten what you look like.  I have forgotten the tone of your voice.  And tomorrow I will have forgotten your words.  I do hope you some how find this and recognize yourself and learn a few people skills. Mother always taught us to treat everyone as we wanted to be treated.  Even the Bible tells us to do unto others as we would have them do unto us.

So there you go on my fun day.  Just try to spread a little happiness some where along the way and it will come back to you seven fold, shaken down and poured out.  I will try to remember that.

Time to park the car!

Warm weather is here and school is out and we are headed for disaster.  Back in Nickerson, Kansas we had rules.  Be home before dark and if the street light came on before we made it inside there was hell to pay.  There was no street light on Strong Street, but we could see the one over on the highway.  And we had to wash our feet before we crawled into bed.  And if we woke up in the night and had to use the  "facility"  we had to wake up a sibling. to accompany us.  They did not have to go all the way out there, just stand by the door in case a mountain lion was lurking on the path and grabbed us.  I have no idea what anyone would have done at that point, but at least the family would have some sort of an idea of why we were missing the next morning.  In all fairness here, I had an older sister who was prone to sneak out and meet her boyfriend in the middle of the night and no one knew.  She could have been eaten and that would have been the end of her sneaking out, I am sure.

Speaking of sneaky, another rule was that whoever got in from school first got to turn on the television and set right in front of it.  Course the only thing on was the test pattern.  Actual programing started at 6:00 and ended at 10:00.  Donna was always first through the door, so she would turn on the television, adjust her chair and set there enthralled telling us to be quiet so she could hear the occasional beep.  She also like to get a loaf of bread, if we had one, and open it, remove the crust and eat the soft part out of the loaf.  She did not like crusts.  She should come to my high tea, huh?

We could always find a 55 gallon barrel to roll down the street and we would jump on it and walk on top of it and have more damn fun.  But the best treat of all was to ride a bicycle.  Of course that was a few and far between treat since the only bicycle we had access to was sthe neighbors and access to that was always a little "iffy" for several reasons, the main one being the tires rarely had air in them and mostly we fought with the neighbors. I never actually learned to ride until I was 13 or 14 years old.  I won a bicycle at the local grocery and pushed it all the way home because it was an English racing bike, a boys bike and the tires on it were very skinny and did not stand a chance against the goat heads on Stong Street.

But the rules!  Before we could ride anywhere except up and down the street, we had to go to town and get a tag for the bike.  And we had to know the rules.  Bicycles were the same rules as cars.  Ride on the right side of the road just like a car.  Signal your turns.  Stop at stop signs.  You know the rules.

Well, those rules seem to have gone out the window.  I meet bicyclists coming toward me on the right side of the road.  I am always amazed at what they are thinking.  Where do they think I am going to go?  If they were ahead of me going the same direction I am going, I could adjust my speed and pass them when it was safe, but since they are in my lane coming towards me, I am at a loss as to what to do.  If the left lane is clear, I can dodge them.  If it isn't I am given a choice of hitting them head on or hitting a 2 ton truck head on.  Guess who is going to get plowed into?

And now I see the city is adding bike lanes all over town.  So what rules appy there?  Must they go with the flow of traffic or are they allowed to openly meet us head on?  And what about when they meet each other head on?  Now I see them shooting through traffic and hopping up on the sidewalk.  What about that rule that they can not ride on the side walk or is that just to placate silly old women like me?

So enough of my ramblings for today.  I shall go close up the geese and hope a mountain lion does not get me, or better yet, hope there are no bike lanes in my back yard.

All this rain...

All this rain takes me back to Nickerson, Kansas and the time Dad spent farming with John Britan.  The farm was located across the Arkansas River.  I do not know  East from West so I am not sure which side of the river that is, but it was leave town, cross the bridge and turn left.  As most farm land was back then, it was dry land.  Ah, but through the middle of it there ran a "slough".  For those of you who do not know what a slough is, I will tell you.  A slough is a low place that much resembles a dry ditch most of the year.  When it is rainy season, it looks like a creek.  When it is really rainy for any length of time it looks like a small river.

The wheat was planted on the full acreage was planted to wheat.  Most of the time that worked fine, but if it filled the slough that part of the crop was lost.  Now, Dad would sometimes take Jake and I with him when he went to do the harvest.  Josephine stayed home with the younger kids while Mother drove the truck into town to the elevator.  If it was dry, it was pretty boring, but if the slough was full, we had a blast.  At the time it seemed to me that this raging river was my home.  Once Jake built me a flat raft with a string tied to a matchstick that was poked through a hole.  That way I could hang on to the string and keep it from floating away.

The Kansas sun beat down on us as we played by that wonderful body of water and we could put our feet in it and we were in heaven.  We did not know what hot was and more then once we got a good sunburn.  Mother would doctor us with whatever magic potion she had on hand and by the next day, the sunburn was gone and we were a darker shade of tan.  By the end of summer we looked like a couple Indians.  I do not remember combing my hair, but I am sure I did.

Jake was my hero and sometimes one of the boys from town would come to visit him.  That was never any fun because they would wander off and the beautiful, cool riverwould  turn into a muddy, dirty mess.  Jake always made my life magic.  He instilled in me an ability to see life through different eyes.  He painted pictures of a world far away that was beckoning to him.  From him, I got my love for music.  Oh, not just music, country music.

With the help of a car radio and a good battery he delivered The Grand Old Opry to the front yard of our little house on Strong Street.  He knew all the singers. Faron Young, Little Jimmy Dickens, Hank Williams, Ferlin Husky, Carl and Pearl Butler, and on and on.  I always thought he would some day pick up a guitar and head south.  But he didn't.  When he was 16 years old he forged his birth certificate and went into the Army.  I stayed home and wrote to him.  He was sent to Germany and by the time he returned home, I was not a little girl anymore.

Funny how rain can trigger emotions that I thought were long lost.  I wonder what is going on in Nickerson?  It floods every Spring and I am sure this one is no different.  I am planning a trip back there in August, but it can never be the same.  The house is gone.  The people I knew are gone.  It is just a spot on the map now,  but isn't that how life was planned to be?  And our memories, they never leave.

I still love country music and I listen to Classic Country when I am at home alone.  The radio used to crackle and break up so I could not understand the words.  Now it is clear and while it is the same, it is not the same, but through it all I can hear Jake singing.  I can feel the hot, humid air that is Kansas.  And while this brings tears to my eyes as I think back, it was probably the happiest part of my life.

I miss you, my brother!

Colonoscopy? Thank M#$%*@o!!

Yesterday was the annual March Against Monsanto.  All over the country people who care came together and carried signs protesting what is going on with our food supply.  Our demonstation was not very well attended and at first that made me angry.  Then I rethought it and I have decided that perhaps anger is not the right emotion.  Disappointment?  Maybe, but not really.  After much soul searching I put my finger on it.  It is Fear.  It is fear for not just myself, but the whole country.  Let's review here.

Most of my friends do not recall the "good old days" like I do.  I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and restroom facilities consisted of an "outhouse" and Saturday night was bath night in the kitchen in a galvanized tub that Momma filled with water heated on a wood stove, which was also used for cooking.  Meat was a rarity on our table, but when it showed up it had usually been walking or hopping around in the back yard earlier in the day.  And we picked greens out of the yard.  We ate Lambs Quarter.  Ever hear of that?  A weed.  Our animals were fed grain that had been fed raised in some farmers field and harvested by that same farmer.  It was delivered to our place by wagon.

There was not much sickness in our small town.  There was one lady who kept having tests and more tests and the tests found nothing.  She had a hysterectomy, an appendectomy, tonsillectomy  and finally just died.  There was also a young man who set in a wheel chair in front of his house and smiled and waved every morning before school and every afternoon after school.  I forget what he had, but we knew he was not well.  He died when he was 14 or so.  But for the most part babies were born, grew up, and moved away.  The old people stayed behind and eventually died and that was that.  The flu went around and we survived. 

Then came polio.  Then a vaccine to control that.  A vaccine for small pox.  Want to know a secret?  I was very puny when I was pre-teen, so I never had those vaccinations.  No polio, no whooping cough, no small pox, no tetenaus, no nothing.  Still have not had them, do not want them and have survived just fine without them.

Then I noticed people coming down with one thing or another.  I was 15 years old before I had the sign of a boob or hair under my arms.  But I noticed my kids were alost fully developed by the time they were 12 and now it seems to be 8 or 9.  What is going on?  My first thought was growth hormones in the meat we eat and the milk we drink.  Everyone thought I was nuts.  Oh, well.  You explain it.

Then I found out little bits of info here and there that disturbed me.  Our fruits and vegetables are radiated so they stay fresher for us and can last longer on the grocery store shelf!  Every thing that comes off the shelf also has a preservative in it.  Buy a loaf of bread.  Bake a loaf of bread.  Put the 2 items on your kitchen counter and walk away.  Two weeks later the store loaf will still be there, nice and fresh.  The one you baked will be consumed by mold and unrecognizeable as anything edilbe.  Scary, huh?

No!  What is scary is what the government that is supposed to protect us is doing to us in the name of progress.  A company named M#$%*@o, the one that invented agent Orange for use as a defoliant in Vietnam came up with a way to "improve" our food supply.  Just alter a few genes in the DNA of and they will be grow very big, very fast.  Plants will be able to kill insects from within.  One bite and the worm in your corn hemmorages and dies.  I have been known to eat 3 ears of corn.  What do you think that does to you?

Do me a favor.  You apparently have a computer and Google is all over the Internet.  Google GMO.  Google World's Highest Cancer Rate.  And if you only do one, cut and paste this one.  Which countries DO NOT allow Genetically Modified  Organics.

The point I am trying to get across to you, my friends, is this:  Educate yourselves.  It is your body.  You decide what goes in it.  Big business has bought and paid for our government.  If you think about it, you know I am right.  Congress keeps passing laws to protect those who pollute our food supply.  Think about our last election.  We had a measure on the ballot to make companies label our foods.  What happened?  Big money came in and ran a campaign aimed at your pocket book.  

"If we have to label our products you will have to pay more at the store."  That is a crock!  Food has to be labeled any way, we just want it HONEST!

"Oh, us small farmers will be put out of business."  Of course you will when we find out what you are doing to us!

And last but not least, why do out of state businesses care what goes on in our state?  Is it personal?  Hell no!  Oh, wait.  It is personal.  Personal to thier bank accounts.  Please, if you do nothing else all day, spend just a little time researching your food supply and finding out why the medical problems in our country are spiraling out of control.  

And on a brighter note, our crowd was younger this year.  It is too late for us old people to save our colon, but if we can save the children, there is still hope.  This little fellow made this sign while we were standing on the corner waving at people going by and honking.  OMG! GMO!

Currant bushes

Back in Nickerson, Kansas, we had Currant bushes.  They grew along the fence between our chicken pen and the neighbors pig pen.  Every spring that whole fence would be lined with the light green bushes with tiny yellow flowers.  Ever eat a Currant?  If you pick them to green they will pucker your mouth  and that is not good.  If you wait long enough they will turn a dark, dark purple and then they are ready. Not much better as I recall, but at least you could eat them.  They are about the size of a pea.  I think now I can go to the health food store and buy them dried and snack on them or make some sort of healthy bread.
The neighbors have a stand over there and I see one has come up in my back yard along with the wild garlic.  I like to keep the area directly west of the house as a wild area.  I also have a Choke Cherry bush which has spread to cover a good area.  In the late Summer I gather enough Choke Cherries to make a batch of jelly and then let the birds have the rest.

Now, what do Currants and Choke Cherries have in common with a Gooseberry?   Gooseberry is the all around winner as "things no human should ever eat!"  My mother-in-law had a Gooseberry patch in her back yard and it was a rule that we must all pick a bucket of Gooseberries and make a pie once a year.  I took Bret and Shelly over to pick and explained to them that if the Gooseberry had a bit of dark color that would be best.  First obstacle is that Gooseberry bushes have very long sharp thorns.  I figured they would be bloody messes, but they were very careful.  Their hands were small so they could pick a berry without being stabbed.  Then to my horror I looked over and they were picking them and EATING them!  My, God!  I figured they would be in bed with a bellyache the rest of the Summer.
And then the occasional wild Lilac bush has popped in also.  This one is beside a wild Red bud tree.   I have 10 Lilacs around my house.

And the New Mexico Sunflowers are about to take the place.  Can not lay my hands on that photo, but if I ever turn up missing look for me under them.  SoI am now off to do whatever it is I do all day.  

You'all have a good one!

Another High Tea is in the books.

The tea cups patiently await the tea drinkers.

The tea pots are lined up to carry the brew!

Scones are trying to get out of the bag.

And away we go!

Classical music is provided by Jerome.

Sorry you missed it!

Check it out here!

High Tea Time!!

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

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

Now these look like some rowdy women here!

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

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

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

Click here for video of last year's tea.

Lou Mercer 719-546-1555

Funny how this friendship thing works, isn't it?

Over the course of many years I have had lots of friends.  I guess one would call them friends.  I had one friend in grade school, but she moved on to other friends when we began high school.  I did not leave high school with any real friends.   After marriage I moved around a lot so that was not conducive to any friendships.  When I moved back to Hutchinson and went to work I did begin to form relationships with other women who were in the same postition of raising a family on my own.  Unfortuneately I also met men who were marriage minded and so it goes.  To cut to the chase, when I moved to Colorado I left the few friends I had and did not look back.
 
So now it is 35 years later and here I am.  I still have 2 of the Kansas friends, although I do not talk to them much.  Several others have passed away as the human race is known to do.   I have culivated a whole  new crop out here in Colorado and for the most part I am pretty happy with my friend situation.  My mother once told me that true friends are hard to come by and that if you reach the end of your life and you can count your true friends on one hand you are blessed.

Here is my take on a friend...a friend is someone that I have something in common with.  A great friend knows what I am saying and takes me at face value.  A true friend does not judge me because I stumble and will help me up when I fall.   My friend likes to spend time with me, but does not smother me.

Recently I have had occasion to wonder about a "true friend".  True is defined as faithful, loyal.  Friend is defined as a person attached to another by affection or regard.  I have always just tried to be there for my friends, to listen, lend a helping hand and when the rough spots are over, forget that they were there.
So, following that premise, I think my friends should do the same for me.   Not so with one.  I looked at something he had done and thought , "What a petty, mean little man he is!"  I told him that, too.  His reply to me was to point out all the things he had done for us over the years out of the "kindness of his heart."  What all he had "given " us.

Fifteen years is a long time to be friends with someone and then have them remember every thing they did and recount it.  Did my loyalty mean nothing?  Sure looks that way to me.

I was at a loss to counter what I had did for him because what I had done, I had done and forgotten about.    He is a business man and I had recommended him to several lucrative clients.  And prepared lots of special diet food for him and the wife, but I forgot about it as soon as it was delivered.  Labors of love are not remembered after they are done.

So water goes under the bridge.  Chalk it up to experience and move on.  So, I called my friend in Missouri and made plans to meet her in August.  That is how it goes.  She asks nothing of me and I expect the same of her.  Good talking to her.  Kind of renews my faith in friends.  We have a long history and we shall catch up in August and forget about the inconsequential little people who want stroked and told they are wonderful  when they are hurting people for no good reason except selfishness.

One thing I have learned on my journey is that  to have a friend, you must first be a friend and that is how it goes!

Spring, Sprang, Sprung!

I have a total of 10 Lilac bushes around my house and yard and every one of them looks like this.  They are loaded with blooms and the beauty is surpassed only by the wonderful fragrance of the Lilac.  I do know that the correct conjugation is not spring, sprang, sprung and that by so doing I have changed a noun to a verb, but Spring does that to me.

I understand that we are supposed to have snow today and this will not be the first time my Lilac's have peeked through the cold and frozen white blanket to cheer my day.  April is probably my favorite month simply because of the Lilac's.  Purple is my favorite color and Lilac is my favorite fragrance, so there you go.

I like to think that in another life I would have been a Lilac.  They are strong and can withstand about any condition:  below zero weather to a hot dry summer.  They do like sunshine and will struggle when planted in a shady place and wither and die in the dark.  Much like me.   

I am going to cut a bouquet of these and bring them in the house, but only because I have so many.  I do not like cut flowers because it breaks my heart to watch them die in a vase, but I only get to see these when I go outside and they make me so happy.  I can set on the deck in the evening and lose myself in beautiful dreams with the Lilac fragrance drifts through my reverie.

So, I guess you get the idea that I am maybe a little fond of Lilac's?  I know Spirea will be blooming soon or may have already bloomed, but it has no smell and the flowers are tiny so I over planted on the Lilac bushes.  

The day calls me, so off I go.  You have a good day and remember to stop and smell the flowers along life's pathway!

Good morning world!

I woke up this morning with my brother on my mind   Sometimes that just happens.  So I went into Picasa because I was wanting to find a picture of him, but then I got side tracked and that is never a good thing.  I found this picture from a year or so ago.

That made me afraid to go downstairs because I know that one came from under the deck.  So I kept looking for Jake's picture.  And I found this.  This one just made me miss my Rowdy bird.

And my sister.

And the other sister.

And Cleo

And finally I found Jake. It is sad that this is the best picture I have of him.  Well, to be honest this and one taken when he was 9 years old are the only pictures I have at all.  So, I miss him, but life goes on and the road winds over hills and down in valleys and life is just pretty much is what it is.  We miss those who are not here, but we also miss those who are.

Today is not a day I want to spend missing anyone.  I got up at 4:30 with hopes of actually getting the garden planted today, yet here I set.  Had a friend tell me the other day that the way he does it is carries a timer.  He decides he will spend 1 hour on yard work and when the timer goes off he moves on to something else.  So I am going to try that one.  First I will go spend one hour in the garden and then 20 minutes in the shower and then off to do a chore in Belmont......

The road to hell is paved with good intentions!!!

I have recovered in more ways than one.

I have recovered from the vacation.  That is always good.  I was disappointed that the Lilacs were not blooming while I was there.  So I checked when I got home and mine are closer then they are in Kansas!  That worries me because they have always been two weeks ahead of us.  Looks like the predictions that the climate zones are shifting are right on target.  Oh, well, not much I can do about that.
Today is my annual trip to see the doctor.  For the record, I do not like to go and since I am much like the wonderful one horse shay from the days of yore I am waiting for the big one.  You remember that poem?  I do not want to go look it up and quote it right now, so I will just tell you the jist of it is that a craftsman of years ago built  a wagon for a horse to pull and used the best of everything and did such a wonderful job that it lasted until one day when every piece gave out at exactly the same time.  I think my body will do that!
But I want to tell you about the old Doctor back in our home town.  He was located in a small red brick building that sat in the middle of the block between the church on the corner and the start of the Main Street downtown.  I do not remember his name or anything about him except that during my growing up years I was very sickly and since mother worked cleaning houses her hours and his were not always the same.  If momma could not get me in during office hours, he would come to the house.
Sometimes I would have an earache so bad I bled out my ears.  Then I would be constipated and next it was diarrhea.  High fevers were the normal at my house.  Stomach aches that kept me in bed were frequent.  Doctor figured I would never live to see adulthood.
Finally for lack of anthing else to do, he took my tonsils out.  Never had another sick day in my life.  I am now old enough to be considered old  and I take one thyroid pill a day.  And I go to the doctor once a year because I am supposed to go.  But, you know, I think back on the days when Doctor came to the house.  Do doctors make house calls now?  I do not think so.  And where I go is a 5 story building with labs and specialists and doctors and optometrists and about any service you can imagine.  A far cry from that little 4 room brick building on Main Street where one man and his nurse, who was also  his wife, dealt old time medicine to the people in Nickerson.
I have not been down the mainstreet lately, but I will go in August.  Going to see if that little building is still there.  I know the church built a big place out on the highway.  I know the school is no longer across the street from the church.
Time marches on.

Debbie and Hammer proudly present the Cozy Cafe in Longton, Kansas.

Longton, Kansas is a step back in time.  This is the Cozy Cafe and everyone at this table is related to me in one way or another.  Front left is my oldest son, Sam.  Then comes Hammer the son in law and across from him is my oldest daughter, Debbie.  Patty and Dona are back there somewhere.  The only two missing is Sue and Bret.   Savannah and Joey are at the other end and fornt and right is my friend Evelyn who traveled with me to Longton.

The cafe has been in operation for the life of the town, I think.  This is Kay, the lady who started it years ago.  See, we used to be able to smoke while we cooked, but not any more.  When she passed her husband sang at her service.  He sang "Angel Flying to Close to the Ground" and Debbie assured me he sounds just like Willie Nelson.

This is her husband,  Richard Claytor.  I got to meet him briefly on my way out the door and headed for Colorado.

This caught my eye and I could see the truth in it!

And of course the obligatory public service announcement.

The menu was simple and very reasonably priced.  Sam wanted to have a talk with them and explain to them that they could make money if they charged more and people would be willing to pay more because it was very good food.  I finally convinced him that it is not Dallas and they are happy in thier small town with small town prices.

Most of the houses are small and not much upkeep happens.  The streets are not paved except for Main Street.

This is the mansion where the fancy prople live.

A barn in down town Longton by the school.

Then we went to Debbie's farm and you can see them towards the end of my youtube rendering.  Just click here

I love Spring and I really love Spring in Kansas!

Getting ready to wend my way across Colorado and through Kansas to the South East corner.  Goose feeder is filled and the house sitter is packed and ready to move in for the duration.  This is the prefect time to go.  When I arrive the Lilacs will be in full bloom.  That alone is worth the trip.

While I was looking for a picture of the Lilac's I found this from a Longton trip I made several years back.  I plan on driving by this again in hopes it is still standing, but I doubt that it will be.  Nature has a way of taking care of those things.  The nice part is, it is still cool enough that the snakes will not be out yet.  This is back woods country so snakes have the right of way.

This is a two story building on main street of Longton.  Yes, that is a tree growing out of the roof!  Plan on checking that out also.  We plan on taking a little hike around this area.

But for now, I have to get ready for church.  Have a good one and I shall return.

Come on Post Office! Give me a break here.

This was the first boo boo  Click on that to read the first episode.

So last week I sent a letter/card/whatever to Texas.  Mailed it on March 6.  Did the 1-3 day Priority thing so it would get there quickly.  Insured it, the whole 9 yards.  Paid extra for all this.  I might as well have wiped on that money! Tomorrow will be one week and there is no sign of it ever getting there.  

March 11, 2015 , 7:28 am

Departed USPS Origin Facility

DENVER, CO 80266 

The package is delayed and will not be delivered by the expected delivery date. An updated delivery date will be provided when available. Your item departed our USPS origin facility in DENVER, CO 80266 on March 11, 2015 at 7:28 am. The item is currently in transit to the destination.

March 6, 2015 , 10:02 am

Arrived at USPS Origin Facility

DENVER, CO 80266 

March 6, 2015 , 8:47 am

Accepted at USPS Origin Sort Facility

PUEBLO, CO 81006 

March 6, 2015

Pre-Shipment Info Sent to USPS

As near as I can tell the post office scooped it up and rocketed it to Denver into a big hole, where it remained until I put an inquiry on where the parcel that was destined for 3 day delivery had gone.  

As near as I can tell it is suspended some where after Denver and before Texas.  OK.  I accept that the post office is overworked and they need to raise the postal rate every time I figure out how much a stamp is, but come on people.  Isn't this a little ridiculous?

How can I get something from point A to point B with out the post office cooperating with me here?  I could have laid this on the dash of my car and driven it down there and basked in the Texas sun for 5 days and came home and made supper.  See I know there is avacuum between here and Oregon, but I did not know about the one between here and Texas.

Well, that is my speil for the day.  I will let you know when and IF my card makes it there.  In the meantime, I will just stare at the tracking number and wonder.

Hey! Where is the dog?

Have spent several days now wondering about why I can not remember having a dog when we were growing up.  We always had a bunch of mangy cats hanging around in the back yard and in the barn, but I can not remember any dog.  We had Muscovy Ducks that were always making a mess where the sink drained out through a wall in the house and dumped the water in the back yard.  Now there was one stinking mess if I remember right and I am pretty sure I do.

Now in the first place ducks are messy and Muscovy Ducks are the messiest ducks in the world.  They are black and white.  The males are very big and the hens are very small.  I had 2 males and 2 females many years back, but they are anti-social and I think they killed one of my geese.  Nobody home and in the pen but the geese and the ducks and there was the dead goose.  They could fly.  Most domesticated geese and ducks can not fly, but those suckers could.  What this has to do with a dog is beyond me, but you do know how my little mind wanders.

So we had the Shetland pony that kicked brother Jake in the head, Danny the brown horse that no one could ride but Josephine, and a bunch of old work horses that were good for nothing but eating hay.  Oh and the rabbits mother raised, but those were to eat.  The milk cow was not really a pet. The cats were what is known as "feral"  which meant they were born in the wild, raised in the wild and no way in hell were you going to pet one of them.  Try and you could lose a finger or an eye and usually both.

As I recall the only people on the block who had a dog was the Rienke family.  They had a white dog with brown spots.  I think his name was Spot.  His life was spent on the end of a chain where he spent the day barking and the only time he quit barking was when he was wolfing down his dinner.  Thinking back there were not many dogs in the town of Nickerson.  Walking home from school, I know the Redford family had a big, mean dog that was on a chain on the clothes line.  Ever so often he would escape and we would see him running through town dragging his chain behind him.  Used to scare the living pee waddin' out of me because I knew if he seen me he would eat me, but thank heavens he never did.

Maybe if I had been able to have a dog to play with I would be better adjusted today.  I guess there is really no way of finding out.  I know as soon as I met my first husband he gave me a little Chihuahua puppy and I have had dogs ever since.  I have two dogs and a cat now.  I have got to try to outlive them, because they would not know how to act if they went to a home where they were not rulers of the roost.  When we go to bed I have to put 5 cat treats on the dresser for Icarus.  Then I give Daisy a Milk bone and then Elvira a Milk bone.  Then I turn out the light and crawl into bed with Icarus protecting me and the dogs run out for a short bark at the moon before they fall asleep.

Thinking back, I bet we never had a dog because every scrap of food had some one's name on it.  The whole country was in a depression so food was scarce everywhere.  But then there was this picture.

There is my mother with a black dog.  I think my dad did not like dogs.  Whatever, it is a mystery that I can not solve since no one is around to guide me.  Maybe I had a dog and maybe it lived outside, so I forgot about it.  Yes!  I bet that is it.  I will stick to that story because I like it.  I bet he was a Collie dog and  his name was Rover!  Oh, finally, I will be able to sleep tonight.

I miss Rover.

Let me be clear on this poverty thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PEACE!!