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

I know that sounds foolish, but it is still so true.  I can remember way back when I used to find ways to "kill time."  Now it rather seems that time is killing me!  I hit the floor every morning between 4 and 5 AM and the next time I look at the clock it is almost noon and I am late for the next appointment.  By the time nap time rolls around I am so far behind that I know that ain't happening.  Running into town two and three times a day to walk and care for a friends dog probably isn't helping much, but that is life.  If there were only some way that I could squeeze a few more hours into my day.  Right now eBay sales are in the toilet so that is a good thing.

I decided right in the middle of the whole thing to measure me a warp for the loom.  672 ends of linen.  Now linen is about the consistency of a spider web.  My warping board that Ryan made me decided to buckle up so I am left with the small one I had purchased online.  It is great and I can measure a 3 yard warp, but it is a real knuckle buster.  If I go really slow I can keep from racking my knuckles on the pegs, but slow was never anything I did well especially when working with tiny things.  All thumbs here.   Now granted, if I get this measured and then threaded through the reed and then through the heddles and keep an even tension, it will be a beautiful piece and a miracle.

And while all this is going on, the weeds in the garden are growing, dust in the house is settling and I have to eat and eating entails cooking which results in a messy kitchen that someone has to clean.  I thought it was Bret and Amanda making all the messes, but they moved out a year ago and the messes continue.  Any ideas?  I stopped by the new Goodwill yesterday and that is like going to the mall!  I found a small George Foreman grill so I can cook me one little hamburger patty.  Whoops!  Then I have that to clean.  I also found a tiny little Belgian Waffle baker.  That might be fun.  What ever a Belgian Waffle is!

Michael came and mowed the yard yesterday while I was in town.  First thing that happened was he forgot to close the gate and the geese got out.  Michael is many things, but goose herder he is not.  Since they were all there last night I am guessing he figured it out.   He does have a fear of the perimeter around the yard so I am going to have to teach him about that. 

And I am still working on getting my first novel published.  I am actually waiting to see if this one company buys it.  That would be ideal and I could let them do all the work.  But if not then I will do the self publishing thing which looks very confusing and expensive.  The more companies I look at in that area, the more confused I get.  I just want to start writing the sequel!

So, I am off to do stuff.  Guess the geese are high on the list.  Then the dog in town.  Ross is bringing a load of stuff to store in the garage so I will need to be home for that.  See what I mean about killing time?  Just spent 45 minutes here writing this and I still need to do the tags and the location and my sponsor list.  Life is a circle.

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Tide pods, or what the hell do I do now?

I just saw something horrifying on the news!  You know the pretty little canisters that hold the Tide Soap Pods that I just toss in the washer and forget?  Well, I had one near catastrophe with them so far.  I tossed it into the washer part, it hit the spindle in the middle of the tub and ricocheted between the tub and the liner.  To the best of my knowledge it is probably disintegrated, or a least I hope so.  But worse then that, they are now going to make the canisters child proof!  Remember what I told you yesterday about that?  I thought I was safe in the laundry.  What kid actually wants to eat soap?  Apparently there are a lot of them out there!

Oh, when mine were young they ate soap a time or two before they learned acceptable language and the words I use are two entirely different things!  Now they did snack on the ex-lax once.  That was Debbie and Dorothy Renee.  I do not think either of them eats chocolate to this day.  As I recall, if there was something we did not want them to ingest we put it up very high and if we caught them near anything we had told them "no" to, there was a little thing called  "swat your hiney" that we played.  This was our idea of positive reinforcement.  We also knew how inquisitive the little bugger were so we used a tactic called "watching the kids."  No doubt we were infringing on thier privacy, but trust me here; a trip to the emergency room infringes on a lot of my rights.  So we did it.

There were other cruelties we did to them.  I liked to put them in "time out."  Time out usually meant that they would fall asleep and I could get a break.  Course since I ended up a single mother and child support enforcement at that time was a big joke, the kids were usually under the care of a "babysitter."  This was a person who was paid to come into my home and do the "watch the kids thing" while I worked.  I had a very lovely lady name Mrs. McIver who came daily and the kids loved her.  She read to them and took them for walks and all the things I never had time to do.  There was another lady who came when Mrs. McIver could not.  Her name was Ida Mae.  She was a very quiet lady and did her job of "watching" them.  This coupled with the fact that she had about 14 whiskers on her chin that were 5-9 inches long made them fear her.  She always brought them candy, but they never accepted it.  Could have been the ex-lax factor there.

Getting to the point here.  As an old lady with stiff fingers I am living in terror of what they are going to devise to keep me out of my Tide Pod container.  If they just secure the lid I think I can get the butcher knife and cut the top off and throw it away.  But if they make the container itself  heavier, I have to be careful.  I have scars from trying to chop away the heavy plastic and since my skin is getting thinner the kids are starting to hide my knives.  I think this is why old people end up in the nursing homes!  We are confronted on a daily basis with challenges on these damn child proof things.  So we don't use soap in the laundry, we don't take our pills, and even the bottle of milk sets on the shelf because we can not grab that tiny ring (assuming we know it is there and we can see it).

It is just easier to go to the nursing home and let them do it for us.  Then we get in there and find out they got the laundry mixed up and I now wear underwear that need to be held up with a safety pin and a bra that perches on the tips of my nipples.

I am telling you, this old age shit is for the birds!

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Yesterday, when I was young...

Do you remember that song that goes "Yesterday, when I was young, and the taste of life was sweet, like rain upon my tongue."?  I can hear it playing in my head, but the words do not jell any more.  This is like so many other things in my life that have gone awry. 

I remember when beer bottles had screw on caps and sometimes they were a little hard to grasp and that is why God gave us teeth; to open bottle caps!  Alas, those days are over and gone.  Well, actually, so are the teeth.  I think I used to have 32, but that number is slowly dwindling.  Granted, four of them were wisdom teeth which never fit anyway, but nonetheless, they were there.  Unfortunately the caps that were so easily removed with my super powerful jaws have now been replaced by caps devised by a mad scientist.  The first thing I need to do is read the "how to remove cap" instructions printed on the miniscule cap.  Well, the very first thing I have to do is find the magnifying glass so I can SEE the instructions.  Ok, here we go!

To remove cap grasp bottle firmly.  Push down on cap while twisting counterclockwise.  You may need to exert extra pressure.  Now, we are dealing with a prescription bottle with a cap that is maybe an inch across.  My fingers quit bending that far many years back, but I am game to try.  So I grasp the bottle firmly in my left hand.  I press my right hand onto the cap.  Everything is plastic and of course my hands are sweaty in anticipation of this chore.  Ok, push down and twist counterclockwise.  I am assuming the cap goes counterclockwise; not the bottle.  And in a perfect world, something would turn and something would open.  Hell, maybe I was supposed to turn myself counterclockwise.  So, I try again.  Once more with feeling!  So this time I grasp the bottle in my right hand with the cap in my left.  Counterclockwise should still be the same direction.  I recall life lessons that say "Lefty loosey, righty tighty."  Sounds great in theory.

By this time I have worked up a sweat and wonder if I really need these blood pressure pills open at all.  Surely some one will stop by later today and they will open them for me.  This leads me to remember all the things I need open, like the jar of pickles, the bottle of lavendar cleaner, and that bottle of aphid killer that I threw across the fence in total frustration.  What has my life become?  I can not even try to catch the rain on my tongue anymore, because I might catch pneumonia instead. 

And all this brings me to the crux of the matter.  I am getting old.  Not only are my fingers stiff and my teeth gone, even words take on new meaning.  Like colon is no longer a punctuation mark, it is now something inside me to be babied and cleansed on a regular basis.   Will no longer means determination, it is something I have to make and file with the court or when I go toes up the state of Colorado will be my beneficiary!  Friends and family are no longer just people to be cherished, they are to be feared and revered and do not tick them off or they will not come to my funeral.  (I do not want to be the only one there!)  Walker is no longer someone I meet on the path, it is what holds me up.  Depends is not an act you perform when counting on someone to do something, it is now a noun to replace "string bikini or thong."

And I could go on all day, but I can't because I want to make a cake and I have got to get that new bottle of vanilla open.  Think I will take it down to the Senior Center and make that our challenge for the day!  Please do not laugh at this because one of these days you are going to be wanting to taste the rain only to find that it is now acid rain and you want no part of that!

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Clara Bartholomew? Where are you?

I have been researching the family tree and I am now at my wit's end.  Dad's first wife was named Clara.  Apparently the had 5 children together.  Two of those did not survive to adult hood.  The three older boys were placed in an orphange.  Two of those were adopted.  I know what became of them.  The third one, who was the oldest walked away from a town in Northern Kansas or southern Nebraska and vanished into thin air.

But, Clara.  The last trace I have of her was the 1930 census.  At that time she was 26 years old and her oldest son was 8.  Poof!  If there is any of may family out there who knows anything, I would like to know what you know.  I am waiting for the 1940 census.  I know on it my mother will be married to my father and they will have 2 kids.  Josephine Walden (my half sister) and Delbert Leroy Bartholomew.  Delbert would later become known as "Jake".  I would be born in 1941 so would not show up yet.

This tells me that Clara was no  longer married to my father in 1936 since Jake was born in 1937.  I know when we were growing up and met the three older boys who were our half brothers that we asked questions and I am sure we were given answers, but I do not remember what they were. 

I know that Earl has three kids and Josephine used to stay in touch, but she is gone now.  Wish I had listened.  Richard wound up in Denver and he died many years back.  Gene was never adopted and I recall that he married and had a son.  He was declared legally dead an eon ago, but the son is still out there some where.  It just seems that the more I learn the more questions I have.

So, I am going to stick the family tree back on the shelf for a while and concentrate on getting back into a routine so I can keep this blog thing going.  But if you do happen to stumble on something that might help just contact me.

Watch dogs one; intruder zero!

The top picture shows Icarus the cat, Elvira the dog, and the black and white photo is Daisy.  Daisy is the oldest and the ring leader.  Icarus somehow has decided that she is a dog also, and last night proved her metal as a "watch dog."

We went out to close up the geese at our usual time.  For some reason the geese were on full alert.  When I opened the gate Daisy and Elvira tore off to the front gate.  As  they were raising Holy Cain, I hurried to see what was treed over there.  I was halfway to to front gate when three animals shot past me and I turned in time to see Icarus launch herself on something that had just flew by me. 

Lordy! Lordy!  All three of them had a big cat cornered in a corner by the tin shed and the garden fence.  I could see flashes of staggering vet bills for eyes being ripped out, so I ran for the deck knowing full well, three of those animals would follow me.  Luckily that plan worked and I immediately shut the gate, thus giving the intruder the opportunity to escape, which it took full advantage of very quickly.

The excitement being over, we continued to the goose house and our chores for the evening.  The animals were unpertubed by our little intruder and I think they quickly forgot.  I, however, have not.  It was such a treat to see my three little defenders protecting thier kingdom.  Some how I know that those little guys, will keep me safe from harm here on my farm.  Somehow it gives me a feeling of security to know that those three would be all over danger before I could even get my weapon off safety.  They are fearless!

So all you little worry warts out there that think I am helpless can relax.  It would take a complete lunatic to think I am at anyone's mercy.  I would hate to think how far anyone would advance into the room with a calico cat implanted on the top of thier head and anchored with razor sharp claws for added stability.  And how far can one walk with a dog latched on each ankle?  Oh, and nothing slows down a raging intruder like a gaping hole from a 45 slug!

I am in very good hands here and today I am going to make a fresh batch of treats for my little soldiers, but right now they are having a nap.  Been a long night.

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I about fainted in my Wheaties!

I had more faith in Burger King than this!  Fast Food = Wendy's or Carl Jr's

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2012/05/07/burger-king-manager-fired-hiv_n_1497718.html?icid=maing-grid7%7Chp-desktop%7Cdl15%7Csec3_lnk2%26pLid%3D158651

The mixed messages in my email box.

I opened the email when I got home from church.  Most of it goes into my spam folder and it is amazing that AOL can guess what I do not want, like certain body parts to grow, others to tighten up,  and some things I do not want to do all night long.  But there are still things that get through that they could discard and I would never miss, but then I would have nothing to read.

So first is that there is a man in my area wanting to meet me!  He is marriage minded, as am I.  (This I did not know!  I thought I was content with the single life!)   Seems he is going to be devestated and doomed to a life of loneliness if I don't click "show me more" right away.  That one was preceeded by a list of assisted living centers where I could be most happy and everything is on one level for my convenience.  Since I live in a four level home, that would definitely be worth looking into further.

I was pleased to know that I have fallen heir to over  $35,000,000 due to the passing of a dear distant cousin in the Ukraine.  I was surprised by that one, because I really do not remember the fellow and never knew that our family even knew where the Ukraine is located.  I know I have no idea.  But, nonetheless, I will gather all my information; social security number, birthday, bank account numbers, mother's maiden name, and the color of my first car and send it to this lawyer.  After a week or so, when I am sure he has received it, I will contact an attorney about how to invest all that money to give me the best tax break.

And there are the usual daily recipes that pop up every morning.  Some of them actually look good and I am sure all that fat, butter, white flour, and cream will help me live a long time to enjoy my aforementioned inheritance.

I do sell on eBay and there are limitless questions from potential buyers.  "What size cover do I need for my bird cage?"  "Do you ship to Arkansas?"  "Is your junk jewelry for 99 cents pure gold?"  "I see you have free shipping, can that be combined?"  I want you to know that I dearly love my eBay customers and gladly answer thier questions.  I have developed several lasting friendships through this media.

So for now I am off to answer my emails and save some poor lonely guy a life of misery.  Oh, yeah and dream about my newly found fortune.  Have a good one.

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Lunch with friends, I think.

Well, here we are.  On the left is Frank and Shelly, his daughter.  On the right is Ron and Cliff.  I had crossed paths with Ron and Cliff a few weeks back and we decided, since we could not remember when we did it last, that a lunch date was in order.

See, many years ago, in a land that time forgot, Kenneth and I had worked with Frank, Cliff, and Shelly who have an excavation and demolition business called Colorado Dirt Contractors.  I think that was back in 1982.  Frank's mom and dad were wonderful people and for a while we all attended the same church; Temple Baptist on Thatcher Avenue.  I rented my home on Scranton from Frank, via his mother.  I loved that little house. But, I digress.

The date was set for our outing and we agreed to meet at Papa Jose's at noon on Friday.  Of course I arrived first, being the anal retentive that I am.  I was amazed to see that none of these people had aged.  Shelly tried to tell me she had, but I was not buying that.   I was taken aback to learn that her "baby" was 24 years old.  I do not know how that happened.  I knew Frank's dad had passed many years ago, but I was saddened to learn his mom was in a nursing home.  Last I knew she was still canning tomatoes in the back yard with all her daughter-in-laws.

As we all set there it was apparent that they all were on thier lunch hour from work, so I asked the question that was foremost in our minds.  "Hey guys, remember when we were all together and we talked about how we would retire when we were 55 or 60?  What happened with that?"  Blank looks, everyone.

Then Frank said, "Well, we don't work very much.  Just now and then.  Mostly we set around and try to remember people's names, or something we did and wait for lunch time.  Like, 'Remember Kenny Mercer?  What was his wife's name?'"  We all laughed at that. 

I told them the last time I had seen Gene, another acquaintence of bygone days,  he invited me to a barbeque and I told him to have his wife call me.  That was right after Kenny passed.  Still waiting for a call on that one. 

Then we tried to remember the last time we had gotten together and found that one eluded us.  I told them I had written a book and was going to have it published.  Some one asked what it was about, but I could not remember.  I asked about the wives and confessed that I probably would not recognize them if I saw them.

We discussed a former nemisis, recalled the junk equipment we had started out with and decided they had come full circle, once more tried to remember when we had last had lunch together and vowed to do this again very soon.  As we said goodbye in the parking lot and tried to find our respective vehicles, I could not help but laugh.  Here we are, a bunch of over the hill (Shelly excepted) friends who are still capable of being friends, and if they are like me, thinking of each other on a regular basis, but not bothering to do anything about it and then when we do, being very happy that it had happened. 

I have known these guys since I moved to Colorado.  Frank since 1979 and Cliff shortly thereafter.  That is well over 30 years.  Never had a disagreement with either of them.  Like their wives, care about their kids and in-laws.  Just never bother to keep in touch.  Is that the mark of an enduring friendship, or what?  I think so.

The last thing Cliff said was "Hey, Lou!  Let us know about that barbeque."  I stopped in my tracks, dumbfounded.  What was that all about?  And then I remembered about Gene and realized that maybe we were not as forgetful as we thought we were, or at least Cliff was not! 

So, guys, I look forward to our next meeting, when ever and where ever it may be!  My regards to the family!

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Spring time means baby geese on the ditch by my house!

Well, I almost wrecked the car on the way to town a couple days ago.  I knew there was a pair of Canadian Geese hanging out on the ditch, but I did not know they had already hatched the babies.  I counted and there were 7 or 8 of them, but those little suckers are fast.  When I stopped mother and babies were in the water and father was up on the topside.  He immediately jumped into the water and headed them upstream.  Guess he thought I might eat them.

Now at my house, I am staying up on the birth control thing.  Goose lays an egg, I grab it, run in the house and blow out the contents.  No babies here on the farm!  No, siree!  Now Diane at church also has a farm over by Penrose where geese and other fowl abound.  She has offered to give me some of her flock since I have no babies, but I have a better idea.  I would like to give her my flock and she can keep hers.  Granted they do a fantastic job of keeping the weeds down out back, but then so does Round Up.  And a bottle of sterilant costs about the same price as 2 week supply of goose food.

And then there is the grasshopper control factor.  Grasshopper would have to be completely insane to land on my little acre!  Oh, and when someone tells you that geese eat stickers, you can say with all certainty that is false.  They will eat the stickers if I pull them when they are young and hold them in my hand for them.  I have started tilling small areas and planting Rye which should mingle with the stickers and the geese will eat the Rye and trample the stickers.  At least I hope so.

The Apricot and green apple trees are loaded.  Now I eat neither of these things, so they become ready goose food.  I will plant 5 or 6 Zucchini plants and let the Zucchini get big and chop it up.  Well, I do not actually let them get big, they just seem to do that on their own!

So, things are going along right on schedule here in the Rockie Mountains.  Well, not really.  I planted 6 tomato plants and two packages of tomato seeds yesterday.  Also some potatoes that were already growing in my potatoe  bin.  Then the man on television told me, "Don't get excited and plant stuff just yet.  Looks like we may get a freeze next week."  Damn!  But you and I both know that 2 feet of snow next week is not out of reason for this area.  Would not be the first time, but there is always the possibility I can pull it off and have the first tomato of the season.

Spring time in the Rockies!!  I love it.

May 1 a week early!

Well, Lisa, I want to give you this little tidbit of info early so you can think about it while you are making your little baskets with your daughter.  Many years ago in a land that time forgot, there was a practice that people had which was really cool.  May Day!  Today the term May Day!  means that something is happening and we need all hands on deck to save the whole damn mess.  World wide it marks Workers Day and led to the first passage of an 8 hour work day.  In ancient times it was a Druid Holiday called Beltane, celebrating the return of warmth to the earth.  Purifying fires were used to assure a clean start.  Romans had a similar holiday called Floralia to celebrate flowers.  They were combined to become our current (or past) May Day celebration.

Here is a quick link for you. 

http://www.lifescript.com/food/articles/article_archive/c/celebrate_spring_with_a_may_day_party.aspx?gclid=CIzwzLSBy68CFbMEQAodiw2PYg&trans=1&du=1&ef_id=sbZPiEpOU3UAAIVt%3a20120423125052%3as 

Ah, but back to Nickerson, Kansas and a great memory.  There was at that time a special rite called the May Pole.  Our teacher constructed a pole with 6 streamers attached to the top that hung way down.  Our job was to take a streamer and skip around the pole thus winding the streamers around the pole and producing a rainbow affect.  Those who were not skipping merrily were to toss flowers at the feet of the skippers.  When the big day arrived the skippers arrived in their finery.  One of the girls was a little bit heavy and much better endowed then the rest of us flat chested flower throwers.  It soon became apparent that dear teacher had not put a lot of thought into the finery the girls were wearing, which consisted of pastel dresses with scoop necks.  Perhaps it was the mother at fault here.

The music began to play.  The girls began to skip.  As the music picked up tempo so did the skippers and so did the chest of Weezer.  As she skipped and bounced it became a spectacle to behold and we stood transfixed in mortal terror that she was going to put out her own eyes.  Some one should have thought the skipping thing through, but I will say this;  It was a lesson well learned for the teacher and all of us who would some day  be blessed.  And it was a memory burned forever into our memories and to our credit and in my knowledge, I do not think anyone ever teased her.  Well, not after the first day or so.  And she finished school just as respected as the day she started.

Fast forward to Huchinson, Kansas and 217 West 5th Street where I lived with my nest full of children.  May Day was on the horizon and the kiddies wanted to make baskets and give them to the neighbors.  So the night before they carefully constructed several baskets and awaited the morning.  I had to work the early morning shift and when I arrived home I was told that the baskets had been a big success.  Well, it seemed so until I found out just where they got the flowers for the baskets.  Seems they took thier little baskets up the street and picked flowers along the way.  Then they came back and hung them on the door handles, knocked and ran away.  Not all the neighbors appreciated a herd of kids tramping around in thier flower beds and harvesting thier bounty.  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one!

My first neighbor on the West was an old lady whose son was a policeman.  The kids would see her coming from the store and run to carry her bags and help her across the street.  Good little kids or maybe they were just anticipating the need of one day having a friend on the police force.    One day her house was egged.  She was devastated.  How could she hope to get that mess cleaned up?  Being a good neighbor I got a ladder and my kids and I instructed them in the fine art of cleaning up that mess, all the while wondering who in our neighborhood would do such a foul thing.  I found out many years later just who those mean kids were!  I think Debbie was the ring leader on that one also!

So there, Lisa, go tuck the wee one in and cherish this time because I am trying to recall a cross stitch I did years ago that went like this;

Cooking and cleaning can wait for the morrow,

For babies grow up, we learn to our sorrow.

So dust you just lay there, cobwebs go to sleep;

I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

Well, my eyes were open very wide!

You know I sell on eBay, right?  And you know I run a lot of junk through there, right?  Earlier in the week I had listed a Minolta 35 mm camera on the auction with a starting price of $4.99.  Well imagine my surprise when I popped over there to check on my auctions and found I had not listed a Minolta at $4.99, but rather a Leica digital 16 mega pixel and the starting price was $4,000.00.  

Now my little mind alternates between forgetfulness and  worrying about forgetfulness.  What in the world had I been thinking.  I quickly clicked on the item thinking perhaps some one else's items were inadvertently thrown in my store.  No.  There it was and the Seller was loumercer3, power seller, 1080 feedback, bronze star.  I went back to the list and discovered that a cheap bauble for $1.99 was now a set of something for a drum set.  Dead panic.  I immediately called eBay security and learned that this was an account takeover.  Needless to say, I was on the phone with them until I thought my ear would fall off my head.  But they immediately suspended action on my account, removed the items, refunded my listing fees, and then we went through my store item by item to be sure that all the listings in there were mine.  After that I then had the pleasure of changing passwords and security questions.  I did thank my lucky stars that no damage was done and that I caught it very early.  (And people wonder why I hang out on this computer!)

Now, this brings up the rest of the scenario.  Say I had not caught that.  First I would have paid a very high insertion fee for this $4,000.00 camera.  Then say it sold, I would have $4000.00 deposited in my account.  Of course, when I did not mail the camera to the fellow who just gifted me with $4000.00,  I would be out of compliance and in big doodoo with big Mama eBay.  No doubt they would jerk the money back, sue me for the fees and there would go my stellar career as an eBay top seller.  Which leads me up to my big question here;

No doubt this is what is called a hacker, but why?  What did he/she get out of this little intrusion into my life.  Apparently they have more time on their hands then I do.  I squeeze time out to do my listings.  Course the Minolta that they altered is gone now and that one will need to be completely rewritten.  May be able to work that in Monday.  The thing is I will be busy the rest of the morning changing passwords on everything that has a password.  Damn jerk!

I love my computer and I love the ease with which I can dance around the Internet, buy stuff, talk to people in other lands far away, look up information, and just all the good things, but don't I hope that someone invents a program that the next time someone tries to access my information, it just fries their computer.  Oh, that would be ideal!  Especially if there were a camera to record their face as it happened.  If someone is smart enough and determined enough to go to all the work of getting into my account they should be clever enough to do that.

Ok, done for the day.  I am off to alter pin numbers, passwords, and whatever else.  Have a good one and be safe out there!

OK, Shea kids, here it comes!

Way back in the deep recesses of my mind I recall working at the Ineeda Laundry in Hutchinson, Kansas.  Now I seem to be drawing a mental blank on this one, so it was probably in the days before I had sense enough to actually remember stuff.  I strongly suspect I may have been doing a little extra drinking back in those days.  So I am assuming it was before I began the wild child bearing cycle.  But maybe not. 
I do recall one afternoon Sister Mary called and told me to come to her house on 25th (?) Street as Tommy, your dad, had called from work and said there was a tornado heading right for her house and she needed to grab the baby and head for the basement.  Now back in those days, I was good!  I could beat a tornado to some one's house and save them. So I clocked out and made a bee line to Mary's.
Upon arrival we began to carry stuff to the basement.  Snacks, milk, pop, water, blankets, coffee pot, coffee, bread, tooth brush and tooth paste, the bassinet,  a change of clothes, pillows....and at last we were ready.  We secured the door and awaited the wrath of the storm.  I do not remember which one of us realized first that we had locked Dorothy Rene on the other side of the door.  We immediately undid the door and saved the baby.  Then we laughed so hard and made a deal that we must never tell another soul what we had done.  Oops!  That slipped out.
Then there was the time she called frantically alternately between laughter and horror.  Seems there were a couple cats on the roof doing what a couple cats are known to do, and she was mortified that the neighbors would see.  She insisted that I must come immediately and get them down.  Well, kiddies, needless to say, I did not answer that call to do the big sister duty that time.  Even in a drunken stupor, I am smarter than that!
Once she invited my husband de jour and I to supper.  She was making Chicken and Noodles.  At that time they owned a big black hairy dog.  I watched the dog eating his kibble and then helped set the table.  When she appeared with the Chicken and Noodles in a big pink plastic bowl, I  remarked, "Oh, do you have two of these bowls?"  She replied that she did not.  More fits of laughter because I had just seen Poochie eating out of this one!  Your dad was horrified, but we got a big kick out of it and my boy toy never knew what was going on there.
I remember way, way back when Mary was maybe 9 or 10,  Mother would cut our hair and it was a rite of Spring, so to speak.  But Sister Mary did not want hers cut, so she was the only one of us kids who did not suffer the dreaded "bowl hair cut".  That was in our house on Strong Street.  I also remember once mother was going to run the vacuum for some reason unknown to me since we had linoleum floors, but when she opened the bag there were a nest full of newborn mice in it.  She handed them over to us to take out to the front sidewalk (And why we called it that is beyond me since it was the only sidewalk on the whole block!) and smash them with a rock.  Even writing that sounds gruesome!  We, of course, spirited them off to a safe place where mother could not find them.  I think the cat took care of our little hatchet job.
Anyway, this is the first time in a few years that your mom has not come to spend a month or so with me and I sure miss that.  I am going to try to get down sometime this spring, but it just does not seem to be working out for me.  I miss Mary very much.  I miss all the sisters, but I guess life just hands us all these little twists and turns and then Dame Fate sets back and laughs at us.  I wish you kids could peer inside my head and see some of the sights in there.  Glad I still can!

It's 4 in the morning and once more the dawning.....

It seems like I do my very best thinking early in the morning.  The clarity with which I can see the world at 3:30 or 4:00 AM is almost blinding.  My house is a wreck.  I thought it was Bret and Amanda that were the messy ones, but I have since discovered that it is I!  There is no one here but me and these animals and yet the place looks like it was struck by a hurricane, and it very well could have been.  So yesterday I decided it is time to take control of the situation.  I decided that I spend way to much time on this computer, so I am going to limit the social aspect of the Internet.  I have lost contact with several of my "e buddies" so there is no reason to keep copies of our correspondence. 

So, first goes the guy from Vermont or where ever he was actually from.  Idle curiosity made me weigh that file.  One and one half pounds!  That is a lot of paper wasted.  I thought about reading it, but opted to just toss it in the recycle bag.  I do confess I may have leaked a little tear on that one, but life goes on.  I am sure the demise of that friendship was all his fault.  Then I picked up the one from Gino.  But he is still my friend.  We correspond on a very irregular basis, but I know he is there.  Niagara Falls.  I will probably drop him a line this week.  But Wayne, Steve, and the interminable list of "one week stand's" are lost to me.  I do keep my little Amy in a special file on the computer and I will not lose touch with her.  Alex is a 3 minute job a couple times a week.  So my butterfly days are over.  Unless somebody really interesting pops up on the horizon.

Now eBay.  That is a vital part of my livelihood, so that has to stay.  But I will henceforth hold myself to a schedule.  I will do all my listing in the evening from 4-6.  I will still answer questions through the day when they arise.  I will do the packing and mailing thing early in the afternoon so it can go in the mailbox by 4.  This will work very well except when eBay surprises me with free listings or penny listings.  So I have to add, unless eBay changes my pattern.

The blogs will be taken care of early in the morning.  Like now.  I will stop rambling and keep them short and concise!  I will keep a list beside the desk of things I want to write about.  And I will adhere to that list.  Unless something comes up that I really must address like a spider making a web over there in the window on the outside and I am afraid it will come inside so I have to watch it. 

Oh, and then there is the yard to maintain, geese to take care of, garden to till and plant, seed catchers to make, newsletters to write, people to take care of, visitors to entertain, cookies to make, dogs to walk, lunch with Phyllis, and that nap thing in the afternoon.  I guess we will just see how commited I am to this getting a handle on things.  First I better make a list.  And get ready, Lisa, Dorothy, Tina, and Tommy, because I am going to tell secrets on your mother in the very near future.  I just been thinking about her and this will make you laugh!

Well, surprising as it may seem, I have once more gotten off track.  So I am going to get with the program and take 2 steps over to that desk and throw away the floppy disks I have been saving since 1994.  I will make you proud!

Getting a little weepy in my old age.

If you have ever been to my house, you know how I love flowers and the Lilac is one of my favorites.  I have seven or 8 altogether, but the one at the end of my back sidewalk is my favorite since it is also my biggest.  It has been blooming now for almost a week.  Every time I go out back, which is a minimum of times a day doing chores, I am met with the most heavenly fragrance.  It is strongest in the early morning and early evening, but all day it is on the air.

There is just something about a Lilac that invokes my younger days.  Seems like there has always been a Lilac bush every where I lived.  All the old Aunts had Lilac bushes.  Lilacs and Spirea.  Oh, and Forsythia.  My Spirea bush is about to croak and the Forsythia quit blooming years ago, but the Lilac is better than ever.  My Lilac bushes came from roots at a lady's house where she was ripping hers out cause she was "sick of the damn thing."  Lilac's are very hardy and can me started from a thought of one. 

Back to the weepy part.  When I pass this Lilac I always stop and breathe deeply.  My mind flits away to Grandma's house and a much happier time in my life.  But it makes me sad.  I know that this will only last a couple weeks and then it is gone until next year.  There is no way to capture the smell.  I have Lilac fragrance that I use in my soaps and lotions, but the headiness I experience at the end of my sidewalk is irreplaceable.  I stand there and just wish I could stop time.  My friend in New York sent me pictures of the Lilac festival there a few years back.  At the time I thought how nice that would be to go visit, but then I thought how nice it is to stroll around my yard and touch my own little crop. 

The one by the sidewalk is getting very big and I have to trim it so it does not close my sidewalk.  Today I am going to dig up some roots on the sidewalk side and take them out back and plant them for the geese.  I know I will have to put a fence around them because 13 geese can trample a lot of my transplanting efforts, but I don't mind.  I just want to share with them.

I don't remember being weepy over a smell before, but I am now.  So I attribute this to the fact that I am getting old and probably a touch of senility is setting in as well.  Or it could also be that I am getting older and have learned to appreciate the little gifts that God has given me in the form of a beautiful bush and a fragrance to carry me back in time.  I am sure that when I get to the Pearly Gates, there will be a Lilac bush on either side, and they will be in full bloom and I will just follow that fragrance right on in and up those streets of gold!  

And that, my friends, makes me smile!

Victory!!! I found out how to do the slide show. Damn Google any way!!!

Sleepin at the foot of the bed.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tkEotkyjHU 

Remember this guy?  This song and "Out Behind the Barn", "Got Company Comin'".  Everyone of those songs hits a chord with me.  We grew up pretty much in abject poverty, which made us right there with everyone else.  We had just come out of the big depression and things were changing.  Dad farmed with John Britan which wasgood because John had a tractor and 40 acres across the river.  Dad had horses because he did not trust that new fangled stuff.  We wanted to go some place, we walked.  Laundry was done on a scrub board before we graduated to the wringer washer.
We had a two bedroom house and there were 6 of us kids.  That made 8 humans sleeping in 3 beds.  Dad had his own bed.  Mom shared with Mary and Dorothy which left us 4 older kids on one bed.  I do not know where Jake slept, but I think he had a pallet on the floor.  Not with us girls, that was for sure.  There was no such thing at our house as privacy.  We had an "out house" and that was pretty private.  Well not really, cause it was a two holer.  But there was a latch on the door.  I often wondered if the latch was to keep me in or some one else out.
I can remember 2 wood heating stoves and one wood cooking stove.  Lord, when it was winter and the wind whistled through the cracks in the walls there just was no keeping warm.  We would hunker down under a pile of quilts, but they were not the pretty ones I have now.  These were what ever we could piece together to cover the old wool army blankets that seemed to pile up over the summer and fall.  Those things were made of something that does not ever  rot, wear out, shrink away, or stop scratching.
The amazing part was, if someone were traveling through and they stopped at our house, there was always a place for them to sleep and a meal for them to eat. Looking back I seem to think that the hayloft out in the barn was the warmest place we had and I think sometimes us kids slept out there.  I do remember when Jimmy Dickens was singing these songs that I could not imagine any other kind of life.  That was just how it was.
Of course, now I am older and look back it was terrible times.  No human should ever live like that, but we did not know any different so we just played in our little piles of dirt or climbed the tree, or chased the chickens and hid from what ever we were afraid was going to carry us off, like the gypsys out North of town.  I was always scared to death the gypsys would get us and to this day, I would not know a gypsy if one grabbed me!  And what would they want with me any how?
Well, I just wanted to tell you about the Jimmy Dickens songs.  Guess this is one reason I only listen to County Classic Radio.
Got to go take a nap.  I have made myself very sleepy thinking of the good old days.  You know what?  I would not trade one minute of my early years for a mansion on the hill.  they are what made me who I am today, and I am just pretty pleased with myself most of the time.
Have a good one.

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2 Blue Stars

Kathleen M. Goodrich

SGT U.S. Army Veteran

You all know that I sell on ebay.  A couple months back I grabbed a handful of lapel pins and put them on as a lot.  The one little bar with a red band, white background, and two blue stars was the one that ended up as my display picture. 

I have had the best luck in the world with my customers on eBay.  If I list something and it is not right, someone will call it to my attention.  If I do not know what something is, someone will email me and tell me what it is and where it came from and what it should bring.  And so it was with this little pin.

In this day of the "me" generation it is refreshing to meet some one who still holds to the value and honor that our Armed Services represents.  This young woman was kind enough to start a dialogue with me and teach me just what this little lapel pin represents.  The following is our correspondence:

Dear loumercer3,
The 2 "Blue Star" Pin is typically worn by a Mother who has two Sons or Daughters serving in the Armed Forces Overseas. In the unfortunate event that one or both of her Children are Killed in Action the Blue Star Would be changed to Red. This pin at one time belonged to a very proud Mother. I thought you might like to know what this pin means.
Kathleen M. Goodrich
U.S. Army Veteran
- kathyvfw

Dear kathyvfw,
Thank you for that information! I am going to take that ad down and relist with this information if that is alright with you? I may not relist it. Seems rather derogatory to sell something that important on ebay along with a pile of other worthless stuff.
thanks again.
Lou Mercer
- loumercer3

Dear loumercer3,
On behalf of myself and all Vetereans, Thank You for giving this most precious symbol of a Mother's Love and Pride the Dignaty and Honor that it deserves. If you must sell it please sell it separately. I am a bit doubtful that someone will bid on it as it most assuredly has been worn by By a Mother and is quite sacred for that reason. I am a U.S. Army Veteran but I am also A Mother of a U.S. Army Veteran and I Proudly wore a Blue Star Pin.
You may think you have a pile of wothless stuff but please remember your Heart is priceless.
Thank You
Kathleen M. Goodrich
SGT U.S. Army Veteran

- kathyvfw

Dear kathyvfw,
I will call the local VFW tomorrow and see if they would like to have it. Or the heritage museum.
First I am going to do a short blog on it.
Thanks again,
Lou

-loumercer3

Dear loumercer3,
Thanks again for caring. My apology for spelling Veteran incorrectly I had spelled it Vetereans possibly a tear or two got in the way. The pin belongs where it is known as much more than a peice of metal. Many Thanks for taking it on it's final Journey.
Kathy

-kathyvfw

And there you have it; what the little pin with blue stars represents.  It is no longer in the bag along with the other pins.  It is now in my jewelry box and when Frank and Kay get back from Texas I will give it to them and they will find a nice home for it where people will know what it represents.  At that point in time it will be accorded the honor it deserves after spending several years in a box of junk jewelry that I picked up for $15 at a garage sale.

I do want to thank Kathleen M. Goodrich for finding my listing and for sharing her knowledge with me.  I am sure her mother also wore a pin like this. 

And my words of wisdom for today ring very true....There are some things that even money can not buy.

Do you know what this pin represents? three guesses!

I put this on an auction and a very lovely lady was kind enough to give me the information on this pin .  It is about 1/2 inch long and 1/4 inch high.  It is a lapel pin.  I will give you exactly two days to tell me what it signifies. 

Post your guess either on the comments here or on face book.

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Been working on the family tree and my mind is boggled!

Well, I decided that I would just bite the bullet and figure out who Reuben Floyd Bartholomew was.  I found me a place called Ancestry.com.  There I typed in Reuben Bartholomew and the approximate year of his birth.  And up he popped!  Also found his mother and her parents.  Apparently her maiden name was Pratton and she had 3 brothers and 3 sisters.  Right now I am a little busy, but I will fill you in as I make discoverys and if anyone might be interested in helping me just feel free to jump right in and go for it. 
As for now, it seems that William G Bartholomew was born  in Grand River, Missouri about 1867.  The lovely  Luella(Louella) was born in 1870-71 in Jefferson, Indiana.  Some how the star crossed lovers met and married and little Reuben appears to be the first child being born on February 3,  1894.
Now you recall that back in the early years, census records, birth certificates and such were all filled out with a pen and ink.  So some things are up for debate.  For instance, on the first census record he is recorded as Ruby.  Louella and Luella and Luela all appear to be the same person. 
the point is, this is some fascinating stuff and I may have to give up my day job!  So hang in there.  I will have updates as I find them relevant.

Many years ago and far, far away.

Way back in the dark recesses of my mind is probably the first memory of my life.  It was before I started school.  Before sister Dorothy was born.  I must have been 4 years old when we lived on the Stroh place outside of Nickerson towards the Arkansas River.  I have many memories of that place, so we must have lived there for a while, or that was when my tiny mind was first starting to grasp things.

See there, how innocent I am?  So anyway, back to this memory.  We had an uncle. Well, we had several, but this one I am not sure how he was connected.  Was not on mom's side  unless it was a way distant one.  So it must have been one of the renegades from my dad's side.  His name was Uncle Ode.   That is all I know.  No last name.  Anyway, one day he came for a visit.  I probably seen him two times in my whole life.  Uncle Ode smoked a pipe, and like all little kids, I was fascinated with that pipe.  So he let me have puff.  I recall I must have done something because all the adults laughed.  He gave me several puff off that pipe and every time the grown ups laughed.  Then I got sick.  Oh, very sick.  And then the grown ups were not laughing any more.  Served them right, I think.

On the Stroh place, mother used to go to "Club".  I do not remember how often or where, but I remember "Club".  Us kids went with her, because there was one lady designated to watch over us and we better be good, and we better be quiet and there better not be any bad reports.  Back then parents ruled the home.   Now there is a tradition that I wish had been kept!

We had a chicken house and several times something had gotten in and got a hen.  So dad set out back and when the weasel showed up, he killed it.  Now, I do not remember our family ever owning a gun, so I am wondering just what he killed it with,  and I was way to young to remember much about that ordeal.  I think it was a weasel.  Could have been almost anything.

I remember us being on the porch one day and the cat came to the yard with a baby chicken in its mouth.  Mother dispensed Jake and the cat into the forest and I remember Jake had a hatchet.  When he came back he still had the hatchet, but I never seen that cat again.  Big yellow tom cat.

Jake and I were in charge of taking the old milk cow down to the road and letting her eat the grass in the ditch.  She would amuse herself like that for quite a while and when we seen her looking towards the house, we were supposed to go "bring her 'round".  One of our favorite ways of doing this was to grab her tail.  This would cause her to run for the barn a lot faster.  Otherwise we had to walk behind her with a switch and touch her rump when she stopped to eat grass.  That was pretty boring!  Course when we made her run, she did not give much milk.  No winning when you are 5 years old.

Sister Donna poked her finger at a turtle once and it latched on to her finger.  Much discussion on that one.  Cut it off?  No way!  It will never let go if it is dead and she will have that thing hanging on her finger for the rest of her life.  And try to catch a husband with a turtle head on your finger!  But be patient and it will let go when the sun goes down.  I do not know how that one played out, but I do not think she still has it hanging off her finger!  So it must have been resolved.

My brother Gene came home from the Army for a brief visit and then was gone and wound up in prison for writing hot checks.  But it was not his fault!  It was that damn Banks boy that made him do it.

The best part of that time in my life was learning to take care of my hair!  Sarcasm there.  The way we got haircuts back then was to have a bowl placed over our head and then trim around the edge of the bowl.  Hence the term "bowl hair cut".  This was second only to washing of the hair for pure enjoyment.  This is how that went down.  We had no hot water, and the only source of water was a pitcher pump in the corner of the kitchen.  This pumped into a sink (of sorts) which was attached to a pipe that ran through the wall and outside into the yard.  Mother would tuck me under her arm with one hand supporting my flopping head and sister Josephine would start pumping.  Ice cold water was pouring into my hair at about 7 gallons per second.  Shampoo and lather and rinse.  I learned very early not to scream , beg, and whatever I did do not wiggle or try to kick free because that just prolonged the ordeal and got my butt beat royally!  And you think you had it rough! 

Well, I could reminisce all day here, but this is not getting the chores done.   When we left the Stroh place we moved to the Ailmore place.  I think my next book may cover some of my childhood lived in abject poverty, but you know what?  I would not have it any other way!

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