I know I showed you this, but...

I just want to point out some things of interest.  Like see that thing in the lower left hand corner?  Do you know what that is?  That is a sewing kit that sets on the cabinet or some where that it will be handy.  The whole thing is wooden and usually hand made.  The bird has a pair of scissors that makes up his head feathers and the blades are his beak.  Under the beak is various colored spools of thread.  In the center is a pincushion and in the pin cushion will be a needle.  I can walk in anyone's house now days and tell them I need to sew a button back on and I will be met with blank stares.  Needles and thread are just not the common items they were 50 or 60 years ago.
The couch they are setting on is a dark blue sort of plush fabric.  It is called an overstuffed divan.  The pattern etched in the fabric would have been some sort of leaf design or flower.  The walls are papered it is matched!  It is very neutral, because bold statements were not made in those days.  The pillows are of course, hand sewn, probably either by hand or on an old treadle.  I just don't remember the sewing machine at grandma's , but I am sure there was one there.
But the crème de la crème can be seen on the back of the couch between mother and grandma Haas.  See those white round things?  Those are crocheted sets that go on the back and arms of anything you set on.  These particular ones are made by first crocheting the round things.  They are made up of probably 85,000 tiny crochet stitches and probably in a size 20 thread.  Back in those days these were considered necessary.  If they were not on there the couch was "naked."  And trust me, it would have been more acceptable for me to cavort naked in the street as for that couch to not be finished with it's crocheted trimmings.  And the matching overstuffed chair would have a set that matched.  Heaven forbid that it looked any different.
And any table that was in any room would have a doily on it.  The center of the dining room table, a very large,heavy, round oak table had a big pineapple doily as the centerpiece.  It was about 2 feet across and the pineapple ruffles stood about a foot high.  When this was "soiled" it was washed and then "finished" by soaking it in a very heavy sugar water and then placed on a towel to dry.  The ruffles were pulled to full height as it dried and when it went back on the table it was perfect and looked like it had been ironed.
So that is it for this picture.  Oh, one more thing.  See how they are dressed?  Dresses, aprons, hose, shoes, the whole nine yards.  When those women came out of the bedroom this is how they looked.  They were dressed "for the day" and that was that.  You might catch me in my jammies at about any hour before 10, but not them.  I do not think I ever saw grandma in her night gown any time except when I put he in it at night and took it off in the morning.
So much for the grandma's for today.

(I know there are some of you out there who read this blog as a means of keeping up with family history.  You should know that I have my blog converted into a pdf. file  regularly and if you would like I can send it to you as an attachment.  I have not done it for this year, but just let me know if you want one and I will make sure you get it when it is ready.)









 

And we "settle in".

The next morning arrived, as mornings have a way of doing.  John Britan and Ed Crissman came by early to get the cook stove unloaded and the pipe put through the hole in the ceiling.  It was heavy work, but accomplished very quickly.  I am sure mother hustled around and built a fire so coffee could be made.  This was done with a large enamel coffee pot, water, grounds and an egg shell.  Egg shell was to make the grounds settle better.  I do not remember what our first meal in the new house was, but I am willing to bet it was some sort of "mush."  Mush was made by boiling water and stirring some sort of cornmeal into it.  I think today it might be called "grits".  I have since perfected this recipe.  Mine is called "Scrapple." 
First I boil some kind of pork or beef until it is very tender.  I season it with a bay leaf, some sage, maybe salt and pepper or chicken broth.  Then I fish out the meat, add coarsely ground yellow corn meal (grits or polenta) and cook that until it is done.  Then I stir the meat in and pour the stuff into a loaf pan that is lined with wax paper.  When this cools it will set up and be firm.  Then I take it out of the pan and slice it about 3/4 inches thick and fry it in hot oil.  Serve that with Maple Syrup and  you have some happy people on the other end of the forks.  Hard to believe that recipe came from the heart of the depression years.  We just didn't put meat in it back then.
So with the cook stove cooking away, the next item in was the "heating stove" or parlor stove or what ever.  Since the linoleum in the front room was still in very good shape, we did not need to replace it.  The first thing to go down was the 4' x  4' square of asbestos that was clad in tin.  Usually the tin was painted so it was pretty.  The purpose of this was to keep the stove separated from the linoleum cause the stove would get very warm.
 ( A little aside here!  The Environmental Protection Agency and every one else in government would have us shut down today.  Asbestos is now hazardous waste and I am sure that linoleum under it was a case of lung cancer waiting to happen.  But in those days all this was considered luxury. )
The stove needed to set about 2-3 feet from any wall, so our metal mat was placed accordingly.  Then the stove was carried in and placed exactly in the center with the door facing into the center of the room.  Do not ask me why, but that was how it was.  Step ladder was brought back in and the pipe installed connecting the stove to the hole in the roof.  Always amazed me how that worked out every time, but apparently there was some sort of plan.  There was no chimney, just poke it out the hole and we are good to go.  The wood box in the kitchen was located just inside the door.  The one for the front room was just outside the door.  Hey!  Do you think we were hicks? 
Then everything left on the hay rack and the trailer was carried in and taken to the room where it belonged.  The zinc tubs were put in the kitchen, because that was where the washing machine would go and that was where we would have our weekly bath.  In case you missed the blog on the bath, I will tell it again later.  The three legged cast iron kettle that was the mainstay of life was placed out back near the pump. 
I have  got to extol the three legged kettle.  It was about 3 feet high and 3 feet across.  The sole purpose was to heat water over an open fire, hence the legs that held it up out of the ashes.  See, it set there and a fire was built under it and buckets of water were carried from the pump and poured in it.  About anything could happen in that kettle!  Mother raised geese, ducks, chickens and rabbits.  When it was butchering time for the geese, ducks and chickens the water was heated in there.  Off came a head and in went the body.  Geese and ducks had to have a little soap added so the water would penetrate.  Then the feathers were plucked off and the "down" saved.  Down is the light feathers under the wings and inside of the legs.  It is used in Down Comforters, pillows and stuff like that.
The kettle was also used to heat water for washing clothes, washing kids on Saturday night, rendering pork fat into lard, dipping the pig during butchering and lord only knows what else the inside of that kettle seen! I do remember many years later when we moved to the big city of Hutchinson, mother left that kettle.  Her words then were, "I am so happy I will never have to heat water in that thing again."  We also left the stoves, but that was many years later. 
Father strung new wire on the clothes lines.  We never hung curtains, because we didn't have them.  Someday we would, but not now.  And since we mostly used a kerosene lamp, we usually went to bed early. Back in those days, most people functioned with the sunlight, so who was going to see us anyway?
Want to tell you just one more thing for today.  The ice box was just that.  It was a big brown box that was insulated with, you guessed it...asbestos.  The ice man drove by the house with his ice wagon once a week.  We had a card that went in the front window.  The number that was up was how much ice we needed.  Usually 25 pounds was what we got.  When he saw the 25 on top, he would stop and get his ice tongs and pick up a 25 pound block and carry it into the house, open the ice box and set it inside.  The money was always left laying there and he would pick it up and leave.
Bet you wondered how he got in without a key, didn't you?  Every house in town had a door with a lock and the lock could be opened with a skeleton key.  I mean every house could be opened with the same key.  If you lost your key, you went to the hardware store and bought another.  Doors were rarely locked.  I do not think we even had a key.  Back in those days there was a whole different breed of people.  We still had "vigilantes" and if some one did something the town did not approve of, there was talk of "tar and feather and ride him out of town on a rail."  Never knew it to actually happen, but heard it a lot.  If you were out and needed a drink of water, just go in someone's house and get it.  Of course there were the codes of honesty, common courtesy, decency and all kind of things the new world does not understand.
Guess maybe that is why it is called "the good old days."

Landowners at last.

We arrived at the "new" house in grand style.  Our first act as new tenants was to check out the place.  It consisted of 4 rooms and a kitchen area across the back.  Enter the front door of 709 Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.  Nothing was to be brought in until the room was "repapered".  This was always the first thing that happened when you took possession back then.  Wall paper has always fascinated me.  You first measure the room and figure out how many square feet of paper you need.  This leads to another conundrum.
You figure how many square feet of paper it will take to cover all four walls of the room.  It matters whether or not it needs to "match" but only when you go to buy it. For the record it usually does need matched, so there you are.  Ceilings were about 10 or 12 feet up there in those days.  This is something I never understood.  No one ever grew to 6 feet in those days, so why the ceiling needed to be so high was more than I could fathom.  These rooms were about 12 x 12.  So 12 x 12 x 4= 576 square feet.  Wall paper is sold by the single roll, but is packaged in one big roll that is called a double roll.  So say a single roll contains 36 square feet then a double roll would contain 72 square feet.  So this job would need 16 single rolls, or 8 double rolls.  Now you have to add a roll or two extra for "in case ofs", and there are a lot of those. 
See this is what happens, you lay a bunch of newspaper, or old towels or sheets or something on the floor.  You then measure you very first strip of wall paper.  It will need to be cut a few inches longer than the wall height, in case you measure wrong.  Then you take the roll and the next strip will be "matched" to the first strip, and make it just a little longer in case you are off a little.  You will do this for the first wall.  So there they lay face up.  One person on each end and flip the whole pile so it is now backside up.  Now the fun begins!  And I really to love to hang wallpaper.  Well, I used to. Little old for that crap now.
The step ladder is brought in and placed in the first corner.  The paste is mixed and the paste brush laid out.  The decision is made that Father will climb the ladder because he is the only one that can be trusted that high up in the air.  The paste is applied to the back of the first strip being sure to "get the edges good."  This is a job for Mother.  The strip is then folded and readied for transport up the ladder.  The top of the strip is folded to the middle paste sides together and then folded back up so the very top edge is free.  The bottom is folded accordion style with the paste sides together leaving a strip that is now about 7 feet long.  Father slides his left arm under the middle of the strip and catches the top free edge and up the ladder he goes.  The first piece is hung in the corner, and then they realize that the room is not "plumb" so an adjustment is made while a string is hung from the ceiling.  The first strip is crucial because if it is not straight, the whole room is "off".
Father pats the first strip overlapping the top where it meets the ceiling.  This is folded down straight and cut so it butts nicely against the ceiling.  While he is doing that Mother is "matching" and us kids are patting and smoothing.  The brush is then brought into play and the strip is smoothed and all bubbles worked out and then Mother cuts the bottom straight with the mop board.  We admire our "new wallpaper" and then in a frenzy we attack the job of "finishing what we started."  With all of us working it is done in just a few hours.  Many hands make light work!
The moving and the papering took most of the day, so we did not completely unload the belongings that night.  We did bring in the beds.  Two for the front bedroom and one for the middle bedroom.  One bed in front for Father and Jake and one for Josephine, Donna, Mary and me.  Mother had the other bedroom with Dorothy.  Sometimes Mary slept in there also since she was "almost" a baby.  Sometimes Mary slept with Father.  And mostly Jake slept on the floor behind the stove.  Sleeping was just something that had to be done in a prone position.  Nothing special about that chore. 
Now I am sure sometimes Mother and Father were at least more than casual acquaintance's, but I was never privy to that!  (Just want to clear that up.)
So ended the first day at the Bartholomew residence on Strong Street.  We would live there many years and make many memories, but tonight we were tired and the front room was papered and we were in our own beds.    So as I lay in my bed I began to worry about what we would have for breakfast since there was no stove to cook on and no pans were inside the house.  While far away in another place kids were dreaming of sugar plums and stuff like that I was dreaming about survival.

Ring! Ring! Oh hell! Sorry about that.

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

Still on the Ailmore place.

Just read the last post I made before I wandered off to do my craft shows.  We were on the Ailmore place and had just had our cyclone.  I have a few more memories I need to share there and then I will move on. 
I mentioned Bull Creek being right by our house.  I am going to try to figure out my directions here.  Sorry, I got confused, but if you want to look just click here and you can figure it out.  Just know that the Arkansas river runs on one side of Nickerson, Cow Creek figures in there some where on the other side and Bull Creek is a little furrow you can step across most of the time and has no water in it at all.  But it is, or was at the time, a whole different story in the Spring.  I think it is still the same because I used to make several trips down there every year and some times I like to take 96 Highway just for a change of scenery.  Starting about in Rice County the sheriffs and volunteers would be out to make sure that when cars crossed the flooded parts of the road there were no casualties.  Just one of the hazards of the area.
I recall once leaving our house and walking to check on the Shultz family, which was about 3 blocks away, and wading water all the way.  As quickly as the floods came, they receded and we were left with puddles of water in all the low places.  So we built little boats and sailed them in the puddles.  As I recall, our house was set up off the ground so the water did not get inside.  Most of the houses there were that way.  I do not recall having a pet at the time, but I sure there was an old mangy dog around some where.
Back somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I can recall my father "pulling a prank" on friend of his or at least on his wife.  Her name was Salina.  I think she was married to John Britan, the guy my dad share cropped with for many years.  All I remember is waking up and hearing them laughing and John saying "Just look at the egg my chicken laid!  I am going to take it to the newspaper."  Then they laughed some more.  "Damn, Rueben, where did you get that turkey egg?"  I do not know if anyone ever told Salina Britan that her chicken did not lay that egg, but it was a source of amusement at gatherings for a very long time as it quickly circulated through the town, and I am remembering it over 60 years later.
There are a lot of things I remember on the Ailmore place.  Some one up the road had a car and took the children to school.  They would stop at the end of our drive and let us ride with them if we were out, but if not, then we walked to school.  There was a young man about Jake's age that sometimes hung out at the house, but he preferred to hang with us girls.  Mother, Dad and Josephine would run him off the place.  I did not understand then, but now I think I do.  I thought they were just being mean because he was my "friend", but looking back, that was pretty strange.
The man right across Bull Creek on the way to town raised pigs.  Right now his name escapes me    ( Roy Keating) but some times dad would go do chores when the man left for a few days.  We always went and gathered the eggs.  That was really nice because he had a special little shed built for the eggs to be taken into, cleaned and put in crates.  Our hen house had blown away and our chickens just laid where ever they felt like laying.  Oh, but there is nothing more terrifying than reaching under one of those hens to get the egg.  I lived in mortal terror that I would be pecked.  Still afraid to do it now, so I just don't have chickens.
Jake always wanted to be a mechanic.  I recall once he wanted me to blow in the gas tank while he looked under the hood.  Then he had the bright idea to syphon the gas out of the tank and coerced Donna into sucking on the hose to get it started.  She had no idea what she was doing so she got a big mouth full of gas.  Lordy, mother liked to beat that Jake to death!  And we had to make Donna throw up and maybe there was another trip to the medical place in Hutch.
Lots of gaps in my memory back then, but remember I was very young.  Life back in those days was straight out of a John Stienbeck novel; poverty in it's purest form.  But everyone was in the same boat, the war was just over, and better days lay ahead.  I know cause we heard the adults say so and adults knew every thing!  But we were about to move again.  I had been born on one place, moved to another and was on my way to a third.  I was 7 years old and the world lay before me like an open oyster, and sorry to say, smelled about the same...a little fishy!

From Vista to Windows 8 and so to the nut house!

Oh, I am way to old for the leap I made today.  I went Sunday, as you read, and came home with a new computer.  I finally decided to pull it out and hook it up when the other one completely refused to get online today.  So first I made a carrot cake and then to the business.  Have you seen Windows 8?  That is the one that opens with all the apps on little cards and you just take your finger and throw the one you want to the forefront and the rest disappear.  And when you are done with that one you throw it out and pick another one.  Not me.
I decided to go the mouse route as opposed to buying a new monitor for $300.  So I kept jacking with it and missing my AOL and I do hate that Bing.  I like Google and IE.  After many hours, a sugar free Pecan Pie and lots of coffee I am setting here writing you on my blog which I just found and added to my AOL toolbar which I also found and installed much to MSN's chagrin.  I feel like a genius!
So that is it for this little update.  I look forward to being back in my little rut after Thanksgiving since the craft fairs are over. 
Right now I have to go down and hook up the old computer and find the notepad and get all the addresses that I have in there so I can find all the places I used to go to.  Going to be a long night!

Customer Service could be the key to our salvation!

After much wringing of my hands and holding of my head and balancing of the sorry little checkbook, I decided that a new computer is a definite must.  Since I needed ink anyway and I was in Pueblo West instead of at church I decided to stop at Staples.  I always go there when I need anything since I get a 2% discount when I use the American Express card and they usually seem pretty friendly.  So I whipped the little gray Ford into a parking place and went inside. 
I saw the counter where they work on computers and fix them and thought I would stop there first.
The man was busy with a young lady so I went over and got my ink.  Since he was still busy, I went to take a look at what they had in the line of computers.  Not much on the one end and since the clerk was busy visiting with another clerk and a customer(?) I had to walk around another counter and come in from the back side.  No problem since I can still walk.  Not much on that end either and no one in sight to ask without interrupting, which I do not like to do.  So back to the repair counter where that clerk was still talking with the young woman.
Since I was meeting someone for lunch I thought I better just pay for the ink and go.  No one at the service desk.  No bell to ring that I could see.  I stood there for 2 or 3 minutes and finally decided that I must be invisible since I had been in the store at this time over 10 minutes and had neither made eye contact with any one, nor been acknowledged in any way.  Rather then just walk out with the ink I left it lay on the counter.  Bet they think they have ghosts there.
After lunch I called my step daughter who had recommended Best Buy.  Yes she would meet me there.  Since I was closer I got there much quicker.  Immediately a clerk was by my side.  In very short order I had gathered the things I wanted.  Well, not really what I wanted since I am still on Windows Vista and that is now obsolete and Windows 7 soon will be.  I got an HP tower with Windows 8 and a new monitor and a mouse.  Oh, and the tri-pack of ink that matches the one I left at Staples.  No step daughter yet, but I am a big girl.  I managed to buy almost $500 worth of stuff and put the points on her account.  Unfortuneately, I am now getting her email and I do not know why, but I suspect.
Business all done and he loaded all this on a low cart, thanked me and pointed to the door.  I am sorry, but at that moment I could have cried.  I really expected to be helped to the car.  Or at least asked if I would like help.  So I dropped my purse on the cart and started that way.  In a computer store there are lots of obstacles, but I made it to the door.  Getting across a rough place in the concrete and keeping my load from jumping off the cart took about all this 71 year old broad could do to accomplish.  In all fairness a couple clerks looked at me as I rearranged the load so as not to lose the monitor on the ashphalt.  As I reached my car, my step daughter pulled up.  She helped me put it in the car.  Very happy about that since my back has been crippling me for 3 months and is just now getting so I am not in constant pain.
I explained to her that this was not right.  An old woman should have been offered a little assistance and not just sent out the door with $500 worth of stuff and hope she could make it to the car without being mugged or dropping the whole thing.  She was in agreement with me on that.
I brought my stuff home and she called to tell me that she had discussed this with the manager and he had said. " It is Corporate policy that the clerk not go to the car with the customer unless they are ASKED by the customer to do so. "  She told them they might want to rethink that one.  I am not a person that ASKS for help.  Never did it; never will.  I go to the grocery and they ask me if I would like help out to my car.  When I went to Staples a trip or so back and bought a printer, they loaded it for me.  Every where I go I get offers for assistance, but not at Best Buy.
So the crux here is this...businesses are suffering because people are not buying.  What a surprise!  I go to the store and finding a clerk is usually an effort in futility.  I gather my whatever I want and go to the counter and maybe someone is there to ring me up.  A couple weeks ago I had made an appointment to see someone.  On the day of the said appointment I received a call that they could not keep the appointment.  What am I to do?  Well make an appointment for next week.  I am busy next week.  Well, you have to make one then.  No I don't.  Here let me just hang up and call someone who will see me this week.  And I did.
I rarely if ever shop at Safeway any more.  Know why?  I stand in the checkout line and wait.  I wait while the clerks visit with each other and whoever will listen to them talk about the grandkids or the Bronco's, or what ever.  The last time I went there and managed to drop over $80 and never made eye contact with the clerk, was the last time.  King Soopers has a new policy; you do not have to wait in line and they will open another register if you do.  In and out and they actually make eye contact and say a few kind words.  And that, my friend, is called Customer Service.
It amazes me that they call us old people crabby, bitchy and whatever else comes to mind, but you know what?  After 70 years of living on this big green ball, I have decided that I am going to be treated with a miniscule amount of respect or I will take my little pile of money some where else to someone who will treat me with kindness.  I can not help that I got old, what I can help is what businesses I will support.  At this point in my life if I have to ASK you to help me, you may just find yourself standing at your counter with a tri-pack of ink, or a basket full of groceries.  I have decided to set the computer up because I seriously entertained the idea of returning it and telling them why.  Instead I will not return to Best Buy for anything.
As a matter of fact, when I buy something online, I immediately get a receipt and a thank you letter.  It is a form letter, but there it is.  Then in just a few days, whatever I ordered is delivered to my house and the UPS man or mailman or whoever brought it smiles and asks me how it is going.  Then I get another letter that asks if everything was satisfactory.  More of that stuff called Customer Service.  Brick and mortar stores could learn from the faceless business men and women online.





 

If you wonder where I went...

First was the Church Bazaar at First Congregational United Church of Christ.  That tied in nicely with the Handwoven Holiday at the Vail Hotel, and now I am out in Pueblo West for 4 days at the Jingle Bell Boutique.  And while all that is going on, I am selling like crazy on eBay.  Christmas season is upon us you know.  Sunday will wind up the craft sales and I will be left with just the eBay stuff, but I am making good use of my time.  House taxes and insurance along with the car insurance will pretty well wipe out my meager savings.  That and the fact that my list that I buy for went out the window when it reached 45 recipients explains my poverty.
I decided many years back to just give the kids soap and lotion and maybe a little something personal.  So usually when Santa pulls out of town, my cupboards are bare.  Had a granddaughter call the other day and say she wanted to come for a visit.  Sorry, dear girl, but I am tied up and can not get loose.  I do hate to do that, but I can only be in one place at a time.  Next week is Thanksgiving and then the Weavers Guild meeting and in the meantime I need to get ready for World AIDS Day.  And all the time eBay marches onward.
I do enjoy doing the Jingle Bell Boutique.  I see people I missed at the Vail and others, I just never get the chance to see.  I did not realize that the Jingle Bell has been going on for 37 years right there in Pueblo West.  It has been held in various locations over the years, but it is unique in that each person has thier own specialty.  Like I do the Soap and Lotion.  Helen does the crochet and knit.  Sue does canned fruits, jellies and such.  Mary Jo does breads, toffee and peanut brittle.  Booths, Beech's and Mary Petersen are wood workers.  Marjorie used to do the baskets, but she retired.  Rikki does quilling.  And we have a couple new ones this year, but I forget thier names.  I get to sell my books cause they never had an author before.  Last night they all went to the Hen House for supper, but I could not go cause I have the geese waiting at home, you know.  And the dogs and the neurotic cat.
So just be patient and I will be back into my routine here very soonly.  And I  will have a full report on World AIDS Day happenings here pretty soon.  And, yes Amy, I will get you cookies sent before Christmas.

 

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Cyclone, Tornado and Bull Frog!

For some ungodly reason, I woke up at 3:33 this morning and after laying there I decided to get up and face the world.  What I had on my little pea brain at that time of morning was thinking about my childhood.  After we left the "Stroh" place we moved to a place called the "Ailmore" place, again on the edge of town.  I remember it a little better since I was a little older.  It was a wood frame house with 4 rooms; kitchen complete with a wood stove and a sink that drained into a bucket, a front/dining/family room, a bedroom with 4 beds like a bunk house, and a back porch.  We did have electricity, I think.  Our water source was about 15 feet out the back door.  Jake and I were in charge of keeping the stock tank pumped full of water for the horses and the milk cow and water brought into the house for drinking, cooking, cleaning  and what ever else  was needed.
Josephine was in charge of us, as usual.  Her job was to clean the house and make sure we did not get into trouble.  One day mother had left us money to go to the movie.  I think it cost 7 cents each.  Only Jake and I could go.  So off we went.  I had on my good dress.  In those days a wardrobe consisted of a dress and a good dress.  Good dress was for town and church.  We never wore shoes in the summer.  We were bought a pair of shoes before school started and we better hope those stayed the right size until the ground thawed out in the spring.  Of course we handed our clothes and shoes down to the next kid, but remember I was a girl and Jake was my "hander down".  I digress.
So off we went.  Between the house and town was a bridge that spanned Bull Creek.  Cow Creek was farther from town and much bigger, but Bull Creek fed into it.  Bull Creek carried just enough water to make seining for Crawdads a lucrative chore.  We would take the big wash boiler which was used to heat water for the laundry and a seine and catch a bunch of crawdads.  If we were real lucky we would catch big ones.  We pulled thier tails off and boiled them.  Then we would remove the shell and eat the meat.
  (It was shaped and tasted much like a teeny, tiny, little bitty lobster, I think.  But today was movie day!  I must add here that since those days I have tasted crawdad and it was not nearly as good as back in those days when daily fare usually consisted of potatoes, corn, beans and that sort of thing served up with a loaf of bread that cost less than a nickle at the store.) 
As luck would have it we were almost over the bridge when Jake spotted a big Bull Frog.  Nothing would do but to catch that bull frog.  Down the bank we scrambled and after that frog!  He was fast, but we were faster!  We had visions of froglegs soup for supper!  Mother would be so proud!  At last Jake stood in front of me with the biggest bullfrog in the world clutched in his two hands.  Now what?  He was covered with mud.  I had not fared much better myself.  A plan emerged.  He would go down the creek a ways where the water was not so muddy and I would carry the bullfrog in my skirt back to the house and have Josephine put it in something.  Then I could put on my old dress and come back and we would go on to town.  Ah, the best laid plans of mice and men some times go awry.  And such was the case with the bullfrog in the skirt.
As I approched the door, Josephine ripped it open with her eyes very, very wide and her mouth drawn up in a tiny, tiny, very tight scowl.  "What have you done?"  Ah, but my pride of what I carried could not be contained as I stepped in the door and opened my skirt.  "Look what we can have for supper! " And you already know what happened next, don't you!  Mr Bullfrog saw his opportunity for freedom and leapt from my confines. Josephine screamed and ran around in terror ordering me to catch that monster and get it to hell out of the house.  Ah, that I could, but he was very good at escaping.  Even better than on the creek bank.  Under the bed, and as soon as I got there, he was out and under the dresser.  By this time Josephine had found the broom and was urging me onward.  What followed has probably scarred me for life,  but to make a long story short, eventually the frog was caught and set free outside.  I think the cat finally killed him.  Jake got tired of waiting and returned to the house just as the frog was launched out the front door.  He spoke not a word.
Josephine confiscated our money and the movie trip was cancelled.  My dress was removed and I was scoured clean in the stock tank with the cow and horses looking on in bewilderment.  Life returned to normal.
Across the road lived two sisters.  Well, we thought they were old maids, but they probably were not that old.  We used to hide in thier forest and watch them set in their back yard and drink tea.  Wasn't that exciting?  On up the road lived Mr. and Mrs. Rumble.  Mr. Rumble always wanted me to sing Buttons and Bows and told me that when I learned all the verses he would give me a nice shiny dime.  Then he would hold it up for me to see.  I dreamed of that dime all the time we lived in that house.  I could not learn the words because I could only hear part of the song sometimes and isn't like now when I can type it in the browser and there are the words.  I remember him.
There was a family friend named Ed Chrisman.  He and dad share cropped for many years.  This one particular time I recall, dad had gone off drinking in Hutch.  Mom was home and Ed Chrisman came by to see him.  A storm was expected and he did not want to leave a woman with a bunch of kids there alone and no one knew when dad would return.  So we closed all the windows and waited.  Jake and I went to the pump house to fill the tank before the storm, so we were out there when it hit.  We felt the shed begin to shake so we turned and ran as fast as we could into the house where mother waited with the door open. 
I still remember that wind and how scared we were.  And when it was over and we went outside it was like a war zone.  The haystack that had been so neatly piled for the winter was every where.  The only building left standing was the house.  The barn was gone.  The hen house gone and the chickens wandering around like little lost souls in the yard.  The tool shed was in shambles and the old milk cow lay dead in the field.  The horses had escaped and were Lord only knows where.  Later dad would come home and go "round them up."  We learned later that it had been a cyclone.  I think a cyclone and a tornado are basically the same thing, but I am not sure.  There was a lot of controversy over the proper term at that time.  I just couldn't see what difference it made, the results were the same.  I guess it is just like when you are in total shock, you reason things out and put all the facts in their own little places and then you can make sense of the situation.
I started school on the Ailmore place.  First grade and Miss Donough.  She later married Mr. Breece.   The circus came to town and I had a free ticket.  When I went to the circus and presented my ticket, the man told me I had to pay 5 cents.  I was devastated.  Mr. Breece stepped up and gave the man a nickle.  I was so happy and every day after school I stopped by his house to see if I could do some chores to pay him back.  He always said no and finally I stopped asking, but I never forgot.  I often wonder if I have ever done anything as I wandered through this life to make some little kid remember me.
 Funny the things that stick in your mind as a kid.


 

The upper room at the Vail sale!! (poetry)

This is the slide show for the work that goes on at the sale that no one sees, but everyone appreciates because that is where our paychecks come from. 
I have very carefully put the caption under these and I hope they are still there.  Let me know if they are not and I will spend hours and hours correcting that little chore.
Today the sale is ending and we are picking our stuff up at 5:30.  If anyone can help Susan on Sunday with the loading out, she would be most grateful.  I am churching, then PFLAGing and then they will be done.  If I get a minute I will zip by and see if I can help.

Janet Anslovar and her many talents

See the lady in the center?  That is Janet Anslovar, a very nice lady.  She has been with the guild like forever (which means longer than me!)  Seems that every thing she touches turns to a work of art.  In the center she is giving a weaving demonstration on the Baby Wolf loom that is owned by the guild.  I was her little helper and we had a very good time.  Would have had a better time if I could have stayed setting and left the cookies alone!

Janet has won many awards for her dolls and other works of sheer genius that flow from her fingers.  Today I am going in and buy one of the dolls.  My favorite was a fellow she had a couple years ago named "Harley"  and just try to guess what he was setting on!

The sale is going to end this Saturday at 3:00 PM so if you have not been there yet you better get to hopping.

This little guy came in yesterday from Colorado Springs PAWS which trains animals to be service animals.  Cool huh?  I forget his name.

Just never know what you might happen upon when you get a bunch of weavers together!

 

At the Vail Hotel with the Handweavers Holiday Sale

I just want to show you that weaving is not the only thing that goes on sale at the Handwoven Holiday Sale at the Historic Vail Hotel.  This is a gourd decorated by our own little Marianne Cardinal.

 

And here is another one by her.  You have got to stop in and check these out as my pictures do not do justice to her work.  I took a gourd class from her several years back and she really knows her stuff.  And she is an accomplished and prolific weaver.  Not only that but she is just the sweetest little lady I have ever known.  I just love her to pieces.


I do not know who made these felted soaps, but they are just cuter than cute!  One of them has his tongue hanging out and one has vampire teeth!  The sale runs through Saturday November .  10-6.  Saturday until 3. 

 

This next one is made out to wire and it looks to me like I could get my finger poked if I am  not real careful.  But it is absolutely beautiful.  She did tell someone that it was actually made on her Baby Wolf loom. Going to find out tomorrow who did the soap and the wire weaving. 

Right now I am getting just pretty sleepy, so I think I will be off to bed with me!  I see the good people on the television are counting votes and want to tell me who is going to be president, but I am just too sleepy to care right now.  So if something really wild happens in the middle of the night, I am going to be pretty surprised in the morning.  So off I toodle.  You all have a good evening and I will check in tomorrow with something pretty for you to look at and I would be really happy to see some of you pop in tomorrow.

Sleep tight!

For the record...both of the above items were made by Sandy Wells. Congrats, Sandy.  That is some beautiful work!!!

Saturday at the Vail Hotel.

Well this was the scene at the Vail Hotel Saturday when I stopped in after the sale at the church.  Busy bunch of people and some beautiful pieces.  I am working tomorrow, so I will have more pictures then.
Enjoy!

 

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: First Congregational Church Annual Craft Bazaar.

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: First Congregational Church Annual Craft Bazaar.

First Congregational Church Annual Craft Bazaar.

Well yesterday was the day and off I toodled to the annual Craft and Bake Sale.   And a good time was had by all as you can see in the slide show.  I saw lots of old friends  and made a few new ones.  I sold several copies of my book.  Made a date to meet a couple guys at the library Tuesday evening.  And I made some money.  That is always the high light of my day!
Oh, and I sold a couple purses.  I ate biscuits and gravy, and nachoes, and a big baked potato.  Drank 2 cups of cappachino and one Coke.
I finished up the craft sale by modeling the vintage apron that I had just finished a few days before.  I think I will sell it on eBay cause that is what I like to do.
After the sale I loaded up the car and drove over to the Anita Goodesign show that Sprinkles was putting on over at the Prysbeterian Church on University Circle.  Amanda was working there and Bret was over on Eagleridge running the shop, so I did not get to see him. 
Then I stopped by the Vail to see how the girls were doing at the Handweavers Guild sale.  But more on that later today because I have to work there from 2-6. 
I finally drifted home and the dogs were very happy to see me.  I shut up the geese, set the clocks back an hour, ate a bowl of cereal, answered a few emails and then off to bed with me!  Slept the sleep of the innocents and woke up this morning at 3:10.  I hate time changes and it is probably a very good thing that I live alone!
So now I am off to bigger and better things.  Will try to report in tonight with a slide show from the Vail Hotel.  For now it is off to chores, shower and then to church in that order.
 

What a lovely day I had and got a lot accomplished!

Dan showed up bright and early to load the car!  It is drop off day for the annual Handweavers Guild of Pueblo sale at the Vail Hotel.  First weekend of November every year, just like clockwork.  Drop off day is always a hoot.  Being the competitive person that I am I always have to be first in line.  Dan had my 208 items inside when the key hit the door.  Dayle MacCormack was the lucky check in lady who got me.  We were both absolutely amazed that not only were my 5 big boxes labeled correctly, but they were in a semblance of order.
The guild always amazes me at how well organized they are.  It took them 3 years to convince me that the inventory and the codes and the items numbers all had a relevancy.  The first year I sat on the floor with Terri Rostad and wrote my initials, item #, code #, and price on 200 items on a little tag 1" x 3/4".  But not this year!  Hooray!  I printed the sticky labels up on tiny labels on my computer and stuck them to the little tags.  Well, I had one tiny glitch and that was the computer refused to print the item # so I left that blank and did it by hand.  Thank you ladies for your patience and I will see you on Friday which is opening day, when I bring in my cookies.
You people have got to check this sale out.  November 2- November 10, 10 AM -6:00 PM at the Vail Hotel.  I work Sunday, Monday and Thursday. 

And then it was off to Beulah and the Stompin' Grounds to visit my friend Jan.  It was Halloween so she was dressed up like robin Hood.  I thought she was a brownie, then I thought she was Peter Pan, then I thought she must be a Pixie, but she told me she was Robin Hood, so I know that is right!  We had a lovely visit.  I have not been up there for a while so that made it even better.  I met a guy there named Russ and sold him one of my books.  He and Dan had a nice visit and I think Dan may rent a house he has over near his home for his mother.  His mother and brother are moving here after the first of the year from Fayetville, Arkansas.  That will be nice.  His mom is named Nancy and she is a lovely woman.  I think the brother is just named Brother.  I am looking forward to meeting him.
After I had what I like to call a "Cappachino Blaster" we took our leave of Jan after promising that I would bring soap, lotion and body butter to sell in her area for Christmas.  I told her I would be back next week.  Hope that works.
Dan is quite the hiker and back packs a lot so I took him to the Rocky Mountain Park just up the road a ways and he located several trail heads.  Now a little interjection here...I do not do this.  As I understand he takes his little back pack and walks off into the wilderness and usually spends the night.  I saw no signs of running water, heat, memory foam mattress, bathroom facilities and sure no stove to cook my daily meals on.  What I did see was a poster telling about the wild animals in the forest and what to do if I encounter one.  No, no, no.  Not for me.  So little Dan, with his dreams of a trip into the forest giving a happy glint to his eyes and me, sorely in need of a nap, started back down the mountain and home.

Upon arrival I decided to whip up a bunch  of cream puffs.  See, Dan wants to start his catering business and he is fascinated with my kitchen, so it is sort of a match made in heaven.  Ater we ate our fill of cream puffs with French Silk filling, all made in my kitchen, Dan departed.
I spent a little time downstairs sewing and then it was off to the Chiropractor for an appointment at 6:30.  Dr. Walters jerked, poked, massaged and manipulated my poor bones until I think she finally cracked a rib.  I made it home at 8:15 and the geese were anxious to go into thier house.  I was in bed by 9 and this is the first night I have slept all night since the back went south back in August.  What a relief that was. 
So, now it is the next day and I am full of piss and vinegar, I tell you.  I am off to Canon City for a meeting, then stop by Sprinkles to see how they are doing for the Anita Goodesign show they are having at a church on the south side Friday and Saturday.  So you have a good day and try to stay out of trouble.

 

************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale. You can buy it by simple clicking the Buy Now button.  This will take you to an invoice.   Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong day yesterday, today is October 29.

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

My dear brother, Jake 

 

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

10/ 4/ 1937-10/31/1965



Today is October 28.

And this is my brother Jake when he was in about the eighth grade.  See that scar on his cheek?  Do you know how he got that?  I remember.  We were living on the Stroh place on the edge of town.  Lot of memories there.  Donna stuck her finger in a turtles mouth and it was the general consensus that they could cut the head off, but the turtle would not release her finger until the sun went down.  Seemed nothing ever stopped until the sun went down.  Kill a snake and it would wiggle until the sun went down.  And then when the sun did finally go down, the boogie man would come out and get us if we were not very, very good!
I was going to write about Jake, but memories of that period are very fresh today, so I am just going to remember them.
The year must have been 1947.  Sister Dorothy was born while we lived on the Stroh place.  Mom laid in bed for 10 days and missed harvest.  Dad was not happy about that, but 10 days was how long one laid in bed after giving birth.  At that time Josphine was in charge of us while mother helped with the farming.   That would have made her 12 years old at the time.  About right.
Mother always went to "Club" once a month.  I do not know what "Club" was, but she drug us along and we all had to set in a row up against a wall with all the other little kids until club was over.  And we had to stay clean.  That was not hard to do unless there was a mud hole on the way to club, where ever it was.  I know it was close because we walked.
The chicken house was where all the action was.  Something was always getting in and stealing a chicken.  Once dad thought it was a fox, but laid a trap and found out it was a weasel.  No way to keep a weasel out of the hen house. 
Once while we were setting in the back yard, the old yellow tom cat came up with a baby chicken in his mouth.  Mother immediately sent Jake and the tom cat into the forest.  Jake carried a hatchet and was under the strict orders that the tom cat must never be seen again.  Shortly after that mother could not find her potato peeler. It seemed I recalled Jake taking that to the forest and told mother so.  She said I was a trouble maker.
The best part of the whole day was when we brought the cow up.  See, we had a milk cow and the grass was very green along the road that ran in front of the house.  So each morning Jake would take her out and stake her along the road.  He went several times and moved her, but when it was milking time, I went with him to bring her up to the barn to be milked.  She was very slow, but if we grabbed her tail she would run.  Sometimes we did that.  More fun than you can imagine, but sure made milking her hard because she was upset and would not release her load!
Dad had three sons before he married mother.  They had been placed in an orphange when his first wife died, as I recall.  I remember when Gene Barthololmew, the oldest got out of the Army and came for a visit.  I do not remember Richard or Earl coming during that period, but they had been adopted and had thier own family.  I did meet them in later years.  Richard Nichols and Earl Siefert.
One memory that is so vivid it hurts of that period is our hair care.  When we needed a hair cut, mother would set us on a box on a chair, place a bowl over our head and cut our hair to that length.  Then she trimmed our bangs.  Wish I could find one of those pictures! But the worst part was the washing of the hair.  We did not have running water, hence no hot water.  What we did have was a pitcher pump that pumped water by raising and lowering the handle.  When hair needed washed mother would grab the kid that was next in line which in this case was me and tuck me under her arm.  Josephine would pump the handle up and down and water would pour forth and mother would jam my head under the water, the apply soap which I am sure was lye soap and work it into my poor scalp.  Then back under the pump I went and my God that water was cold!    Since I was only 6 years old at the time my memory of a lot of things is not real clear, but on that one thing I am sure.  Bath time was once a week and it occured in a galvanized tub.  Littlest kid got the first bath and the reasoning behind that was that the younger they were, the cleaner they were.  Josephine always got the last one and by that time there was a soap scum floating on the top and bath had a whole new meaning.  To this day I stand under the shower with the water as hot as I can stand it.
I remember the old cow dying and we had to move her body to the pasture because there was some sort of disease and the only way to get rid of it was to burn and bury the carcass.  Must have been anthrax, since I think that occured about that time.  Not sure she had it, but we did it anyway.
That was also the first time I was ever allowed to go to the store.  I felt so big walking that mile to Flemings grocery with my hanky in my hand and the money for the loaf of bread tied safely in the corner.  I remember Mr. Fleming gave me a piece of candy because I did such a good job.  I recall that it was very scary being alone out in the big world when I was 6 years old.  But I look back on that simple life and it breaks my heart that our kids today will never know the simple joy of a mud puddle, a dying turtle, or a trip down the dirt road to bring the cow up!

Oh, those silly geese!

For several days the geese had been acting strange.  Now I been herding these geese, thirteen of them, around for several years, so I know strange when I see strange.  Their living quarters consists of a wooden shed about 10 feet wide by 14 feet long.  This has a big door on the west side that I go in to fill the feeder and such.  On the south side down low is a small door about 12 inches wide and 20 inches high that leads to a wire enclosure that is the same size as their house and is covered and has a big door that they enter and exit from.  When it is just dark I go out with my flashlight and they all go into the wire part.  I close that door and secure it and they are snug and tight for the night.  They can go into the house or sleep out in the wire part.  Every night this happens like clock work.  In the morning I open the wire door and they all come running out and over to the water tank which serves as their pond.  Not so the last few days.
They began by being afraid to go in the enclosure.  When I got them herded inside they would cower in the corner.  The first night I actually went into the goose house to see if perhaps Brer' Fox was lurking their.  Nothing amiss.  The next morning they did not rush out as usual, so I just latched the door open and in due time they ventured forth.  Same scenario that evening and the next morning.  I was beginning to be concerned and checked everything I could think of to make sure nothing was able to get near enough to frighten them.  It was a mystery and it really upset me to see them act like they were terrified.  Yesterday was the clincher.
I opened the wire door and no goose came out of the goose house.  I could see them in their milling about so I went and opened the big door.  They cowered in the corner and my eyes finally spotted the "intruder". Yes!  That is it.  A piece of blue plastic cord that fell off of a tarp!  That was blocking the door!  I remembered it laying on the ground in the wire enclosure. 

 

It sure seemed harmless enough to me, but then, I am not a goose.  Did they think it was a snake?  I am a thinking I would have been getting the hell out of there if I were them.  Geese have the herd mentality and I do not know how they communicate, but they were all 13 of them scared to death of this piece of cord.  After I took pictures of the offending item, I dropped it into the burning barrel.  I think the geese now look on me as some sort of hero because they gather at the fence around the yard and stare at me.  And then they take thier naps.  So I take my cue from them and dose in my chair knowing that once more all is right in my world!

 

 

 

************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale . Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

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

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

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

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

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

Memories of Great Grandma Hatfield.

The summer before I started my high school days, I was sent from my home in Nickerson, Kansas to Plevna, Kansas, to live with my great grandmother and my grandmother, both on my mother's side.  My dear grandmother had suffered a stroke at some point and since great grandmother was over 100 years old, the family thought she should have some help and I was a likely looking candidate since the only girl cousins I had were of marrying age and I was barely into puberty.  So off I went.
The grandmothers had a two story frame house.  Two bedrooms upstairs, one down, a large living room, a dining room, kitchen and located in the hallway under the stairwell, a commode.  That is to say a bathroom stool and that was it.  No sink, no nothing and I was not allowed to use it.  I might either break it or wear it out.  It was for grandma Haas only.  Great grandma and I could just trot on out back and use the "outhouse".  And so we did.  Rain, sleet, heat, or snow could not stay us from our several times daily rounds.  Had a "chamber pot" for night time needs cause God only knew what was out at night.
I was not allowed to sleep upstairs in one of the beds because Lord only knows what was up there.  So I slept on the couch right outside of thier bedroom.  My clothes were kept in a box inside the stair way on the second step.  I took a "bath" once a week by setting an enamel bowl on grandmothers stool and using a wash cloth.  I missed the big zinc tub we had at home.
Great grandmother was a very regal lady.  She was small boned, but tall.  She always held herself in a very formal and staid position.  At least I thought she had regal bearing, but as I think back, the woman was over 100 years old!  She probably couldn't have bent if she had to.  I am not near that old and I am beginning to get a little formal bearing about my own self!  She was very hard of hearing (again the age thing no doubt).  The high school was only one block from home, so I ran home for lunch every day.  When I would come out the door and start home I could hear great grandmother's old stand up radio broadcasting the market prices for wheat and corn.  The only time the radio was turned on was at straight up noon and that was to hear the market report.  She did not always have it tuned in exactly and the news would bleed in also, but she was happy as she sat in her rocker and nodded her head to the man giving the report.  No doubt she was lost in another time and place.  Farming runs in our blood.
Every evening we set up the kitchen for breakfast.  3 plates on the table each with 1/2 an orange and silverware. A dripolater was filled with water, coffee grounds were put in the basket, and it was set on a pilot light.  The egg poacher was filled with water and set on the other pilot light.  3 eggs were placed in a bowl on the table near the stove along with the bread.  Jelly was in the center of the table and the table was covered with a cloth.  Next morning the coffee was pulled to the burner and the fire started under it.  Same with the poacher.  Eggs were broken and placed in the poacher tins.  Bread was placed in the toaster and it was plugged in.  The toaster toasted the bread on one side and that side was opened and the toast slid into place so when I closed it the untoasted side would be next to the bare wires and it could be toasted.  In the meantime the dripolater magically sucked the boiling water up into the top of the pot.  I then turned it off and it magically let it come back down through the grounds again.  Time elapsed making breakfast...5 minutes.
I was allowed to put the dishes in a dishpan and set them under the sink to wait for evening.  Great grandmother had a sandwich for me at noon and I could add those dishes to the pan.  When I came home from school I immediately put the kettle on to heat the water to do the dishes.  Those being done and put away in the cupboard, I then went outside to water the plants.  Sometimes I stole a leaf of mint off the big mint plant and chewed it.
You should know that the 85 year difference in great grandmother and myself was most evident in my schooling.  She was very strict and very set in her ways.  I was not allowed to read books for enjoyment.  If I had time to read, I must read the Bible.  Every evening I read to them for at least an hour.  What we read was never discussed.  It was the holy gospel and that was that.  Never question and interpret the way she said.  Needless to say, I got a goose egg for a book report.  Mother explained that one to the principal  and while he understood, a book report was required.  So I gave him a synopsis of the Holy Bible.  Kept me from flunking.
For fun she taught me to crochet.  She gave me a hook and a ball of thread and I started the world's longest chain.  Every night after supper, we would set in our chairs and "take up" our needle work.  I will say this...I made some beautiful doilies under her watchful eye.  If it wasn't correct, it was ripped out and the mistake corrected and done over.  Guess that was where I got this perfectionist attitude I deal with today.  Damn!
My introduction and education into matters of sex education took place one afternoon when great grandmother was at the outhouse.  Grandma said, "Have you started your woman thing yet?"  Since I had no idea what she was talking about I said, "No" and she replied, "When I did, mama let me stay in bed all day."  I decided I sure wanted that to happen to me! 
When they needed groceries great grandmother would ring up Mr. or Mrs. Hinshaw at the store and she would tell them what she needed.  They would deliver it to the house.  Some times if it was just a loaf of bread or something small, she would tie the money in the corner of a handkerchief and I was sent to the store which was a block away, being trusted to remember what I wanted. I really felt like a big girl then!
Grandma used a walker and the only time she got to get out of the house was to go to the doctor.  But she was so sweet.  Her smile would melt the heart of the devil himself.  I am so glad I got to spend the little time with her that I did.

Next time I pop in here I am going to tell you how this chapter of my life played out.  So stay tuned.

 

 

 

************************************************************************ This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon. Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

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

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

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

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

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