Have a gander at these cupboard doors!

Well I had done a very informative blog on these cupboard doors and these people, but I see that the whole thing was lost and now only the pictures have turned up.  So let me go back and do this again.  See up there on top, you see the old fashioned clothes pins.  Those cupboard doors are in the laundry room.  Doc thought it fitting that the clothes pins be in the laundry room.

Then in the kitchen the knives end up as drawer handles.  Forks and spoons are used as door openers, what ever you call them.  I think this is very clever and I hate that I just passed up a chance to buy a bunch of junk silverware.

I guess I should begin by introducing you to these fine people.  This is Doc and his lovely wife Lynn.  The fellow in the background telling me how to take pictures is Sherman, a friend of mine.  They were all friends when they lived in Denver.  Doc and Lynn moved to the fair city of Ordway away from the hustle and bustle of the big city upon retirement into a very lovely older home with all the accruments that they possess.  You know, the good stuff, like steam heat radiators, real wood woodwork, stair case,  big windows and kitchen cabinets in need of a paint job and new hardware.  That is when Lynn remembered seeing silverware used for that.  And Doc took off with the idea.  Aren't they clever?

This is the first time I met these people, but they made me feel most welcome.  I met Doc first in his garage.  Oh, a real piece of work there!  First thing I saw was the picture of Hank Williams on the wall.  Then Buddy Holly  and of course the autographed picture of Candy Clark that every member of the British Motorcycle Association in this area has as a right of passage.  The pictures and the old motorcycles were what made me know that he and I were going to be very good friends.  And then I met his wife and the deal was sealed.  She weaves and spins and quilts and has two big dogs and what more could I ask for?

Ordway is a small town and very friendly.  So her and I walked up to the hotel wherein is located "Gertie's"  which is a little cafe.  We had the special which was a bowl of soup and a chicken salad sandwich.  They can call that a bowl, but I call it a canister.  Bet there was a quart of soup in that bowl.  It was very good.  I was reluctant to leave them at all, but since they did not invite me to sleep over I thought I should ride back.  I am pretty sure this may be my first trip down there, but it will not be the last.  Well, as long as they let me come back.

Here Foxie, Foxie, Foxie...Wait, not here!

Well, excitement in the back yard tonight.  It is raining here a little.  Not enough to do any good, just enough to make me think I should have a coat on over my shorts and what was I thinking any way.  So it was just almost to think about getting evening and I thought I should take a stroll out back.  Well first thing I see is Icarus, the calico cat  over setting in the Llama pen.  She does not usually do that, but I thought what the hey.  Then I noticed the brown Llama was on high alert, so I scanned the horizon and saw nothing.  Then the brown and white Llama started running.  I still saw nothing so I started on out to the duck house. 

Lordy, about that time something shot past me and I seen the Fox about 6 feet away running and scaling the back fence right in front of me.  He ran into the alfalfa field about 25 feet and then just stopped and set down and he and I engaged in a staring match.  I never had an encounter like that before.  This was very strange, so I grabbed my trusty cell phone and dialed Bret up and told him to bring his rifle and come out back.  As luck would have it, across the field is several houses so the rifle was out of play at that point.   Bret picked up a few rocks and chucked them at him, but he just looked at us and some of them were close.  So since I was getting wet and cold I decided to come in out of the rain. 

I guess what bothered me most is that he usually comes from the West through the Llama pen and then crosses the fence going South into the alfalfa before he gets to my property.  This time he came from the North,  over my West fence and then over the back fence heading South.  And he looked very ragged.  Not like the sleek fox I have been seeing.  Unless, of course, this is a different fox.  Good grief!  I think I have solved the mystery.  Nothing wrong with my fox, just this is not my fox.  Wonder how many of those things I have around here?

Have to worry about that tomorrow cause I am falling asleep here!  Good night all.

Dolly wants a new black and white purse!

Ah, Dolly decided she wanted a new purse, so I told her I could most definitely accomadate her in that area as I had just finished making several new ones and I was sure one had her name on it!  Dolly and Jerry attend the same church that I attend, or I should say I attend their church since they were there a long time before I showed up on Sundays. It does not take long to figure out just what I do in my spare time, cause I am happy to share that news.  I am now making purses which I shall offer for sale on eBay, but my friends get first choice and they get a break on the price.  And let me tell you, this little Dolly is just that!  She is the sweetest little person I think I have ever laid eyes on and her husband, Jerry, is absolutely devoted to her as you shall see in the last picture on this post. 

So here is Jerry telling her, "Sure, honey, it that is the one you want, cost is not object.  What ever you want is what I want."  Or something along that line.  You should know that they very recently celebrated an anniversary that took my breathe away.  Seems like 65 years or something like that, but look at her!  She is not old enough to have been married that long.  She is just as fresh and dewy eyed as she can be.

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We had discussed whether the handles were long enough since some women do like to hook thier purse on their shoulder.  I do, but I expect to look for a shoulder bag.  So Jerry, since he is the one who usually carries Dolly's purse decided to model it.  So he did and he pronounced that it was just about perfect.

And since the deal is struck, here I am getting a check for my wares.  Ah, everyone fared well on this little transaction, although I did rather hate to part with that purse as it was one of my personal favorites.   But  if it must go to a new home, I am sure it will be happy at Jerry and Dolly's house.  Besides, I will probably see it again next Sunday!

 

Do I have class? I do not think so.

I used to think I had class.  May not have been high class, but I could get by and fit in with almost anyone any where.  Now I have had occasion to rethink the whole class thing.  I was having coffee with a friend the other day when I first began thinking maybe I was not on the same level as he was.  Granted he came from Denver via San Francisco via Philadelphia, drives a Lexus and actually owns a camel hair jacket of some sort or another.  Maybe it was a blazer.  We were discussing a play he had seen and as I sat there I watched him as he described having gone to the theater.  Theater.  I had at one time watched a movie.  The fact that I could not recall what it was about when it was over should have been the first clue.  "Shall we go to the theater?" is a far cry from "Want to catch a movie?" or "There is a play at the Impossible Players tonight".   Theater denotes that I will be wearing a dress of some sort and will behave in a civilized manner.  Movie would be jeans and tennies.  Play means we are going to eat before we go!

Just as "dinner engagement" is the direct opposite of "What's for supper?"  so "Brunch" is to "early lunch or late breakfast."  As I sat there engaged in this one sided conversation, my mind began to slowly point out the differences in our two worlds.  He talks in a quiet, well enunciated, sedate voice.  If something is funny, he laughs softly or smiles to himself.  I am more middle of the road, well more clear the hell and gone over there in the ditch.  I have been known to throw my head back and laugh very loudly if something is funny.  That is not done in polite society.  I usually kick my shoes off at the front door.  He wears his even when he is home alone. His hands are very soft and white.  His nails are manicured.  My hands are calloused. The majority of my nails are out of the quick, and no two are the same length.  His hair is pulled back and I think he just got in from the stylist.  No two hairs in my head go the same direction.  He will open the door for me and all I have to do is stand  and smile at him, but I don't feel like playing the game today.  I am out of there.

Now I should make a note here that this was not our first cup of coffee.  We had, in fact been to lunch a couple times and gone for a drive in the mountains.  He seemed to have the sense of humor that is necessary to me.  He is financially secure,  which is also important.  This was not my first rodeo, but it may have been his.  Remember when I said I was going to do the dating thing this year?  Well, this was  a feeble attempt at getting started on that road.  So in my typical fashion I have interviewed and discarded one of the male species.  I have decided that since I really do not care if I have one in my life on a permanent basis that I can afford to be very picky.  I am just afraid that by being a woman who does not care if she has a man, it is like waving a red flag at one of them. 

So, while this particular SWM and I had several good days over a three week period together I fear that this is not the one for me.  Oh, I fully intend to "see" him on occasion and we will talk on the phone from time to time.  He is a very interesting man, but way out of my comfort level for someone I want to introduce to my kids.  I am pretty sure he is not the one that will bait my hook when we go fishing, if we were to go fishing.  Doesn't strike me as anyone who could gut a fish either.  Although in all fairness he did listen attentively while I described the process to him.  I know he was attentive, because he did not blink one time.  Course shock has much the same reaction.  Hmmmmmmmmmmm?

So back to the drawing board for the dating thing. 

Welcome to ColorSplash Paintball

Well, hello there!  And welcome to Color Splash Paintball. This is the store front located at 1813 Santa Fe Drive in Pueblo, Colorado .  Phone number is 719-544-1560, in case you need that.  So why are we here?  I have a few friends who do not understand the whole paintball concept, so I am here to give you a crash course.

Well, first I got to tell you that this is the brain child of my oldest step daughter.  Jackie Chacanaca is going to make money one way or the other.  When her husband bought his first Harley, I bought Harley stock.  When her husband and son started playing paintball, she was doing day care and trying to figure out how to buy paint and guns cheaper.  Ah, be a dealer.  So the garage was no longer for cars, it was for stock.  Now first you should know what a paint ball gun is.  It is not a gun and is not called a gun.  It is a marker.  The whole idea is to put colored balls of paint in a hopper and shoot each other thereby turning your enemy pink, green or some other color.  Oh, and the paint balls are pretty tough so when you get hit it really hurts.  But that is one of the fun parts of the game.  Bret used to come home with big bruises but he decided early that he did not like pain all that much.

So it was not long before Jackie had outgrown the garage with her business, so she moved up on the highway into a shopping center store front.  She gave up the day care thing when that move happened.  Then she found that people really wanted to play in tournaments and there was money to be made there so she needed a field.  Ah, a field.  No doubt you wonder what that is.  It is a field.  Only it has lots of parts to it.  There is a scenario area where there are hiding places and a fort and they can play war games.  There is a place for speed ball and hyper ball and who knows what all.  All the area's have referees to make sure all the rules are followed and there are lots of rules.  Gotta wear goggles and protective head gear.  If you think the kids have fun you should be on hand when the Army shows up to "play". 

Used to be paint ball was for kids, but now I find that it is a high dollar past time for lots of the big boys.  The markers do not come cheap, but if you want to check in at the field for a day of fun (?) and frolic Jackie or one of the guys will outfit you with face mask, goggles, marker, air (to power the marker ) and paint and you are good to go.  Now can you think of a better way to spend the day than having a bunch of goons chasing you and shooting you with something that is going to break when it hits your tender skin and spray paint all over you?  There are a lot of grown men partaking of this particular amusement even as we speak.

And above we have some  canisters that hold compressed air which powers the marker. A marker will cost from $200 - $1200. And below you see an assortment of markers on the wall.  I  think Jackie's guns come with a lifetime service contract, but I could be wrong. I do not like pain.  I do not like playing in the dirt, and air conditioning is really great in the summer.  So I do not spend my money at Jackie's!

OK, I found a link for you down below this picture.  I am sure you will be wiser when you have gone there and read about a few things, but as for me, I am going to bed and only dream about things like this!

 

Fun at Jackies!

(Click above)



And so I continue to let my life play out, or do I?

I have been doing a lot of thinking since I did the last post.  Deer in the headlight sort of thing.  As we get older we tend to think back over our lives and wonder if we made the right decisions, or at least I do.  I must take in to consideration that had I done things differently, one of the repercussions would be that I would not have the kids and grand kids today and that would be sad.  But can I be sure?  Let me take a small turn back in time to the day I sat with the Reverend Barnett when I was 16 years old and I told him I wanted to be a missionary.  He was very pleased and gave me some books to read.  Then he moved away and was replaced by a new minister who did not much like young girls seeking validation.  First missed opportunity.

Then we moved to Hutchinson and I started dating a little guy in my class named Gary.  We were high school sweet hearts and that was that.  I loved his mother and his sister.  But alas, I wanted to date someone who was taller.  Gary was very short, only about 3 inches taller than me.  I wanted to dance and I needed a taller boy for that and Gary had no rhythm.  So I dated Corky and we won all the dance contests, but alas I did not love Corky, I loved Gary.  But Gary had moved on, and this was my first taste of love gone wrong.  My first, but not my last, by any stretch of the imagination.

Since time began, older brothers have been bringing home boyfriends for little sisters, so Jake brought home to me Earl D. Seeger who was to become my first husband and the father of my children.  My brother died in a car wreck when my son was one month old.  Life was never the same after I lost my brother and Earl and I divorced a few years later.

Then it was the long legged guitar picker, the director of the radio station, the guy who owned the construction company, the steel worker and finally Kenny.   Some times I think I may have a little Mae West in me cause I never met a man I didn't like.  Some of them I could not live with, but I remained on speaking terms with all of them except one.  He was really mean.  Now do not think I remained friends with them, just on speaking terms.   If life could be lived over, Kenny would have been first and only, but life does not work that way.

At some point during the last 30 years I began to realize that I was a very viable woman and did not need to be defined as Mrs. Anybody.  Kenny did that for me.  He gave me the confidence to know that no matter what happened in my life, I was responsible and resourceful and I would always come out on top.  When he died in 2003 I knew a short period of panic and then I remembered what he had taught me and I have been fine ever since.  Good Lord put me on this earth for a reason, put me through my trials and tribulations for a reason , tested me with fire and tempered me with love and pronounced me ready for what ever is next. 

I can never go back and undo anything I did and all the wrong turns I have taken have led me to this spot in the road.  And here I will stand, looking left, right and down the road and back behind, knowing that what ever I decide to do next will be done because this is where God put me and all I have to do is listen and that still small voice will lead me where he wants me to go and I will do what he has chosen me to do.  He has been leading me all along and I never even knew it.  Now I do!

It is official, my life is in the crapper, again.

Yep!  I am once more drowning in a sea of "what in the world was I thinking!"  My little life usually goes along on an even keel; some times I win, some times I lose, and all is well, because it is life.  I am busy most, if not all of the time, but I do take time to smell the roses.  Life is good as I stand here like a deer in the headlights and watch the last little bit of freedom I know disappear under a pile of eBay items that need to be listed, quilts that need quilted, thread that needs spun and woven, garden that needs tilled, hats that need embroidered, meals that need cooked, dogs that need petted, and friends that "need to talk".

I have never learned to say no.  It is a word that is completely forgien to my vocabulary.  I have not learned the art of sitting quietly and watching a movie, reading a book, or just contemplating my navel. Lyn and I planned our vacation yesterday.  At least we picked the dates.  She, of course, had to give me the lecture about how this time "You will relax and not be heading for home the next day."  She knows me and I thank her for trying and maybe this time it will work. 

Now, this all sounds good, but this is something that throws me into a tail spin.  We started talking about this a couple weeks ago and the cloud of dread slowly floated over my head and began to settle on my shoulders.  With the cloud of dread came the depression that creeps in at times of dire stress in my life.  So, I bit the bullet and the dates are set.

Do not misunderstand me here, I love to go back home and see the kids, grand kids, sisters, cousins, friends (Hi, Joe!), and just chill.  I love to eat at Skaets.  Kansas City is always a treat with Shirley fussing over us.  I love to drive and take pictures and every moment I am on my vacation, I count the moments until I can get back home.  I can not relax.  I can not remember the last time I just let go and relaxed.  You know, the one where you lay on a hill and watch a cloud float past, or set on a creek bank and wait for that old cat fish to bite?  When I am back there I think how great it would be to live there.  You know, just pick up and move back.  It all sounds so simple; just move.

But with home comes memories and with memories comes sadness.  Sadness for a life that could have been; a life that should have been.  Dreams of a little country home and a picket fence and kids in the yard and a puppy barking at the cat.  And with sadness comes depression.  And with depression comes memories and the cycle starts all over again.  If I could go back and make the choices I should have made, who would I be today?  But, I can not do that, can I?  With age comes wisdom, or so they say.  With age comes hopelessness and dread.  I had one shot at this life and I think I may have screwed it up.  Deer in the head lights!

So this is Holy Week.  I take consolation in that.  I also take consolation in the fact that only a few of my friends and family read this, so they will not know how nuts I actually am.  So maybe some one out there can flip my switch and tell me how I can salvage what is left?  Some one sent me an email the other day, which I read in my typical every other line fashion, but I think I got the gist. 

Lord, help me when I complain about having to fix supper, to remember those who have no food.  When I complain about the cost of gas, help me be thankful that I have a car and can get around.  When I complain about having to clean house, help me be thankful that I have a home.  When I complain about the long walk to the duck house, help me be thankful that I can walk, and see, and feel.  And when I am antsy because a friend drops by to take me from my chores, be thankful that I have friends.  Amen

There!  I might have solved my problems.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRoVH5u9Qk8&feature=related