Wouldn't it be great if we could keep the kids little forever?

I guess probably the hardest thing for a mother to do is nothing.  There comes that time in a child's life when Momma can't help.  It is called reality.  They must make their own decisions and follow through.  That is where my son is at this moment.  His doggie has lots of problems that are not going to go away.  So.  The hardest thing in this life is to decide to euthanize a beloved pet.  Our pets never hurt us.  They give unconditional love and they do it every day, all day long.  They may not feel well, but they love us.  I can not remember how many times I walked in the vet's office with a dog, or cat, or bird, and walked out with my arms empty.  It never gets easier.  I always thought some day I would get used to it, but I never have.
I do think that I am a better person because of the animals that have gone through my life.  So tonight while I am sad, I am proud that my son can do what is right and know that he will be a better man.  More understanding because he has loved and lost.
Some one wrote a piece once.  It is called the Rainbow Bridge and it tells it just like it is.

Rainbow Bridge

There is a bridge connecting heaven and earth
It is called Rainbow Bridge because of its many colours

Just this side of the Rainbow Bridge there is a land of meadows,
hills, valleys with lush green grass

When a beloved pet dies, the pet goes to this special place
There is always food and water and warm spring weather

The old and frail are young again
Those who are maimed are made whole again

They play all day with each other
There is only one thing missing

They are not with their special person who loved them on Earth
So each day they run and play until the day comes
when one suddenly stops playing and looks up !

The nose twitches !
The ears are up !
The eyes are staring !
And this one suddenly runs from the group !

You have been seen, and when you and your special friend meet,
you take him or her into your arms and embrace
your face is kissed again and again,
and you look once more into the eyes of your trusting pet

Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together, never again to be separated

Author Unknown

This has brought me much solace.  Peace Little Oliver.  

Class? Me? No, I don't think so.

Some one told me one time that I had class.  Well, did not so much tell me as mentioned it to someone else and I over heard it being said.  So now yesterday I had  hours alone with myself in the car and I had occasion to think about class.  There seems to be more than one kind of class, as near as I can tell.
If  an older woman walks by, dressed in a sedate outfit, maybe a hat, rings on her fingers and smiling sweetly, one might say "That is one classy lady." 
If a younger woman with an hour glass figure, short skirt and lots of bling sashays by, one might say "That is one classy broad!"
If we are entertained by an act that gives us pleasure, we say "That was a real class act!"
When some one responds well under pressure, they are said to have "class".
Well, I would like to tell you what I perceive as "class".  That would be saying and doing the correct thing at all times when in a public setting.  And what brought this on?  Well, SWM (Single White Male) that I see on a more regular basis than any other SM (Single Male) wrangled an invitation to Thanksgiving Dinner at some one's house.  Now, granted had I been cooking I would have probably invited him and he probably would have eaten with me, but I did not, so neither did he.
So, he talks to himself a lot and I am privy to his conversations.  "I will take a bottle of white wine, since that goes with poultry.  I will wear my black slacks, a white shirt, my camel hair jacket, the gray, I think.  The black loafers.  No tie.  What will you be taking?"
"The car."
"What will you be wearing?"
"My green fatigues, if they are clean.  The white and green tennies.  An obnoxious tee shirt and the corduroy coat.  I will snack on a bag of Clementines and tortilla chips with Black Olive Hummus!  And Willie and Charley will serenade me all the way."  Love that country stuff.
The man is over 6 feet tall and so he definitely has the height advantage going there. And  his nose always seems to look longer when he looks down it at me!  He listens to Classical music in his garage for crying out loud!  He knows the origin of every painting on his walls.  One is to be donated to the museum in St. Louis when he goes for his final dirt nap.  (There is another one.  He prefers to think of it as his demise.)
So, to make a long story short, I am here to tell you that class is here to stay.  I am the working class, the blue collar class, the common every day country western lovin' hick or hillbilly class.  My bumper sticker reads, "If it feels good, do it!"  When I wake up on the wrong side of the sod I will be cremated and my ashes thrown to the wind.  That way I do not have to lay in a dress on a satin bed and have anyone look down on me.   But I do want to clarify something before I leave.  I have a lot of classy friends. They know which fork to use and when to not cuss and all kinds of things.  And most importantly , I know they love me just like I am and that makes the whole class thing a matter of perception on the part of the beholder.  SWM considers me a unique individual.
"Gonna' take me to St. Louis?"
"Oh, hell no!"  :)

November 22, 2002

Very few dates live in memory here in my head, but this one does.  Nine years ago this morning my husband passed away here at home.  I was not aware of this.  I knew he was not doing well and I planned a little visit to the doctor that morning with the little fellow in tow.  He did not like to go there so I was girding myself for that little confrontation.  We have always been early risers, he more so than me. So it was unusual that I was up and he was still in bed.  I knew he had a rough night so I thought I would just let him sleep and I pulled the door shut behind me.  I sent Bret off to school and then decided to get him stirring so we could go to the doctor.  He seemed disoriented and that frightened me, so I called his daughter, Jackie who lives right up the road.  She came and then we called 911.
They arrived in very short order and assessed the situation.  Did he have a DNR?  Yes, but it was with papers that since had been moved and I could not lay my hands on it.  Fatal mistake #1.  If you have a Do Not Resuscitate order, keep it in your hand at all times.  Or at the very least within arms reach.  Do you know what happens if you don't?  The rescue crew will resuscitate you and put you on life support and there you will stay. If you think "putting them on life support " is the end of it, it you are sadly mistaken.
Life support is exactly what it says.  A machine breathes for you and another beats for your heart.  Kenny had a very strong heart so it kept beating without the help of a machine.  The first few days in the ICU he remained in a coma.  When he awoke from that and looked around he began to cry.  He had apparently been in a much happier place and I, through my ineptness had forced him back into this world.  And there he remained.  For three weeks he was in ICU.  Then came the point when he was stabilized enough to "take him off the respirator."  That sounds very simple, doesn't it?  Not so.
When a machine breathes for you for three weeks, your body begins to accept that as normal.  They have hospitals that are skilled at respiratory care and know how to remove a patient from the respirator with great success.  Or so they say.  So off we went to Colorado Springs, to a place called Semper Care.  And there he stayed.  I went every morning and came home evey night.  Bret was in grade school so I tried to maintain some semblance of normality.  Yeah, right.
Kenny never spoke again.  He did know us and his friends came to visit.  His kids were in and out and his mom, sister, brothers, ex-wife, the preacher, whoever would pop in and his eyes would light up in recognition.  Or at least at first they did. 
Man was not meant to be kept alive on machines.  He began to have seizures, brought on by the staph infection, Merza.  That was cleared up.  By then we began to notice that he was not his usual self.  Then it returned.  More seizures and by then it was evident that there was brain damage from the seizures or high fever or something.  What now?
If putting him on life support had been hard, taking him off was even harder.   That is a chore I would not wish on my worst enemy.  For some unknown reason all of his kids were there that morning that the decision was made.  I had kept Bret home from school and brought him to the Springs with me.  I guess we all just knew it was time.  We met with the Chaplain and the arrangements were made.  Then began our long watch.  The oxygen was left on, but the machine was turned off.  After all the time he had been on the machine his body had learned to replicate the breathing.  Towards morning it began to slow and at 5:23 A.M. on January 30, 2003, it stopped. 
The purpose of this post?  What words of wisdom do I have for you today?  Just this.  Get your affairs in order.  Have a DNR?  Put it on the refrigerator where mine is now located.  If God chooses to remove me from this place today, I want to be able to go peacefully.  Kenny would have liked that, but it did not happen.  Losing that man was like losing my will to live, and going on alone is not what I had it mind, but that is what we call life.  So that is what I will do until I hear that trumpet call in my mind and then I am out of here! And you bette wish me God Speed!

Are you talking really fast? Or am I listening really slow.

Made the mistake of going through the drive through at Wendy's in Pueblo West yesterday.  Have you been through one of those lately?  Damn near a fatal mistake.  First, I do not have the menu committed to memory, so I have to actually look at it.  Well, no, the first thing that has to happen is I have to manuver the car into a position so I can SEE the menu.  That being accomplished I then need to see the words.  Now I wear trifocals so one of the three levels of glass should afford me the ability to actually see the words.  Now seeing the words and awakening my taste buds to that particular item is usually like passing something through congress.  And it helps to have some little chickadee blasting through the speaker "Yareddy?"  "Reddynowhuh?" 
Now there was not another car in sight so I am sure I was not holding up the line.  I finally had to tell her, "Listen honey, I am 70 years old and any meal I eat may be my last so I want to be sure it is something I will remember on my luge ride to the Pearly Gates.  So cool your heels and I will call you when I want you."
Apparently that either ticked her off or appeased her cause she got very quiet.  I finally decided on the value menu hamburger with french fries and no drink.  So I called her back to the mic.
"I would like the hamburger and an order of french fries on the value menu."
"Yawantcheeseonthat?"
"Huh?"
"Yawantcheeseonthatornotcheese?"
"Huh"  This girl was talking way faster than my ears could listen.  "Wait a minute, just let me slow that down."  I put my brain in warp speed and played it back to me. "You want cheese on that or no cheese."
"Ok, I got it.  No I do not want cheese on that.  For future reference had I wanted cheese I would have ordered the Cheeseburger for 40 cents more."
"Whatsizefriessmallmediumlargeorsupersize?"
"Huh?"
"Whatsizefriessmallmediumlargeorsupersize?"  Once more I played the warp speed slow down and play back game.  "What size fries?  Small, medium, large, or supersize?"
"Well honey, which size comes on the value menu for $1.19?"
"Small."
"Ok, I will take the small."
"Whattadrink?"  I immediately translated that and told her, "Nothing."  Not going to guess what I might have ended up with on that one.
" $2.47."  And I took that as a dismissal.  Since no drawer was proffered and no hand came out the window I took that as a signal that I should proceed on the drive way to the next window.  Sure enough a hand popped out, grabbed my money, an pushed a sack towards me, which I grabbed before it hit the ground.
Now this is an open letter to all you little fresh faced little newbies entering the work force.

Dear Who ever you are,

    I am old.  My ears have apparently not kept up with changing times.  They are slow.  When you speak to me you need to leave spaces between your words.  At the end of the sentence there will be a period which indicates a breathe before forging to the next sentence.  Like this..."Hello, Old Lady.  I know you are slow witted and not always sure what you want, but I will give you a little time to decide.  I realize you did not wake up this morning knowing what you would want for lunch at a fast food place and since you are paying and eating it I will let you decide.  And I realize your bladder is only so big and I will not push the super size drink out the window at you."  Or something like that.

   I choose Wendy's over the other places because of the fresh faced little girl and Dave Thomas and his honest appeal.  MacDonalds has a reputation of luring children with thier ads so I never go there.  Burger King is alright, but seems a little pricey and austere.  I actually prefer the Senior Menu at Village Inn, but that involves setting alone and I do not like to do that.

   You need to know that since you are just entering the work force you probably have 50 years ahead of you during which you will no doubt encounter a lot of us old farts, but remember this, some day you are going to look down at the cuff of your shirt and see your mother's hand coming out of the sleeve.  To interpert, this means some day you are going to be old.  When I was young we were taught to respect our elders.  To help them across the street.  And if we encountered one who seemed a little confused we were to be patient with them.  Try it.

    In exchange for that, I will pay my bill promptly and move out of the way for the next customer.  And I will smile at you, because I actually like people and I know the next generation will be the one that slaps me in the nursing home.
   So have a good day and take pity on us old people.

And those are my thoughts for today. Today I will take a sandwich with me. 

Oh, I been so busy!

Well, if you wonder where I am, try Pueblo West at the Jingle Bell boutique.  And if you wonder what I am selling, try the Arse Lookin at You face and body butter.  Had to run home last night and make a bunch!  And for those of you who do not know, I only have two hands.  So I am giving you a quick update and then into the shower, off to the West and stop and mail out 100 Crown Royal bags to a lady in MN.  Lovely lady named Mary who is going to make a quilt and I hope she sends me a picture.  I am sure she will.  Got the Crown Royal bags from my niece in Oklahoma (Hi Cindy) and they are to sell and raise money for my SCAP clients.  Can not beat a deal like that!

I think the weather is supposed to get nasty, but I hope not.  I plan on going to Lakin, Kansas for Thanksgiving.  Course it will be my usual 8 hours on the road and 2 hours visiting.  Got the geese and animals to take care of, you know.  But it is not the length of the visit, but the quality that counts.  Sam said he might drive up for the day.  We will see. 

Course then Friday is the Parade of Lights.  As I recall every time I go to that I about freeze to death.  I was dating that guy in the high rise that sets right off Union and had I kept that connection I could have watched the parade from the sixth story balcony.  But you know me and how this dating thing goes.  Men require time and when was the last time I sat still and did not fall asleep?  That ticks them off.  Well, sorrrrrrrrrrrry!

So now I am off to do the 8 hours at the Boutique.  I promise I will get back to interesting stuff as soon as this is over.  Sunday is church and then break down the tables, etc. at the VFW.  Then Monday meeting with the Insurance and Century Link.  Then I should have a breather.  So bear with me.  :)

But are you missing my real calling?

Just a little note here to let some of you know that if you are not checking in on http://www.delilahsdatingdilemma.blogspot.com then you are missing my feeble attempt at a novel.  I do not want to give it away, but I am writing ahead of what you will be reading and I have to work on it in the daylight because I am scaring myself.
You will need to go to the address above and go back to the November 6 post to start at the beginning, unless of course, you like to read magazines as I do.  I start at the back and read to the front.  But on books I start at the front.  All a matter of personal preference, me thinks.
When you read this please keep in mind that it is pure fiction at it's very best  And leave me a comment which you do by clicking on that little envelope at the end of the post.  Give me your real opinion, cause you know I appreciate honesty!
The name of it is Chapter One.

Well, the Arse is now on hold!

This is what is going on in my kitchen this morning.  Absolutely nothing.  See I invented this wonderful face cream with the main ingredient of Hemp Butter.  I mean this stuff is great and I have testimonials if you want to read them. "Lou, this is great!  I wear it under my make up and no grease.  Will be back for more."  That from one of my eBay customers.  Send some to a friend in New York and told him to let his girlfriend try it.  Told him it made my face as soft as a babies butt.  He had the brilliant idea to name it "Arse Lookin' at You!"  Course he loves it and is not sharing with the girlfriend.  says she can just buy her own.
Then he came up with the brilliant idea to put it in black or camoflague tubs and market it to men with the slogan "Every man needs a little Arse!"  I have not gone there yet, nor have I needed too.
So I made a bunch of this and slapped the Arse label on half and Hemp Butter on the other half.  Between the church and the weavers sale I sold every bit of it. So yesterday I got out all my ingredients, the scales, the tubs, and the cooking pan and stick blender.  What I did not get out was the key ingredient, because I am out of that.  Seems I got busy making stuff up for the sales and neglected to order a tub of Hemp Butter.  So I got on my trusty sight and ordered 5 pounds of it.  Checked 3 day ground because the "I forgot to order and need this bad so please rush it to me" method of shipment would have added an extra $126 to the price.  Now even I am smart enough to know that if I want to make money I have to keep my cost low.  So here I set, telling you about it instead of making it.
Now I do have some in the refrigerator, but it is for eating.  It is not refined and has seeds in it.  I put it on toast in the morning with just a little jelly cause it is just like peanut butter only different.

So now I measured everything out so all I have to do is put the Hemp Seed Butter in and finish the job.  I can put all this stuff away and get busy and make something like this:

See I have a little friend coming up from Florida to spend a few days and she has a sweet tooth that will not quit.  I just wanted to let all you people out there who think I am infallible know that such is not the case.  In my defense, however, I worked very hard getting ready for the Church sale and the weavers sale, but this Jingle Bell just snuck right up on me.  Think I have plenty of other stuff, just the Arse is missing.  Should pull it on eBay but I am sure my stuff will get her quickly.  Those people in Utah are nothing if not speedy.

Hopefully tomorrow I am going to have the pictures of the towels my friend Alex sent me from Wales.  Got to frame them because it would be a sin to actually use them!

Until tomorrow then,  

May the good Lord take a liken' to you!