Happiness is a BLT and a trip past Linger Longer Lane.

This is the Rye Café from the inside out!

And this is the menu

Here are a couple shots of the interior.  Real homey place

And a  look out the back door.

This is the BLT, or what is left of it that Nancy and I traveled to Rye specifically to eat.  Whoops!  That is a lie.  This is the muffin she ate after.  I did not take a picture of the BLT, but I can tell you this, it was wonderful.  Crisp Bacon, crisp lettuce, ripe tomatoes and just the right amount of Mayonnaise served on freshly baked slices of French Bread.  It was well worth the trip.

After we ate we drove around and checked out the scenery.  Rye sure has that.  And look at this sky.

And on our way down we saw this sign and I had to make a U-turn and go back and make sure I seen it correctly.  I would love to Linger Longer on Linger Longer Lane!

So take it from, an old bacon eater from way back, this is the place to go.  And if you get a chance see if you can find Linger Longer Lane.  It may very well be a figment of my imagination!

Barefeet and chicken poop.

When my daughter, Dona Marie, came to see me over Mother's Day, she gave me a pedicure.  I have always had rather pretty feet, or so I think.  She did a beautiful job and finished off with a very nice massage and pink polish on the nail part.  A very wonderful Mothers Day gift in my opinion and I do thank her for that.  Wish she lived with me!
I must confess that due to the development of a little problem called Morton's Neuroma, my second toe now has a tendency to want to point skyward.  Not only is this uncomfortable but it detracts from the beauty of my foot.  It also sometimes makes walking long distances a real challenge.  Nonetheless, it is what it is and until I can carve out a block of time when I do not need my foot,  I will live with the condition.  I suppose I can just cut a hole in the top of my shoe and let toe #2 poke out into the outside world, but I am not quite ready to go that route.  It would definitely be a conversation starter, or a very awkward moment when making new acquaintances.  I am missing the point here.
Fast backward to Nickerson, Kansas 65 years ago.  Plus or minus on that.  We lived on a dirt road without benefit of running water and bath night occurred on Saturday night.  Now since we were basically heathens running the streets and did not attend church, I do not know why Saturday night was special.  I do not remember if I have explained that bath situation to you or not, but I will touch on it briefly.  Bath time consisted of a round metal tub which mother filled with water heated on the stove.  Baby Dorothy was always first since she was little.  Then Mary followed by Donna and then me.  By this time the water was getting a little gray and had a scum on top which gave a whole new meaning to "bath."  I do not remember how, when or where the older kids took their baths, but I strongly suspect Jake was a river rat.  Josephine must have privacy because she had actual breasts! Mom and dad were always a mystery to me.
So back to the feet.  In the fall we all got a brand new pair of shoes for the first day of school.  There were 2 days a year that were sacred.  Every Sunday and the first day of school  Money was saved all year so when it came time momma would set down with dad and open the Sears and Roebuck catalog.  The middle of the catalog was where there was an outline of a foot and we each took a turn at standing on the outline while mother figured out our size.  Louella-size 4, Donna-size 3...you get the idea.  Then we were given a choice of color.  We could have brown or black.  My God!  I remember when saddle oxfords came into being and how bad I wanted a pair.  They were white with black or white with brown.  I might as well have wanted the moon.  Brown it was for me and brown for all the other kids so one did not feel privileged.  Now comes the part you are not going to believe. 
When the order was all filled out with size and color (brown) the total amount owed plus the postage was figured and the amount was carefully counted out, placed in an envelope and sealed.  The amount was written on the outside along with the name and address the shoes should be sent to when ready.  This money was placed inside the order blank which was placed in the envelope from the Sears and Roebuck catalog and mailed off to the head office.  There was never a question about whether it was safe to send money through the mail or not.  That was just how it was done.  Then we began the wait for our shoes to come.  It usually took 5-6 weeks and the day they arrived was like the second coming!  Our shoes were here!  Of course we were allowed to try them on, but we had to wash our feet first and be sure they were dry.  Then they were placed carefully under the bed to await the first day of school. 
I can recall how proud we were as we traipsed off to school in our new shoes.  And we wore those shoes until about the first of March.  By then our feet had grown enough that our shoes were getting tight.    At that point, Josephine went shoeless, and I stepped into her "hand me downs".  They were a little too big, but I tied them tight and they stayed on my feet pretty much.   My shoes were handed down to Donna, Donna's to Mary and you get the picture.  By summer we were all through with shoes and we ran barefoot every where we went. 
Did I tell you we had chickens running loose in the yard along with Muscovy Ducks?  Kansas is hot, humid and the soil in Nickerson was mostly dust.  I guess you would call it sandy.  Of course!  That is where they pick Sand Hill Plums by the bushel basket!  I can recall running my toes down into the sand  and thinking that this was surely heaven.  We ran barefooted across fields and through the cemetery and into Bull Creek.  Of course we ran through the chicken poop and the duck poop.  We were kids, that was what we did.  When bedtime came there was one rule and that was we HAD to wash our feet before we got into bed.  And we did.  There was a basin in the kitchen and momma made sure we went to bed with clean feet.  To this day, no matter where I am, or what I have been doing, my feet are going to be clean before I go to bed.  Usually I have socks on all day, but not always shoes, so my feet are not dirty, but unless I am dead tired my feet are going to get a quick rinse, just in case there might be a little dust or goose poop on them!  One can not be too careful you know.
When I write about my days of long ago I get very nostalgic.  I miss my momma and I guess I always will.  I miss the old home place although it is no longer there.  I guess what I miss most is that I had someone to take care of me and someone who had to love me.  When I was young all I wanted was to get older and get out on my own.  I wish I knew then what I know now!  I really think life would be much better lived in reverse.

Momma Goose has taken a new husband.

 You are getting the first look at Momma Goose's new mate.  We shall call him Momma's new husband.  No one was more surprised then me when I went out there this evening and found the 2 of them over by the Russian Olive tree.  Her late husband was such a debonair fellow that I thought he would be very hard to replace.  I have 2 Emiden ganders and they were both pretty short on feathers after the last breeding season, but this little guy must have sized up the situation and grew some feathers.  He knew if he was going to replace her late husband that he was going to have to do something and he did.  Damn I am proud of him.

Here he is following her back into the corner so they can look for bugs in the leaves back there.  Hard to believe that he was so scrounging looking yesterday!  Guess there is nothing like the love of a good female to bring out the best in any man.  This next picture cracks me up.

Here he is guarding her while she dings around.  He needs to know that this is how her last mate met his fate with the wily  fox.  But it looks like he might have a little back up there. 

That is his brother.  Maybe the two of them can keep her in one piece.

So for tonight there is peace out here on South Road and Momma Goose is snuggled down with her new mate.  Yes, there is a goose God up there somewhere.

RIP First Husband.

I have them eating out of my hand...well, drinking out of my hand.

This is momma goose.  She has been setting on rotten eggs ever since her husband was brutally killed May 16.  I know it only takes 27-28 days, but she seems to be happy doing it so I let her.  I pull weeds for her and take her fresh water several times a day.  When she does not want any more water she makes a sort of guttural sound and I do not press her.  She never hisses at me and is always glad to see me, so I just let her set on the eggs that will never hatch and are probably dried up by now.  At least I hope so.

This is sister goose.  I am not sure who her husband is.  I think it is the African Gray named Johnny that Bret helped out of his shell many years ago.  But in all fairness I do her hanging out with the big Chinese gander and the old African Gray.  Truth be known, I think she is a bit of a slut.  Goose slut.

She is always ready for fresh water, but unlike momma goose, she hisses at me.  I think she could inflict some pain because I see very sharp teeth in that beak of hers!  Oh, the other day I gave them watermelon and they really liked that.  Eats that right out of the hand, she does.  Guess I should get some more.  They are on sale at LaGrees.  I can eat the leftovers.

Now, I am not sure if her eggs are any good or not.  Guess time will tell.  She has about worn her eggs out moving them.  I think she is supposed to just turn them once a day, but she moved her whole  nest about 2 feet to the south.  Who am I to know?  I do know that something should happen in the next week.  If I do not hear peeping by the 7th of July I am going to be the big mean woman and rake up the straw in the goose house, sweep the floor and put new straw down.  That is going to tick them off I am sure, but I know momma goose will forgive me.  Sister may be another story!

Wish me luck!

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Liberal? Conservative? Or just plain mean?

Why is it that people do not hear what I say?  I try to be clear, but before  the words are out of my mouth they have that aghast look on their face and are pissed off because I advocate taking their guns away!  That seems to be a lot of people's biggest fear in the world today.  Not hunger.  Not health care.  Not animal cruelty and certainly not the fact that Monsanto is poisoning our food and they do not even have to tell us.

I made a statement like "I think if a person is over sedated with anti depression pills and on the FBI wanted list or under investigation, they should not be allowed to purchase an assault rifle without a waiting period."  Silly me!  That is not an assault rifle and I should know the difference between an assault rifle and an automatic rifle.  I do know this, call it what you will I am not going to believe for one minute you need one of those to hunt a rabbit!  Nor do you need one to protect your home from the dreaded intruder.  If you set around every night with one of those on your lap waiting for Mr. Bad Guy to kick in your door, you have a real problem and all the fire power in the world is not going to save you.  Or maybe you have friends that you might want to take a closer look at.

I am a Liberal.  I have always been a Liberal and I am pretty sure that when my time comes I will die a Liberal.  I am also pretty sure my funeral will be pretty well attended by other Liberals as well as Conservatives, Gays, Blacks, Chicanos, a few Indians, animal lovers, Illegal Immigrants, Catholics, Protestants and if I am real lucky, Westboro Baptist Church will send protesters!

I realize you have every right to your gun and I think you should have it.  You need it.  You need it as part of the well regulated Militia  that this country needs to survive.  And I am sure you need lots of guns.  You can only shoot one at a time, but be sure you keep all of them.  I sure do not want any of them.  I will defend your right to carry one also, but know this, if you are behind me in the line at the grocery store with your gun under your shirt and a "bad guy" walks in with his AR-15 or whatever intent on shooting up the store, please step out of line before you pull your gun to save me because I do not want to be caught in the crossfire.

 I am sure my God has a plan for me and when it is my time, he will let me know and I sincerely hope that when my time comes I am in my little bed dreaming of a peaceful world where everyone has health care, a full belly at night, shade in the field, and a roof over their head.  I do not want to be displayed on the 6:00 o'clock news covered with blood and laying on a cold tile floor next to you with your gun in your hand.  Just grant me that!

I realize I have probably made enemies with this missive, but so be it.  I respect your right to have what ever firearms you want in your personal space, please respect my right to think thier should be some sort of laws in place to protect us from the crazies.  Kind of like saying, "You go to your church and I'll go to mine, but let's both walk along together."

Full text of my speech in case you missed it last night.

MY NAME IS LOU MERCER.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD MOTHER OF A GAY SON.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD SISTER OF A LESBIAN.  I STAND BEFORE YOU AS THE PROUD AUNT OF A GAY NIECE.  MY LEGION OF FRIENDS ARE GAY.AND I STAND PROUDLY TONIGHT AS ONE WHO HAS WORKED TIRELESSLY TO HAVE MY FRIENDS AND FAMILY ACCEPTED AND PROTECTED IN THIS GREAT COUNTRY OF OURS.

I WAS THERE TO DEFEAT AMENDMENT 2.  I WAS THERE TO SEE GAY MARRIAGE BECOME A REALITY.  I WAS THERE TO SEE GAY ADOPTIONS.  I SEE GAY REPRESENTATIVES  AND SENATORS AND GOVERNORS AND MAYORS AND MINISTERS.  I HAVE MARCHED IN GAY PRIDE PARADES , BUT TONIGHT I STAND BEFORE YOU AS A HUMAN BEING MOURNING THE LOSS OF MY FELLOW HUMAN BEINGS IN A SENSELESS KILLING.

HE KNEW NONE OF HIS VICTIMS.  MORE WILL COME OUT AS THEY INVESTIGATE THIS MURDER THAT IS NOW BEING KNOWN AS THE LARGEST LOSS OF LIFE IN A KILLING ON UNITED STATES SOIL BY A SINGLE GUNMAN.   I HAVE HEARD HE PLEDGED HIS LOYALTY TO ISIS WHICH MEANS THEY CAN TIE HIM TO THE MUSLIM COMMUNITY.

NO!  NO!  WE ARE NOT GOING TO ACCEPT THIS.  CALL IT WHAT IT IS….A HOMOPHOBIC ASSHOLE THAT WANTED TO KILL GAYS.  OUR COUNTRY IS IN A DOWNWARD SPIRAL BECAUSE THE LAWS WE WORKED SO HARD TO PUT INTO PLACE ARE BEING HELD UP AND RIDICULED BY DONALD TRUMP AND HIS FOLLOWERS.  HE IS BEING HELD UP BY SO CALLED CHRISTIANS THAT POINT OUT TO US DAY AFTER DAY THAT ACCORDING THE BIBLE, HOMOSEXUALITY IS A SIN.  DO THESE PEOPLE EVEN READ THE BIBLE?  I THINK NOT.

THE NEW TESTAMENT SET ASIDE ALL THE OLD LAWS SUCH AS BURNING A CALF ON THE ALTER, MARRYING YOUR BROTHERS WIDOW , AND GOD FORBID YOU EAT SHRIMP!  HOMOSEXUALITY IS NOT EVEN DISCUSSED IN THE NEW TESTAMENT AND MOST IMPORTANTLY TO ME….JESUS CHRIST NEVER ADDRESSED THE SUBJECT.

SO LETS JUST CALL THIS WHAT IT IS, A BIGOTED PERSON WANTED TO SHOOT QUEERS AND HE DID IT! 

I AM HERE TONIGHT FOR ONLY ONE REASON AND THAT IS TO ASK US ALL TO COME TOGETHER AND REMEMBER STONEWALL.  REMEMBER WHEN THE POLICE RAIDED THE GAY CLUB AGAIN AND THE PATRONS SAID “NO MORE!”  WE HAVE COME A LONG WAYS WITH PEACEFUL RESISTANCE AND WE CAN NOT NOW BOW DOWN AND GO BACK IN THE CLOSET   WE ARE OUT!  WE ARE PROUD!  AND WE ARE NOT GOING TO BACK DOWN FROM THIS ADVERSITY. 

WE ARE IN AN ELECTION YEAR AND WE NEED TO VOTE AND WE NEED TO VOTE WISELY.  RESEARCH YOUR CANDIDATES AND PUT YOUR “X” WERE YOUR MOUTH IS.

GOD LOVES EVERYONE OF US JUST AS WE ARE.  UNFORTUNEATLY HE GAVE THE HUMAN RACE FREE WILL AND A LOT OF PEOPLE CHOOSE TO TRY TO IMPOSE THEIR FREE WILL ON US, BUT, HONEY, IT AIN’T HAPPENING ON OUR WATCH!!!

Do you remember when you first remember?

I have reached a new plateau in my morning thought process.  Usually I wake up and remember what day it is and then begin to remember what all I have planned for the day.  Well today was just a little different.  I woke up and tried to remember how far back I could actually remember.  I remember when Dorothy was born.  Mother had to stay in bed 10 days.  Seems like it was harvest and dad was pretty upset that he actually had to hire someone to drive the grain truck into town.  We lived on the Stroh place at that time.  That would have meant I was 5 years old.  Oh, I bet I was so cute!  Not sure because I do not ever remember anyone saying, "Oh, what a cute little girl!"  I remember them asking Momma, "Wow!  How many kids do you have?"  I was named after my Paternal Grandmother, who I never met.  Or at least, I do not remember if I did.

I remember an aunt and uncle coming for a visit and they were rich because they had a car!  I also remember when it came time for them to leave that the uncle sat at the steering wheel with the aunt in the passenger seat and dad "cranked" the motor to get it to fire.  I often wondered just how that worked if there was no one to turn the crank.  Did Auntie in her finery and feathery hat do it?  A mystery indeed.

I can vaguely remember the day my dad brought home a Shetland pony named Star.  That horse came out of the trailer kicking and I do not think he ever stopped.  I was terrified of that damned horse.  He was brown and white and I could see him watching me and I knew if I got close he would send me flying.  My dad had been in the Cavalry and had been bitten on his upper arm by a horse and carried the scar his entire life.  To this day I live in mortal terror that a horse will bite me if I get too close.  Ito was the one exception.

I do not remember being flogged by the geese when I wandered into thier pen.  Mother did.  I do not remember Jake whacking me on the head with a turnip, but she did.  I do remember when the cow died and dad had to pull it down to the pasture, cover it with some sort of fuel and light it on fire because there was an epidemic of anthrax and "you just never know and it is better to be safe then sorry."  The government told us that.

I remember Momma getting out the stamp books when she went to the store because the government only allowed us to buy so much sugar, gasoline and other thing that were "rationed".  I do not remember having a Christmas in the Stroh house, but we must have.  I remember my step brother, Gene Bartholomew coming for a visit once.  He came with someone in a fancy car that did not need cranked.  He was just out of the Army and he was very handsome and smelled very good.  He only stayed a little while and then I remember talk of "prison", "forgery", and a "damn long stretch ahead of him."  He remained in my memory and in my life for the next 10 years.  He wrote me from prison and I answered all his letters.  He wrote in Calligraphy which I guess made him a very good at forgery.  I saw him once when I was about 16.  He left to hitch hike to Oregon, was arrested in Nebraska for "vagrancy", given a ride to the outskirts of some little town and disappeared off the face of the earth.  Some loose ends we just never get to tie up.

I have to interject here about my father and how he ended up with kids we never knew.  My dad was much older then my Mother.  He had been married before and they had 5 children.  A son and daughter had died during the great depression leaving them with 3 sons.  William Eugene Bartholomew, Richard Bartholomew, and Earl Bartholomew.  For whatever reason his wife died.  He put the boys in an orphange because he could not care for them and had no family members that could help.  Richard and Earl were adopted.  Gene was not.  Richard and Gene were both in World War II and both were "shell shocked" when they got out.  Richard was more affected then Gene, but neither of them were ever productive members of society.  I do know Gene married and had a son.  As I recall the son's name was Billy.  I expect it was William Eugene Bartholomew.  He may have children, but who knows and I do not know how to find out.

Well, I got a little side tracked there.  Some other things I remember about the Stroh place years are good memories.  Like herding the old cow along the road so she could eat grass and then when it was time to bring her home I would grab her tail and she would run for the barn.  Of course I got in trouble because she would not "let her milk down" after that little jaunt.

I remember Donna poking her finger in a turtles mouth and the turtle would not let go and if dad cut the head off the turtle it still would not let go "until the sun goes down."  Poor Donna!

I remember the old yellow tomcat bringing a baby chicken to mother and I remember my horrified mother demanding Jake take that cat into the woods and kill it for killing her chicken.  Wonder how I slept that night?

I remember playing in a mud puddle by the house and how much fun it was when the water tried up and left little crunchy dried pieces of mud where it used to be.  Those were fun to walk on barefooted.

I remember mom holding me under her arm and washing my hair under the pump on the back porch.  Josephine pumped as fast as she could and I recall that water was so damn cold!

I remember "haircutting day"  when some lady would come and set us on a chair, put a bowl over my head and cut whatever was below the bowl off and that was a "bowl haircut."

I remember being in first grade and we surely lived there then, but I do not remember walking to school.  I remember walking to the store alone the first time from that house.

I remember Jake hanging out down on the river with a guy named "Blackie Joe" (?) and I remember the beautiful silver bracelet Jake gave me that he helped make, but I do not remember what I did with it.

I remember so much, but I do not remember what we ate.  I do not remember ever being cold.  I do not remember if we had furniture or an icebox, or what I wore for clothes.

I do remember being sad because we were leaving that house.  The saddest part is, I do not know where we lived before the Stroh place.  I do not know so much and the saddest part of all is there is no one I can ask.  Being the oldest sure sucks sometimes.