I had a second thought....

Have you ever had a thought and decided that it was sheer brilliance?  And then you actually thought that one through to an illogical conclusion?  Then you had a second thought that beat hell out of that first thought!  Well, I am here to tell you that my world is full of those thoughts.  Most of my day is spent thinking second thoughts until nightfall comes and I wonder just what in the hell I was thinking.  Maybe it is best that I not think at all!  Like now.

I spent yesterday with Michael Wenzel, a realtor with Keller Williams Realty.  He is a delightful man and honest to the core.  I am not real sure I am quite ready to sell, but when I do, he is my man!  He told me apartments are few and far between, nursing homes are full and houses are selling about as fast as they are put on the market.  This tells me, I might want to hold on to what I have until I fall and break the proverbial hip!  I have to live somewhere and this one is paid for so that holds a certain charm.

Now Michael is a very well spoken man and anyone who knows me, knows that I have the first thing I ever touched in life and when I spend 30 years collecting, something is going to get full!  When he talked about showing the house, he said "You might want to open it up a bit.  That makes it look bigger. " He could have said , "You need to get a dumpster in here!"  I will consult with my kids over the next couple weeks and come to some sort of conclusion about where I will go if I sell this place.  There is a lot to be said for just "sheltering in place"  like they say when a storm is coming.

But, back to the title of this post.  I shudder to think how many times I have had an absolutely brilliant idea and then thought it through to the conclusion that I should probably be locked up for my own safety!  I can think of several husbands that were fleeting instances of my lapses in good judgment!  Coulda', woulda', shoulda', are words that do not appear in a dictionary, but probably oughta'.

I planted an Apricot tree out behind the house 25 years ago.  Monday I started removing limbs with my bow saw.  I am going to need to call a tree man.  Another instance of not thinking things through to a logical conclusion.  That little Mulberry tree that came up in the middle of the old fashioned rose bush is another instance.  I could have taken a pair of nippers to it, but now it is chain saw material.  Those sprayers that come on automatically in the garden are going to need removed because I was burning weeds and got to close to one.  Oh, yeah, and that blackberry bush with the 11 inch razor pointed thorns is going to need removed also.

 My mother once told me "You are your own worst enemy!" I did not understand what she meant all those years ago, but I am beginning to see a pattern developing here!  I am thinking that someone ought to just come and throw a net over me and drag me off to the loony bin, wherever that might be.  I assume someone would feed me and give me a place to sleep at night!  And there is that word "assume".  Kenneth explained that one to me once.  "Assume" makes an "ass" out of "u" and "me".

And there you go.  More ramblings of a mad woman!  Have a good day!

We all have our baggage.

And my Father was no different.  When he married my mother he already had a shattered family behind him.  He had been married and had 5 kids.  One son and one daughter had died at a very young age.  His wife was deceased and he had been left with 3 sons.  The boys had all ended up in an orphanage.  Earl had been adopted as had Richard.  Sadly, Gene had not found a forever family.  Earl seemed to be the most normal as he married and sired 2 boys and 1 girl.  We were in contact with them although it never was a close relationship.  Richard had a lot of mental health issues stemming from his years in the Army.  Ah, but dear Gene was a study unto itself!

I did not see Richard or Earl until my teenage years, but Gene turned up early.  We were living on the Stroh place.  I must have been 5 or 6 years old, possibly 7.  I recall him turning up in the middle of the night, or so it seemed.  He came with somebody named Banks and that is about all I recall about that meeting.  When you are little you pick up scraps of conversation and piece together your own reality.  That is what I have done with Gene Bartholomew.  Over the years I learned that he had a wife and son back east some where.  Seems brother Gene had a bad habit and that was writing checks on someone else's bank account.  The state also had a bad habit of arresting him and putting him in prison.

In a box in my closet are letters from Gene that he had written to our father.  Parts of those letters are seared in my mind.  I do not read them anymore.  "Dear Daddy, When are you going to come and get me?  We are going to get a new pair of overalls in a couple weeks.  I miss you, daddy"

Some time in my grade school years I recall carrying on a correspondence with him while he was in Lansing Prison.  I recall that he was an artist at calligraphy.  Mother always said that was his downfall because he was in prison for forgery.  He did have beautiful handwriting.  I do not know what we wrote about, only that we did.  I do recall once when he was released he came by the house and somebody with a car drove him out to the Arkansas River and dropped him off so he could "be alone to clear his mind."  The next day she picked him up at the specified time and he once more disappeared.

He turned up again when I was in high school.  This time he stayed with my sister and her husband, but that only lasted a few weeks and then he was gone again.  The last anyone heard of him, to my knowledge was that he had been arrested in Nebraska and rather then prosecute him for whatever he had done, they took him to the county line and dropped him off.  He was never seen nor heard of again.

I have often thought of his son.  He would have to be about my age.  His name was William (Billy) Bartholomew.  Of course I am too late, I am sure.  But wouldn't that be nice if he had heirs and one of them read this?  I am not holding out any hope at all.  Just a silly old woman waking up in the middle of the night with something on her mind.

The nastiest duck in the yard.

As you will recall I, at one time, had a  flock of 37 ducks and 15 geese here on South Road.  I can only thank God Kenny did not live to see that fiasco.  In that flock there were 4 Muscovy ducks.  All the others were just plain ducks.  By that I mean they were plain little Polander which is a domesticated Mallard that can not fly, or a mix of breeds that were like the United Nations of Duckdom.  I did have one that walked upright.  That one was white.  There was also one that was a cross which walked about half upright.  When Mr. Fox finished visiting, I had 2 ducks left, a Polander and the white upright.  A friend took them to the pond in Pueblo West and to the best of my knowledge they are still living happily ever after.  Below is a picture of the flock about half way through the fox episode.

The point of this entry is to discuss the nastiness of the 4 Muscovy ducks.  To the best of my knowledge, the Muscovy is the  only ones that can fly, and fly they did very well.  Let me go back a little further to the house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas.  You recall it was built in the shotgun design which meant you entered the front and if an intruder was in the back you could  fire a shell in your 10 gauge and the shot would travel through the house and hit the bad man without touching anything else.  On the back wall was the sink and pump with a drain pipe from the sink that went through a hole in the back wall and water from the dish washing process or whatever else could be disposed of that way without having to carry a bucket outside.  It sure made life easier for us lazy little kids.

So now you are probably wondering where the water went after it got outside, aren't you?  Well, the end of the pipe was about 15 feet from the house and that is where the water went.  Also in the back yard was where the ducks lived.  I do not remember how many we had, but I do know they were nasty.  They took their little beaks and dug into the standing water looking for God only knows what to eat.  Of course anything that went in that beak was going to come out the other end.  Needless to say we were not allowed to play in that standing water.  Pretty sure that was one rule that we did abide by!

Now, I have got to explain how a Muscovy duck is different than other ducks.  Domesticated ducks do not fly.  The Muscovy is a whole different story.  The neck on the males is very thick.  The males are also very aggressive.  They did not quack, but rather whispered.  And they flew.  The would leave the pond and fly into my small back yard and roost on my air conditioner.  Now I did not like that.  When I tried to shoo them out back the males would ruffle their feathers and scare hell out of me.  The females were very docile and about half the size of the drakes.  One morning I went to the fowl house and found a dead goose.  It's neck had been broken.  Since the fowl house was attached to a wire enclosure whatever killed the goose had to be inside that place.  I watch my geese fight all through breeding season and never have I seen that kind of violence.  It had to be one of the Muscovy drakes.  So I called the guy over on County Farm Road and he came and was in agreement with my findings.  He then loaded all 4 Muscovy's into his truck and off the to the sale they went.  I never tried Muscovy's again.

Above is what I have left of my flock.  Actually I have all 4 of the African Grays, which are the dark ones. One of them is a hen.   I lost 2 of the white ones, leaving me with 2 male Emidens and 1 male and 1 female Chinese.  The two hens lay in the Spring and I practice birth control via noodle making.  Snakes are rampant in the goose house since they like eggs so as long as I keep the eggs picked up, the snakes are forced to find me some other way.  I am going to get someone out here to go in the neighbors yard and move that pile of tires because I think the snakes live in there. 

Or under my deck!

Well, that is it for today.  Spring is here.  The ducks are all gone and the weeds are coming up in the fence line so I better get on the stick.

Time and tide wait for no man...or woman!

I wish I was smart enough to read it myself.

The television is full of the Mueller report that has just been released!  I have 4 people on channel 11 explaining to me what the report says.  See, I am not smart enough to read something and know what it says, so they have to tell me.  Hmm.  Seems my late husband had a saying that fits the cause here.  "Opinions are just like assholes!  Every body has one and most of them stink."  Just saying that this is the time of morning when Millionaire comes on for my perusal enjoyment.  I love that game along with Jeopardy and any other trivia game that comes on my television set.

I do not know if the American people have yet figured out that when my game shows are interrupted for a basketball game, a special bulletin from Washington, it thrills me almost as much as when the "breaking weather"  preempts what I am watching so I can stare for 3 hours at the weather map and watch a tiny cloud on the horizon that might or might not come to fruition as a snowflake on the road between Colorado Springs and Denver.  The broadcaster must warn motorists of the hazards if this actually happens.  Not once, not twice, but over and over and over again.  These people out there driving are not smart enough to check the weather before they leave one job to go to another.  Now how many of these motorists have an actual television set in the car and are actually watching that little cloud is beyond my comprehension.  While I am comfy in my chair waiting for a Jeopardy! rerun that is not going to happen the world in the television weather room is a bustle of a man in a suit or a lady in a little blue dress walking back and forth across in front of the camera smiling.

Now I have got to go on record here as saying, my life is pretty much boring or this would not bother me.  I have lived many years on this earth and seen about all there is to see.  I can actually remember back  when Winter weather was predicted by the length of the hairs on the caterpillar and rainfall was predicted by how high up the mud dauber built her nest.  Leaves folded inward if the weather was going to be dry.  And President Franklin Roosevelt had little fireside chats with us on the radio so we knew what was going on with our government.  And when the war ended it took him 3 words to tell us, "The War is over."  And we knew the war was over.  Three means of communications were "Telephone, Telegraph and Tell a friend."

Well, the crisis with the Mueller report must be over for the time being because I hear the sounds of "The Price is Right" on the downstairs television.  Brandi from the Travel Agency just called me so I could hang up on her.  Soon someone else will call to send me my new credit card!  And then there is that trip I can go on if I hurry.  But I have other plans for today.

I am going to crawl in my little car here pretty quick and go meet a couple lady friends at the Red Lobster.  Yummers!  Then I am going to come home and see if I can possibly load a couple television sets in the back of my car and take them to the recycle place and pay them $60 to take them.  Maybe I will get something done down stairs in that one bedroom since I have someone coming to stay with me for a while in May.  Or maybe not.

The nice part of being an old woman living alone is I do not actually have to do anything at all.  Oh, watch Jeopardy! at 3:00 and again at 6:30.  And then there is my 8:00 bedtime.  Seems I am sleeping a lot more lately, but that is alright, because I have very nice dreams!

Oh, the things in my mind.

Click here to listen  I woke up this morning with this song on my mind.  Then I went to facebook and some one had posted the same link.  Small world.  However the context the person had posted the link was far different than the link in my mind.

Like most, actually all, people, I had a father.  I knew him.  Or I thought I did.  A very wise woman once told me, "You never really know anyone, you only know of them.  You know what they let you see."  And so it was with my father.  He was a lot older than my mother, but the wedding picture shows a very happy woman.  My mother was very well liked in high school and married soon after she graduated.  Sadly that marriage did not end well and soon she returned to her roots and married my father.  He was a widower (? but some secrets are best left untold).  He had 3 sons that were past their teens.  They had been put into an orphanage when Dad's first wife died.  2 were adopted, one was not.

Jake was the first born to this union followed by me, Donna, Mary and Dorothy.  We were all as different as night and day.  Jake was the only son and he was a screw up according to my father.  Of course I was perfect, but he never did particularly like me much.  He was of the old school that kids were to be raised and leave home.  Now just look at me!  Wasn't I the cutest thing you ever seen?

Donna was smack in the middle so she had middle child syndrome.  Dorothy was the baby, so she carried those tendencies throughout her life.  Ah, but Mary.  Mary was cute and delicate and everyone loved Mary. Now you must understand that this is being written by me and is my feelings.  I am sure if the other sisters were alive they would dispute my findings, but you must realize that we are all a product of our raising and I never at any time ever in my life ever thought my father cared about me in any way shape or form.  It was as if I existed in a vacuum.  If he was there he ignored me.  He refused to attend my first marriage.  I simply did not exist.

Ah, but he had a weakness.  He liked babies. Shortly after the birth of my first daughter he paid my older sister to sew her a pretty red dress and he bought shoes and a hat to match.  Some where I have that picture of him holding Debra when she was about a year old and wearing that outfit.  That is the only one of my children he ever touched.  I don't recall him ever touching me in anger or love.  I never actually had a conversation with the man.  If I fell and skinned my knee that was my problem. 

And then he died.  By this time I had the 3 girls.  I left them with my sister in law and came home for the funeral.  I remember how very sad that was.  I stood at his open coffin and cried my heart out for a man I never knew.  I do not think a child ever understands their parents and I envy the children who played catch with their fathers.  Or took walks.  Or went fishing.  That is why I always tried to keep my kids and their father in close contact.  He and I had a strained relationship, but he and the kids found a way to make it sort of work.  We sort of shared custody, but that is water under the bridge.

I do remember far in the back of my mind, that dad was a share cropper with a man named John Britan.  John had acreage across the river and sometimes (and I will never know why) I would go with dad to the acreage and John Britan would make me hot chocolate using cocoa, sugar, hot water, and Pet milk.  It was the best stuff in the world!  I have tried to make it but it is never the same.  I also remember that there was a little creek that run through the farm and sometimes it had water in it.  Jake made me a little boat out of a flat piece of wood.  He put a stick through a hole and tied a string to it so it would not get away.

So, as sad as my childhood was, I do have some good memories.  I just forget them sometimes. 

Bowls are good for lots of things!

Went to Western Kansas last week to see part of the tribe.  You should know that my middle daughter, Dona M Seeger owns a beauty shop in Lakin,  Kansas.  The first order upon my arrival was to take a nap in the back room since she was busy with customers.  Bill, my son in law from my daughter Patty, came and woke me up.  He has been having some health problems so I was glad to see him up and about.  As soon as Dona finished her last customer we went to Mi Ranchita to eat.  There I seen more grand daughters, grandson, great granddaughters and more great grandsons.  It appears I have been very prolific because this little gathering produced 12 or 13 paying customers and only 2 of my daughters were accounted for in this gathering.

After supper we headed out to Dona's house and bed.  Now, I forgot that I wanted my haircut while we were in her shop and I did not think about it again till the next day.  I was one tired puppy.  I did not think about it the next day, but rather Sunday morning when it was almost time to leave.  Now I do not know if I discussed the bowl business with Dona or not.  Sometimes I have conversations with myself in my head and the bowl business may have happened that way.  What I wanted to tell her and did not, was that I was proud of her and the way she has made a successful business to take care of herself and her sons.  The bowl business aside.

Back before I was even in school mother was a lady of leisure.  Dad did something to make a living , but I do not know what it was.  I know he drank and I think he may have been involved in something not quite legal because we always had money when we lived on the Stroh place and he went to the sale and brought home a Shetland pony and that was the meanest damned horse on earth.  That is the one that kicked my brother in the face and left him with a very ugly scar that he carried all his life.  Jake may or may not have goosed the horse which is what one of his friends said happened.  I just don't know.

The important part of the story is that mother always went "to club" and we had to be clean when she took us.  Did I tell you how she used to put me under her arm and pump cold water over my head when she washed my hair.  Jesus!  That water was cold!  I still cringe when I think of that.  But anyway, back to club.

I do not know what went on at club because us kids had to go into the other room and somebody watched us.  The ladies of the club were very helpful to each other.  All of them were dressed very nice and wore little hats because that was what they did back then.  They shared recipes and gave each other tips on how to raise kids.  One of the ladies was a hair cutter.  That meant she came to the other ladies houses and cut the kids hair.  That was always a day to be excited about.
 
"Mrs. Soandso will be by on Friday to cut the kids hair."

 Now my mother had a special bowl which was for Mrs. Soandso to use as a pattern for the hair cutting job.  First we had to get out the haircutting stool which raised us to the proper height so Mrs. Soandso did not have to bend over.  She had sharp scissors that were used only for haircutting.  The haircutting usually went very smoothly and very quickly.  Course if the recipient moved at all, the bowl would slide a bit and one side might be longer then the other.  At times like that I was a stone statue because I sure did not want my hair to be uneven.  And when she was all done we would line up for inspection. Mother would gush about how beautiful we were and then insist that she take a quarter for herself.

Have you ever looked at the old school pictures?  You can spot the kids whose mothers went to club.  All of our hair ended right below our ears and sometimes our bangs were only about an inch long .  because Mrs. Soandso was tired. Of course we always had to have a "fresh haircut" for pictures.  I often wondered back in those days, if there really was a god!

For some reason, when we left the Stroh place and moved everything we owned on a hay rack to the Ailmore place, mother quit going to club.  Dad quit going to where ever he used to go.  Mother started cleaning houses for the rich ladies in town and life changed without me even knowing it.  I wish I had remembered what changed, but I didn't.  Sometimes way in the back of my memory, I almost remember something, but not quite.  Some where is the memory of a big house with an elevator across the river, and I seem to remember going there once with my dad.  But it was never talked about and Dad never went there after we left the Stroh place.

Isn't life funny that way?

I have miles to go before I sleep.

Spring is here and this is the time of year that I get itchy feet.  I left Hutchison, Kansas in 1977 with my then husband and with everything in a U-haul we moved to Pueblo, Colorado.  Since he had lived here before, it was a returning for him, but for me it was a leap of faith and a complete 180 degrees from my life in Hutchinson.  I gave my mother the keys to my little Lou's Kitchen on 4th Street and fired up the engine on my 1973 Chevy and headed West to seek my fame and fortune.  I was one naive little girl back then.  The husband turned out to be a little less then I hoped.  We did start a business so I had a job to do.  

The husband soon became an ex husband and the job a former place of employment.  At that time I thought about pointing the (now a Cadillac) east and leaving Colorado, but I could not go home a failure, so I stayed.  I went to  College and got a degree in Finance while waiting tables at a small cafe in Bessemer.  I married a local guy and divorced him 2 months later.  Then I met and married Kenneth.  The rest is history.  Through all the years, I made trips to Kansas in the Spring to see the Lilacs.

And, of course, a trip to Hutchinson also called for a stop at Skaets Steak Shop on the corner of 23rd and Main which is the entrance to the State Fairgrounds.  That was the first place I ever worked and a member of my family (sometimes more then one member) has always been on the payroll there.  My sister, Dorothy, had a heart attack and died there.  Luckily they hit the restart button on her and she lived several more years.  

I would meet my friend Joe there for a 2-3 hour coffee.  That was always fun.  I do have a gold elephant I need to send him someday.

But, those days are behind me.  The days of throwing the pistol in the suitcase and driving 8 hours to get anywhere are now behind me.  Water under the bridge.  Lately I have been studying the family tree and I was surprised to find that I am now the top nut on the tree.  I used to ask someone older then me about our lineage, but now I find that the buck stops here.  There is no one to ask.  Damn!  When did that happen?

I think about the trips to Hutch and I get sad that they are no longer.  I have my own Lilac in the back yard.  I feel much like Robert Frost must have felt when he wrote this poem.  Am I really done?  Is this where it ends.  Wait!  I have so much left to do...….

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

BY ROBERT FROST

Whose woods these are I think I know.   

His house is in the village though;   

He will not see me stopping here   

To watch his woods fill up with snow.   

My little horse must think it queer   

To stop without a farmhouse near   

Between the woods and frozen lake   

The darkest evening of the year.   

He gives his harness bells a shake   

To ask if there is some mistake.   

The only other sound’s the sweep   

Of easy wind and downy flake.   

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   

But I have promises to keep,   

And miles to go before I sleep,   

And miles to go before I sleep.

So, from someone who knows, life is short.  Love your neighbor, brighten the corner where you are and if perchance you think the grass is greener on the other side of the fence, stretch your neck over there and have a bite!  You may be right.