Lost and lonely little dog.

A day or so ago I was returning home down 27th Lane and saw a little dog setting in the field on the corner of 27th and County Farm.  I thought that strange.  Today I saw him again in the same place so I pulled around the corner and stopped.  It looked at me hopefully and then turned and ran back up the field.  It was not hard to figure out that someone had dumped it.  I walked a ways into the field and tried to coax it to me.  No way.  I was not the human it wanted.  So I got back in my car and did the only thing I knew to do, I came home.  I loaded up some cat food and water and went back down to the field.  The little dog was back in its regular waiting place, but once more ran away.  I put the food down and poured the water in the container.  The little dog watched me.  I took a step towards it and it ran away.  So I got in my car and left.

I will not sleep tonight.  I will be thinking about that little dog.  I wish I could meet the person who left the poor little animal.  I would ask them if when they tossed it out on that corner, if it tried to chase the car and catch up with them.  Did you even look back?  What did that poor little doggie do to deserve being left in a field?  There are coyotes and foxes out here that will make a meal of that helpless little creature.  Oh, do you think it is going to catch something and eat it to survive?  Or some fool like me will come along and it will jump in my car and I will take it home and it will live happily ever after?  I would, you know, but it is waiting for you.  I will say this, you do not deserve loyalty like that.  God has a special place for people like you.

I do not have a dog.  My little dog died.  It was one just like yours.   I still cry myself to sleep missing my little animals and assholes like you throw them away.  The world is full of stray dogs and cats that were cute little puppies or kitties, but then they grew up and may have actually peed on the floor.  Whose fault was that?  Whose job was it to teach them that was wrong?  Or they might have shed on your couch.  Heaven forbid.  What ever the circumstances that left that little dog out in that field all alone, it is not right.  I am going to pray very hard tonight that God will touch your heart wherever you are and whomever you are and you will get in your car and drive back out to 27th Lane and County Farm and pick your little dog back up.  You do not have to keep it.  You can bring it to my house.  Or call me and I will come pick it up.  I am just too old to chase it through a field when it wants you.  But if you hand it to me, I will take it and give it a very good home.

Just in case...my number is 546-1555.  and my name is Lou.

Beauty is skin deep.

I was never what you call pretty growing up.  Even as a teenager, I was on the scrawny side.  My hair was brown and my front teeth were over sized and stayed that way my whole life through.  I was very sickly and spent lots of time with an ear ache and a pain in my side that was attributed to appendicitis.  However, when I was 12 years old I was rushed in for an emergency tonsillectomy.  Strange as it may seem, I never had a sick day after that.  I did remain skinny, weighing in at 92 pounds when I married my first husband at the age of 19.

I have managed to go my entire life without an inoculation of any kind.  I was always so jealous of the kids who had the small pox vaccination scar on their arm.  Now I do not know how I managed to survive and not get vaccinated for anything, but I did.  Well, about 25 years ago I was trying to fly a kite in the field next door and stepped on a nail.  Kenneth took me to the emergency room and the doctor wanted to "update" my tetanus vaccine.  I told him I had never been vaccinated against anything in my life.  He gave me the tetanus shot and I let him because Kenneth was between me and the door.   I left with instructions to make an appointment in his office for my immunizations.  Never kept that date and the matter was dropped.  So I will say this, I am very healthy and rarely ever get sick.  (There was that time I was laid low by a bad batch of hummus from Sam's, but that was man made misery in a tub.)

So back to the subject.  My sister's were all pretty and actually had a shape.  I remained a stick figure on the horizon and when I would complain, mother would just tell me.  "Beauty is skin deep."  To be honest, that did not help much.  Of course as life goes on, things become more important than beauty.  And something that I learned early was that an abusive husband will prey on your weakness.  I had 3 of them, followed by one that was just a user and then I met Kenneth.  Kenneth never told me I was beautiful. He told me I was smart.  He told me I was a worker.  He told me I was dependable.  He told me I was trustworthy.  He told me he was comfortable with me.  He told me he loved me.  He loved my mind. He loved my compassion.  He loved my zest for life.  He loved my cooking.  He loved everything about me and I began to feel beautiful.

And of course Mother came for regular visits.  One time we were discussing life before Kenny and she was telling him how I had raised the kids alone and many times gone without food so they could eat.  Kenny chimed in at that point with, "Well, you could never tell by looking at her that she ever missed a meal!"   He had a way of putting life in a perspective that made it work.

One time I made the remark that  I had never felt pretty.  And beautiful was a word that was never  used in the same sentence with my name.  He looked at me kind of strangely when I said that.  His answer was all I needed.  He said, "Yes, beauty is skin deep, but ugly goes clear to the bone."  And then I understood, that this simple man thought I was beautiful and I have held to that thought through all these years.

I had a man once in my life that saw through my exterior and into my soul.  That only comes around once in a lifetime but it lasts forever.  

It is what it is.

Every morning I wake up to face another day.  Usually it is about 5 AM.  I lay there for a little while thinking about yesterday and wondering about today.  I know there is nothing I can do to change yesterday, but today there is hope.  I think hope is the one thing that keeps me going, but things do not always work out like I had planned.  Sadly, I do not have the ability to control other people.  I know what would make their life work better and bring them happiness, but they have their own ideas.  So I accept that.

I once told a friend of mine "I do not understand why John Doe did what he did.  I thought I knew him better than that."  My friend told me, "You never know a person.  You only know what they let you see."  Of course he was right.  I do not see John Doe any more, but I do see my friend.  Some people become our friends for life, it seems and some are just ships passing in the night.  That makes me sad.

Mother was wise in the ways of the world.  I miss her more than words can convey.  If I was sad, she would tell me "Tomorrow is another day."  It seems my poor little tender heart has been broken so many times that it would  never heal, but losing her was like losing a part of myself.  I have her picture on the top of my desk.  It is a black and white picture.  I have an 8 x 10 that is the last thing I see when I leave the house. It is a colored photograph and I see her gray eyes.  Her and I had the same color eyes.  I assume my father had eyes, but I forget what color they were.  It has been over 50 years since I saw his eyes.

Mother always told me "If you can reach the end of your life and you have 5 true friends that you can count on one hand, you are blessed."  And for many years I did.  But now I am beginning to wonder.  Some of them have gone to a better place (which means they died), some have moved away.  Some have remarried and built new lives.  And some of them just found other interests.  Sad. My 2 best friends are men.  One has been in my life since I came to Colorado in 1973 (?).  The other I met when I married Kenny.  I do not see them often, but we keep in touch.  I guess maybe I do have 5 friends left.  I am hoping they outlive me!

So where was I?  I guess I am just facing my mortality and learning to accept all the death and sorrow that life has to  offer.  The old body may very well be wearing out, but my mind is still sharp and I can still feed myself, so I guess life is good.  One thing is for sure....

It is what it is. 

The demise of the last Apricot Tree.

Many years ago, probably back in about 1994, Kenny and I had a trucking business.  At that time he was working for Clarence Garcia in a small town named Paonia.  To get to Paonia one needs to drive through the Black Canyon, which is near Gunnison.  It was not any place I would want to drive through in the winter, that is for sure.  The job was hauling gravel up to the BLM just out of Paonia.  We owned a park model camper which Kenny stayed in during the week while he worked.  I went a couple days every week because he got lonely.

The town of Paonia is a hippie heaven and there were quilt shops and lots of things for me to entertain myself with while he worked.  He did tell me that cattle roamed free on the BLM and that there were lots of fruit trees that were loaded and fruit was free for the taking.  Choke Cherry.  Peaches. Apricot.  I had no idea what a Choke Cherry was at the time and I did not like Apricots, so that was not a big draw for me.  However, he did like Apricots and proceeded to bring me home a big bag of them and requested that I make Apricot jam.  So when I came home that weekend, I gathered jars, sugar and all the fixings and make him Apricot jam.  The pits I tossed in the dirt over the septic tank.

Imagine my surprise when two weeks later, a million Apricot pits turned into tiny little trees.  Since winter was coming, I heeled them in and covered them with straw.  They survived the cold winter in fine shape and the next Spring I gave everyone I knew all the Apricots they could plant.  I planted 6 for myself which was exactly 6 more than I needed.  Over the years 5 of them died and the one behind the house survived and flourished.  It stood over the house as a memorial to our days in Paonia.   I had to keep the branches cut because it would damage the roof.   And then it got bores. It was time.

I called several tree service places, but no one returned my call.  Then my friend, Kay told me about her tree man.  Aaron Leal.  She would have him call me.  And he did.  And 3 days later this was the scene in my back yard.  2 guys.  One chain saw and no ladder.  Craig and Tony made short work of that big Apricot tree

And then they were done.  

And it was all thanks to this little card!

It was kind of sad to see the tree go and memories of how I got the seeds in the first place, kind of put a damper on my day, but that is what life is all about, isn't it?  I kept a tiny seed that made a big tree that shaded the back of my house from the hot evening sun.  Kenny is gone.  The tree is gone.  I am still here.  I guess there is something to be said for the circle of life.  It does go on, you know.  Whether I like it or not, the sun will come up tomorrow.  The tree will still be gone.  The birds will find somewhere else to nest, and I still do not like Apricots.

Dennis

I remember my very first up close and personal death.  It was not a human, but it was nonetheless very traumatic.  I do not remember how old I was, but I am thinking maybe in the 4th or 5th grade.  We had a milk cow, because back in those days, if you had kids they needed milk and that was how you got it.  I am thinking this milk cow was white with black spots and unless you were there and remember it differently, we will go with that.  At that tender age, I had no idea about how the birthing process worked.  I had watched a chicken lay an egg once, so I knew where eggs came from, but beyond that was a mystery.

I do not remember the cow's name, but I am assuming it was "Bossy" since that was what most of the cows were named.  I came home from school one day and dad and Rudolph Reinke were standing over Bossy.  I was mortified because Bossy should be upright, because that was what cows did.  They stood upright.  A tiny black calf was laying on the ground not far from Bossy.  No one seemed to notice it.  I finally got the 2 men's attention and they moved the little calf into an empty granary.  It bleated at me and I fell in love with the big black eyes.  I was told not to touch it, but I could watch it.

Returning to the yard I overheard conversation between the 2 men that entailed "milk fever", "going to die", "nothing can be done".  While I did not want to hear or watch what was happening, I was far too curious to just walk away.  And finally, Rudolph came up with something that might work.

"I recall this one time and the only thing to do is split her tail, fill it with black pepper and tape it shut."  My God!  Even at my tender age that sounded horrifying, but these were 2 grown men and surely they knew what they were doing.  No one paid any attention to me as I crouched in the dirt several yards away.

They began the chore of splitting her tail as she wailed and bellowed.  Pepper was dumped into the opening and then the tail was taped and the old milk cow lay there with her eyes rolling.  Very soon she was dead.  I had no idea what to do.  No one seemed to know or care that I was prostate with grief.  I needed my mother, but she was in town cleaning someone's house.  So I went to the only warm body I could find and that was the little black calf in the granary.  I told him his mother was dead, but he did not seem to understand.  I made up my mind in that moment that I would be his mother.

When mother got home she found me there with the little calf and tried to tell me about life and what happens after life.  I named the little calf Dennis and he lived almost a whole day before he died and mother then had to explain to me that Dennis was in heaven with his mother.  I do not know what happened to the bodies of Dennis or his mother.  Back in those days there was a business called "the dead animal wagon, " which I assume came and picked them up and took them God only knows where.

It has been over 65 years and I still think about that little calf.  Not so much his mother, but him with his shiny black coat and the darkest brown eyes.  I guess we are pretty much shaped by our younger days, because I still love little calves.  In the field up the road from my house is a pasture.  There cows are brought to spend a few months and give birth to their calves.  The cows are black and the babies are black.  When the calves are born it is a sight to behold, but they only stay with their mother's for a week or less and then they are loaded into a truck and they go away.  I can hear the mother's calling for the babies and it breaks my heart.  I understand that the calves are taken to a place where they are fed milk and fattened up with no exercise.  That is where "milk fed veal" comes from, which is a delicacy in fancy restaurants.

Man's inhumanity  never ceases to amaze me.  The circle of life never ceases to amaze me.  I accept it, but it does not mean I like it.

Today is the first day....

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.  And so it begins.  The Mother's Day High Tea is over and the Yappy Dog Run passed my driveway as I left for church yesterday.  The cups are wrapped and stored in the basement of the church.  This morning I will wrap the tea pots and put them away.  It was a very successful event and I look forward to next year.  The tea is the one time of the year that I get to see a lot of my friends.  This year I had 2 daughters, 2 son-in-laws, 2 granddaughters, 3 great grand sons, my niece Lisa Shea Porter with her husband and daughter and a partridge in a Pear Tree.  The kids got acquainted and a good time was had by all.  But now it is Monday and life moves forward.

When I think about this being the first day of the rest of my life, it seems a  little daunting, but I am pretty sure I can handle it.  All I can say is I had a bumper sticker once that summed it all up for me. It said "If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself."  When I was a teenager, I knew I would not live to see 30.  When 30 rolled around and I had 5 kids I was pretty sure 40 was my limit.  40 came and I fell in love and decided I would probably live forever.  Now that I am beginning to fossilize,  I am wondering if age is not just a number?  I have lost a lot of friends and most of my close family.  I am sure there are no uncles or aunts left out there.  The most I could hope for would be a cousin, but I am thinking that is a futile thought.  I have lived in Colorado over half of my life and lost touch of what ever family I had back there.  Do not think I am complaining, because I am not.  I never kept track of them, and by the same token, they never kept track of me.  So there you go!

Now, to the rest of my life.  Many of my friends want to know what I am going to do.  So, let me just weigh out my options.  My 2400 square foot house on one acre of land is pretty much free and clear.  If I sell it, I have to move.  Now where would I move, you ask.  Since I have spent over half my life in Pueblo, Colorado, leaving does not make much sense.  Living in this big house all alone does not make sense either.  I have a cat and 8 geese.  The geese have never lived any where except here, so if I sold the house, the geese would have to stay with the property.  Icarus could move with me, but she has never been a litter box user, preferring rather to use the doggie door and go outside. If I moved into town she would no doubt be ran over the first time the door was opened.

Or, I could get a room mate.  Now, I am sorry, but I can not think of a single soul in my repertoire of friends that I would want to live with and share space with.  I do not want to live with a female who would hog the bathroom and leave things laying here and there.  She would no doubt want to be friends and share secrets, but I am not a secret sharing person.  I thought about maybe a little gay guy, but what if he wanted to throw a party?  I do not want parties and loud music.  I think I am best if I just live alone.  My ideal scenario is just to wake up dead some morning, or better yet, doze off while Jeopardy! is on and just not wake up.  That way, the mortician could just pick me up, the auction house could just sell all my treasures and then...….who knows.

I do not look on death as a bad thing.  Number one, it is inevitable and we are all going to do it sooner or later.  So, rest assured that when that day comes there is going to be one happy woman here!  Before you get excited thinking maybe I have a premonition, think again.  No visions.  No premonitions.  Just the ramblings of an old woman who has been there, done that, and moved on.

Have a good day and remember,

You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself! 

This one came out of left field!

I spent today making Cream of Carrot Soup for the High Tea.  I also whipped up a big jug of Lemon Curd for the scones.  Well, for the Cheese Scones.  I am making Clotted Cream for the Apple ones.  Since I was cooking all day, it came as a complete surprise to me when I set down to watch the news and wound up thinking about Nickerson, Kansas and remembering my father telling my mother about a cross burning incident that had happened the night before.  I am pretty sure he had not been involved in the burning, but he sure seemed to know all about it and the names of the men who were involved.

 Now you must understand that this conversation was not held at the dining room table, but rather in whispered tones on the front porch.  Our bedroom window was on the front of the house so since I was awake it was hard not to hear.  And the fact that it is now 70 years later kind of dims the memory.  All the people who were alive at that time are long since gone on to their reward, whatever it might be.  To the best of my knowledge, I never knew anyone who lived in Nickerson, Kansas at the time I was there to be anything but white.  Oh, wait.  There was one family who lived in the boxcar down by the tracks that was maybe another race.  I never was sure what race they were.  Seems like they might have been Indian, but I wasn't sure of  what  race that was.

Our family was mostly German due to the Haas family on my mothers side.  Dad was mostly Irish or English or something like that.  I think maybe Great Britain came in to play some where in his genes.  Now if you think for one minute that I know where I am headed with this you are sadly mistaken.  Last thing I remember was I was working on some lemon bars and the next thing I remember is I was up here clicking away at the keys.  I think it all has something to do with the latest school shooting.  How sad that is that kids have to go through training to learn what to do if their school is attacked by a gunman.  Seems in the back of my mind I hear a song playing about the days of sand and shovels.  A day of innocence.  I wonder what our world has come to that this is normal and is accepted as normal.  And then I think to that conversation on the front porch and it makes me sad, that I can remember burning crosses from my childhood much as the kids today will remember the boy with purple and pink hair that shot children in a school.  What is our world coming to that violence is a way of life and that it is accepted as normal?

Even sadder, the boys doing the shooting are someone's son.  Some mother held the new baby in her arms and never dreamed that someday he would grow up to kill anyone.  Probably the worst she could imagine was that he/she would need braces.  Or maybe they would steal a candy bar just for kicks.  The world has changed.  Back when I was a kid, we saluted the flag.  We said "one nation under God." I think we even had a little prayer before school.  I vaguely remember one of my school mates being killed in a car wreck.  I do not remember his name, only that he had gone with his older brother to a National Guard meeting.  That was about the saddest thing that happened in our school.  Mostly life was mundane.  Mother went to work.  Dad went to the pool hall.  Josephine eloped and Jake joined the Army.  And the gypsys were camped outside of town, just waiting to steal a kid, but the never did.