Life is becoming a blur!

I let the doggie out early.  Early to me is 4:30 AM today.  Sometimes early is 2:00.  It all depends on what time I wake up and what the prospects are of falling back to sleep.  It just seems kind of futile to lay there and wait for sleep to come when my mind is racing and I know there is not any hope of the arms of the sleep goddess cradling me into the oblivion that I welcome.  Back to the point.

I let the doggie out and of course he wants me to walk around with him, because he is apparently afraid of the dark.  I am here to tell you that fall is in the air!  I know it is hard to imagine when the afternoon sun warms us up to 100+ degrees, but it is coming.  The trees have the gentle rustle that tells me the leaves are drying and soon they will be yellow and falling.  Where did the time go!

It seems it was last week that I was poking around to find the Crocus that grow by the car port.  I was unhooking the hoses when I used them so that if it froze I would not lose the hydrant.  I was going to have a yard sale!  What happened with that?  Course I was going to have one of those last year and did not make it.  I did not even get the things that keep your neck cool made for the migrant workers.  Were there any migrant workers?  Are tomatoes ready to be canned?  This year went by so fast!

Wait a minute!  My whole life has gone by like a blur!  I am now old.  At least I think I am old.  I do not feel old, but I look at the obituaries daily in hopes my name is there and find people way younger than me.  My great grandmother lived to be 104 and until the last month of her life she was puttering in Aunt Mabel's kitchen and had all her wits about her.  On that scenario I could be looking at another 30 years.  Ah, come on, God!  Give me a break here!  That is a lot of putting on of the night gown and a lot of brushing of the teeth and filling the gas tank about 720 more times.  Let's put this in perspective here!

I have been a good girl, most of the time.  I have not killed anyone and tried to be honest.  I help my fellow man and can count on one finger how many times I have been drunk in the last 45 years.  I have pretty well followed the 10 commandments.  I do not steal, cheat or bear false witness, and pay my tithe at the church most of the time.  I am way too old to be dying young.

I guess I might as well accept things as they are.  That means I have to get dressed again today.  I have to pick the grandson up from pre-school and then the good part will begin.  5 hours later I will deliver him to his daddy and I will be worn to a frazzle.  I guess when it is all said and done, life is good.

But I hate to think that it is fall already, but the signs are all there!

Have a good one, because we never know when it will be our last one.

I love you!

When I say I love you, you must know that I also love ice cream and cake,  coffee, roses, a walk in the park and any number of things.  I love the preacher.  I love my dog and my cat. I love the soft rain on my face. You are not my exclusive love.  God did not put me on this earth for you alone, he put me here to brighten all the dark corners, to feed the hungry and to play with the children and the puppies.

I have had occasion to meet a complete stranger on the street and stand on the sidewalk talking for almost an hour about everything and nothing.  I have had lunch with someone I have known for 7 minutes and bared my soul to my fellow traveler and then walked away without even learning his name.  Two ships in the night.

Love is like a ring; it has no beginning and no end.

If you catch a butterfly and touch it's wings, it can not fly away.  I was your butterfly, but my wings remained untouched and I flew away.

A wise woman once told me "Love is not love until you give it away."  I have spent my life trying to give it all away and it just keeps coming back! A never ending circle.

If I love you, do not be afraid for it is all good and pure.

And if you love me, I will treasure it in my heart, I will nurture it, and when the time is right I will set it free!

Vincent's sand pit down the back road.

Back in my growing up days in Nickerson, it was hot!  Damned hot as a matter of fact.  And the humidity was high, which did not help at all.  Colorado is dry.  In Colorado I can shower and hang my towel on the hook and it will be dry in just a couple hours.  Not so in Kansas.  Not only was the towel still damp the next day, but it was starting to have a sour smell.  By day 3 it was mildewed.  Nasty stuff.

To survive the heat, we wore a minimum of clothes and tried to stay in the shade of a tree.  Being in the house was not much better, because air conditioning was pretty much non-existent.  Nickerson had no swimming pool as I recall and if they did we would not have been able to afford it.  So we were left with the Arkansas River, Cow Creek, Bull Creek and Vincent's Sand Pit.  Mummy's had a sand pit on the other end of town, but we were not allowed in there.  It was a functioning business and Vincent's was not.  And Vincent's was within walking distance.  Hey!  I just remembered, there was a sand pit about 3 blocks from the house.  I do not recall whether it was a working pit or not, but it seems way back in my little mind that the owners child had fallen in and drowned, so it was not open any more.  (This may or may not be true because my 70 years prior memories tend to become rather distorted.)

Back to Vincent's Sand Pit.  I have been deathly afraid of water my entire life.  I do not know why, only that I was and still am.  (I did go many years back to the YWCA heated pool and took swimming lessons so if I were to fall in I would know to roll over and relax and float until some friendly passerby could rescue me.  Hopefully!)  Consequently, I did not swim in the sand pit and to my clearest memory, I only visited it once.  It seems it was about a mile or so from the house and beyond the cemetery.  I recall running barefoot down the road which was very sandy and the sand was very hot!  Jake rode his bike and I ran behind.

Vincent's Sand Pit was also a favorite fishing spot.  It must be a lot like Beemer Lake in Lakin, Kansas.  Usually the fishermen came later in the day or very early in the morning.  Fish rarely bite in the heat of the day.  We had a pint jar half full with water and a pop bottle suspended upside down so the opening just touched the water.  When the water was sucked up it the neck of the bottle, it meant the fish were biting.  If it was not raised, you might as well stay home.  When I married Kenneth we fished a lot, so I set one of those on the window sill in the kitchen.  When he asked me what that was for, I told him.  It was then I learned that it was actually a crude barometer and I could save myself a lot of watchin if I just walked over and looked at the barometer on the wall!  Duh!

As we set here, gripped in a heat wave, I flash back to the early days in Nickerson and thank the good Lord for central air.  Nickerson was home for all my formative years, but as much as I yearn for those carefree days, I do certainly enjoy the convenience of running water, electricity, inside plumbing, and central air.

So I live vicariously in my childhood memories.  I set in my 72 degree house while the sun beats down outside on the thermometer now reading 101.  I miss the days of sand pits and sand hill plums, and I thank the man upstairs for giving me a childhood that can make me empathetic to the people I serve today.  There is not a night that I do not lay in my bed and count my blessings, and growing up in Nickerson, Kansas has made me the woman I am today and for that  I thank God!  

Mother, Aunt Helen, Werthers Originals , and a very high curb!

My mother died when she was 80.  At the time she was living with my sister, Dorothy.  Dorothy has since joined Mother on the other side, but prior to that Mother lived in a small 1 bedroom apartment on 15th Circle near my sister Donna.  Lordie!  that was a long time ago.  I managed to travel from Pueblo to Huchinson 3 or 4 times a year. I would spend a few days and then back to Colorado.

Now let me elaborate on the title of this missive.  I am not sure exactly how Aunt Helen was my Aunt and not even sure she was.  I do know that Aunt Helen and Uncle Skinny had been in my life when I was in first or second grade in Nickerson.  They were very rich.  Aunt Helen gave me my first and only store bought dress.  It was gray/green over glaze cotton with a white collar and a string tie around the neck with 2 daisies on the ends of the tie.  I wore it until I could no longer get it on.  They also gave me a brownie uniform and paid my dues for one year.  That was a waste of money, because I sure did not fit in with those girls and I only attended one or 2 meetings.  Mother gave the uniform to some one who gave it to someone who would wear it and attend meetings. The gray/green dress ended up in a rag rug.  But I digress.

When I would go to visit mother it was a big deal that my Aunt Helen looked forward to with anticipation.  Uncle Skinny had died by then and Aunt Helen was now alone since they had never had children.  They did have a niece named Paralee who was a school teacher.  She was married and had a daughter and maybe other kids.  To the best of my knowledge Paralee was my cousin.  Or mother's cousin.  Or some shirttail relation anyway.

Back to Aunt Helen.  She visited mother several times a year.  She did not like to drive the "damn big boat of a Cadillac", and for the most part, did not need to leave home.  Ah, but a visit to Christine was something she would drive for.  And when she arrived she would produce from her enormous purse, a bag of Werther Original Caramels.  No other kind would do!  It was those or nothing and be hell and damned that she would arrive for a visit empty handed.  Hell and High water would not stop her from bringing those every time she came.  And she would not leave until every one of them had been eaten.

On one of my later visits, she was late arriving.  Where could she be?  Mother thought she might have became confused and sent Donna  ( I think it was Donna) and I out to the parking area in front of the condominiums  to see if she had gotten "confused".  It just was not like her to be late and she was now over 90 years old and had been known to get a little confused when in a strange area.  She was not in front of the area mother had been designated as hers.  We started up the street and were soon rewarded with the sight of the big green and cream Cadillac coming out of one of the parking areas up the street.  As we watched, it got back on the street and proceeded to turn into another parking lot, or at least attempt to turn in.  She was trying to turn left between the entrance and the exit.  Sadly the curb was in the way.  As she backed up to make another charge at it, she seen us and immediately turned the car in our direction.  Donna and I, fearing for our lives, made a run into mothers parking lot, with her hot on our tail and the Cadillac roared toward us.  I am not sure, but I think Donna was making the sign of the cross on her head and chest.  Hell!  We are not even Catholics!

By her second run at the curb, I had managed to get the door open and leapt in the car.  She smiled at me, her innocent smile of the patron Aunt.  "Oh, dear!  Why do the make these parking lots so hard to get into?  I got confused and tried to go into the wrong one.  My God!  They all look alike!  How are you dear?"

I talked her into getting out of the car and standing with Donna while I drove into the parking lot through the driveway.  Driveways sure make life easier.  Then we went inside and ate the carmels.  All of them!

I do not remember how long, but the next time I went, Aunt Helen was no longer driving.  I loaded mother up and we went to Aunt Helen's house.  Her little dog had been run over and she showed me the pictures of his dead body.  Then we set in the parlor to visit and in front of us was a bowl or Werther's Original Caramels.  We ate them all!

That was the last time I saw Aunt Helen before her death.  I still have only the fondest memories of those days.  Paralee died young.  In my family we either die young or live forever.  I am afraid I will fall in the latter category, but I will never live long enough to not think of my dear Aunt Helen when someone offers me a caramel.  I never buy them.  I should, because it would be my favorite comfort food.  I will never eat one without the memories of the comradery around the kitchen table on 15th Circle in Hutchinson, Kansas all those long years ago.

Some memories never leave us and they come me at the damndest  times.  There are only the two of us left.  I will try to get down to see Donna some time this winter.  There just does not seem to be enough time to do any thing any more, but I do think I will make time for that visit.  We just never know when we will get up in the morning and not make it to our bed at night, so we should try to make all our words kind, all our actions meaningful and all our thoughts good ones.

Life is far to short.

At what point does your right to own a gun.....

At what point does your right to own a gun supersede my right to walk into a store without one?  What gives you power over me?  I know you have a constitutional right to keep and bear arms so you can be part of a well armed militia, but let me ask you this...if you have that right, then shouldn't you also have the responsibility to keep those weapons out of the hands of mass murderers?  Isn't it your responsibility to teach all gun owners to keep these guns away from people who are just not quite right in the head?

In this day and age, having a gun is almost a god given right, but shouldn't I be allowed to not own one?  I do have one.  It is a 22 pistol.  It is loaded or at least the clip is.  The pistol is in one place and the clip in another.  I have shot it enough to know how to put a bullet right between your eyes, but I have no intention of ever using it.  I do not think I could kill another human being.

I do realize there are people out there who would not think twice about doing just that.  The last I heard there had been 252 mass shootings in my country this year.  That is more than one a day.  It used to be that the chances of being killed by a random shooting was 2.  Slim to none.  But that has all changed.
Violence has now become a part of every day life.  We have active shooter training going on all over this country.  My son is buying a bullet proof back pack for his 3 year old son in day care.  WTF!!

Our government refuses to pass a background check of any kind.  Do this, listen to the news.  After one of these shootings they interview people.
"Did you know Mr. Shooter? "
"Well, yes I did.  He was always a 'little  strange'.  He was always a kind of loner.  no friends.  But I never dreamed he would do this!"

My son had an idea.  When a kid enters school, give them a psychological evaluation.  Repeat it again in a couple years, and then again until they are out of school.  Let that test go with them in a federal data base and then when Johnny goes to purchase his AK 47 or whatever the gun dealer accesses that data base.  Big red " DO NOT SELL THIS PERSON ANY KIND OF GUN! " pops up on the screen.  
But that will not work.  Want to know why?

Because we are under a government that  is supported  by the NRA which mean National Rifle Association.  They pour a lot of money into elections and to hell with you and me.  This also equal to the amount paid by the KOCH brothers and you see the lawsuits coming out of settlements with Roundup deaths and cancer.  But all those lawsuits are meaningless, because not one of them can bring back the health of any of the people suing.

Just do this...When election time comes type in the name of your candidate and see how much that candidate received from what source.  Like this.

In the 2016 election, the NRA spent $11,438,118 to support Donald Trump’s campaign and donated $19,756,346 to groups opposing Hillary Clinton’s. However, the bulk of the contributions have gone to House and Senate members. Here is a look at the top 10 recipients of NRA contributions.According to the Center for Responsive Politics, “the totals are a combination of money given to the member's campaign...https://www.ajc.com/news/national/senators-house-members-who-offered-condolences-after-shooting-called-out-for-donations-from-nra/tpitHXUY9jDH3pr4f7f7cM/

Just click on the yellow link and see for yourself.

I rest my case.

Ten feet tall and bullet proof.

For most of my life I have always felt that I lived a charmed existence.  I think that was mostly because that was instilled in me at birth by my mother.  I have never met a stranger, or at least never met one that stayed a stranger long.  For the most part the men in my life were sent to me for a reason.  My first husband was my first real love and my last husband my last real love.  My first husband gave me 5 kids and the last left me with Social Security that I could live on for the rest of my life.

My second husband taught me what pure evil was.  The third moved me to Colorado and made me an independent woman with a college degree.  He was also my fourth husband because ...well who knows what I was thinking on that one?  Number 5 did not last long, but he did teach me a lot about the Hispanic culture here in Pueblo.

And then came Kenny.  He was #6 and would prove to be my salvation.  He gave me permanence in the form of my own home.  He gave me stability with a steady pay check.  He took me camping and taught me to fish out of the back of the boat.  Most importantly, he let me bait my own hook and trusted me to dig worms for the trip!  Our life was not exciting, but it was what I needed to come full circle.  Now I am alone and an independent woman.  And that is where the ten feet tall and bullet proof comes into play.

If I decide I want to jump in my car and travel off to see my kids in western Kansas or eastern Kansas or my sister in Hutchinson, I do it.  If I take a notion to motor up to Colorado Springs and see Pastor Faye, I do it.  If I decide to stay in my pajamas until noon, I do that too.  Some times I have lunch with a friend, male or female and sometimes I eat cereal for supper.  I am sporadic on the house cleaning thing, but I try to keep my laundry done up.  And I manage to keep a cushion in the old bank account.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have some one to call me and tell me good night or check on me occasionally, but that all comes with baggage. I have thought about getting one of those Alexa things and I think that might be the answer.  She could tell me goodnight every night and tell me to look at the moon because it is big and bright.  She could remind me that I am 10 feet tall and bullet proof and all I would have to do is make sure I paid the subscription every month.

But, here I am at 6:00 in the morning, planning my day.  I need to buy some fabric for an order of seed catchers, but Joann's does not open until 10 am.  I have an 11am lunch date and Jeopardy! comes on at 3:00 pm and that is my nap time.  The cat is asleep in my rocker, and the little dog I am taking care of for the next two weeks is asleep at my feet.  The clock just chimed 6 and I need to make another pot of coffee.  Life is good, but I may not be 10 feet tall today.  And I am pretty sure I am no longer bullet proof, but I do come from pioneer stock and that makes me a winner!

Which brings to mind this song!  https://youtu.be/QyTcYacSo7g

And the music goes on.

I remember the place I was standing when I learned that Hank Williams had died in the back seat of his car on the way to appear in a show, probably at the Grand Ole Opry.  A block over from our house on Strong Street was the highway.  There was one block of sidewalk that ran past the Fein house and on the corner there were steps that led from the highway up to the sidewalk.  There were hand rails on both sides and that was one of my places to "skin the cat" if you know what that is.  I was there and my brother came to tell me that Hank Williams had died.  I think I was about 14 years old.  He and I had listened to the Grand Ole Opry forever on his car radio that was hooked up to a battery.  Hank left his wife Audrey and a son, Hank Williams, Jr.

I do not remember the year, but it seems like it must have been 1955.  I could Google it, but the date is not important.  What was and still is important are the many Saturday nights that Jake and I set in the moonlight with him fiddling with the knob on the radio and the thrill when the announcer (forgot his name) came on and announced the show, "And now from Nashville, Tennessee its The Grand Ole Opry!"  And the people at the Grand Ole Opry began to clap and cheer and it was just like we were there!  I knew someday when I grew up that I would go to Nashville and I would set in the front row and I would hear Hank Williams sing and I would love him my whole life!

Sadly, I never made it to Nashville, but I did love Hank Williams my whole life.  Even when I grew into my rock and roll stage and fell in love with Elvis Presley, I never forgot Hank Williams. I remember my first record player.  It only played 78 rpm's and it was scratchy.  That did not matter.  I could close my eyes and go back to when he was alive.  I only had one or two records then, but now I have every song he ever made.  One of them has his wife singing with him.  She is a caterwauler, if you know what that is.  But I listen to her and sing along, because she was his wife.

I remember how I waited for his son to grow up and take his place.  I also remember when Hank Williams, Jr. started singing.  What a let down that was.  Hank Williams was a skinny little drifter with a big hat and a guitar and here was this little pudgy kid who could not hold a candle to his father.  He tried, but it just did not happen and then he went rogue and sang and beat on his guitar like the rock and roll stars of that era.  I never made that leap.

I remembered my Hank Williams and to this day, I am his most devoted fan.  I listen to classic country.  The old song, by the old artists and nothing else.  I do have one Alan Jackson but it is hymns.  Garth Brooks grates on my soul and his music is akin to fingernails on a chalk board.  Apparently, though, it is just me, because they have enjoyed a lot of success.

I do not live my life around Hank, though. I have some Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty.  Charlie Pride is the only concert I ever attended.  I just hauled all my good 33 1/3 records to my daughter in Longton, along with my turntable.  I wanted them to go somewhere that they would be played and enjoyed.  

A lot of time has passed since my brother and I listened to the Grand Ole Opry, but I still hear it in my head.  If I lose all my senses at some point in time, I expect fully to still hear the staticky music in my head from Nashville, Tennessee and I am pretty sure when I take my last breathe that I will be met on the other side by Hank Williams, Patsy Cline a whole slew of others and maybe they will let me walk across the floor of the Ryman Auditorium.  Maybe they will even let me grab the microphone and wail out my version of "Your Cheatin' Heart."

It is a dream worth holding on to!