And so it begins.

Happy Birthday to me, yesterday.  Just about everybody else my age is dead.  Gives me a lot to look forward to, doesn't it?  Those of you who follow my blog have probably figured out that I have a small problem with depression.  Not many people in my everyday world have figured that out.  This week marks my birthday, my only surviving brother in law's birthday, my son's birthday and ends on the 5th with my brother's birthday.  My brother has been gone 54 years.  I still remember it like it was yesterday.  It never gets better.

I remember the day I married my first husband (October 30)  and my last husband (December 23).  I remember the date the last husband passed but not the first one.  I have a mental block about a lot of things and that is probably the only thing that actually saves my sanity.  I just know I hate the whole month of October.  Unlike a lot of people, I tend to grieve inwardly so nobody knows.  I may be talking to you about the most mundane thing in the world and I am smiling, but I am seeing Jake standing in front of me with his lopsided grin and the scar on his right cheek.  I am hearing Hank Williams wailing in the background.  WSM from Nashville every Saturday night. It never goes away.

I realize blogs like this make my kids sad, because I am sad, but what they need to remember is this is my past.  I was not always their mother.  I have to deal with this on a daily basis.  I do not want sympathy, I just want understanding.  I will be alright.  Where there is life there is hope.  I do not need to go out and eat.  I do not need flowers, I just need my time.  This will pass.  It always does.

This month, I am undertaking a new kind of volunteer work.  It is not like Hospice where every client ends up dying.  It is one that involves dealing with people who are actually trying to get off the streets and into a home of their own.  I am not sure where this path will lead me, but I am going to go slow and find out.  Usually I jump in with both feet and tilt at windmills, but not this time.  Someone will lead and I will follow.

So, as I deal with my demons this month, be patient with me.  I have a theory that God is not through shaping me yet and I am sure of one thing:  God knows what he is doing and he is going to bring me out on the other side a lot better person than I was before.

He has a way of doing that, you know!

It is time to talk about that damn cell phone.

"And God saw the earth, that it was good.  And he created man...." and had it stopped there, we could have all lived happily ever after, but he did not.  He gave us a brain and free will.  And the cell phone!  And he did it pretty much in that order.

I remember back before Strong Street in Nickerson, we lived in a little 4 room house on a road with no name in the Ailmore house.  It was a little square house with a combination living/dining room, kitchen, and 2 bedrooms.  Dad always had his own room and us kids slept like little sardines in iron frame beds with cotton stuffed mattresses and covered up with wool blankets.  It was during World War II I am thinking.  The floors were wooden planks.  No linoleum for us.  I went out the back door and into the pump house to take turns with Jake pumping water for the old cow who gave us milk.  The outhouse was off to the left of that.  I am not sure it had a door, but that is not relevant to this story.  I am hear to tell you about the Lord inventing cell phones and how it has changed my life.

We had a wooden box phone on the wall and I wished to hell I had it today.  I could sell it and retire.  The point here is if some one wanted to talk to us they picked up the receiver and Mrs. Humphrey (and that was her name) said "Number please."  You told her the number and she plugged your cord into the number you wanted.  Lines were crackly, but you were connected.  Over the years this has changed and we now poke in the number we want and the connection is made.  Not  good enough.

We now have "cell phones".  These things have evolved until every one is now connected with a "smart phone."  We can call any where to any where else on our smart phones.  We can speak into the belly of the smart phone and send a text message.  Or make a reservation on a plane to nowhere.  Or set an alarm to wake us up in 7 minutes.  Or watch a movie.  Or listen to music.  Get direction to some obscure place.  Well, maybe you can.  Me, not so much!

I can find the button to turn mine on.  I have yet to find the button to turn it off.  Or the volume key, so I can hear it ring.  I can see a tiny little thing flashing and some one said, "Oh, you have a message."  Well that message shall die with the phone.  I can not see the tiny little icons well enough to decipher what they are without my glasses and by the time I find my glasses the screen has safely hidden itself and  God only knows where.  When it rings, I think it is my stomach growling because I can not hear it.  Well, unless I am in church or some place quiet and then that sucker can make a sound like a tug boat in a foggy bay.

My house phone has now been relegated to the humble job of finding the damn cell phone so I can put it in my purse where in can flash and carry one like a new puppy in a field of daisies.  I call it and if it is turned on and I can actually hear it ring I can then see the message "8 missed calls."  With luck I can find the "missed call list" and find out the 8 calls were me looking for the damn phone.  You know I would throw the damn thing in the river if I thought it would stay there, but it has a life of it's own.

And now it is almost 5 o'clock in the morning and I just realized I do not know where that evil little piece of plastic is located.  I like to think I don't care, but what if I missed a call?  What if someone wanted to actually talk to me?  What if someone needed ME! So, I am going to go see if I can find it and turn it off.  That is assuming I know how to do that and that it will let me!

Have a good day!

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.

Lou Mercer Words of Wisdom: It is time to talk about ghosts.: I have been kicking dirt around this planet for over 7 decades now (assuming a decade is 10 years.)  I have seen many things and been many ...

It is time to talk about ghosts.

I have been kicking dirt around this planet for over 7 decades now (assuming a decade is 10 years.)  I have seen many things and been many places, and not all of them made a lot of sense; ghosts being one of those.  I am here to tell you about my encounters.

When Earl D and I were first married he was a fly by night tree trimmer and we traveled Kansas.  He gave an honest day's work for honest pay, but we moved around a lot.  My first ghost encounter occurred out side of Burlingame ( I think) near Topeka.  We stayed in a motel located on the Marais des Cygnes River.  While he and his brothers were working I liked to go fish off the bank which was very near the motel.  That was some good cat fishing I am hear to tell you.  We had an electric skillet and could cook in our room, so it was all good.

It must have been the second week we were there he did not make it home from the bar, which was located about 100 feet from our room.  I decided to go to bed.  I woke up about an hour later to a cold hand gripping my throat.  This scared hell out of me.  I threw the covers back and slid to the edge of the bed.  I could not make my legs work.  I flipped the light switch and nothing happened.  But that cold hand still gripped my neck.  I can relive that encounter over in my mind and at no point does it ever make sense.  The whole encounter lasted only a few moments, but when Duane walked through the door it abruptly ended.  I was so white and shaken it scared even him.  We left there soon after because I was afraid to stay alone.  What ever I encountered that night was pure evil.  It was cold and I was afraid.

That was my first and only ghost encounter until now.  A couple weeks ago, my grandson asked who had the code to the house.  You and me!  He then told me that he had come home earlier that day and some one was in here.  What did they look like?  He never actually seen them, but he knew he was not alone and they left right away.  (Strains of Close Encounters ran through my mind.)  Fast forward to Saturday night.

Mike had told me he would not be home Friday or Saturday.  Saturday night at 12:10 I heard the front door open and and close.  Footsteps sounded on the stairs and I decided he must have changed his mind.  It sounded like 2 people instead of just one.  That was strange.  The next morning I got up and Mike's car was not out front.  That was strange.  I then figured he must of came home and picked something up.  About 8:00 the front door opened and Mike came in.  No, he had not been home since Thursday.  No, he did not come in last night and leave.

It was then that he reminded me of his encounter with nothing a couple weeks ago.  He thought I might have been asleep and dreamed it, but I knew what time it had happened because I had just made my nightly potty break and I was awake.

So this is where we now stand.  I am not living here alone.  The presence seems to be a friendly one, which is good.  Someone at church suggested I have someone come and "smudge my house."  Not going to do that either.  If it was that ghost I encountered in Northeast Kansas, I would probably burn the house down, because that one felt evil.  This one does not.  Maybe it is someone who just wants to be sure I am alright.

So I am going to do nothing.  I just wondered if any of you have had this sort of experience?  If you have, message me on facebook so we can talk.

Sock hop, Convention Hall, Hutchinson, Kansas , 1957

Back in 1957, a boy walked up to me and asked me "What is your front name? "  I thought that was strange, but I told him "Louella ".  His front name was "Corky."

Oh, to return to that year!  I was 16 years old.  American Bandstand was the goal of everyone of us little teeny boppers back then.  The most important item of attire back then was a clean pair of bobbi sox, a full skirt and crinoline petticoats.  My dancing partner was Corky Dipman and we won every time we danced.  I loved Corky with my whole heart and had I died in my 16th year, I would have left behind the perfect world.  The highlight of that summer was when Corky took me to Wichita to Joyland amusement park.  The fact that we rode so many rides that I ended up barfing from the top of the Roundup, was not enough to dim the memory of that day.  The fact that we skipped school to go and were the only ones there made it even more wonderful.

I went back to Wichita many years later and found Joyland abandoned and rusting.  The carousel  horses were gone from the Merry Go Round,  and the tracks for the Roller Coaster were rusted and twisted.  Tumble weeds grew where our feet had walked.  I could still hear the laughter and see Corky smile.  Ah, the days of sand and shovels!

I think he was my first boyfriend and I do not know why we broke up.  I think he actually started going with a girl who had more to offer then flying feet.  I think I may have become interested in home brew that my new friend LaVeta had to offer.  And she knew lots of boys from Sterling, Kansas and they were not jocks.  I never much liked the sports scene and the boys with the letter jackets even back then.  I did like the home brew and the cigarettes, though.

Shorthand was my favorite subject in school.  I envisioned myself being a secretary and I loved the shorthand tablets.  What I liked best was the size and that the back cardboard cover had all the shorthand symbols printed for me just in case I forgot.  I still have that kind of tablet for notes, but they no longer contain the shorthand symbols and that is kind of sad.  I never did master the typewriter.  One girl in class could actually type over 90 (?) wpm.  That means "words per minute."  I think 24 was the best I could do.  Sadly, to be a secretary in any place that mattered, one had to be proficient in both typing and shorthand.  Alas!

Sadly, school held little fascination for me and I envisioned a life full of rainbows and butterflies.  Well, you see how that turned out, don't you?  I started my restaurant career with my hands buried in a sink full of dirty dishes.  I dreamed then of being a waitress.  When I moved up the chain to waitress, I dreamed of being the cook.  I finally became the cook.  And the baker and cake decorator. Now I am a seamstress!  Go figure!

But, as I look back on my life, it was good.  It was all good.  Even the bad parts were good.  My name went from Louella Beth to Lou Mercer.

My oldest daughter always said "What don't kill you, will make you strong."  Lot of wisdom in that girl.  Maybe I never made it to American Bandstand with Dick Clark, but I made it this far in life and that right there is about the best I can hope for.  I figure American Bandstand made it a lot of years without me for a reason.

I think God had other plans for this little girl.  Not real sure what they were, but here's hoping I did whatever I was put here to do.  If not, I hope I get it done pretty damn quick!  

Coming to a close?

As I enter this last quarter of the year, I also enter a time that makes me sad.  It begins with my birthday, and then Jake's birthday 4 days later.  2 of my kids were born in October.  My brother died in October.  I got a divorce or 2 in October, but most of my divorces were good things.  Actually, all of them were good things.  Mother always said that old people, and sick people are like the leaves on the tree.   People die in the fall when the leaves fall from the tree.  Actually, people seem to be dying around me with an amazing regularity.  Not all of them are old, but a lot of them are.  I guess I am old so I may be in this years Autumn leaf drop.  Maybe, maybe not.  I just know fall is my least favorite season and October is my least favorite month.

Mother died in the Springtime; Kenny in the Winter.  The point is, death is becoming a regular visitor and I do not like that.  I have one sister left.  No brothers, no uncles, no aunts.  I am now the older generation and I do not like that.  I used to have someone to guide me and lead me and teach me the things to say and do, but now I fly by the seat of my pants and my wisdom is not always the best.  There was a time I could spout wisdom and Bible verses and quote the leader of the day.  Now, I just don't seem to give a damn.  My time is mostly spent moving stuff from one pile to another in anticipation of some day having a garage sale and getting rid of enough junk that I could possibly move into a small place in town.  That and napping through Jeopardy! is about the extent of my ambition.  Good thing I am good at napping, because that is about all I am good for.

At one point I thought I would write a sequel to my first book, but I have been stuck on chapter 5 for 4 years now and every time I think about picking it up, I have to reread the whole thing to jog my memory and then it is time for another nap.  It seems to be a vicious circle.

At one point I thought I should start dating, but I expect way to much out of a man.  First, he has to be neat, which I am not.  He has to be ambitious enough to want to take me for a walk, but able to understand that I am not broken to a leash.  Opening car doors is nice.  I would love to go dancing.  That is something I did all my life, until Kenny.  Poor little guy, had not a lick of rhythm in his whole body, so dancing was out.  Not sure I remember how to do that anymore, but I would love to try.  Conversation is a must.  I love to talk and I love to listen.  That does not mean I will remember anything that was said, but something might find fertile ground.

I do not know how I made the leap from my dread of October to dating, but I did!  I do my best thinking early in the morning and now it is going on 8:00 AM so I have pretty much shot my wad for the day.  Oh, well, maybe tomorrow will be better.  In the meantime, here is a poem that somebody, some where wrote and some teacher made me memorize it.  It has a lot of wisdom in it, so take it for what it is worth.

"The wise old owl sat on the oak.
The more he saw, the less he spoke.
The less he spoke the more he heard.
We should all try to be like that wise old bird." 

Holy crap! Can you say arachniphobia?

I know humans in other parts of this world will not understand the phobia that is now in process here in southwest Colorado,  but I do and it strikes fear in my heart and causes me to stick a little closer to the inside of the house.  To make it short, I am scared shitless of spiders.  That fear is known as arachnophobia. Right now the Tarantula migration is in progress and if you think I am going to venture very far from this sanctuary I call home, you are sadly mistaken. I just watched a news cast that only adds fuel to my already Saint Vitus dance fear.  The lady was explaining how the Comanche National Grassland is home to thousands and thousands of Oklahoma Brown Tarantulas'.

Now she explained how sweet they are.  They are not really migrating, but they are looking for a mate and then they will hatch out a whole bunch more of these things.  Their biggest enemy is a thing called a Tarantula Hawk.  (That vision ought to make me sleep better at night.)  The Tarantula Hawk is actually a giant wasp and it swopes down and paralyzes the spider, drags it to the burrow and lays eggs in it's back.  It also feeds on the live, paralyzed spider for weeks while the eggs are hatching.  Gross!

I have always been scared spitless of spiders and the list of which ones I am scared of more then others varies from which one I am seeing at the moment.  I did see a Tarantula crossing the road up on 25th lane once.  I did swerve to miss it, not out of compassion for the spider, but I was afraid the car would turn over if I hit it or worse yet if I straddled it, the thing might jump up on the crankcase and make it's way into my car and then there would be a lot more screaming going on!  I am pretty sure that they creep around this house when I am not looking, but I am alright with that as long as they do not let me see them, but if one wants to wave his legs around there is going to be some blood curdling screams emitted from the depths of my soul.  I do not know if they have ears or not and for the most part I really do not care.

My fear list begins with spiders and then comes centipedes, followed by snakes.  Rabid dogs and bats are alright as are most birds.  I do buy my insecticide by the gallon.  See, all that stuff belongs outside and my two lower levels tend to be pretty much a toxic waste dump.  I gave up my garden because I saw a snake under one of the squash plants.  I am here to tell you people that I may not be normal, but I do love most of you and I am a compassionate person at times.  That having been said, I shall start my day and see where it goes from here.

If you want to see the migration, you need to drive out to La Junta and head towards Trinidad.  I will not be joining you.

 Here is the link.