Momma

As I look back down the road that brought me here to where I have lived for the last 40 years, there is one person I see that quietly shaped me into the woman I am today.  My momma.  She was the glue that held our family together.  She was a very proud woman.  I only remember her holding me a few times, but those were times when I needed held or I would have surely shattered.  Once was when the baby calf died and the other was when I lost my brother, her only son.  I am sure that hug was what both of us needed at the time.

My first memories of my life centered around the Stroh place.  Those were the good days.  Those were the times when dad worked and took care of us.  Momma belonged to "club" and attended once a month.  She dressed in her "good dress" and wore a hat.  Josephine and Jake were old enough to stay home but I went with her.  I had to set on the floor beside her chair and be quiet because children were to be seen and not heard and I seemed to be the only kid there.  The women discussed recipes and sewing and stuff like that which any 4 year old kid would not understand.  Never anything personal.  God forbid!

I do not know what my dad did for a living, but I am pretty sure it was shady because I have snippets of memory of a big 3 story house across the river and my dad went inside and left me in the wagon.  I was terrified of that big horse and some times it looked at me and snorted, showing his big yellow teeth, which added to my fear.  Then some time after that we loaded all our "stuff" on a hay rack and moved down the road to the other side of town to the Ailmore place.  It was at that time that Dad quit whatever he was doing and mother started cleaning houses for the "ladies" in town.  By this time I was in first grade.  Then, whoosh!  we moved again.  

This time we were buying the house on the other side of town.  Dad was share cropping with a man named John Britain.  Momma took business classes at Salt City Business College and then started working as a secretary.  Dad started running the Domino/Pool Hall up on main street in Nickerson.  In my Junior year we moved to Hutchinson and it was downhill from there.

The point of this is that through my life, my mother has been the one constant in my life.  She was always there.  She was never the "touchy feally" mother in the story books, but she was always the backbone of the family.  She made sure the food was on the table.  She made sure we had clothes on our backs.  She was the one that inisisted we go to Sunday School and then sit quietly in church.  My first communion was at her knee.  My first poem was published in some kids magazine and she bought it and kept it for years.  

 When I married my first husband and went to her with my first black eye, she explained that "this is a man's right and you need to try harder."  That was the only time she tried to guide me through my "wifely duties."  My method of dealing with my children when a husband hit them was much different from my mother.  "Divorce the a##hole!"

But I digress. This is about my mother and the examples she set for me.  From her I learned a deep and abiding love for my saviour.  Jesus Christ is never far from my thoughts and I do not make a decision without first running it by him and then thinking "What would momma think about this?"  Now granted, I do not always do what I know either one of them would recommend and I usually regret my decision.  Good Lord made the mistake of giving us "free will".  That means he lets us make our own decisions.  In those instances, I usually end up regretting my actions which brings into play the next lesson, "live and learn."

So here I set in the sunset of my life, thinking about momma.  I wonder what my life would have been had I actually listened to her?  She was a wise woman.  Compassion for other people and for the citizens of the world was paramount in her life.  I knew my mother loved me as surely as I know the sun will come up tomorrow.  My mother was wise and kind and when I would tell her that she say that I was prejudiced.  When I told her she was the best mother in the world she said other kids thought that about their mothers.  

But I do know this, I did have the best mother in the world.  She may not have been the best mother for other kids, but she was best for me.  God put me right where he wanted me to be to learn the lessons I needed. Some day I will get it right and be right up there in heaven with my sweet Jesus and my momma!  I may see a lot of people I know, or I may not see any.  It will all be revealed when the time is right.  

But until that day, I shall watch and wait, and I shall remember my sweet momma.  While I mourn my brother and my sisters that have gone before me and yearn for my grandmas and the grandpas I never knew, I am filled with anticipation!  Some one asked me once if I believed in the hereafter and Jesus.  I told them this, "If I did not believe I could not continue to put one foot in front of the other here on this earth. "  

My goal is my crown and my hope is in my salvation and all of that is centered around my saviour and my mother.

Any more questions?

.  

5 sons in law!

 The last blog I did was totally in accurate!  I have 5 sons in law and only God knows how many ex sons in law.  Course if I count the exes and the steps we could be here for days, so I am just not going there!  

I am not going into further detail.  I will just update you on the Covid-19 situation at my house.  Yesterday I went over to Mesa Pharmacy and got my booster.  In and out in 15 minutes.  Just had to wait to make sure I wasn't dizzy.  I love that place!  They have the sharpest needles in the world.  Not that I get a lot of shots but when I do, I so enjoy a sharp needle!

I am going to move my prescription over there since I am in there dropping things in thier mailbox several times a week.

I have to go buy goose food today and that is all for my errands.  Lord I hope this day is good!

Ok, I am out of here.  Have a good day!

No matter where you go...

 No matter where you go, you are still going to be there!  This was the brilliant observation of one of my  ex-sons in law.  Not sure which one it was, but I will attribute it to one named Keith and leave his last name buried in my memory.  I rather doubt that he reads this blog or even knows of its, but in the event he does, I am sure he will get a kick out of this.  I still see him from time to time and we are both surprised that the other has survived life this long.  Of course he is no longer with the daughter he was married to at the time, but since I was not named in the divorce action I can call him one of my old used to be sons in law.

Most of my sons in law lived in mortal terror of offending me in one way or another, but a couple actually endeared themselves in my heart and remain so to this day.  Take Hammer for instance!  He was 2 tours in Vietnam, a biker with a Harley, drank like a fish and had more hair than Lady Godiva!  He and my daughter Debbie, were jailed once for refusing to break the death grip they had on each other in the middle of 4th Street.  The first time he came to my house he ended up face down here in my office because an aerosol can exploded in the neighbor's trash that was burning in the field out back.  PTSD.  He said something once and I exclaimed, "Are you nuts?" and he replied, "Yes I am and I am certified!  Get a pension for it!"   They are still together and live in Eastern Kansas.  They are raising 3 grandkids and are approaching 40 years of wedded bliss, I think.  They were married at the Pueblo County Court house.  I was Maid of Honor and Shirly Smith was Hammer's Best Man.  Good times!

My girls are much like me in that they need to sort through and figure out just what they actually want in a husband and then they are settled for life.  My son, however, waited for what he was sure he wanted and is now living happily ever after in Dallas, Texas.

I guess Kenny spoiled me for ever wanting to take the plunge again.  I have been a widow for 20 years now.  I rarely date, and when I do, it does not take long to figure out that being alone suits me!  Something about not answering to a man appeals to my base nature. "I eat when I'm hungry, I drink when I'm dry, and if whiskey don't kill me, I'll live till I die."

Right now it is 3:21 AM and I am up for the day.  What man would understand this?  I am going to go into the kitchen pretty soon and warm up some butter beans I cooked a couple days ago.  Man would want something cooked like hashbrowns, bacon, eggs and toast with a big cup of coffee.  I may cook that some afternoon, but not today.

I am just setting here counting my sons in law.  I have 4 daughters and have had a total of 12 sons in law I think.  May have missed one there somewhere, but if so I apologize.  

The other thing I have learned in life is that when you are over the hill you pick up speed.  That little adage puts all the rest in perspective.  

So as my clock approaches 4:00 AM, I am going to say that I am happy with the men in my daughters lives at the present time, and they all look like they have settled in for the long haul!  That is good.  Life is good.  My life is good.  One word of advice...

If life hands you a lemon, make lemonade!

Peace!

Way back when

 Back when I was a wee lass and protected from the harsh reality of the world, Thanksgiving was different.  Our mode of transportation was mostly on the back of an old plow horse or our two feet.  Of course we rarely left Nickerson, but occasionally we did.  The grandmas and aunts lived in Plevna which was 20 miles.  But this one time I am remembering my dad had a son that lived in Hutchinson and invited us to Thanksgiving dinner.  That was a 12 mile trip and central Kansas in the winter is nothing short of brutal.  So, us kids were all a twitter for the upcoming adventure.  

Since it had snowed the night before we awoke to a freezing cold landscape with a brilliant sun shining.  Mom and dad figured it would take us about 3 hours to make the trip.  We bundled up in our coats and scarves and prayed to the good Lord above to please, just keep us out of the ditch.  Mother had heated rocks in a bundle to help keep us warm since the cars back then did not have heaters.   We had wool army blankets to huddle under.  And off we went.

We sailed down the highway at about 6 miles an hour.  Of course we carried cans of water because the radiator leaked and we stopped regularly to add water to the radiator.  We arrived at Earl's house before noon and we were so relieved to be there.  His wife's name was Gertie.  The house was heated by a "gravity flow heater".  The heat was transferred to the house by means of an open grate in the floor.  One of the boys (Leon I think) had crawled across the grate and been badly burned.  Back in those days this was a fairly regular occurrence. He did carry the scars for as long as I knew him.

I do not recall the dinner, perse, but I know it was good and I know there was pie.  And corn, mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey, dinner rolls and casseroles of something.  We prayed over our dinner.  We never ate a meal that was not prayed over by the men of the household.  Well except at the grandma's because there were no men there.  We used to pray about everything that affected us from the moment we got up until the prayers were said preparatory to bed.  I kind of miss that.  But back to the trip.

We had to leave as soon as the midday meal was over and the kitchen "redded up" in order to be home in time to do the nightly chores.  So loaded with leftovers we began the trip back to our house.  We knew if we waited too long the roads would "freeze up" and make driving hazardous.  Every one of us had to make a last stop in the necessay room to avoid having to pee alongside the road where "God and everybody would see our bottom!"

Even back then at the tender age of 8 or nine, I loved my family.  All of them.  Even the ones I did not know.  Looking back is always better because I have my selective memory and I was bound to my sisters and brothers with a blood line that would never change.  Or so I thought.  I have one sister left.  We are not in touch any more.  She is busy and I am in Colorado.  It used to bother me, but not any more.  I have friends who are closer then any blood could ever be.  I have children that think I hung the moon! I just had my 80th Thanksgiving and there was no one there that carried my blood in their veins, but that does not matter.  I was thankful for the meal and the comraderie and the 2 dogs that showed up later.

The trip up and the trip back was uneventful and with traffic like it is, uneventful is good!  So this Thanksgiving I can give thanks for those that I love and those that love me.  Thanks for friendships and kinships that make my world go around.  And most of thank the universe for spinning and holding me to the earth, grounded in friendships, kinships and the tiny flowers that are going to sleep for the winter and will burst forth next Spring to thrill me with their beauty.

But most of all thank my God for surrounding me with the compassion of my friends and family who have accepted me as I am with all my faults and short comings.  Thanks to God for giving me a clear mind and a strong back and an innate insight that lets me see people as they are and overlook their shortcomings.

Today is the day that the Lord has made!  Let us rejoice and be glad in it!

Peace!       

Oh, the things you do not say!

 I have a friend and when he starts to talk, he crosses his arms in front of himself.  Feet are apart and his back is straight with toes pointing slightly outward.  Now this screams "I am going to protect myself and you are not going to get close."  The words that come out of his mouth may be as casual as what a nice day it is or what he had for lunch, but the message relayed to me is nothing I am hearing.  Psychology 101.

I notice this in myself also.  Usually, I am pretty laid back and not much ruffles my little feathers, but occasionally the defenses go up and I turn inward and you can talk till you are blue in the face and I will not hear a word you say.  The conversation inevitably begins with "You just need to..." and ends with me sorting the mail and cleaning off the table.   You may think I just "need to", but unless it is my idea the need evades me.  

So, friend or foe, let's do this.... let us sit down here at the table.  I will fetch us a beverage of your choice.  I have coffee, tea, and water.  Hot or cold on the first two.  And be aware before you get too comfortable, there will be no winner or loser at this table!  You will no doubt think I took every word to heart but you are going to be sadly mistaken.  The conclusion that you draw from our conversation is now what you think you wanted all along.  You have been played by the master!

Mostly my life goes on every day in a mundane manner.  The dust piles in the corner and the cat hair covers the setting places in front of the television.  I gave up on the green carpet of grass outside the front and back door.  I now opt for the late fall dead weed scenario.  I do not have much company and that is due to the Covid crap that some bat in a lab in China is credited with developing.  Do not misunderstand me on this, my life is good!  Occasionally I will venture down into the sewing room and sew something interesting, like place mats or a quilt.  I made a lap quilt the other day and may make more of them and drop them off at the nursing home.  Then again I may not.

Today I am off to Monument with Ross, Rooster and Missy for Thanksgiving dinner with Robin and Terri and their family.  We will be missing Anna who is still in England and I, for one will miss her!  (When are you coming home, my little friend?) 

I got a new "kitty bed" for my Icarus and she sleeps beside me when I work here on the computer.  Right now the only sound in my house is the sound of the furnace that keeps me warm and the tinnitus ringing in my ears.

Life is good here on South Road most of the time.  I did have a fox problem a while back, but I solved that by buying a trap and playing catch and release with the neighbors cats.  

Now I see I have once more digressed from the subject I started to write about, but then that is one of the reasons I write and you read!  So, let us all go enjoy whatever we have planned for today and then meet here again later!  Right now I have to go whip a pint of cream to pile on the Tres Lechen Cake I made to take with us.  I plan on tossing a few Blueberries  on top followed by a sprinkling of cinnamon.  Maybe tomorrow I will remember what I wanted to tell you today, but for now,

Happy Thanksgiving and may our good Lord watch over us in our travels.

Peace!

November 21, 2020

One year ago on this  November 21 at 6:38 AM my cell phone pinged.  I was awake and had been for a while.  It was when I saw the message and that it was from Anthony that I was faintly surprised.  "The keys to the house are in the mailbox."  That disturbed me.  So I dressed and headed for town.

My phone rang before I got to his house and it was friends of his from Pueblo West who had been talking to him the night before and were concerned.  They were on their way to his house and just wanted me to know they were concerned. He had been home in isolation for over a week with Covid.

I arrived before they did so I got the house keys and opened the door and went inside.  His car keys and phone were on the kitchen table.  I had never been downstairs except once to check out his new furnace.  Since he was not upstairs, I knew he must be downstairs and he was.  His bedroom was at the far end of the basement and he was in bed covered up.  I told him I was going to call for help and he said "OK."

The rest is history.  Now I have always been a strong woman, but this has been a rollercoaster ride for me.  PTSD is what they call it.  Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It happens to military in times of battle.  It happens to anyone who has been through trauma of about any kind. It would not happen to me because I would not let it.  As referenced above, I am a strong woman.  Don't let that statement fool you!

Strength has nothing to do with it.  I must equate it with the rides at the carnival.  There are a couple that will have you going very fast forward and then suddenly you are going the other direction.  How you keep your head on your shoulders is beyond me, but it happens.  My life the past year has been just that.  I am normal.  I am driving down the street enjoying the beauty of an Autumn Day and singing my old country music with the CD player and before the next breath I am parked and sobbing on a side street. 

 This is my new normal.  

We were friends.  I thought we were good friends.  I guess what I am dealing with now, a year later is the loss of that friend.  There are steps that should be taken in dealing with death and I have done that, but there are gaps in my mind of that morning and they may never be resolved.  PTSD.   

It was never about love or the lack of it.  It was never personal.  It was not something he did to me or because of me.  I was never a factor in the planning that led to the final act.  I just was.  But by the simple act of "being", I became a means to an end.

So, as I take stock of the situation as it now stands, I know what needs to be done.  Get over it.  Move on.  Give it to God.  The mind is a simple thing, or is it?  Are there maybe things that we encounter on our way to the cross that our minds cannot fathom?  We all have our own concept of reality.  What seems right and normal to me may be ludicrous to you.  What is the answer to how I can finally resolve this in my mind?  

I don't know, but I do know this:  I have friends who care.  I have family who care.  I have a good life.  I still know how to live, love, and laugh.  I just need to do it more.  The answer is not inside these four walls.  I have already said goodbye to Anthony.  I now need to open myself up to a future.  I need to accept love that is all around me and fly high and free!

Peace and Love!

 

I missed the "dirty thirties!"

 Momma, Dad Josephine and Jake were there for the "dirty thirties", but I was but a mere gleam in my Daddy's eye at the time.  I think they were called that because the wind blew and there was no vegetation to hold the soil.  I could be wrong, but I think that, "therefore it is!" And we do all live by what we believe to be true, don't we?

I do know that I used to have a bunch of ration stamps.  I think I sold them on ebay because every time I looked at them, it made me sad.  There is just something about poverty that seems to eat at my very soul.  I am not poor and I am not rich by any means, but I am "secure" and that is what I have clawed and scratched my whole life to attain.  I guess I may fall in the category of the "working poor."   

Poverty seems to have a hold that goes to the bottom of my soul.  I have my house, car, savings and am secure, but I still have little habits that irritate even me.  I have all kinds of things I do to make a few extra dollars.  I am a seamstress and the money I make from that goes into my third bank account which is known as "my third bank account."  That money is designed for things I need and want as opposed to my first bank account which is for my retirement check which supports the house and feeds me.  I also have a savings account with a minimal balance in case the other two dry up.  To say I live from hand to mouth would be a good way to describe it.  But be aware that I do this not because I am dirt poor, but because the memory of when I was dirt poor is ingrained into my very being to the bottom of my soul.  It is an empty part in me that can never be filled.  It is what guides every thing I do from the time I get up until I go to bed at night.

First, I am a hoarder.  My closet is filled with clothes I have never worn and will never wear, but still I keep every stitch.  I went yesterday to buy new panties and bras.  I came home with 3 bras and forgot the panties.  I went through my old bras and did not throw any away.  The new ones are in the back for a "special occasion" and I want to ask you just what in the hell that means?  I can not foresee every wearing them until all the straps and fastners fall off the old ones and can not be stitched back on!  When I put a pair of underwear on and they slide down before I can get my jeans on, out they go.

It does not stop there!  I eat alone most of the time.  I do cook and I try to cook for one, but that does not happen.  I was trained in "institutional cooking", which means every meal is built with an army in mind.  this means that if I cook a pot of beans, I will eat on that pot until it is gone or until it grows a soft, green mold across its top whilst setting in the refrigerator waiting to be "warmed up one more time".

I am looking at plastic tubs in the middle of my front room full of yarn.  I love yarn and am now in the process of crocheting "market bags" since I hear plastic bags are going to be discontinued at the end of the year.  Sadly, most of my yarn is polyester or some such synthetic that for some reason I can not bring myself to use on my "recycle bags."  You do notice that the beginning of this paragraph uses the word "tubs" with an "s"?

It does not stop there.  Every scrap of paper must be used on both sides.  Any container with a lid can be used for storage of something that should have, no doubt, been thrown out long ago.  I have probably 6,000 yards of fabric down stairs that I will use "some day".  When I do make a quilt I go buy "new fabric" just for that purpose.

I have 2 heavy duty mixers and one Kitchen Aid.  Also have an assortment of ladles, mixing spoons, measuring cups and spoons, cutting boards, knives of every size and shape for chopping or cutting anything that does or does not move.  I have five different sizes of roasters!  One for a very small piece of meat all the way up to a 20 pound turkey and beyond.

My mother is the one who pointed out to me that I was a hoarder and why.  Kenny's mother used to wrap up a tablespoon of leftovers and put it in the freezer for "later".  

We save containers.  We save boxes.  We save change.  Nothing is save from us and everything that crosses my path has more than one use.  It is sad, but you know what is sadder?  That our society is not geared to people like me.  Drink a pop, throw away the can.  Eat a half of a sandwich, throw the other half in the trash.  Thirsty?  Spend $1.50 on a bottle of water and drink half of it and throw the rest in the trash.  I wonder how many tons of trash are generated every day on this poor planet?

The longer I live the more thankful I am that this world is not my home, I'm only passing through! click here to play

People who forget the past tend to repeat it!  Just something to think about!