Dolly wants a new black and white purse!

Ah, Dolly decided she wanted a new purse, so I told her I could most definitely accomadate her in that area as I had just finished making several new ones and I was sure one had her name on it!  Dolly and Jerry attend the same church that I attend, or I should say I attend their church since they were there a long time before I showed up on Sundays. It does not take long to figure out just what I do in my spare time, cause I am happy to share that news.  I am now making purses which I shall offer for sale on eBay, but my friends get first choice and they get a break on the price.  And let me tell you, this little Dolly is just that!  She is the sweetest little person I think I have ever laid eyes on and her husband, Jerry, is absolutely devoted to her as you shall see in the last picture on this post. 

So here is Jerry telling her, "Sure, honey, it that is the one you want, cost is not object.  What ever you want is what I want."  Or something along that line.  You should know that they very recently celebrated an anniversary that took my breathe away.  Seems like 65 years or something like that, but look at her!  She is not old enough to have been married that long.  She is just as fresh and dewy eyed as she can be.

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We had discussed whether the handles were long enough since some women do like to hook thier purse on their shoulder.  I do, but I expect to look for a shoulder bag.  So Jerry, since he is the one who usually carries Dolly's purse decided to model it.  So he did and he pronounced that it was just about perfect.

And since the deal is struck, here I am getting a check for my wares.  Ah, everyone fared well on this little transaction, although I did rather hate to part with that purse as it was one of my personal favorites.   But  if it must go to a new home, I am sure it will be happy at Jerry and Dolly's house.  Besides, I will probably see it again next Sunday!

 

Do I have class? I do not think so.

I used to think I had class.  May not have been high class, but I could get by and fit in with almost anyone any where.  Now I have had occasion to rethink the whole class thing.  I was having coffee with a friend the other day when I first began thinking maybe I was not on the same level as he was.  Granted he came from Denver via San Francisco via Philadelphia, drives a Lexus and actually owns a camel hair jacket of some sort or another.  Maybe it was a blazer.  We were discussing a play he had seen and as I sat there I watched him as he described having gone to the theater.  Theater.  I had at one time watched a movie.  The fact that I could not recall what it was about when it was over should have been the first clue.  "Shall we go to the theater?" is a far cry from "Want to catch a movie?" or "There is a play at the Impossible Players tonight".   Theater denotes that I will be wearing a dress of some sort and will behave in a civilized manner.  Movie would be jeans and tennies.  Play means we are going to eat before we go!

Just as "dinner engagement" is the direct opposite of "What's for supper?"  so "Brunch" is to "early lunch or late breakfast."  As I sat there engaged in this one sided conversation, my mind began to slowly point out the differences in our two worlds.  He talks in a quiet, well enunciated, sedate voice.  If something is funny, he laughs softly or smiles to himself.  I am more middle of the road, well more clear the hell and gone over there in the ditch.  I have been known to throw my head back and laugh very loudly if something is funny.  That is not done in polite society.  I usually kick my shoes off at the front door.  He wears his even when he is home alone. His hands are very soft and white.  His nails are manicured.  My hands are calloused. The majority of my nails are out of the quick, and no two are the same length.  His hair is pulled back and I think he just got in from the stylist.  No two hairs in my head go the same direction.  He will open the door for me and all I have to do is stand  and smile at him, but I don't feel like playing the game today.  I am out of there.

Now I should make a note here that this was not our first cup of coffee.  We had, in fact been to lunch a couple times and gone for a drive in the mountains.  He seemed to have the sense of humor that is necessary to me.  He is financially secure,  which is also important.  This was not my first rodeo, but it may have been his.  Remember when I said I was going to do the dating thing this year?  Well, this was  a feeble attempt at getting started on that road.  So in my typical fashion I have interviewed and discarded one of the male species.  I have decided that since I really do not care if I have one in my life on a permanent basis that I can afford to be very picky.  I am just afraid that by being a woman who does not care if she has a man, it is like waving a red flag at one of them. 

So, while this particular SWM and I had several good days over a three week period together I fear that this is not the one for me.  Oh, I fully intend to "see" him on occasion and we will talk on the phone from time to time.  He is a very interesting man, but way out of my comfort level for someone I want to introduce to my kids.  I am pretty sure he is not the one that will bait my hook when we go fishing, if we were to go fishing.  Doesn't strike me as anyone who could gut a fish either.  Although in all fairness he did listen attentively while I described the process to him.  I know he was attentive, because he did not blink one time.  Course shock has much the same reaction.  Hmmmmmmmmmmm?

So back to the drawing board for the dating thing. 

Welcome to ColorSplash Paintball

Well, hello there!  And welcome to Color Splash Paintball. This is the store front located at 1813 Santa Fe Drive in Pueblo, Colorado .  Phone number is 719-544-1560, in case you need that.  So why are we here?  I have a few friends who do not understand the whole paintball concept, so I am here to give you a crash course.

Well, first I got to tell you that this is the brain child of my oldest step daughter.  Jackie Chacanaca is going to make money one way or the other.  When her husband bought his first Harley, I bought Harley stock.  When her husband and son started playing paintball, she was doing day care and trying to figure out how to buy paint and guns cheaper.  Ah, be a dealer.  So the garage was no longer for cars, it was for stock.  Now first you should know what a paint ball gun is.  It is not a gun and is not called a gun.  It is a marker.  The whole idea is to put colored balls of paint in a hopper and shoot each other thereby turning your enemy pink, green or some other color.  Oh, and the paint balls are pretty tough so when you get hit it really hurts.  But that is one of the fun parts of the game.  Bret used to come home with big bruises but he decided early that he did not like pain all that much.

So it was not long before Jackie had outgrown the garage with her business, so she moved up on the highway into a shopping center store front.  She gave up the day care thing when that move happened.  Then she found that people really wanted to play in tournaments and there was money to be made there so she needed a field.  Ah, a field.  No doubt you wonder what that is.  It is a field.  Only it has lots of parts to it.  There is a scenario area where there are hiding places and a fort and they can play war games.  There is a place for speed ball and hyper ball and who knows what all.  All the area's have referees to make sure all the rules are followed and there are lots of rules.  Gotta wear goggles and protective head gear.  If you think the kids have fun you should be on hand when the Army shows up to "play". 

Used to be paint ball was for kids, but now I find that it is a high dollar past time for lots of the big boys.  The markers do not come cheap, but if you want to check in at the field for a day of fun (?) and frolic Jackie or one of the guys will outfit you with face mask, goggles, marker, air (to power the marker ) and paint and you are good to go.  Now can you think of a better way to spend the day than having a bunch of goons chasing you and shooting you with something that is going to break when it hits your tender skin and spray paint all over you?  There are a lot of grown men partaking of this particular amusement even as we speak.

And above we have some  canisters that hold compressed air which powers the marker. A marker will cost from $200 - $1200. And below you see an assortment of markers on the wall.  I  think Jackie's guns come with a lifetime service contract, but I could be wrong. I do not like pain.  I do not like playing in the dirt, and air conditioning is really great in the summer.  So I do not spend my money at Jackie's!

OK, I found a link for you down below this picture.  I am sure you will be wiser when you have gone there and read about a few things, but as for me, I am going to bed and only dream about things like this!

 

Fun at Jackies!

(Click above)



And so I continue to let my life play out, or do I?

I have been doing a lot of thinking since I did the last post.  Deer in the headlight sort of thing.  As we get older we tend to think back over our lives and wonder if we made the right decisions, or at least I do.  I must take in to consideration that had I done things differently, one of the repercussions would be that I would not have the kids and grand kids today and that would be sad.  But can I be sure?  Let me take a small turn back in time to the day I sat with the Reverend Barnett when I was 16 years old and I told him I wanted to be a missionary.  He was very pleased and gave me some books to read.  Then he moved away and was replaced by a new minister who did not much like young girls seeking validation.  First missed opportunity.

Then we moved to Hutchinson and I started dating a little guy in my class named Gary.  We were high school sweet hearts and that was that.  I loved his mother and his sister.  But alas, I wanted to date someone who was taller.  Gary was very short, only about 3 inches taller than me.  I wanted to dance and I needed a taller boy for that and Gary had no rhythm.  So I dated Corky and we won all the dance contests, but alas I did not love Corky, I loved Gary.  But Gary had moved on, and this was my first taste of love gone wrong.  My first, but not my last, by any stretch of the imagination.

Since time began, older brothers have been bringing home boyfriends for little sisters, so Jake brought home to me Earl D. Seeger who was to become my first husband and the father of my children.  My brother died in a car wreck when my son was one month old.  Life was never the same after I lost my brother and Earl and I divorced a few years later.

Then it was the long legged guitar picker, the director of the radio station, the guy who owned the construction company, the steel worker and finally Kenny.   Some times I think I may have a little Mae West in me cause I never met a man I didn't like.  Some of them I could not live with, but I remained on speaking terms with all of them except one.  He was really mean.  Now do not think I remained friends with them, just on speaking terms.   If life could be lived over, Kenny would have been first and only, but life does not work that way.

At some point during the last 30 years I began to realize that I was a very viable woman and did not need to be defined as Mrs. Anybody.  Kenny did that for me.  He gave me the confidence to know that no matter what happened in my life, I was responsible and resourceful and I would always come out on top.  When he died in 2003 I knew a short period of panic and then I remembered what he had taught me and I have been fine ever since.  Good Lord put me on this earth for a reason, put me through my trials and tribulations for a reason , tested me with fire and tempered me with love and pronounced me ready for what ever is next. 

I can never go back and undo anything I did and all the wrong turns I have taken have led me to this spot in the road.  And here I will stand, looking left, right and down the road and back behind, knowing that what ever I decide to do next will be done because this is where God put me and all I have to do is listen and that still small voice will lead me where he wants me to go and I will do what he has chosen me to do.  He has been leading me all along and I never even knew it.  Now I do!

It is official, my life is in the crapper, again.

Yep!  I am once more drowning in a sea of "what in the world was I thinking!"  My little life usually goes along on an even keel; some times I win, some times I lose, and all is well, because it is life.  I am busy most, if not all of the time, but I do take time to smell the roses.  Life is good as I stand here like a deer in the headlights and watch the last little bit of freedom I know disappear under a pile of eBay items that need to be listed, quilts that need quilted, thread that needs spun and woven, garden that needs tilled, hats that need embroidered, meals that need cooked, dogs that need petted, and friends that "need to talk".

I have never learned to say no.  It is a word that is completely forgien to my vocabulary.  I have not learned the art of sitting quietly and watching a movie, reading a book, or just contemplating my navel. Lyn and I planned our vacation yesterday.  At least we picked the dates.  She, of course, had to give me the lecture about how this time "You will relax and not be heading for home the next day."  She knows me and I thank her for trying and maybe this time it will work. 

Now, this all sounds good, but this is something that throws me into a tail spin.  We started talking about this a couple weeks ago and the cloud of dread slowly floated over my head and began to settle on my shoulders.  With the cloud of dread came the depression that creeps in at times of dire stress in my life.  So, I bit the bullet and the dates are set.

Do not misunderstand me here, I love to go back home and see the kids, grand kids, sisters, cousins, friends (Hi, Joe!), and just chill.  I love to eat at Skaets.  Kansas City is always a treat with Shirley fussing over us.  I love to drive and take pictures and every moment I am on my vacation, I count the moments until I can get back home.  I can not relax.  I can not remember the last time I just let go and relaxed.  You know, the one where you lay on a hill and watch a cloud float past, or set on a creek bank and wait for that old cat fish to bite?  When I am back there I think how great it would be to live there.  You know, just pick up and move back.  It all sounds so simple; just move.

But with home comes memories and with memories comes sadness.  Sadness for a life that could have been; a life that should have been.  Dreams of a little country home and a picket fence and kids in the yard and a puppy barking at the cat.  And with sadness comes depression.  And with depression comes memories and the cycle starts all over again.  If I could go back and make the choices I should have made, who would I be today?  But, I can not do that, can I?  With age comes wisdom, or so they say.  With age comes hopelessness and dread.  I had one shot at this life and I think I may have screwed it up.  Deer in the head lights!

So this is Holy Week.  I take consolation in that.  I also take consolation in the fact that only a few of my friends and family read this, so they will not know how nuts I actually am.  So maybe some one out there can flip my switch and tell me how I can salvage what is left?  Some one sent me an email the other day, which I read in my typical every other line fashion, but I think I got the gist. 

Lord, help me when I complain about having to fix supper, to remember those who have no food.  When I complain about the cost of gas, help me be thankful that I have a car and can get around.  When I complain about having to clean house, help me be thankful that I have a home.  When I complain about the long walk to the duck house, help me be thankful that I can walk, and see, and feel.  And when I am antsy because a friend drops by to take me from my chores, be thankful that I have friends.  Amen

There!  I might have solved my problems.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRoVH5u9Qk8&feature=related

This is a little family in the making, if you wonder what one looks like.

If you wonder what the life of Riley looks like, just take a gander at this little chickadee, all kicked back and taking it easy. 

 Now here we go just having a little peek at Grandma Lou.  This is the little angel that Grand Daughter Deven chose to weave a blanket and give it to her for Christmas.

And there she is hid behind all the toys that it is necessary for a tiny baby to tote around just to get through the day. 

And there is mom and soon to be dad.  I just wanted you to meet them.  I emailed her for the correct spellings on the names, but have not gotten an answer yet.  As soon as I get that I will formally introduce you to this little family who is slowly becoming a vital part of my life here in Pueblo. 

I do know the mom is Kimmie and her favorite food is Sloppy Joes!  I do know she is working on getting her Diploma and then going to school to make herself into something the Little Princess will be very proud of, and so will we!  Going to be there to see her walk up and grab that diploma and make us all proud!

Watch for them more in future postings!

Five words no mother wants to hear, ever.

Always in my mind, the 5 words I never wanted to hear were, "There has been an accident."  I heard them years ago when I lost my brother.  And then I heard them yesterday.  They held the same paralyzing fear yesterday as they did back in 1965.  Only this time I heard them through my mother's ears and there were other words, motorcycle, son, ambulance.  Each word was tearing me apart and I had to pull into a parking lot to make sense of them.

Lou, this is Carolyn and I was on my way to town and there has been an accident.  Bret, Amanda, motorcycle, Cruiser, ......."I need to know which hospital you want him transported to.  They will want to know."  A million questions rushed through my mind, but I asked none.  She had no answers, so it was not fair to ask.  My first instinct was to race to Santa Fe Drive to the scene, but a cooler head prevailed.  I would go to the hospital and wait.  So I did.  I left my car with the valet and went immediately to the ER.  No ambulance yet.

I would call my minister.  Phone book was in the car.  So I called the church.  Answering machine.  In case of emergency call.....my pen was in the car.  Why is it that we delude ourselves into believing we are organized right up until the moment when we need to lay our hands on information and we find we are like Babes in the woods.  I knew I should call some one, but I did not know who.  Oh, wait.  He has sisters, I have kids!  But what would I tell them?  What did I know?  Motorcycle, son, ambulance.

So, Lou Mercer, the woman with so many friends stood in an empty emergency room staring out a window all by herself, the loneliest woman in the world.  And like so many mothers before me I turned to the one person who could and would listen.  I had never faced anything like this with any of my children before, but yesterday I did and yesterday I remembered why I had spent my whole life clinging to this man.  So I called on him,  "Oh, God!  I know I am always wanting something, but this time I really, really need you to do this for me.  Make it right.  Make this go away and if you choose not to do that then give me the strength to deal with what I must."  I am sure there was a lot more said and I bet I made promises, but God knows me pretty good.  We have been there before and while some of his greatest gifts were unanswered prayers, I knew in the depths of my being that he would answer this one.

It was orchestrated from the beginning when a friend came upon the accident and she chose to call me instead of letting the sheriff call, and she was allowed to call.  Things always come easier when delivered by a friend.  I want to thank her for doing me that favor.  I will not use her last name, but she know who she is and she also knows that I loved her when she was my daughter in law and I love her today, because she is a beautiful person.

So, as you have guessed by now, little Bret is alright.  He is alright because all the things that usually happened did not.  The speed limit there where this happened is 50MPH but it was moving slow.  Amanda saw a wreck ahead so she slowed down and changed lanes.  Bret passed her and then he saw the accident so he cut in front of her and slowed.  Some one ahead hit the brakes, Bret hit his brakes and Amanda hit hers.  She hit the back of the bike which shot out from under Bret.  All speeds were reduced or the boy on the bike would not be here today.

Later Bret was recounting the accident and he said " I seen Amanda coming behind me and I knew she was going to hit me, but I had to brake."  I asked him, "Did you at that point in time wish you might have been a little nicer to her?"  His answer was, "Oh, yeah!"

So today we are getting through the "what if " phase of this.  Will he ride his bike again?  Sure!  Will he wear a helmet next time?  No!  I never wore one.  It restricted my vision and my hearing.  On long trips I guess they are all right.  Will Amanda drive again.  Sure!  I hauled her to work today, but that is not going to happen again.  Things happen.  Life goes on.  What will I do different?  Keep a phone list in my purse or make sure all the important numbers are in my phone.  But the most important number is burned in my brain and that is the hot line to Heaven.  And the best part is that no matter where I am, it is still a local call!