I'm just gonna run to the post office...

Now those words are an understatement if I ever made one!  To begin with, the closest post office I can run to is over a mile away.  It is a sub station and I gave up going there because they cringe when I show up with packages.  See, I buy my postage online.  It is cheaper.  Seems like enough incentive for me!  But the substation does not get to collect a "pick up fee" from the post office so it is a free gratis thing.  UPS pays the stations a $1 pick up fee.  Course when they sell the postage there is a profit built in to the price.  But not with the USPS. 

Now back to my packages I have so neatly packed and labeled with my online package.  I have padded them and made them as sturdy as possible to avoid breakage because I know they are going to be dropped at least 4 times by the post office and way more than that by FedEx or UPS.  UPS gives free insurance for the first $100. Post Office gives you jack. 

After I pack them, measure them and weigh them  I print out my postage and apply the label to the box.  I then need to drop my boxes some where.  They have the 13 ounce rule, you know.  That means I have to take it in and hand it to the clerk.  The clerk will ask me, "Any thing explosive, breakable, liquid or illegal in here?"  I always say "No" and then I am done.  I especially like waiting in a long line with heavy boxes for this ritual to take place.  Occasionally I will get a clerk that will motion me to put them in the canvas box on wheels and then he will smile at me and I will leave.  That does not happen very often.  More like it happened once.

Now, I want to go on record here as saying Homeland Security and all that is just great.  After I leave the post office I feel I have been thoroughly  processed and my packages do not carry bombs or any of that stuff.  I am on first name basis with most of the clerks around town.  But occasionally some little guy gets himself hired and his job description seems to contain the words "must be able to piss an old lady off and make her cry in frustration."  Yesterday I met one such fellow.  No doubt he was promoted to something before I got to my car.  He was good!

The upshot was my one box had the word "Ale" on it.  Ale is hazardous.  Course it was not ale since someone had already drank all of it and I am assuming it was not hazardous since he was still alive or at least I assume so since I did not read in the obituaries of anyone dieing directly after drink one bottle.  So I told him that apparently the word  "paint"ball on the other box made it hazardous as well.  He was in complete agreement.  So I drove the 10 miles home, unpacked the boxes after carefully cutting the label off with a razor blade, turned the boxes wrong side out, repacked them, taped on the labels and took them back to town to the one in Belmont where the lady likes me.  I told her my tale of woe and she said "He must have been having a very bad day!"  Hey, Janie, what do you think he did for my day?  She thought that was funny.  Never was a very good comedienne, but it worked with her.  May have missed my calling.

Now get this, a year or so ago I sent a seed catcher to my friend in Niagara  Falls.  Then he ordered two more.  He then decided to send the first one back and have the size of elastic changed.  So I put a box with a return postage label all printed out to me and enclosed it so he could return the first one.  He dropped it in the mail box to come to me.  Three days later, it was returned to him because he had not taken it inside the post office and they thought it was a bomb because it was over the 13 ounce limit.  So I had spent $4.95 for the label.  Now he had to spend another $4.95 for the new label.  But the most asinine part was that it had been in the mail system for 3 days being returned to him.  It was never opened and he bought a new label and put it over the old label with out anybody ever looking inside.  So this made the $10 seed catcher cost a total of $14.90 in postage for no reason what so ever. If there had been a bomb in the goofy thing it surely would have detonated shortly after being put in the box. Or at the very least some time during the next day or so.

Then there was the time the doorbell rang and there stood the man who lived up on Bronco with a soggy box in his hand.  Hmmm.  Lou Mercer, yep that is me.  Oh gee is that the MP3 player I have been expecting?  Only silly me, I was looking in the mailbox for it, not in the irrigation ditch where he found it.  Let's see, that was about the time they took another 2 cent raise on postage.  Very well deserved if I do say so myself. 

So, I set here and think about my United States Postal Service and shake my head in wonderment.  Seems like we had a pretty good thing going when the Pony Express was in action.  Grab a saddle bag and ride like hell!

Back to the going postal thing.  See, I know these guys get a big kick out of being mean to us little old ladies, but I think they are also mean to each other.  Maybe they have left their station and gone across town and been mistreated by someone in another station and they are just getting revenge.  Why doesn't the powers that be teach these people to smile?  I have always found that sugar catches a lot my flies then vinegar.

You know what the first thing I learned when I went out into the work force?  I learned something called Customer Service and the golden rule to that was that the customer was always right.  Know who paid my salary?  The customer.  If we did not have customers I did not have a job so i always wanted them to come back.  Not so at the post office.  Or as far as that goes most government jobs.  Stop and think for one minute about what we have done to ourselves.  We sent a bunch of guys to Washington to pass a bunch of laws to make our life easier.  Then they had to appoint a bunch of committees to oversee the laws and make sure they were working.  Then we had to have people to check on the committees to be sure the committees were doing there job.  So now, guess what!  Everyone but you and me is now working for the government.  No wonder the post office people are so mean. I am the only one not working for them and they are afraid I will quit paying my taxes, so they want to make me suicidal and hope I do not have a will so the government can take all I own and put it back into circulation.

I keep hearing that the postal service is in trouble.  You know, I do not doubt that.  Gone are the days when you wrote a note and put it in an envelope and mailed it off to someone in another city.  Now we have a cell phone in our pocket and a computer on standby and we can touch someone electronically in a nano second.  But here is what I want you to ponder, if you will; Has electronics and such brought about the downfall of the postal system, or are the cell phone and email a result of a postal service that did not serve our needs?  Ah, it is indeed a quandary.  Might be too much for this feeble mind to comprehend.

When Bret was little........

This is Bret now.  Or at least it was several months ago.  Just every time he comes or goes I remember when he was little.  That was the good old days.  That was when I actually mattered for something besides the occasional  $20 for gas request.  Bret had been a regular visitor in our home since his birth.  As the closest grand son he was also most frequent.  He used to say cute things, like "Grandma!  Let me in! I have too many hands."  "oh, it is such a 'boo-fi-ul' day".  I babysat him as he got older and potty trained the little fellow and taught him to ride a bike.  He would spend weeks at a time with us especially after his mom and dad separated and she remarried.  When he came up for adoption we were the obvious choice.

When Kenny quizzed him about who would be his grandpa if we adopted him, he thought about it for a while and then announced, "Why, I would be my own grandpa!"  And after the adoption he immediately began calling me "mom" and continued calling Kenny "grandpa".  Kenny finally had to explain to him that we had to both be "grandma and grandpa" or "mom and dad."  He opted for the mom and dad one.

His first official act when he came to live with us was to shave off his eyebrow along with the mole over that eye.  Second was to throw a fit in the Library that almost landed me in jail for child abuse when I grabbed his young self up and loaded him in the car and had Shelly and Chris set on him till we got home. They called it attachment disorder and testing the limits and a few other things.  I called it being a spoiled rotten little brat.

Like I said,  he was so cute.  I have pictures of him and the neighbor kid (also an adopted grandson) learning to crawl toward each other,  running naked through the sprinklers, playing "dogs".  They broke the windows in the garage, made a general mess of everything they touched, but they never went to school together.  Skeeter went to town school and Bret caught the bus.

Now school was a complete waste of time for this kid.  I spent more time at the school than he did.  He never turned in homework and there was never a teacher who seemed to think it mattered until the end of the grading period and there were no numbers in his columns.  In the Fourth  grade he made the merit roll.  You could of knocked me over with a feather!  First and only time he ever bothered with academia!  I put him in the Church School in town and he did some better, but once again I was at the school more than he was.  I actually bought the curriculum and got him through the Seventh grade here at home.  I know he studied that 3 months.  His teachers just loved him and he loved them.  It was the whole school thing. Even tried the online school.  Nothing.

So now here he is working at Sprinkles Sewing Center as a certified Technician.  Everybody loves him and he does a really good job, I think.  At least Jerry and Cathy say so.  Sprinkles just opened a shop in Canon City and he and Amanda have added responsibilities there.   Amanda is his girlfriend and she works there also.   They are getting ready to move into their own home.  So, I guess I am not a complete failure since he did survive childhood.  And I survived his childhood.  We lost Kenny when Bret was 12 so that was hard.  Big adjustment for both of us.

As I write this he is in the shower and has been for over 20 minutes.  I am going to have hot water again when he moves out!  That and the light bill is going to plummet.  They buy most of their own food so that is no biggie there.  They do not eat like I eat.  In all fairness, though, Amanda did tell me that she will start eating healthy when she turns 20 so there is hope.  They are taking the deep fat fryer when they move.   

So now you have met 5 of my 6 kids. 

Oh, and he just turned off the water, so all the hot must be gone!  Glad we got rid of that!

I am going to do my sisters next if they will let me.  Course you have already met and are very familiar with Mary.  That just leaves Donna and Dorothy.  I will ask them and let you know!

Do they still have country roads?

I remember when I was a little kid running the country roads back home.  We would start out early and decide to "go some place."  There was Vincent's Sand Pit.  Old and abandoned and I do not know how far from the house, but that did not matter.  I was always barefoot.  We got shoes in the fall when school started and we better not wear them out, lose them, or grow out of them or we finished the year barefooted.  That was fine by me, but the kids in town did rather turn their noses up at this litle ragamuffin.  But, I get the last laugh.  I am still setting here barefooted and damn glad of it.
Mama always went off early to clean some lady's house in town so we were pretty much on our own.  Course the really little kids were babysat by the lady up the street who charged 50 cents a day.  But us "big kids" were pretty much on our own.  Now that I think back, I do not remember eating.  I am sure we must have , but who knows what!  I am still here so I am sure we did eat.  Wish mama was here and I could ask her.

So there was my brother and I, the two Reinke girls, Jimmy Davis from in town, Margaret Ayers and her brother Hibbly.  That seems right.  Oh, and my older sister who was supposed to be the one with the brains.  Now, at the time it was great fun.  Running down a dusty, sandy road in the hot noon day sun to get to a muddy pond of water that we were not allowed to cross the fence to get near.  Besides that there were big, very mean cows in there guarding it.  Then we could turn around and run back home.

Home was fun.  One day Jake and I decided to dig us an underground hide out.  We dug and dug and finally had us a suitable tunnel about 10 feet long, two feet wide and three feet deep. We then placed the boards across it and piled the dirt back on top.  Oh, that was great when we crawled in there.  It was all cool and dark.  Dark.  I got my young self right back out of there because I am scared of the dark.

Near the tunnel and across the fence the neighbors had a big tree and under it was our "cemetary".  In the country there are a lot of natural deaths of birds and rabbits and as a tender hearted  young girl these deaths needed to be attended and a proper burial was always in order.  Hence the cemetary.  Now these same neighbors raised pigs.  Really big pigs.  Very mean pigs.  The house where the pig lives is called a sty.  A sty is a short house, like a peaked roof that sets on the ground.  And as normal kids we liked to play a game called "I dare you!"  Now Jake knew I was scared to death of those pigs but he liked to dare me to jump from one sty to the next all the way across the pig pens.  It was probably a 3-4 foot leap, which was not far at all, but there was always that chance of slipping and falling into the pig pen where I would be eaten by the pigs.  As I look back, that was not the best game to play.

When it was dark we could play "Kick the Can."  Seems like I was always "It."  I had to cover my eyes and count to 50 while they all went and hid.  Then I had to go find them.  If I did find one I took that person back to the "base" and put them in a make believe "jail".  Some one would run in when my back was turned and kick the can and there went my prisoner, in the event I had actually found someone hiding. 

Another favorite game was "clod fights" which is exactly what the name implied.  Some one would plow the field, usually dad, and leave it "turned over" before a "harrow" was drug across it.  At any given point in the whole process, the dirt would dry, leaving clods.  And the longer they laid there the harder they got.  Getting the picture?  We would throw the clods at each other.  The most fun always seemed to be getting hit in the eye with a clod.  That way mama gave full attention to the injured party and the one who did it was really going to get a "licking."  Remember when our parents could give us a licking and not get slapped with child abuse charges? 

Ah, the "good old days!"  I remember going to school, but I do not ever remember studying.  I remember going to church and the most wonderful part was having a birthday, because then we got that many pennies to drop in the "Birthday Can" while everyone counted and then sang "Happy Birthday" to me.

Why is it as we get older, the past looks so much better?  I could spend all my time back in those carefree days.  We ate Bacon and used cream that was so thick it stood in peaks.  We ate what ever landed on the table and had no idea what a calorie or fat grams or sodium or any of that stuff was.  And I never weighed over 100 pounds until I was pregnant with my first baby.

I miss my mama.

In the hallowed halls of Washington.....

Now I do not usually get on a soap box here, but today is probably  going to be an exception.  As you all know, we have just come through another crisis.  Narrowly averted all of us old people being thrown out in the street because we did not get our social security checks.  Hey!  I am sorry I am such a burden to you idiots up there, but let me tell you how it works here at my house.

For many years both my late husband and myself punched a clock and collected a check with which we raised our children and sent them forth to do the same thing we did.  We knew how much money we had and we managed to keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs.  We had no deficit nor a debt ceiling we could move around.  We exhausted our borrowing power when we bought the house and the car and whatever else we needed.  But now that we are old and just want to kind of coast, we have a bunch of idiots in charge of the ship that are headed straight for the sand barge!  And to really add insult to injury , I am a supposed to be happy that they can now borrow more money.

I am sorry!  I had a step son once who came home all dejected from the bank where he had gone to borrow money for another car.  They turned him down because, while he had a stellar credit rating and unlimited borrowing power he had "no way to pay it back!"  And there in lies the key.  There is what our Congress is missing in the equation.  Sure we can borrow money, but how are we going to pay it back?  And when they start talking about a "super committee that can act alone" my heart leaps in my throat.  Congress already has more power than they should and now they want to appoint an elite group that even they can not control?  You see nothing wrong with this picture?

And now they are up there going around patting themselves on the back because they got together and passed a bill that they can borrow more money!  What am I missing here?  They are all proud because they are going to pass a bill that says they must have a balanced budget?  Where have I been? If my budget gets out of whack, I don't eat.  It is very simple.  But they want to throw my check out the window and let it bounce?  What about their checks?  What are we going to do with them?  Oh, reward them with a raise! 

You know I read about the survivalists that hole up in the mountains and do not even have to come to town to get bullets and I start eyeballing the Ford and wondering how quick I can get it to go up that hill!  I do it all like I am supposed to.   I read, I educate myself on the issues, I disregard party affiliation and vote my conscience.  I try to be honest and help the less fortunate.  I attend and support my church.  I listen and I talk.  And I live within my means.  Oh, there is one for the record books.  If I have it, I spend it.  If I run out, I find a way to earn more.  Or I simply do without!

Government!!  It is a bit early in the morning for me to start processing the drivel they want me to be fed.  So, here is the deal at my house and perhaps one or two of the government officials would like to come follow this old lady around.  First, I am going to fire up the lawn mower and mow my grass while it is cool.  That will save me paying someone else to do it. $20 back in my pocket.  Then I am going to list a bunch of stuff on ebay.  When it sells I will get a small percentage.  Sell $100 worth and after I pay my fees and such, there goes another $15 in my pocket.  Going to make some Gluten Free bread and brownies for a few friends who pay me to do that.  After I deduct the cost of my supplies, there goes another $15 into my pocket.  I will pull the weeds in the garden and toss them over the fence to my geese and save probably $2 on goose grain.  So today I will make $52 not by borrowing it, but by doing it myself.  Think the government could ever grasp this concept?  I start at 5 in the morning and quit at 9 at night.  That makes me a 16 hour day.  That figures to be $3.25 an hour.  Course I am free to come and go as I please and if it does not get done today, it will still be there tomorrow.   And the best part about earning money here at home?  I get to pay taxes on it!

Well, I must get my day started or I will not get my day done and I will be standing on the corner with my hand out.  I hope you all are as proud of that bunch we sent to Washington as I am.  ;)

Nostalgia? Damn good thing!

I happened to think back on 1959 when Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper were all killed in a plane crash.  I have to look up the date (February 3, 1959) but I know where I was when I heard the news.  Some things just work that way.  That was back in the day when Dick Clark held sway on the American Bandstand.  We had the sock hop every Saturday night at the Convention Hall and dreamed of going to to American Bandstand.  Talk about American Graffiti...we WERE American Graffiti!  I was "hanging out" with a guy named Johnny at the time.  See, I did not "date", but I loved to dance and for that I needed a regular partner and he filled the bill to a "t".  My kids would never believe some of the gyrations that went on at those dances, and most of them by their mother!

Johnny and I won more than one dance contest.  He occasionally dated and the girls were always jealous cause he always came back to me on dance nights.  They just could not understand that we were in sync and that was how that was.  I must pause here for a  moment to send Johnny on his way.  I do not know because I never saw him after high school, but I heard many years later that he was gay and had moved to California.  And then many years later, that he was one of the first to fall to the AIDS epidemic.  I think that info is accurate.  Course his name was not Johnny, but there are people out there who may remember.

But back to the three stars.  News was not instantaneous back then like it is now.  I was dating a kid from Medicine Lodge and when he picked me up that night he told me about the plane crash.  Of course it was several days before the news was confirmed to my satisfaction in a newspaper because the printed word (at that time) was gospel. Then the Three Stars song hit the charts.  Can you believe we used to actually stop by the record shop and pick up a list of the "Top Ten Songs"?  I think it was put out by Billboard?  Getting a little fuzzy here on some of the details.  I do remember Hayes Record Shop on Main Street. That was the place to go when the new 45's came out cause they had them!

When the kids were in band I rented instruments for them from Hayes.  45 RPM records were quickly becoming a thing of the past and 33 1/3 LP were the preferred product.  I had a little case of 45's that I left with my sister after I married and started my travels.  I never saw them again.  They were eventually swallowed up in her estate and probably wound up at the city dump.  Funny how that stuff happens.

Anyway, Elvis had hit the scene, but he went off to the service in 1958 leaving the stage clear for these three.  Besides, Elvis was different and these guys were "comfortable".  They were guys we could have gone to school with; and Elvis was a wiggle worm.

I guess what I am trying to say here is that I was out and about in one of the richest periods of Rock and Roll, Rhythm and Blues, Rockabilly, Gospel, Folk, Country and what ever went on at that time.  My daughter, Debbie, called the other day to express her surprise that I knew who Peter, Paul and Mary were!  Poor child!  The tales I could tell her.  One of the main reasons I married her dad was because he danced the same style I did, sort of a hip hop, stroll, exhibitionist dance to a different drummer.

So once more I will put the Big Bopper, Richie Valens, Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent, Fats Domino, Jerry Lee Lewis, and a plethora of names that I must stop here because I do not want to miss anyone to rest.  Sometimes when I can't sleep at night I walk the halls of Nickerson High and visit the Convention Center and I am young again.  That is the great part about Nostalgia, as long as I can remember I am young.  And when I begin to forget, well I guess I will cross that bridge when I get to it.  If I am really lucky when I lay my head down for that final nap the Big Bopper will sing me a rousing rendition of Chantilly Lace and Johnny will flip me across his back like in the good old days!

Icarus and her little habits are driving me nuts!

Here is the Icarus cat.  As you can see she is helping me write my blog.  She knows I do not need these notes.  I am going to write about her and she is right there in all her glory.  I lay back in my recliner to meditate on life and rest my eyes for a brief moment and she comes out of no where and lands on my chest with her paws on my face.  Then she "kneads" my chest.  I wake up in the night with her perched on my shoulder.  That is a very weird sensation!

Right now I am setting her gripped with terror because I do not know where she is.  I do, however, strongly suspect that she is off hunting.  Soon the doggie door will snap and she will bound in with (hopefully) a dead bird.  Such is not always the case.  Sometimes it is a centipede flailing around in her jaws.  Sometimes a live bird which she lets go and then tries to catch again.  Once it was a snake.  I have had a gopher, grasshoppers, mice, something I can only hope was a mole.  Not as good as Boots who was an avid hunter and once brought me a Hawk!  Do not know whose eyes were bigger that day, mine, Boots' or the Hawk!  I do know the cats hunt for my food because they love me and feel they must take care of me.  I, in turn, furnish this feline with a place to live, a continual supply of cat food, fresh water, dogs to play with and a pillow in the office window so she can watch the birds at play.

Icarus thinks she is a dog and that is good.  She goes out with me to do chores and works in the garden.  She wrestles with Elvira and some times Daisy.  She runs across the yard and lands on Elvira to get a free ride into the house.  Ok, enough about the cat.  I am off to do something that I am sure will be in contrary to what she wants me to do, but such is life.

For sale: A vacation home in Longton, Kansas!

Here is something that might interest you.  I know it interests me.  This is Longton, Kansas kind of down in the Southeast corner of Kansas.  Sort of a little Garden of Eden.  The first shots are just that.  A couple show Longton Main Street with a tree growing out of a roof, the general store and a big red barn.  One is of a vacant house grown up in underbrush that is just for the sake of art.

But the rest of them are of a 3 bedroom, 2 bath house with a 3 car garage and a workshop located on 5 lots two blocks off Main Street.  My daughter Patty, went to an auction and in true Seeger fashion, lost control and bought a  house.  She lives in Western Kansas.  The house is in Eastern Kansas.  The words logical and prudent never were used much in our family.  So here it sets and is used only when someone needs a place to stay while visiting .....nowhere. 

Patty did say she wanted to sell this.  I am sure it could be had for uner $25,000 and would make a very nice retirement home.  Not a lot of jobs in the Longton area so I would not recommend it for a working family.  But I could see me moving there and having a little shop out in that big garage.  But I love Colorado.  But we will see.  If you are at all interested give me a shout out!

Please meet my third daughter, Dona Marie Seeger.

Let me see if I can keep up with this slide show.  Doubt that I can.  But here is a little tip for you; in the lower left corner of the slide show is a white square.  If you click on that it will turn on the captions and you can read who they are.  That Google is so smart!  The first picture will hopefully be my lovely daughter Dona Marie. I think she is the only one of the original 5 that actually stayed a blonde because she is a blonde.  Dona was born on our anniversary, October 30, 1964.  That was the only anniversary Earl ever took me out for.  I was married on October 30, 1960.  (I think)  The plot thickens.  My brother was killed on October 30, 1965, so I missed her first birthday.  And when she turned one year old, she had a new brother who was one month old.  Busy little girl that year, I was!

Patty and Dona were always very close and not just because they were one year apart, but because they just were.  In typical middle child fashion, she was neither a leader, nor a follower.  She always had the sweetest smile of any of my kids.  Just like a little angel.  Since she had to give Sam the bottle when he was born, she was my little thumb sucker.  She would hold a half slip that was some kind of slick material in one hand as she sucked her other thumb.  And the first word she spoke was "lip".  My sister in law thought her mouth was sore until I explained that it was "slip" and not "lip".

Dona was always a little small since she was born about three weeks early. We were living in Garden City, Kansas at the time.  Dona lived with her dad  more than me after we were divorced. But that was alright.

She went to Center Beauty College here in Pueblo and got her license in Cosmetology.  Her dad had been a very good friend of Frank Shultz who founded the school.  When her dad passed she went back to Lakin, Kansas and opened a Beauty Salon that she named Scissorhands.   At that time she had one son, Jason.  Jason is married to Chelsea and they have two little blondies, Jalin and Jaycee.   That makes Dona a grandmother and me a great grandmother.  Her daughter in law, Chelsea works with her and they seem to have a pretty good clientele.       

She remarried and had a second son, Joey.  That husband passed while Joey was quite young.  Joey is still at home and still single and I am very glad of that since he is barely out of puberty.  Soon enough he will be bringing home a little girl and it will be downhill from there.  Or not. 

Dona is named after Duane's sister, Dona, with one "n".  I have a sister named Donna that is spelled with 2 "n's".  Dona enjoys things in life much as her father did.  Fishing, hunting, gardening, and just about anything to do with the

great out doors.  She loves animals and has a plethora of cats.

She and Patty live on ten acres outside Lakin that they inherited from their father.  They have seperate homes, but remain connected by the land.  Lakin is a small town in Western Kansas.

And this is about all I can write about Dona without giving all the secrets away.  I know she is a very good grandmother and has the two girls for the night at least once a week.  She remains friends with her first husband who is Grandpa to the little girls.  I am very proud of the way she has carved out a niche in life and made herself fit right into it.  Very independent and as you can see by this picture, a very lovely young lady and who would guess she is a grandma!

 

Dona Marie Seeger

Eleanor Burns slide show

The slide show for Eleanor Burns is located at the top left of what ever page you are reading.  Please do not ask me how I did that and I bet I could not do it again, but that is where you will find it.  And I bet when I post a new slide show Eleanor will be history.

Peace Pilgrim link.

http://www.peacepilgrim.com/steps1.htm#4prep

Daughter called a bit ago to tell me I had forgotten to put the Peace Pilgrim up as promised.  So rather then write my opionions of this I will let you read and come to your own conclusions.

Let me know what you think!

Eleanor Burns and the Quilters Retreat here in our fair city!

 I am hoping to get a slide show up and running here, but I am not having much luck right now.  So here is the deal, Bret works for Sprinkles Sewing Center.  And so does his girlfriend, Amanda.  It is just one big happy family over there as near as I can tell.  Now Sprinkles is a very successful business and Jerry and Kathy know how to make it pay.  They put the customer first, which is always a good thing.  They have a beautiful store on Eagleridge on the North side of town.  They recently opened a store in Canon City.  Along with the machines they offer personal service and lots of classes.  I have attended the classes and they are great.  Always knowledgeable staff.

   So now they decided to put on a 3 day extravaganza and call it the "Eleanor Burns Quilt Retreat."  Three full days of Eleanor Burns and quilt classes up the wazoo.  An event like this does not throw itself together without a lot of planning.  First arrangements had to be made for the Convention Center.  And that costs a pretty penny to lease that thing for 4 days.  The Convention Center is one of Pueblo's jewels.  In the slide show you will see several shots of the wall of heroes and the statues out front.  Pueblo is the "Home of Heroes" because it has four Congressional Medal of Honor recipients in  its population. http://www.pueblomohfoundation.com/

   Back to the event.  Eleanor Burns has/had a quilting show on PBS for many years and I used to tape her shows back when I had a VCR.  She would pop in every Tuesday afternoon  at 2:00 and teach me how to make a quilt.  She made it look so easy.  And I did actually make a quilt or two from the show.  Wonderful teacher. But I did not sign up for this event because I am just not that into quilting anymore.  I weave now.  But since the kids were on me about just stopping in I thought I might as well.  They have a mini store set up there on the floor and quite a reduction in price on lots of notions, so I thought, why not.

   Well, I must say I was most impressed.  First with Bret and Amanda and the professional manner in which they conducted themselves.  See, I am used to the slobs that live here, not the well mannered, helpful couple I encountered at the event.  There were people everywhere and I took the opportunity to check out the classrooms.  Seems there were three of them.  I did not take time to count the machines, but there must have been 100 machines in those 3 rooms.  And there was some learning going on.  When Amanda asked if I would like to meet Eleanor Burns I jumped all over that!  And I must say, she was as lovely in real life as when I watched her on television.  First thing I told Amanda to take our picture and Eleanor decided to share her pink boa with me.  I just thought that was right neighbourly of her!

   Of course when I told her I was Bret's mom she was most impressed and had to tell me how much she liked him and what a fine boy he was.  And how handsome.  And how much she liked Amanda and "oh, they are a couple!  How nice."

   Well, by then I had pretty well shot my wad so I wandered on outside.  What had started off as a fairly normal day had sure turned into a bright spot for me. Little story I can share with my grand kids.  Like they will have any idea who Eleanor Burns is.  Maybe I will dig out my VCR tapes.  Can I play those on a DVD player?

   Any way, I met a lovely lady today and shared her boa.  Had lunch with my friend, Tim.  Visited briefly with my friend Andy.  Pulled a few weeds.  Watched the geese swim in the new stock tank and made a batch of soap. Touched bases with my friend back East.  And now I am ready for bed.  Kind of makes me think I might have happy dreams tonight.

  

Peter, Paul and Mary

Well, I got up this morning with Peter, Paul and Mary on my mind.  Do you remember them?  Some women might dream about Fabio or some such nonsense, but here is what happened.  I was given a link for Peace Pilgrim and I started reading that.  This is/was a very wise woman who gave up everything to search for inner peace.  I will give you the link at the end of this, so watch for it.  It is well worth a little more then a cursory glance.  I am going to try to follow some of her teachings, but I can not foresee giving up my home and car and all that and walking off across the country hoping some one will feed me and give me a bed for the night. But the basic truths look very promising.

  Back to Peter, Paul and Mary.  These three people came to prominence in a coffee shop in Greenwich Village way back in the early 60's.  Remember the 60's?  Sure you do!  I recall like it was yesterday.  I was newly married and hopelessly in love with life.  Hubby was a tree trimmer and moved around a lot, but there were dreams and hopes.  And pretty soon there were babies.  That slowed the moving around down to a crawl.  We were in Garden City, Kansas when I realized that Viet Nam was more than the government was telling us.  How long had it been going on and what was it?  Did we ever really know the depth of that era?  How much was covered up and for how many years?  I talk to old timers now who still know and refuse to talk about Cambodia and wht went on there.  Peter, Paul and Mary knew.  They sang about it and we marched about it.  Civil Rights?  They were there.  So was I.

  Where were you when Oswald shot Kennedy?  When Ruby shot Oswald?  Did you hear Martin Luther King, Jr's I have a dream speech?  Did you see him fall?  Tommy Cash sings a song that covers that era.  If you can listen to this  and not reflect, you are probably one of my very young readers.  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uGc62RWIkc

   But through it all Peter, Paul and Mary were singing the folk songs.  I did not know at the time that they were folk songs, only that they expressed what I was feeling along with a whole nation.  And I think they really believed in what they sang about.  If I  Had a Hammer!  This Land is My Land!  Where Have all the Flowers Gone? Blowin' in the Wind.

  After Mary was gone Peter and Paul still continued to fight for what they had believed in  for so long.  In 2010 they sent a letter to the National Organization for Marriage (who campaigns to stop gay marriage and civil unions) telling them to stop using their song This Land is My Land in their rallies because it was " directly contrary to our advocacy position. "  Principled people, especially in the entertainment industry are sometimes hard to find.

   But what really makes me sad is that there will never be an era like that and there are not words in my vocabulary to describe how we felt.  Music is the one medium that comes closest and Peter, Paul and Mary were the icons of the time.  But Mary is gone and while we get out the old guitar and sing the old songs at the Peace Flotilla and in the coffee shop, it is pure nostalgia.  Sort of the Don Quixote and the whole tilting at windmills thing.  The dragons have all been slain.   We now our government would never lie to us and that the printed word is the one we can believe.  Oh, wait.  Seems I see some Senator hanging his head and saying "Sorry.  I lied."  And I see a crumbling Newspaper Empire because someone hacked the phones and got caught.

   But it is still different.  In this day and age information is instantly at our fingertips.  We do not have to wait for a trio to pick up a guitar and tell us about the wrongs in the world.  And I am going to save Peace Pilgrim for another day.  Today I am going to listen to Peter, Paul and Mary and relive my lost youth.

 

Well, if this is any thing like hell, I am going to straighten myself up and live right.

  Oh, it was 100 degrees yesterday and going to do it again today.  I forgot how many days this has been.  Course there is no rain in sight, just more sun.  Best we can hope for is that the wind will blow and plaster us with dust like happened down south of here.  So I got to thinking about that really hot place I might go to if I do not be a good little girl and I decided I do not under any conditions want to go there.  So I will be very good.  Of course, even I have my breaking point.  So let me see if I actually know what being good entails.
1.  You shall have no other gods before me. Well that is an easy one.  Why would I want to put anyone else first?
2.  You shall not make any idols or graven images.  I am cool on that one. I am not one bit artistic.
3.  You shall not misuse the name of the Lord they God.  Ok, now does that mean cussing with the Lord's name?  If it does, I may be in trouble on this one.  If it means being disrespectful, I don't do that.  I may need a lawyer on this one.
4.  Remember the Sabbath to keep it Holy.  Work six days and rest on the seventh.  Pretty clear there and I have no problem with this one.  I am so good with this one that some times I even do it three or four times a week. ;)
5.  Honor your Father and Mother.  I did this one really well.  Yes, I did.
6.  I did not commit murder.
7.  I did not commit adultery.
8.  You shall not steal. This is another of the kind of gray areas.  I seem to recall liberating a case of Pecan Pie from the Red Carpet Resturant which was supposed to be delivered to the Red Carpet Bakery.  Then there was that one incident...but I did all that stuff before I decided I wanted to go to heaven and as I understand a lot of this stuff is closed book.  Man, I sure hope so!
9.  You shall not give false testimony against your neighbor.  Now how close does one need to live to be considered a neighbor?  And it was not false, just told a secret out of school a time or two.  Better talk to the big guy again.
10. You shall not covet your neighbors wife, or his manservant, or maidservant, his ox or donkey or anything that belongs to your neighbor.  Well, he is just pretty clear on this one now isn't he?  I am pretty safe on this one right up to the part that comes after donkey!
  Alright, I may not be perfect.  As a matter of fact, I am far from perfect.  Let's just call a spade a spade here!  I am in deep dodo. See, it is not only the 10 Commandments I need to worry about, it is a lot of other stuff that is sprinkled around here and there in the Bible.  I know about the Golden Rule "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."  Just for many years I remembered it a little bit differently. "Do unto others as they would do unto you, but do it first."  Now there is a technicality that the lawyer is not going to get around.
  And I had a lot of trouble with that turn the other cheek one.   I will never be a pious person.  I know very well, that I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God in many areas of my life.  There are people out there who can be pious and can point my faults out to me, and I can safely say that they are going to have to be pretty quick to spot it before I do.   I am not perfect.  The one thing I have learned in this life is not to beat myself up over past transgressions, because there are plenty of other people that will do that for me.  Lots of people take delight in pointing out my faults and shortcomings.  Do I care?  Hell no!  I think I am a pretty good person when all the good points are added.  So, where were we?
  Oh, yeah.  It is hotter than Hell.  Not really.  Hell is very, very hot and I refuse to go there.  I do like summer, so I am going to enjoy this heat because I know Winter is going to come sooner or later and I will miss the shorts and tee shirts and sandals.  Tomorrow I am going to have a picture of the baby geese in the stock tank if I have to catch them and throw them in it myself.  But right now I have to go talk to God for a bit and explain some of those things that I am not sure he is real clear on my intentions, just in case!

Road Rage!!! You bet!!!

Oh, I just get the biggest knot in my stomach when I have to go on Pueblo Boulevard to catch 50 West.  The crews have been working on that since the Pony Express passed through this area.  They are putting a very pretty median in which just amazes me, since I thought we were broke.  But therein lies my misconception of the situation.  It is the Federal Government and they have an unlimited money supply because they own the mint and all the printers therein.  Silly me.
But back to this road rage I must encounter.  Do not tell me to ignore it because it is going on right there in my car with the driver.  Oh, that would be ME!  Now I remember why I quit carrying my gun.  See, being a silly, addle brained woman, I forget things.  I think just because I am on a road, in the proper lane, driving the speed limit, on my way to a given destination that I have an actual right to be there.  I paid my fees on the car, and they gouged me for this road, but I do not belong there.  This road is for that idiot passing on the shoulder and honking at me and 289 of my closest friends.  Or the  SUV in the other lane that is cutting me off before she hits the lane merge barricade, the same one I saw 4 miles back and was repeated every 7 feet, yet managed to catch that chickadee by surprise.  I know she is unhappy because I can see her on her cell phone with her lips flapping like a rabid dog!
I have driven in Denver and Dallas both at the height of the rush hour and had less stress on my poor brain than what I encounter any time I venture forth in this fair city.  I have driven blind drunk in Hutchinson, Kansas and Colorado Springs is a piece of cake, but Pueblo is a whole new ball game.  Yesterday I traversed the Pueblo Boulevard area and today I am making a new set of rules.  Well, not really.  I have always had these in the back of my mind; I am just  going to put them in black and white so I can look at them.
1.  Never at any time, ever, do I have the right of way.  No exceptions to this rule.
2.  I paid as much for the tags on my new Ford as the Chevy with the flapping fenders who is trying to run me in the ditch and therefore I must let him in front of me and hope I do not get gassed by his smokey exhaust.
3.  I have insurance up the wahzoo and I am sure I will pay for his car when I swerve to miss him and he still manage to slam on his breaks in front of me. 
4.  I am suffering whiplash just looking at his driving.
5.  My time is as valuable as your time.  I maybe old but I  am not expendable.
6.  I am the world's most defensive driver and I can out maneuver you  so back off.
7.  I am putting the gun back under the seat until the work on Pueblo Boulevard is finished.
8.  I am pretty sure that any cell phone calls ringing on my phone can wait until I am parked and so can yours.  Unless, of course you are God, and he has better ways of communicating than with a cell phone.

So, if you are hassling me just because I am doing what I am old and driving prudently and cautiously and you see my head go below the dash for a brief moment, you better get right back there behind me and follow my lead, because I am about to suffer one of those head aches that come on suddenly and will lead to a stroke if I do not relieve the pressure.  And if shooting you is what it takes I can only say "It sucks to be you!"

July 12, update for Scot and the Cuban Caravan.

From: kriskross****@****.com
Subj: Caravan, July 12th

Scot called from Clinton, Iowa yesterday.  It had been a good day with 6 Caravanistas now riding the bus.  On Sunday they were in Chicago and attended 2 church services.  Events have been uplifting.  Scot's remarks at one of them were very well received, ( and we all thought he was the quiet type ).  Today they are making the long drive to St. Louis, MO.  Godspeed and good weather!
Kris

Do online acquaintences count like real ones?

As you may have guessed, I have several  "online friends".  Most of them I call friends because I do not want to be bothered spelling out the word acquaintance.   Since AOL automatically adds any one who emails me to  my address book, I have a very full address book.  I also have a category that is marked "If I croak" and Bret has instructions that if I do suddenly cease to exist, he is to notify these 2 people.  Only two.  The first one will no doubt tell anyone who will listen and she knows which chat rooms I go to so that aspect will be covered.  The other one will get his "flushing finger" warmed up since I want to be buried at sea and that is the shortest, most direct route I know.  Just having a little trouble getting him to wait until after I am "gone."  And this, my friends, brings me to the crux of my missive today.
As you know, I sell on eBay.  eBay has chat rooms and a year or so I went to visit for the simple reason that on every post I make there is a link to my listings.  Good business sense, I thought.  Of course after a period of time I got to know people.  Some more than others.  One little gal in Florida and I were working on our html skills and the room we were in got very upset with us so we moved to another more liberal room.  The point here is we started emailing outside the chat room and are very good friends to this day.  I send her cookies and she eats them.  She in turn sends me little tokens.  I am as close to her as if she lived next door.  But I have never met her. 
A couple of months back I noticed that one of the regulars was not popping in at all.  So I mentioned it.  No response.  I mentioned it several more times and then let it go.  Then someone else mentioned it.  Two months!  Then came the announcement.  Seems the guy had "passed".  How sad that no one noticed he was gone for two months!  Had this group been here in my circle of friends, his absence would have no doubt been noticed right away, but the Internet is a very big, fickle place.  Friendships are made easily and just as quickly dissipate.  Yesterday's news, so to speak.  Had he been in my "real" world I would no doubt have at  the very least sent a card. 
There are many in my online address book that I hear from or contact on rare occasions.  Only these two hold special meaning for me. Now, I can not help but feel these friendships are as meaningful as if they were right here beside me.  Am I wrong?  Do we need flesh and blood contact to connect with people?  This Internet is a wonderful place if we use it correctly.  Am I doing that?  I have several friends who think I spend too much time on the computer, but it is what I do. 
I think that I am as close to Amy as any of my kids.  I would like to bring her to Colorado and take care of her.  Teach her things she needs to know to get by in this life, like proper nutrition.  ;) And my other friend and confidante knows me as well as anyone and way better than most.  He can see past my facade to the real me and point out my faulty thinking.  How he does that I will never know, but he is the first man I have ever "not met" that can do that.
I guess what I am really asking here is why we call it "passed" or "gone" when it is really "died"?  And if someone dies that I have never really known, do I still "know" them?  I realize that I was never close to Dan, but I still feel a twinge of sadness.  And I know if anything happened to my Amy or Oscar  I would be inconsolable.  Does that make me abnormal?  I think not.  Life is full of relationships on every level and in every degree.  My online friends are just as important to me as my real world friends.  So, maybe I am abnormal and maybe I am not.  Time will tell.
In the meantime I will hold on to the online connections and trust that they will be holding on to me.  And some day, I am sure, I will see them.  And when that day comes I can toss the computer, but for the moment it is my connection and it is here to stay, as real and vibrant as the friends in town.  So to one I sign off "Mountain Momma"  and the other, "Bella".  I love you both.  Just never get to say it often enough.
And all you others out there reading this,  I love you, too.  Love is a well that never runs dry and the more you give away the more you get.  So start spreading it around!

Is this a bucket list item or just an I want?

The Good Lord and I sort of have an agreement.   It works this way, when I want or need something I just tell him and then he sort of shows me a way to get what I need.  It has worked for a whole lot of years, even when he gave me something different than what I was hoping to receive.  Many times he just sends me down the right street or manuvers me in front of the answer.  So the last couple of days there is one young girl in particular that I have been thinking about.  I want to know where she ever went and how she and her sisters are today.  I can not tell you her name, but I will outline the story and she or some one who knows may contact me.  Sure hope so.
I worked at the Red Carpet Resturant in Hutchinson, Kansas for a couple named Bob and Thelma Bailey.  It was shortly after I divorced my first husband so it must have been about 1969-1972.  Maybe later.  Lot of foggy parts there in that period.  There was a lady that worked as my helper.  She had 3 lovely daughters.  She lived North of town with her husband.  He was a very handsome man and to all intents and purposes they seemed to have a wonderful marriage, but I do not think that was actually the case.  I am not one to judge and that is not why I am here.  She came to work several times with injuries she explained as "falling off a tractor",  "slipping in the bathtub" and I am not sure just how she broke her arm that time, but I do know it was "all her own fault."
The day finally came when she fell off the porch (as I recall) and wound up a parapalegic and had to be cared for at home.  Her husband hired a woman to take care of her and when she died he married her.  These are enough facts that if you know who I am looking for you can contact me.  I am especially interested in the oldest daughter.  She lived with me for a brief period after her mom died.  I have said lots of prayers for these girls and would dearly love to see them.  The oldest is the one that may remember me.
So there it is, out there for the Universe and God to deal with.  Please know that any information I receive will be held in the strictest confidence and nothing will appear on this blog about what happens after today.  OK,  Big Guy, do your thing!

Report on the Cuban Caravan and Scot's whereabouts.

In a message dated 7/8/2011 10:28:59 P.M. Mountain Daylight Time, kriskross******.com writes:


Scot is in Milwaukee tonight. Sounds like the bus is behaving with a little help from Scot and assorted others. It is getting filled up with aid and a few caravanistas. Scot also participated in a radio interview about the caravan.

More later!

I will make dessert, no problemo!

 

Bret had a little friend pop over last night that we had not seen in years.  So I wondered just what I could throw together for dessert and I quickly took stock and knew Cream Puffs were the answer.  Butter, water, flour, and eggs.  Milk, eggs and sugar for the filling.  No chocolate for the decoration but that was because chocolate is endangered around here with Amanda on the loose!  Oh, and I am currently waiting for the next batch of Vanilla to finish whatever it is it does in there with that Vodka!  Now I am completely out of Vanilla.

If there is one thing I like to do, it is cook.  Kind of wish I had a cooks helper to clean up after me.  That was the fun part of owning my own restaurant.  I could just make the biggest messes and Carolyn or Esther or someone would clean them up for me.  Only one rule every dishwasher has is "Never put a knife in the sink!"  Lady named Edith taught me that one and instilled in me a deep rooted fear of knives in the sink and big tall women named Edith!

You know, I look around at this mess that eBay selling makes of my house and I really miss the restaurant business.  The Red Carpet was the most fun because it was really big and classy.  Someone actually called me a "Chef" when I worked there.  The best part was the big bakery in the back.  I baked when I finished my morning shift.  Not the rolls and stuff because we had a baker for that, but fancy stuff.  I have a whole album full of beautiful wedding cakes.  That was really fun.  I loved making Roses.  It is a real joy to take a plain old cake and slather on the frosting, the flowers, garlands and leaves and end up with a four feet tall masterpiece.  My biggest challenge was a family who had brought their own cake across country , only to drop the second layer.  I managed to match the colors, design and all that so closely that no one knew!

When I had my little "Lou's Kitchen" down town it was all home cooking and the only baking was the Cinnamon rolls and Dinner rolls.  Oh, and the pies.  The lady who had the State Sales Tax job and came to see me on a regular basis loved the Cherry Pie.  Course she also loved the Pecan Pie, Chocolate and  anything that would hold still on the plate.  The biggest problem I had with her is she wore these half glasses that set on the end of her nose and she looked out over them and just made my blood run cold!  See I have this guilt complex and that woman could make me squirm like no one else.  Something about being closely scrutinized through spectacles on the end of someones nose that make me want to confess every wrong thing I had ever done and inflate my sales so I could pay more tax!

But she was a lovely lady and I enjoyed visiting with her, just that she had the power and  I knew that.  My customers were the best.  See, this little restaurant only held about 50 people and set right across the street from McDonald's.  There was a bakery on the street behind and I got all those guys three times a day since it had 3 shifts.  I really miss that place!  

But back to reality.  I got to go do the chore thing and get ready for the day.  Just know those were really good Cream Puffs and if you pop by unexpectedly, I just might make you some! 



Update on Scot for July 4, 2011

As promised.

From: kriskross******.com




Dear All,

On Sunday, Scot got to go to church at his "born into" church, Plymouth Congregational in Minneapolis. Today he worked with artists who painted the bus. I hope to get pictures to share. If you happen to be on Facebook, look for IFCO, Pastors for Peace for more info.

Kris

Lucky you! I will keep you abreast of Scot and his travels!

Well, it is Cuban Caravan time again and today I got this from Kris.  None of the Pueblo Churches were involved this year for some odd reason.  Could it be that Max, Maureen and Faye are no longer prodding them? But my friends, Scot and Kris remain true to the cause. 

Today's missive:  In a message dated 7/2/2011 12:54:13 P.M. Mountain Daylight Time, kriskross*********com writes:


Dear All,


Scot took off yesterday to, once again, drive a bus for the Cuba Caravan. I can't remember if this is the 20th year, or what, that the caravan has brought donated humanitarian aid to Cuba. Anyway, Scot flew to Branson, Missouri where he picked up the bus and got started on the route. A really nice lady named "Akeejee" ( can't spell her name correctly ) gave him some snacks and goodies for the road. There are no riders on the bus with him yet, except for a hitch-hiker.



Today Scot got through DesMoines where he refuled himself and his laptop batteries at the Catholic Workers House. He is headed north and will send updates frequently.



Prayers for safe travel and dependable vehicle much appreciated!

Kris

Koury Truck Stop really is a thing of the past.

I went to Colorado Springs last week to spend the day with Pastor Faye which is always a rare treat for me.  Since I had another engagement in the morning, I was later leaving so it was after lunch when I got there.  We visited a while and I was surprised to learn that they have had less rain then us which is very unusual as they are higher altitude and the mountains usually get more moisture.  But that is a bit of useless information that I just threw in for you.
Then we decided we should venture down the street to the Country Buffet because that is what we always do.  Women are such creatures of habit!  By this time it was getting to be mid afternoon and I decided I should perhaps head back down the highway to home, so I departed.
Soon after I got on the Interstate I found myself behind an 18 wheeler which is nothing new in itself.  I drive with the cruise control set on 72 MPH so I notice if traffic is erratic, and this guy was  just that.  I passed him, but watched in my rear view mirror as he sped up and around me.  I decided to just stay back where I was and watched as he sped away, then slowed, then sped and I knew immediately that the fellow was having trouble staying awake.  So for about 10 miles I kept him on the road with prayers and positive thoughts.  Then I remembered that the Rest Area was coming up so I decided that I would get in front of him and wave him into the Rest Area  and I actually started to put that plan into action.  Then I played that scenario out in my head!  Here we have an old lady trying to flag a trucker over into a Rest Area.  Now, I have never done that, and in my younger days I might have pulled a few shenanigans in my time, but flagging down truckers was never one of them. 
I knew that the next stopping place was Koury's Truck Stop, but I also knew it was closed after being there like forever.  I had intended to tell him that, but I watched as the rest area exit shot by.  Then I watched as he slowed for the exit to the truck stop and watched as he slowly drove down the ramp into the parking lot to join 5 other rigs that were there.  No doubt there were 5 guys catching some much needed sleep in that parking lot as I drove past.
The sight made me very sad as Koury had been there for so many years.  When we first started our excavation business it was one of our first jobs.  A truck had driven into the parking lot and straight into the fuel storage tank.  The fire could be seen clear into town and when it was done there was nothing.  Our job was to clear the area and excavate for the new truck stop.  And when the new truck stop opened it was a mecca for the lonely truckers on I 25.  A southwest adobe design with a restaurant, gift shop, shower area for travellers, a small motel, a tire shop and fuel area and a very high berm around the fuel storage area.  Fred Koury held sway and what a wonderful place it was. 
But, as with all things, time marches on and things change.  Fred Koury's kids grew to adulthood and Fred got tired of working, kind of like you and I.  I think a couple of the kids took over the Truck Stop, but it was not a passion like it had been with Fred and I remember seeing that it had closed and I was a little sad,  but seeing the emptiness when I drove past last week sure brought it home to me.  For so many years it had been a regular stop for the big rigs that travel our highways and now it stands as a grim reminder that time and tide wait for no man.
That night I was very sad as I recalled Frank letting a coyote out of a trap when we were working there.  I remembered Kenny almost stepping on a Rattle Snake when getting out of the truck.  We had gone there for lunch a couple times and it was a real family restaurant  that just happened to be a truck stop.  No greasy spoon there!  Then I remembered something that made me smile.  If you were southbound on I25 you were alright.  Northbound was a different story.  Northbound traffic exited and had to make a left turn under I25.  The opening under the highway to the parking lot was exactly the height to allow a tractor/trailer through  and not one inch higher.  There were several scratch marks on the top from trailers with over inflated tires!  Now if you think I am exaggerating, you do not know me very well, do you?  I will go take a picture the next time I am in that area and post it on here.  Of course to get back on the North bound one had to reverse the procedure.
  So there you have it.  Another milestone in my rear view mirror.  But I figure there are going to be a lot more  of those then there are the images  in front of me.  So, as long as the old gray matter keeps perking along we will have lots to talk about.  See you next time something strikes my fancy!

What is going on in my little pointy head today?

     Well, usually not much since I stay on "auto pilot" most of the time, but today my thoughts are a jumble.  First, I am glad they passed the "Gay Marriage Bill" in New York.  New York has always been on the cutting edge of the Gay Rights Movement, more so than even California in my humble opinion.  I have always been rather on the fence about the word "marriage" in connection with same sex couples, but they never gave me a choice in the matter so of course I supported it all the way.  I could have been satisfied with a different word, but that is just me.  I am very happy that my gay friends are making strides in that area and I celebrate this victory!  Now as long as they are given the same rights as hetrosexual couples it will be a good thing, but there is still that federal government to contend with, isn't there?
    As I look back on my life, I almost cringe at the inhumanity to man that I have seen.  I realize I did not actually "see" slavery, but I did see the Blacks treated as less than second class citizens.  I seen the riots because people of a different color wanted their children to have an education equal to the people they served.  Blacks were chattle which, if you remove the "h" becomes cattle.  Americans went to Africa and kidnapped them and brought them over here and then when they were freed, screamed at them to "Go back to Africa!"  They did not want to come here in the first place, but I am not going to go there this morning.  You are all aware of the Civil Rights struggle.
     Now, is that worse than what was done to women?  How many years or centuries were women deemed to be the property of some man and had no rights what so ever?  Ever study up on how women were treated since the beginning of time?  They could serve the husband, but if he died they were flat out of luck.  Where would I be today if I lived in those times?  Not here on a computer sharing my views with the world, that is for sure. 
     I think the homosexual population is going to be our last vista as far as equality is concerned.  I realize we still have the politically correct things we need to observe and they are more than even I can keep up with sometimes.  Like in our church, we must refer to God in the neutral sense, meaning he is neither  male nor female.  Sorry, I was raised that God is male.  God is God.  Years ago I had a tee shirt that said "When God made man, she was only kidding!"  But I never believed that for even a minute.  I know there are people reading this who will scoff at me, but who cares.  I scoff right back at them because I am a free, white woman and that is what I do.
    Back to the man's inhumanity to man thing for a bit.  I can recall way back when I lived in Nickerson. Kansas and dad would talk about a family of "niggras" that lived on the edge of town.  It was alright if they came to town to buy stuff in the daylight,  but they better not ever try to come to town after the sun went down.  In all honesty, I could not imagine why they would want to go to town in the dark because everything was closed!  I always thought my dad would have made a great KKK member and the only reason I think he wasn't was because mom could not spare the sheet!  I never laid eyes on this elusive family, nor did I ever see the "Gypsy's"  that were camped over to the West of the McQueen place.  And those are the ones I needed to watch because they were the ones that would steal me and go sell me some where if I was not a good little girl.
     Nickerson was a very white community.  Oh, we had our share of odd balls, but we were odd balls ourselves.  Darn good thing that was not illegal or they would have hung us all.  There was Hank Windiate, who was crippled on one side and went to town in a buckboard with a sad looking old horse.  Never married.  Across from him was Jerry and Ora Ayres.  She had a bit of brain damage from an accident when they were first married. He grew enough produce and peanuts to feed the county.  Jake Smith used to be a deputy and sat in a chair all day long cleaning his gun.  Rudolph Reinke lost his wife with the birth of his last daughter.  He raised his last 4 girls alone, was a handyman and did his work while singing at the top of his lungs in German.  We were the first house on that block.  Now this is just one block, and it is only a sampling.  This does not include Whittlin' Joe and Johnny Carson, or the family in the boxcar. 
     My point here is simply that I am not one to throw stones.  My childhood was typical, I feel, as was yours for your time and area.  Did God make anyone of us better than the other?  Is it my job to be judge and jury for mankind?  I rather think not.  I am going to set right here in my little corner of the world and continue to dispense my words of wisdom as they occur to me.  No doubt I will die a lonely old woman, but that is alright too.  When I get to heaven I am going to put on my dancing shoes and dance all over heaven.  Maybe God will let me set on his lap and help judge a few of the hypocrites that come knocking on the door.  Hey, maybe he will let me judge that one guy that told me just last year that I was going to rot in hell and should be burned at the stake for what I believe.  Know what?  I would probably let him in cause I bet he is sorry.  He just grew up on a different street than I did! 

Let's just give some thought to this circle of life thing here>

It is a stretch to see how that tiny little happy baby over there on left, turned into this old woman here on the right.  No one is more stunned by that transformation then I  am.  That little baby there is pure and innocent and knows nothing at all about the causes this woman holds dear.  But if you stop and think, my mother was once a tiny baby like that.  All I remember was when I was little life was so easy. I never had to worry about a place to live or food to eat or being warm or anything.  All my decisions were made for me.  I did not even have to wear shoes and clothes were just something we put on because we were supposed to do that.

Then my sister got married and then my brother joined the Army and I started high school and I figured out there were boys.  But the most fun was finding cigarettes!  Thanks for that LaVeta!  Oh, and the Home Brew.  You kids today missed all the good stuff! 

"I belong to the Beat Generation.  Ain't nothin' troublin' my mind.  I belong to the Beat Generation, and everything's goin' just fine!"

Do not remember what that was about, but it rears it's little head sometimes in my memory.  I knew there were drugs out there and I knew the names of them at the time, but alcohol was my drug of choice along with Pall Mall cigarettes.  And can only thank God that he kept me away from the drug scene.  Sure was not any good sense on my part, I just was not interested.  This was all at Nickerson High School.  We later moved to Hutchinson in my senior year and that was the end of my formal schooling.  Take a lonely little country girl and throw her into the mainstream of a big city school and you will lose her every time.  And so it happened with Louella Bartholomew.

And so life went on pretty much without me.  I fell in love, I got married, I had 4 babies in 4 years, I took a 4 year break and had another one.  I divorced, I married, I worked, divorced, married until that one sounded like a broken record.  And then one day I realized that my kids that had been the whole reason for living and working were now marrying, leaving and having babies of their own.  I was a grandma.

And now those babies are having babies and I am a great grandmother.  There is a very good chance that I will be a great, great grandmother before I get out of this mess.  There was a point in my life that I dreaded growing old.  A time when I thought it could not happen to me.  You know what I mean?  Well, I have to be honest here and tell it like it is.  Vini, Vidi, Vici!  I did that!  I can not think of anything in this world that I wanted to do that I did not do.  

I ran away, and I came back.  I have ridden motorcycles,  and drag raced after midnight.  I have ridden horses that no one knew about.  I have fished and hunted, hiked and boated.  I have loved and laughed and had my heart broken more then once, but I got what I gave.  I have been rich and I have been poor.  I have held a newborn baby kitten and held people as they died.  I have heard angel wings when a soul leaves the body, but only once. 

When I was young, I had the fire in my belly, but now I have the fire in my soul.  And I guess that is how the circle of life goes.  Someday I will need to set by the fire and nod as the kids take care of me.  I was once the carefree little girl and then my children were and now it is their children.  And that dear people is the circle of life as I know it.  When I was that tiny baby up there, my great grandmother was the Matriarch of the family, and now, alas, it is me.  I always thought the Matriarch was to be revered and respected, but now I find myself in the postition of being Matriarch and I find it is just a word I am not sure I spell correctly.  I am the same person I was before someone died and left me in charge.  I am still confused by the events of my life and am in no way able to advise anyone else.

So here is the deal; we are born, we grow up.  Some of us have kids some of us don't.  Some of us are happy, some are not.  Some of us are rich and succesful and some of us are not.  It all boils down to this, we all put our britches on one leg at a time. We all love some body at some point and when it is all said and done we are a light that gets put out.  I like to think that I am important and that I have made a difference.  This is what I know; when my light goes out, some will mourn for a time, but life goes on as it will.  Some one else will look in the mirror and say, "Oh dear, this leaves me as the Matriarch!"

That, my friends, is the Circle of Life!