Happy Birthday to the baby boy!

Kind of hard to tell that this is my baby boy.  But it is.  Last one of the litter.  And today he turns 20.  Just one more before the big one.  Course he has already flown the nest and he and his girlfriend are in their own home in Florence.  You would be amazed at what all they are learning.  Gas to drive to and from work is very costly.  And groceries are out of sight.  It is not really necessary to have 2 cell phones with "Everything data" from Sprint for $178.00.  That is not all though.  They have also figured out that if they do not pick up after themselves, house work is a never ending chore.  Think that was their rudest awakening.  I have figured out that they were not the only messy ones living here.
But it is his happy birthday and I can not help but remember where I was when I turned 20.  I had been married for 11 months and was 5 months pregnant with the Debbie.  A couple months earlier we were living in Yates Center, Kansas.  I had gone to the doctor and when he said I was going to have a baby my mind leapt around the small town. 
" Well, where is the hospital?"  That seemed like a very good question to me.  He, however, looked at me like I had just landed my spaceship.
"Well, it is about 75 miles away."
"Well, what about when I get ready to have his baby?  How do I get there?"  Then he sighed and looked at me like I was a complete idiot.
"Well, around these parts, women have their babies to home."  I immediately left his office, ran down the street to where I had left Duane in the pool hall, having a beer to settle his nerves.  When he saw my face he knew we had a situation.
"What did the doctor say?"  And I broke it to him as gently as possible given my terrified state.
"Well, he said pack up your clothes because you are going to have to move back to Hutchinson, cause there is no where to have babies around here."  And we did.
Now what all that has to do with Bret is more than I can understand, but you knew I would make it into something all about me, didn't you?
So, Happy Birthday to the baby boy.  I know he will not get to read this because his new frugal lifestyle does not allow him to have high speed internet and even if he did he does not read my blog.  I only have 3 kids out of  10 that does.  That is 30%.  Kind of poor percentage rate if you ask me, but who am I to judge?
OK. I have got to figure out what to do for the little guy's birthday.  Probably spanking him is clear out of the question.  And when they grow up and leave home, momma is no longer responsible for his every thing like when he was a baby.

But gee, I kind of miss those days.!

Got to weigh in on this one!

Texting while driving?  Are you guilty of that!  Oh, I got to tell you, most of the people in this town are not capable of driving when they focus full attention on the road!  The sure are not able to carry on a conversation with someone in the car let alone on the phone and drive with any responsibility.  So now lets give them a teeny tiny typewriter and turn them loose on the public.  I am very happy to see that finally the National News is picking this up and running with it.  Why is eveyone so far behind me and I am not that bright?
Now under no conditions do I think the American public that is doing the yapping and texting while driving are responsible for this!  No!  I blame Obama!  Well, not really, but the poor guy gets it for everything else, so just wanted to throw that out as an option.
I do blame Technology.  We can put a man on the moon.  We can put a computer in a device that is 3 inches by 5 inches and an eighth of an inch thick and capable of flashing a missive around the world in 2 seconds, but we can not stop an idiot from using it while driving down the road and 75 miles an hour.  That is almost faster than the speed of light!  It has been stated that it takes 10 to 20 seconds of having your eyes focused on the screen to send a short message.  And then read the return.  Lot can happen in just a few seconds.  Hell, I have conceived in less time then that!
In my usual haphazard way of watching the news I did see that a national something or other has a campaign going showing the last message on the cell phone before hitting a brick wall.  Real important stuff like YEAH, lol, yes, no. And that could not have waited?  I am with them on the ban of these devices while driving.  I am also in favor of enforcing that law.  I would go further and say I am in favor of us drivers who do not do this being able to enforce it also.  If I see someone texting while driving, I should be able to pull out my gun and shoot them.  Or ram them and knock them off the road.  Oh, do I sound a bit radical?  Well, I hate that, but I also hate coming on a twisted mess of metal that was once a car and seeing the body bag being carried off to the ambulance.  See the sad part about this whole selfish mess is it is not always the guy with his finger on the phone that is in the bag.  Sometimes it is the little old lady setting at the stop sign thinking about church on Sunday.  Or the silly boy who thought just cause he was in the cross walk that he was protected. 
I have got to get a sticker for my car that says. HANG UP AND DRIVE.  I doubt that will work though.  I been giving them the one fingered Hawaiian good luck sign and they don't see that.  So for today, this is just my humble opinion.  Don't text and drive and don't talk and drive should be as simple to remember as don't drink and drive. 
Laters!

My first Christmas as a single mom, I think.

I do not remember just when I left the kids dad, but as I recall not much changed.  I was in Hutch and immediately went to work at Skaets Steak Shop as a waitress.  That was the good part about Skaet.  When I was first out on my own, I washed dishes at Skaets for a man named Norman Duschene who was the man who first started the place.  After that there were other owners, but always a Bartholomew working in some capacity there.  So when I left the husband and returned to Hutchinson, it was only natural that I go to work at Skaets.  I think my sister Donna was there at that time.  My  mother was working at the Red Rooster.  Ruth and Al Herrington were the owners than.  I had never waited tables in my life, but I told them how experienced I was and they put me right to work. 
Now I do recall that both Duane and I were having a little problem adjusting to this not being married stuff.  I do not remember when we actually divorced, but we surely must have.  The first Christmas I loaded the kids in the car and drove the 130 miles to his mom's house.  Some how one of us missed the memo and he went to Hutchinson to my empty house.  At that time he lived in Garden City.  Hey!  It has been a long time and a lot of water under the bridge, you know.  I know the first year and a half was pretty confusing.  We at one point, well several points actually, reconciled.  I left Skaets and went to the Red Rooster where I met Gilbert who was a good friend of mothers and he and I became friends.  I did not stay there very long because I was offered a job as short order cook at the Red Carpet by Bob Bailey.  That was a dream come true, because I had always wanted to be a cook.  So I bade the Red Rooster good bye and embarked  on to greener pastures.
So now we are to the second Christmas.  Duane did not come for this one.  My dear Gibby helped me shop and then he played Santa.  A note here about Gilbert.  We always knew he was  gay.  But we loved that boy.  He was so much fun and so kind.  Later he was to move to California and be one of the first of many to die of AIDS.  He became infected after I moved to Colorado and when I left Hutch I never saw him again.  He did keep in touch and we planned to meet for Thanksgiving the year he died.  Bad timing.
But back to Christmas.  We had bought a miniature doll house for the girls.  Metal.  And it needed to be assembled which entailed folding out little metal tabs, putting them in a slot and folding them down.  Well, we put the kids to bed and then decided maybe we should have a little eggnog with just a touch of Rum to celebrate the season.  Let me be the first to say, sharp metal tabs, pointy pliers and eggnog laced with Rum is not a good combination.  Nor is a couple drunks trying to climb a ladder and decorate a tall Christmas tree.  In all fairness I must say I never dreamed a Christmas tree had that many pokey things on it and I would never have guessed how much blood you can smear on the little red wagon and the tinsel without some body passing out.  How those kids slept through all that was more than I will ever know.  Course Gib had to spend the night because he was too drunk to walk to the car.  I actually slept under the tree since that was where I ran out of steam.  I think he must have called someone to come get him cause he was gone the next morning.
The kids were thrilled that Santa had actually came and did all he did.  Man so was I.  He almost bankrupted me, but the kids were happy. 
Lot happened there at 217 West 5th.  Some good, some bad.  I became manager of the Red Carpet, but restaurant work is rarely permanent.  I left the Red Carpet and bought a place on 4th right across from MacDonalds.  Named that one Lou's Kitchen  Had that for a year and then fell in love and moved to Colorado.  Course I fell out of love as quickly as I had fallen in, but such is life.  Colorado has been good to me.  I graduated college with a gold cord.  Married a couple guys, one of which is the one I should have married in the first place.  Helped start a construction company; well actually two construction companies.  Started a trucking company.  I have friends and I have people who tolerate me and I have a driving need to keep moving and changing, which I suppose is good, for the most part.  I think this next year I am going to start downsizing.  Who knows what that means exactly?  Just hang with me and find out!  But first I have to get through this Christmas.

Maybe it is time to rethink the Santa thing!

I have once more been called a Grinch.  Now why do people do that?  I am not a Grinch.  I think Christmas is wonderful.  Or at least the part about the baby Jesus.  And the wise men.  And the shepherds.  I like the Christmas tree and the carols and all that stuff.  What I have a problem with is the commercialism.  Black Friday, Super Saturday, Something Monday.  How much are sales up?  How much are sales down?
I remember the last Christmas that I thought the presents were from Santa.  For years I had written the letter to Santa telling him how bad I wanted a dolly.  Dolly's were different than as opposed to now.  They had plastic legs and arms and a hard plastic head.  And if you got a really good one it would cry when you tilted it back and then it would close it's eyes.  I finally got the dolly. And  I loved that dolly.  And I could not figure out how she knew to close her eyes.  Unfortunately for dear dolly, neither could my brother, Jake.  But he had a solution for that.  Little tap on the back of the head with the hammer and all Dolly's secrets were revealed.  There were weights that caused her eyes to close.  And in all fairness he did try to glue the back of her head back on, but she was just never the same.  And since he had pretty well performed a patrial lobotomy on her, it was just another step to rip her stomach open and see what made her cry.  That was a sort of thing that when you laid her down, air went through an opening and made her cry. 
Now Jake did make me promise that I would not tell mother what he had done.  But mother's have a way of finding this stuff out.  I tried to tell her that I had done it, because I knew he was going to get a licking.  I was a girl so I did not get punished like the boy did.  And mother never did it herself.  Maybe Dad did.  I don't remember.  I do know he got in very bad trouble.  I could not understand why Mother was so upset.  It had come from Santa, but you would have thought it came out of her pocket.  Hmmm.
But that is not the Christmas gift I remember the most.  The last one I remember and it will always stick in my mind was simply a book, a red ball, an orange and some candy in a sack.  I  think I remember it most because that was the year I made the connection with momma and Santa Claus.  All the years that I thought he was so wonderful, he did not even exist.  My mother was putting money away a little at a time so us little ragamuffins could get something from Santa.
Santa has been going around garnering praise for all these years while mothers and fathers do without so he can get the glory.  I did it for my kids and in keeping with the season, I am going to tell about some of the Christmas's for my little kiddies.  I am not real proud of all of them, but they are what they are.  It is hard to hide the truth for very long.  So let me get my head together and I will share with you a few of the Seeger Family Christmases!

And this is why Country Music will be around when I am gone.

I had a friend, key word here is "had", who explained to me that country was not an acceptable venue as far as the true music fans went.  He further went on to explain to me that the others in the Music Chat room on eBay had never tolerated Country until I came along and were only doing so because I was well liked in the room and had become buddies with some of the old timers.  Well, the Chat rooms on eBay are now history, but I still hang out with a few of those who were in there.  We have located to another chat room outside of eBay so we are all good to go.  Unfortunately I do not have the friend who said that to me, but I do still have Country Music.  And that is just why Country is here at my house and it always will be. 
See us country women do not have to dress up to the nines to go out.  We are just as at home in a pair of cut offs as the city girls are in silk and satin.  Some times we do like to "put on the dog" just to show the "good old boys" that it can be done.  We could stand around in a shimmery gown with our hair piled up high and hold a martini glass and you would never know we were hicks.  That is the beauty of country girls.  Try bringing your fancy ladies down to the farm to wrestle a baby calf away from it's momma, or throw the hay over the fence to the horse.  Ain't gonna happen, is it?  Your women don't like the smell of manure, but to us old country gals it is the smell of freedom and a steak on the grill.
And when you listen to the music that you listen to, does it tie your guts up in a knot?  I don't think so.  When we sing, we sing of heartache, pain, death, lust, happiness, tears and laughter.  Oh, yeah, and prison.  Our music has words that can wring tears out of the hardest heart.  I listen to yours and I have to try to identify the various instruments and then of course there is that other kind about "Whose yo' momma?" or "Who Let the Dogs Out?" God help me if I ever ended up at the Opera.  Oh, but then there is the "Grand Old Opera" isn't there?  My music tells a story of my roots and it doesn't pull any punches.  Give me a man whose left hand is calloused and I will give you a guitar picker.  I tried to learn to play the guitar once and my fingers were so sore that I gave it up.  And it did not matter that my teacher kissed them, they still hurt. 
Now I think it is fine that you like your music and I do not dispute your right to that, but leave me alone with Willie and Waylon and the boys and a little Hank and Lefty and we will be good to go, cause I gotta tell you this  Redneck Woman  is here to stay!  Hell Ya!  Hell Ya!

Happy Birthday to Kenny.

Kenny with the Polly dog.  Kenny sharing breakfast with Rowdy bird.  Jimmy modeling for Kenny!

Just a few of the things I miss.  Today he would be 80 years old.  Lots of people are living way past that, but I think that is not good always.  He spent his last birthday in ICU.  That was definitely not good.  And he spent his last Christmas on a respirator.  New Years too.

All I have to say today is that I am very glad I have my memories and if I ever lose them, just shoot me.

Weaver Guild Christmas Party!!

Now if you will click on that slide show it will get very big.  then you will be able to read what they are also.  I did not put names on them because that would take way to much of my valuable time.  Suffice it to say a good time was had by all!  A better time was had by these two!

Joanne Caldwell brought some wedding punch which contains a quart of Tequila.  She omitted the Tequila since we were all driving, but these two did not know that!  This is Donna Graham and Cathy Coatney who normally are very quiet and sedate, you know respectable members of the guild, but for some reason it was laugh at Lou day and I did not say anything to get them started.  I was my usual quiet sedate self.  They were discussing Mistletoe and I may have made an off handed remark, but I can not be sure.

So, any way, there was lots of very good food there and if you ever get a chance pop in on a pot luck hosted by a bunch of gabby women trying to out do each other.  I am thinking of joining a lot of these womens groups so I can get big and fat.  Or not.

Just want to say Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to my Handweavers Guild of Pueblo.  Probably not going to see most of you until the next meeting, so this is for all of you:

May your joys be many,

Your heartaches be few.

And may the dear Baby Jesus

Sprinkle Star Dust on You!

Smiles, Lou