Oh, no! Can it beeeeeeeeeee?

Looks pretty harmless, doesn't it?  Well it is not!  There are bees there and they are very mean bees.  The other day I popped over there to drop off a couple boxes.  First box delivered and on the way back to the car a bee stung me on the ankle.  I grabbed the second box and hurried inside.  Bee bite on  the way up the step.  Dropped the box inside, pulled the door shut, turned the key and another on the way to the car.  By this time I was in pain.  Those damn things hurt!  Luckily I always have my big container of ice water so I fished out an ice cube and rubbed the two on my leg that hurt the worst.  The one on my arm wasn't that bad. 
After a trip to the dermatologist, I drove back over to asses the situation.  Bees were every where and it seemed they were concentrated at the front porch and in the evergreens.  So I came home and started calling exterminators.  Well, let me tell you now, that is what my mother always called an exercise in futility!  The one company who actually had an opinion as to how to do this was quite clear on two things.  The nest in the front would cost $160 to remove and the one in the back would be an additional $45.  That was well and good, but I can not see a nest in the front or back.  Well, that is a problem then cause we can not move it if we can not see it.  Hell, if I could see it, I could move it!
Now you all know that I am a kind hearted woman and I do not hurt anything, man or beast, but me and those bees are going to come to a n understanding of some kind!  I do not like to kill bees, but by the same token, I do not like to be stung by them.  So here is the deal:
I know a lot of you out there have similar ideas.  If you have any idea how I could possibly get them to leave quietly, or at least stay away from me, I would love to hear them.  There is a comment place down there where you can click and get a thing to write on and tell me what to do.  Or email me at loumercer3@aol.com
We have a sale coming up at this house in a couple weeks and killer bees dive bombing our customers is not going to be good. I googled this and some where it said the safe and natural way to destroy them is spray with soapy water.  But, there you go killing them.  And if that does not work there are going to be some pissed off bees after me again.  As mad as they were the other day, I do not want to further ruffle thier fur, so to speak.
So I shall anxiously await any suggestions  any of you might possibly have to clear up this little wrinkle in my world.
 VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Slide show of the memorial site.

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Saturday August 25, 2012

Sherman Joseph Schroeder, Jr

February 17, 1935

to

July 13, 2012

 

 

This past Saturday we all gathered at The Sangre de Cristo Hospice Center located at 300 West Abriendo (the former Abriendo Inn) to pay our final tribute to my dear friend Sherman.  Nephew Brent Schroeder came from Boulder, Doc from Ordway, several friends from Denver, Colorado Springs and some from here.  Sister Nancy stopped by for a moment.  It is very informal at the center and we just visited.  Libby Kyer summed up his life ( if a life can indeed be summed up in 15 minutes).  Jerry read a few emails.  We watched a photo DVD put together by Brent.  We ate a few sandwiches and finger desserts.  Drank a little tea and coffee and just visited about Sherman and how many lives he had touched over his 77 years.

 

I am still spending my time wondering if I was listening at all the past 2 1/2 years when he was talking.  I knew he had friends, I just had no idea how many,  how devoted his friends were, how they came from all areas and all walks of life.  I knew he helped start the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado, and that he collected Japanese swords, sword parts and books on the subject.  I knew he collected books on collecting.  I knew he had owned a contracting business in Denver and that he was an engineer, draftsman, and designer.  I knew he loved dogs and owned a champion Doberman named Dirk as well as three other very unique dogs in his life.  I knew he liked BMW's, Porche, and Corvette's and had owned them at one time or another.  I knew this and a lot of other stuff, but what I really knew was very little.

 

I knew he loved his Victorian home on the bluff, which will now be sold.  I know he liked to walk on the river, which I now do alone.  I know he liked to go out and eat on the spur of the moment.  I know he was interested in politics.  I know he was a carpenter, and he wanted to grow things.  I know he collected art work.  I know when he wondered about something he researched it until he could talk about it with authority. 

 

I know he had a kind heart.  When he went into University Park he told me to take all his groceries and all his clothes and whatever else could be useful to the migrant center east of town for Sister Nancy to do with as she chose.  And I did.  I know he cared about all God's creatures and as one of God' creatures, I know he cared about me.  I know he was my friend.  And I know I will miss him.  I still reach for the phone to call him and tell him some little thing I have done that would make him  proud.  I just need to find a way to continue what we started together, but without him.

 

The migrant center is still there.  The animal shelter is still there.  So I am toying with an idea.  I need to touch a few bases and then I think I will have a way to keep Sherman J. Schroeder, Jr. alive in my mind.  Stay tuned for updates.  Sherman chose me for a reason!



The BMAC arrives from Colorado Springs
 

Just some folks visiting.

Jerry Pokorny who headed up the bikers for this trip.

South side Walmart, missing purse and yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus!

 See this purse?  I carry one just almost like it but where this one is red, mine is lime green.  Same peace signs.  Oh, and the handle is lime green.  It is about 13" high and 15" wide.  You get the picture?  Not something one would overlook easily.  Course have not dealt with me, have you?

Yesterday I took my little self up the mountain to Beulah and my favorite coffee shop.  (More about that later, but this is about something else.)  Since Saturday is Sherman's memorial service I needed to stop at Walmart and pick up a few items.  Since I was right there at the South side Walmart, I stopped and went inside.

My shopping was quickly accomplished and very soon I was on my way home.  I thought briefly about stopping at Taco Bell and getting one of those new Cantina Bowls, but did not.  Should have and saved myself many gray hairs, because I would have realized early on that my purse had decided to stay there in the cart at the Walmart store for anyone who happened by to pick it up and take it home and spend my $6.00 and order lots of stuff online with my credit card.  But I did not.

Upon arrival at home I unloaded the car and at that point realized what a stupid move I had made.  I read articles all the time about identity theft and know all the things to do to avoid it happening to me.  Now in all fairness to me, in all the articles I have read, never once has anyone of them said "Do not leave your purse in the shopping cart in the parking lot in broad daylight and drive off and go home."  Never said anything along that line at all.

So back home one hour later and the purse is not with me and I hit panic mode.  I searched frantically for the number to that store, but it was not there.  I found out later that I needed to call the North side and they would give me the number to the south side.  (Say, what!)  So I frantically called 911 since that is the only number I could think of.  A very nice young lady answered and I blurted out that I needed a phone number.  She gave me the number and also the number for the police in case I needed that.  I felt better just knowing someone else out there knew how stupid I was.

I was so relieved when the girl at Walmart told me that yes it was there and locked in the safe room.  The man who gathered the carts (the one I almost backed over) had brought it in and given it to them.  Set a new land record getting to the store.  Customer service girl held it up and I reached for it, but first I had to prove who I was.  "Just look in that black and white thing there and see my drivers license with the picture of me and my Mohawk."  She smiled and the purse and I were reunited.

Now comes the part that almost makes me cry.  I told her I wanted to reward the man who turned it in to the office.  "Oh, no.  You can't.  He just followed company policy."  Begging and wheedling did no good, but she did tell me his name.  It is Jeffery.  Could have knocked me over with a feather on that, because Sherman's brother is named Jeffery.  I kind of thought someone was looking out for me on this one.

I went and looked for him in the parking lot, but he had gone to lunch.  I may try again, but for sure I am going to write to the Southside Walmart and commend them on hiring honest people.  The chances that Jeffery at Southside Walmart will read this are probably two...Slim and None.  But I want you all to know that there are still people out there who are honest and will do the right thing.  And when you go to the Southside Walmart, put in a good word for Jeffery.  I do hope I catch him one of these days and I can thank him in person.  In the meantime, I am going to let him be an inspiration for me and I will try to do the right thing for someone else.

Thank you, Jeffery!!

This is an unpaid advertisement!

I clicked on this today and what a surprise. I have now had 20,000 hits exactly. So I took that as an omen that I should promote my book. I worked very hard writing this and spent a lot of money publishing it and now I would like to sell it. So to the people out there who have boosted my readership up this high, here we go:
I am here to hopefully sell you my first and finest novel Chapter One..Loose Ends.

********************For Sale by owner*****************

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains.

And if you want to visit my struggling webstore go to  www.loumercer3.com

And see that paypal button up there?  It is for just that purpose and it will take you straigt to paypal where you will find an invoice.  You can pay that securely with any credit card and I will immediately mail you your copy.  If you would like it autographed just email me the message of who to and voila! 

Sister Mary is coming!! Be here Saturday.

Here is sister Mary riding the three wheeler at sister Donna's house.  I think she was having a pretty good time in this picture!

Sister Mary has not been here for a couple years.  Well, maybe a year and a half and since I can not seem to make it back home I just have not seen her.  I was very happy when Larry called the other day and announced that they were in Denver and would be here on Saturday. 
Of course I had to rearrange a few prior commitments, but so goes it.  And the Pride parade is Sunday morning so they can either go with me, or wait here.  That is a have to be there thing!
Short one this morning cause I have to get busy and spray brush killer on the new trees coming up around the foundation of the house in town.  Now normally, any kind of "-scide" is a no-no, but we are dealing with those damn stink trees that will completely raise a house up off its foundation if left to thier own devices.  I ripped out a truck load and brought them home to burn, but there the roots are sprouting.  So.
And back to sister Mary.  I tried to call sister Donna, but no answer and no return call.  Maybe they are on vacation.  I wish Larry would leave Mary with me for a few and we could go to Beulah and just look around.  Or we could just veg here at home. 
Well, sorry this is short, but I have to go do my dirty work.  I will report in on Monday and let you know how the visit went.  Till then, as my friend in New York told me, "Keep your powder dry."  Seems like a strange farewell message, but nonetheless, apropos!

;">********************For Sale by owner*****************

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Ah, the dreaded one month anniversary.

July 13.  Friday the 13th.  I think Sherman picked that day because of his wry sense of humor.  But he was right, you know.  May have been a lucky day for him, but a very unlucky one for those of us left behind to cope with the loss.Those are lilacs on his hat.  I do not remember what we were discussing when I took this picture.  I am pretty sure it was while Jeff was here.  And I am pretty sure the Lilacs were in bloom.  And that is about all I am sure of at this point.  Oh, that and the fact that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
I remember way far back when I was a kid, life was so simple.  There was no concept of what was to come.  I guess my first real taste of death was when my sister gave birth to a still born son.  The funeral was held in her front room with the tiny casket placed on the television after being carried in by the man who ran the funeral home, Jack Lamb.  I still remember the tiny face and the tiny pink hand holding the blue blanket closed.  Baby Boy Burch.  And the saddest part of the whole thing was that was just the beginning.
A friend from school and his brother in a fiery crash, aunts, uncles, in laws, out laws, brother, sister, cousins, husbands and ex husbands, friends and acquaintances, grandma's and grandpa's, clients, and the list goes on until I reach the point where I am now the Matriarch of the family and my friends are all younger than me.  No death is easy for me.  Each one touches a place deep in my soul that shall always remain raw and tender.
But I do now recognize the stages of grief; the denial, the anger, depression and finally acceptance.  I am still dealing with the first three and am sure I will finally get to number four.  And I know that there are anniversaries in life that we may not remember, but when I find myself sad for no good reason, I stop and think.  It usually comes to me.  "Oh, this is the day Mark died."  "This is the day my divorce was granted."  The happy anniversaries seem to roll by unnoticed, but the sad ones have a way of pushing to the front and calling "Pick me!  Pick me!"
And so it is today that I remember Sherman.  And to do that I must live in the past.  Just for a while anyway.  The Lilac's are gone and the hat lives in St. Louis.  And Sherman...well, in a perfect world...

www.loumercer3.com