Where did summer go?

Good Lord Almighty, we were in the middle of a heat wave and now I am freezing to death.  I can not decide if I should turn on the cooler or the heater.  I have to make saurkraut and freeze peppers, but I haven't even got my fill of fresh corn on the cob, which is well past its peak.  Doesn't matter though.

That is what it looked like last year and I am pretty sure that will happen again this year.  Makes me cold just to look at that.  I have a step daughter who just loves the snow and cold temperatures.  I have often thought of slapping her silly, but I think someone already has!  Give me the good old summertime any day.  See, I have my own theory on this stuff.  I can shuck out of my clothes very quickly and I can shovel a lot of sweat in the time it akes to shovel the sidewalk! 
Oh, and that one about "We need the moisture." always makes me want to scream,  "Rain is moisture and I don't have to shovel it!"  And I don't slide around in the rain.
Well, I guess it does not make any difference.  I might as well bite the bullet and go to the market.  Since there is only me to contend with now days, I guess 25 pounds of kraut will hold me and one bushel of Pueblo Chiles.  Already have the okra pickled, chopped and some breaded ready to fry.  Did not do corn because that is just more than I have time and room for.  Did make a bunch of tamales. 
I have soap made ahead for my winter sales.  I do need to make all the lotions and body and face butter.  I feel like a little ant trying to get things put up and done so I can stay home this winter and not have to go out in the elements.  I realize that every time I step out the door I am getting one trip closer to a broken hip.  (Seems that is all us old people have to look forward to.)  So the plan for this winter is to stay close to the house and list a lot on eBay.  Course I have to mail packages, but that is just a 3 mile run to the post office in the drug store.  I will do that and work on my next book.
So, with winter just around the corner I bid you adieu from Colorful Colorado where the temperature is right now at 45 degrees and shooting for 87 degrees.  Gonna be here quicker than you think!
 

 

In the meantime, those of you who are confused by the title of my book "Chapter One...Loose Ends" are missing a good read.  When I started writing this book, I had no title in mind, so I called it simply "Chapter One"  meaning the beginning.  As I wrote the book took on a life of it's own and chose it's own title with the help  of my editor, Jeanne Gardner.  So do not be confused and think this is only one chapter.  It is the whole enchilada and is divided into Installments. 

 

So hit the little buy button there and I will ship you your very own copy.  And send me a note telling me how you want the inscription to read and I will autograph it for you!

 

Lou Mercer

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

Look Debbie, you can not even see it.

Go straight up from                                               ^     That is all I have for a scar.  Go up from the red ^ and from the edge of my mouth.  Wasn't hardly worth bothering about, was it?           

I saw Cleo and we went for a nice walk with Steve.

The date was September 8 and the place was Pueblo.  The guy is a very good friend of Sherman's named Steve Vallejo.  He and I chanced to meet and since it was my first visit with Cleo since she had gone to her new home way up north, I wanted to take her for a nice walk along the levee like we used to do when Sherman was still with us.  Steve was kind enough to accompany us.  Cleo does not like to have her picture taken, but Steve was good at tricking her.

Me not so good!

And what in the world is that out there on that rock in the middle of the river?  We decided for argument's sake that it must be a heron.  Sure was not a goose or a duck.  The more I did to it in Picassa the worse it got.  It's neck got longer and it became more blurry.  Hell, it might have been a sea creature for all I know.

Steve and I walked almost up to Union and back.  It was a very nice walk.  Cool and a little light breeze.  I had not met Steve when Sherman was still with us, but I had heard his name many times and knew he was a good friend of his.  Sherman had many good friends and I never met most of them until just recently.  I know that is sort of like closing the barn door after the horse is gone, and I certainly regret not taking a more active role in that department, but isn't that how life goes?  When we are young we are invincible  and think we will live forever.  There is always tomorrow. 

Mother used to try to teach me the one about, "Never put off until tomorrow what you can do today."  Some how that was never very important to me. Something else mama used to tell me was "Let's see you get that toothpaste back in the tube!"

 This is one of those things I wish I had handled a little differently.  When he would say, so and so was coming by, I made myself scarce so he could visit with his friends.  Little did I know that he and his friends would have welcomed my presence. 

Mama was very wise.  And so to all of Sherman's friends that I have met since and the few I met before, and the one's who I have yet to meet, I would like to apologize and tell you that you were all very important to him and he bragged about every one of you to me.  I do understand after the fact that maybe he was a little proud of me also.  I will hold you all in my heart and I thank you all for the part you played in Sherman's life to make him into the man I came to care so much about in the twilight of our lives. 

                                         

And look, Steve!  I think she posed for me!  When Dana snapped the leash on her after the sale she looked at me and walked straight to his car as if to say "OK, time to go.  See you Lou.  It was nice, but I have to go home now."  Just like Sherman.  Everyone has gone home and the party is over.

It is time to move on.

 

 

*****************sponsors****************** 

Dickies - Men's Painter's Wea
r

September 8 and the British Motorcycle Association is buying and selling!

Ah, here I am safely on my side of the fence!  And on the other side is the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado holding the sale as per the terms laid out by the late, great Sherman Schroeder.  Dear Sherman worked many years and invested many dollars to accumulate a garage full of frames, motors, wheels and every part imaginable for a British Motorcyle.  The ad that ran stated very clearly that these parts were only for Truimph, Indian, Norton, Matchless and things like that.  Harley owners were out of luck completely.  Sherman and two of his friends started the club back in 1983 in Denver.  Now it is centralized in Colorado Springs.  As a true Brother of the Wheel, he remembered the club in his will by donating that whole side of the garage to them!

This little fellow is Mark Bosworth from St. Louis, Sherman's birthplace.  He and Sherman remained friends for over 30 years.  Like Mark said, " I was a snot nosed kid and I met this old guy with a garage full of really neat stuff and he let me hang out with him.  It was so cool!"  And the friendship survived all those years and it was Mark who stayed with Sherman on several occasions when he was not well.  Mark took him to radiation and cooked for him and held his hand as well as his head.  Truer friendship hath no man.  See the little fellow shooting back at me with his camera?  I ought to warm his little fanny for him!

And under this pile of tee shirts dating back to the beginning of the club is a "kit car" that Sherman was working on when I met him and is still not done.  He has three sets of everything he needs to finish it except the frame and the body.  3 motors, 3 sets of headlights, 3 carburetors, etc. (you get the picture!) 

So I got to tell you about the sale.  Until noon it was only open to the club members.  Now remember the club gets all the receipts.  So here is the scenario...the club members are buying the items and are jacking up thier prices to themselves because it all benefits them anyway.  Ever watch a bunch of bikers talking to themselves?  One of the fellows who shall remain nameless had 3 different colored markers in his pocket.  One color for the asking price, one color for the price he wanted to pay, and one color for the actual selling price.  I told him if he only had a yellow marker he could have drawn sunflowers on everything!

But it was a fun day and when it was over, we saw the floor in Sherman's garage for the first time since I met the man!  And we were all sure that Sheman was up there some where watching and smiling because every bit of anything that left that garage Saturday had at some point in time been held by him, paid for by him, and probably moved around the garage many times by him.  And we are secure in the knowledge that we are doing everything just the way he wanted it done.  Everything is going to a place where it will be cherished by the new owner and I know some of his parts will eventually make it to Bonneville, every BMAC members dream!

 

Namaste!

 

**********************************************************************

Your chance to buy my first novel!

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

It happened again!! Honest people!!

Yesterday was a hub of activity at the SWM's estate.  Bikers all over the place for the British Motorcyle Association of Colorado sale as per the terms of the will.  More about that tomorrow, but I have got to tell you this part first.  Remember when I left my purse in the shopping cart at Walmart just a couple weeks ago?  And remember how I got it back just like I left it?  Well, listen up.
This is a lady from St. Louis.  She went to our local Walgreen's right over there on 4th and Abriendo to buy pop and something else, I forget what.  Later in the day, she was going with Libby some where and she looked for her purse.  Then WE looked for her purse and very soon came the sinking realization that it was not in our vicinity. So she and dear hubby lept in the pickup and off to the local Walgreen.

You guessed it!  There it was.  Two ladies had found it in the parking lot in the cart and brought it and turned it in to the clerk who locked it up until someone came to claim it.  Now, I ask you, what does this say about our fair city?  I say it speaks volumes about the caliber of people that we never meet.  I know that sinking sensation when I reach for something and it is not there.  Can you imagine how this would feel to a woman a thousand miles from home?
Now granted a woman's purse is one of those items that has been known to strike fear in the heart of more than one man.  Like my late SWM.
"Do you have a pen?"
"Sure. Get one out of my purse!" 
Fear in the eyes.  "That purse?"
"Yeah."
"You mean open it up?"
"Yeah, just reach in there!"
"You mean with my hand?"
"Well, yeah, unless you have a better solution as to how to get it out."
"So, I have to open it up?"
"I thought we had established that."
"I have to touch it?"
I found it was much easier and a whole lot quicker to just pop it open and get the pen myself.  And yet I see movies where "purse snatchers" grab a purse right off a woman's shoulder and run away with it.  They apparently were raised in a different era than most of the men I know.  Or they are drug crazed maniacs.  Or they have never been in the wonderland of a woman's purse!  Where I came from no self respecting man would ever touch a woman's purse for any reason what so ever. 
Oh, dear, I see I have once more digressed from my message.  This old age is about to be more than I can keep up with.  Seems I spend half of my time getting something and the other half wondering where I put it after I got it.  No wonder I leave things in the shopping cart, but dear Liz, what is your reason?  LOL
So back to the honesty in parking lots.  Maybe it is just easier to be honest if no one is looking.  Or maybe I have just been a pessimist all along.  What ever, my hat is off to Jeffery at the south side Walmart and the two ladies at the Abriendo Walgreen.  I am proud to salute you, who ever you are!
******************************************************************************

 

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

Ah, my bicycle and a chance to run head on with a Mack truck!

See me on my bike?  See my bike without me on it?  See that car in the background?  What do you think would happen if I were on the road and I met that car head on?  Think I would damage that grill and leave it a shattered mess?  Or do you think me and my little bike would lose that round?  Pretty sure I know the answer to that one.  But here is what happens every day of my life.

I go some where in the car.  Now I have always been taught that when I ride a bike I am to follow all the rules that a car or motorcycle would follow.  Stay on the right side of the road.  Stop at stop signs.  Use a hand signal to indicate what my next move will be.  Oh, yeah and obey the speed limit.  I have no problem with that.  Can't hardly keep moving without falling over most of the time, but that is irrelevant.

So here I am tooling along and up the road headed straight toward me is a bicycle.  Some times it is a kid and more often than not it is a grown up leading the pack.  Now when I walk I do face oncoming traffic, but be reasonable on this bike thing.  When walking I can easily step over it I need to while on a bike you can not.  You are in the lane of traffic and it is the equivalent of going the wrong way on a one way street!  There you are on your vulnerable little 2 wheels that probably weighs 15 pounds and here I am heading straight for you.  I know you are over on the other side of the white line, almost in the ditch, but I have no choice if you bobble just a little but to run over you.  Think you would like that?  So I can either swerve into oncoming traffic to miss you and kill myself, or I can stop and look at you like you are suicidal, which you are!

Now here is a link for you to read just in case you think I am dreaming this up.  Granted this link is to the California CDOT but last I knew they were part of the United States and under the auspices of  of the federal Department Of Transportation.  I know that you have reasoning powers so think about where you ride your bike logically. 

http://www.dmv.ca.gov/pubs/brochures/fast_facts/ffdl37.htm

When you are driving your car and you come on a slow moving vehicile you slow down.  Then you check oncoming traffic in the left lane.  If it is clear, you accelerate and move into the left lane to pass and then quickly back in to your lane.  But when a bike is coming towards you in your lane, it does not matter what is in the left lane.  You are left with no choices. 

I would not bring this subject up if it were not happening more often especially now that summer is here and more bikes are out.  I think I am going to make bike safety a priority.  I will first stop in the local cop shop and ask them if they could possible consider giving tickets to bicycleists who do not obey the rules.  I realize if I hit one of them I would not be held liable since they were clearly in the wrong, but there is that "morally responsible" thing to consider and I do so love to sleep at night with a fairly clear conscience.  I am afraid the vision of a body hurtling into my windshield would screw that up royally.

I had a grandson staying with me once who was a teenager and in college.  He rode his bike because that is what he had.  And he rode it on the wrong side of the road because "If someone is going to hit me I want to see them coming.!"  I explained to him that he would.  And he did.  He came home all scuffed up one evening.  Some guy pulled out from the stop sign and never even seen him.  Course not.  I am extra cautious, but not everyone is.  So the guy pulled out and Dameon bounced across his hood.  A second later and he would have been under his wheels; a second earlier and he would have broadsided him.  Did he learn anything?  I doubt it.  Grandma's are not real bright.

So this is my soap box for the day.  And this is your assignment for the day:  When you see someone riding a bicycle on the wrong side of the road, point it out to them that they are endangering not only themselves, but others.  They are setting an example for someone somewhere.  Oh and a little side note here, be diplomatic about it.  The finger gesture does not always convey your thoughts accurately!

 

 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  My Novel  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

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

Just another little bump in the road.

There you go.  this is a miracle in more ways than one.  First, I took this picture myself and it is clear and you can see it and actually count the stitches.  Second miracle is that as soon as the dermatologist seen it she wanted to do a biopsy.  No waiting for her.  And I let her which is the third miracle.  I do not like anyone cutting on me and telling me to hold still.  And the third miracle was when I came back to get the stitches out from the first  one, I let her do it again!  This is the second one.  This should be the last one.

Now I have shared many aspects of my life with you from the fight with the boyfriend to his passing last month so I do not feel one bit reticent to share this little deal with you.  My dermatologist is Sharon Kessler here in Pueblo and she is a dream come true.  And just look at that wound there.  It is about an inch long and I am willing to bet that when the stitches come out it will be almost invisible.  I love that woman.  And she did it right there in her office in just a matter of minutes.  Now comes the sermon.

I grew up in the age of sunshine was good for you.  Running behind the sprayer when they sprayed the mosquitoes on a hot evening in Nickerson was fun because it cooled us and we slept better after our little mini shower.  We had an asbestos mat under our stove and on our table.  The AMA ran ads in thier publications that said "Throat hot?  Smoke Kools."  We smoked in the car and the kids didn't know they were at risk.  We sprayed the crops with ddt and then canned the fruits of our labors.  Ah, the good old days.

So now we are old and we see the dermatologist once every 6 months to a year to get things burned off of us.  We go to the eye doctor to have the cataract removed.  We hack and cough and try to rid our lungs of the asbestos and coal dust and God only knows what else is lurking in our bodies.  We take cholesterol lowering pills trying to get our arteries clear from all the artifical crap that is clogging us up.  We are obese because our bodies can not digest the stuff that is in the food now days that is supposed to make us healthy. 

So what is the solution?  Damn!  I was hoping you could tell me.  The first 60 years of my life I spent marching uphill, raising kids, buying a house, raising grandkids, and now I am in the golden years and I am still marching uphill, raising kids, trying to keep the house, paying astronomical utility bills and wondering just when I will reach the top.  Problem is when I do reach the top, the other side is downhill and everyone knows, when you are over the hill you pick up speed.  Now where was I going with this?

Oh, yeah.  You should be wearing sunscreen any time you are out in the sun.  And there is something about SPF or something like that.  Damn, I did so want to make this some sort of public service announcement, but I forgot how that was going to work.  And they say your hearing is the first thing to go!  Anyway, wear the sunscreen and for crying out loud stay away from the mosquito sprayer on a hot night.  Oh, and buy my book!

 

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