Oh, this is so damn cool!!

This was sent to me by my friend, Mark Bosworth, who runs the Photography Museum in St. Louis, Missouri.  I copied the letter so you will know all I know:
***

Lou, I thought you would appreciate this one.  In our collection we have a glass plate negative of Lincoln.  The negative was made in 1859 from a 1858 ambrotype portrait of Abraham Lincoln. The original print no longer exists according to historians in Springfield, IL. and as stated by Mr. Loyd Ostendorf, famed author and historian of Lincoln.   The original print was made by Preston Butler of Springfield IL.  Six cities lay claim to where the photograph was taken.  The negative was taken by A. R. Nicholson of Peoria, IL. Attached is a photograph we took today of me holding the negative.  I am really enjoying working on this museum project. Mark     The International Photography Hall of Fame has the copyright on the image.   ***

Now, I ask you, is this amazing or what?  Click on that above and it will get bigger.  Then look at it real hard and know that in 1858 Abraham Lincoln posed for this picture.  At that point in time photography was pretty new, especially when you stop and think that today we point and click then load the digital image on a new media device and there are no such things as negatives.    But the part that fascinates me is that some one was just a few feet from this man and there is a record of this meeting in glass.  Mark is all twittery because he will be holding the grand re-opening of the Photography Museum in St. Louis on September 3 of this year.  See, it was his job to go to Oklahoma City (?) and pack it all up and move it to St. Louis, where he lives.  That is an opportunity few people get!   Mark was a very good friend of Sherman's from way back when.  One of Sherman's most treasured possessions was a picture of him taken when he was 50 years old standing behind his Norton Motorcycle.  Mark had printed the picture on special canvas.   When Sherman gave the picture to me, I knew I was very special.  Today I have the picture and Mark has the Norton.  He completely restored it and brought it to Pueblo so he could take Sherman's picture behind it 30 years later.  I have a copy of that picture also.      This story is told so you will all know just how devoted this man is to the art of photography and the preservation of the art.  And how blessed Sherman Schroeder was to have such a devoted friend.  Greater love hath no man.

The peach tree over the shed

It is spring and so I am looking out my office window at the Cherry tree that has bloomed there for many years.  Never had a cherry, but blooms any way.  Beside it is the Apricot tree.  And in the front yard is the bare place where two Peach trees used to be.  Only one of them ever made peaches although they stood side by side.  The one on the east bloomed, but was barren.  Oh, but the one on the west had the biggest, juiciest peaches God ever put on this big earth.  Bushels of them.  And the wind would thin the peaches and we still would harvest enough to feed us and enough to can for the winter.  In Colorado, that only happens about once every 7 years because it inevitably freezes.  Eventually the bores got bad and the trees had to be taken out and burned.
Ah, but the Peach tree I am thinking of today was back in Nickerson, Kansas, 60 years ago.  It was out the back door and across the drive.  It had probably been a seed that was thrown down and grew to adult hood hanging over the back of the shed.  It seemed to be the only fruit tree that I recall, except for the Mulberry  tree that kept our feet dyed purple all summer. ( And for the record, the birds all pooped purple that time of year.)
But back to the Peach tree.  In Kansas we had better luck with things not freezing in the spring and that Peach tree was no exception!  It did not fascinate the other kids nearly as much as it did me.  I would wait for the blooms to dry up and then search for signs of fruit.  I was always rewarded at some point in time with tiny peaches "setting on".   Now trust me here...if you have ever lived in a small town, you know that there is not a lot to do.  We could lay in the weeds and spy on the neighbors, chase the chickens, walk around the block, or we could watch those peaches growing.  Mother was forever telling me, "You don't be eating those until they are big and change color.  You will have the worst belly ache of your life."
Well, now that was like throwing gas on the fire.  The more she cautioned me, the more I could taste that peach.  (Oh, mother, if you are looking down on me, I do not blame you in any way.  You tried to save me from myself ) 
The cemetery was about a quarter of a mile from our house and that was another favorite place to play.  I remember once flying a kite and it got loose and sailed over the cemetery, but the string caught in a tree.  It was too high up for me to climb and get it loose so I had to leave it.  The next day it was crashed and broken.  So much for the kite.
Mother always planted a garden and one of the main things she grew was Yams.  She planted them on top of furrows and ran water down the ditches.  I remember once it was my job to run the water and I was standing on a board watching the water run in and a big spider ran up my leg and I killed him on my knee.  I have always been terrified of spiders and that did not help me get over it either.
Back to the Peach tree.  I controlled myself pretty well, but when the peaches were about the size of  a small tangerine, I thought I could see a hint of color on them.  Had to hold it up to the light and turn it this way and that, but, yes it was a little less green on this side.  So I bit into it.  The first bite was not near as sweet as I thought it should be, so I took another bite and then picked another peach in case it was sweeter and had another bite or two.  To make a long story short, I am here to tell you that my mother was dead on about the effects of green peaches.  As I recall, there was a lot of severe pain and a goodly amount of diarrhea.  Mother was sure that my appendix were ready to burst and she was trying to find a ride to the hospital when one of my dear sisters reported that the "Peaches are ready cause Louella ate a whole bunch of them today."  There went any salvation I had of getting rid of this stomach ache in any way but letting the green peaches work their way through my system.
Odd part of this whole tale is even today Peaches are my favorite fruit.  And when the harvest comes in from the western slope, namely Palisade, I am in hog heaven.  Or should I say Peach heaven?  If ever there was a food fit for the Gods, it is a nice ripe, juicy sweet Palisade Peach.  I have heard that a Georgia Peach is the best fruit on earth, but give me a western slope peach any day.
I have come a long way from the ragged little urchin eating green peaches, nursing sick calves and burying birds under the neighbors tree, but that little girl still lives in the recesses of my mind with the tattle tale sisters and the ornery big brother.  I have heard it said that you can not go home, but I am just not sure I ever left.  I am many miles from that ramshackle house on Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas, but in the blink of an eye I am up in that Peach tree, or in the hay loft jumping out into the hay pile, or shucking corn in the field behind the house.  Memory is a wonderful thing.

Back to Nickerson.

For those of you who do not know, this is an iron.  Does not even faintly resemble the Rowenta that sets in my sewing room and give me a burst of steam when I want it.  In our kitchen in Nickerson, was a very big wood cook stove.  It was made of cast iron and burned wood as the fuel source.  It had a tank we kept full of water which came in handy for dish washing and all kinds of stuff.  It was probably 3' by 2 1/2' and had an oven on the bottom part.  That never made sense to me since heat rises, but that is how I remember it.  The cooking area had several lids that could be lifted off to put more wood in when needed.  It had a shelf above where momma kept the salt, pepper, sugar, and a grease can.  The grease can was aluminum and after frying something, the excess grease was poured in there.  It had a strainer in the top to keep out the crumbs.  We used the grease over and over until it became "rancid".  Can you believe that? 
This was not our only source of heat for cooking.  We also had a small stove with four burners that was powered by either butane or propane.  This was used in case of an emergency.  An emergency usually meant we had run out of wood for one reason or another.  Since it was Jake's job to keep the wood pile chopped into manageable size logs, it was most always his fault!  The "good" stove was also used for frying chicken on Sunday.  I think that was because we were not supposed to work on Sunday.  It was a day of rest.  Cooking on the "good" stove was always fun.  Jake and I did that.  Oh, we fried the chicken and boiled the potatoes and I am sure momma made the gravy, although I learned how from some where! 
We did not attend a formal church until I was in seventh grade.  That was when momma got her cancer and had to have a hysterectomy.  The ladies from the church brought us food and made our dresses for school that fall.  Then we started attending the Christian Church up on Main Street between the school and the doctors office.  More about that later.
Back to the kitchen.  The water source was a hand pump and below it was mounted a sink with a pipe that run out the wall into the back yard for drainage.  The health department's of today would have had an absolute stroke when they say the Muscovy ducks playing in the water hole back there.  I am sure in this day and age, looking back on the living conditions, they would have been described as "squalor".  However, I want to go on record right now and tell you that those were the happiest days of my life and I would not trade one minute of them for all the tea in China! 
(That is what we used to say when we really liked something.  We knew if we had all the tea in China we would be very rich and to not trade something for all the tea in China was the highest compliment we could make.)
In the center of the kitchen sat the "wringer washer."  It was called that, because that is what it was.  When we moved in momma had one that had a gasoline motor, but later she got the electric one with the safety feature on the wringer that if you got your hand caught in it and it was going to rip your arm off, you hit the lever on top and it popped open.  The wringer was used to run the clothes through to "wring" the water out of them.  Otherwise, we had to twist them by hand to get it out.  So when wash day came (and if I looked at the tea towels, I would know what day it was, but it seems like it was Monday) we drug the "wash boiler" down from the hook and set it on the stove.  Water was heated on the wood stove in the winter.  Summer was different.  We also had a "three legged"  cast iron kettle in the yard.  We pumped water into buckets and carried it to the kettle where the fire was blazing merrily and began to heat the water.  Again Jake was expected to tend the fire, which meant feeding the fire god logs.    Since we were extra clean, we had two rinse tubs.  These had to be cold water.  In the last rinse tub went just a tiny bit of "bluing" which gave the white clothes the hint of blue which made them appear more white.
But the most important part was the soap.  Tell you where we got our soap.  In the corner of the kitchen set a metal bucket.  In that bucket went all the grease that we did not use for other things.  When it was half full it was strained into a clean metal bucket.  When the time was right, momma dripped water through pure wood ashes and made her own lye.  This was poured into the warm grease and stirred vigorously  with a hammer handle until it began to "trace".  At the first sign of "trace" (which you actually have to see to know what it is) it was poured into a wooden box lined with an old tea towel.  This process was a definite art.  I have seen the soap set up on the way to the box and the hammer handle remain in the mass until all the soap had been grated and it was free at last.  This lye soap varied in color from dark tan to pure white.  The pure white meant that every thing had gone just right and it was perfect. 
Mother was a pioneer woman that I have learned to appreciate more the last 30 years of my life than I ever did before.  I make my own soap now with commercial lye that is called "sodium hydroxide" because the first time I listed "lye" as an ingredient my customers were afraid of it.  And I can not buy it at the store anymore.  I have to order it online and sign all kinds of affidavits that I will not be making "meth" with it.  Phshaw!
I have no doubt repeated myself today and told you things I have already told you on this blog, but I will try to do better next time.  It is just that my childhood was so important to making me who I am today, that I want everyone to know about it.  I left home when I was 18 and was so happy to escape those early years and move on to bigger and better things.  When I turned 50  I decided that I should rethink my childhood and I have become more fulfilled than ever and I want  the whole world to know that the values that were instilled in me at my mother's knee are the driving force behind the woman I have become.  Makes me sad to think what I could have accomplished on this earth if I  had pulled my head out of my ass way back then.

Pre Sale Garage Sale

 

This was the sight at my house a couple Saturday's ago.  My garage was packed to the rafters with the rummage that Ross and his helper's have been hauling in for the whole year.  They started right after the PFLAG Scholarship yard sale last year and have not stopped.  Since it is almost time again he knew this stuff had to be sorted and what better way then to drag it all out, let people paw through it and anything that can be replaced with a hand full of money becomes that much easier to move across town to the big sale the first weekend in April.  So the plan was made.

Nancy is always head cashier, so she sets at this table.  The item is brought to the table and she eyeballs it and gives them a price.  Prices are always low.  If it can be held in one hand it is under a dollar.  Two handed items are over a dollar and furniture can run all the way up to $5.00-$10.00.  Buyers are reminded that it all goes to the scholarship program at PCC.  Rebecca and her crew are always on hand helping, so it kind of turns into a party of sorts.  You all know how I like to cook, so this day it was a cook out on my big smoker.

This was the view I had of the sale.  I pulled the smoker out and started my fire.  Being the lazy white girl that I am, I just pulled it far enough out of the shed to keep from asphyxiating myself.  As soon as the coals were ready, I dumped a package of hot dogs on the grill.  Now, here is something I figured out rather quickly:  Do not set your grill with the back part lower then the front and put round hot dogs on it laying straight as they tend to roll and do so rather quickly!  There is no back to the grill and so anything that starts a down hill roll does nothing except pick up speed.  So two of the hot dogs escaped the fate of being eaten.  I still had 18 hot dogs left.  And 24 hamburgers and 8 pounds of potato salad.  Oh, and a freshly baked peach cobbler.

The pre sale ran from 11:00 AM till 1:00 PM.  Course there were early birds, but by 1:00 all the signs were down and my house is hard to find without arrows.  I had fed several people early as they needed to get back into town.  Everything being put back into the garage, which now had lots of room, we began the finishing up of the food.   So Rebecca's husband threw the rest of the meat on the grill and cooked it to perfection.   And here is our hallowed leader, Ross in his lovely Christmas apron, testing our wares.  I am happy to announce that we fed at least 23 people and had no left overs, and no one went away hungry.

And I am also happy to announce that we are ready for the sale!  Sadly this will be our last yearly scholarship sale.  When the whole year is spent scrounging things for the sale, loading and hauling  things for the sale, sorting things for the sale, categorizing for the sale, and using every inch of storage for the sale, it gets to be a very all consuming event.  So, we will now concentrate on books only.  Those can be stored at the college and pulled out and put away easily.  We may have a couple bake sales.  Lord only knows what we will do, but knowing Ross and Rebecca, I am sure we will do something useful.  It has been a long run and I will miss it, as I am sure you all will, but time marches on.

So, see you at the sale!

 

APRIL 5 & 6, 2013, FRIDAY AND SATURDAY

110 LACROSS

8:00 A M -???????



LAST ANNUAL PFLAG SCHOLARSHIP YARD SALE

 

Hey, here we are last Thursday!

Went to the Faith Leaders in Action Press Conference in partnership with Together Colorado last Thursday at noon.  Ran into several people I knew and met a very nice lady.  I forgot my camera because 30 minutes earlier I was still in my jammies!  Oh, hell!  I am supposed to be some where else.  So I tossed on something that was not jammies and ran to town.  So back to the nice lady.

Her name is Janet Wallis Altmann and she had her camera.  She said I should feel free to steal pictures from her facebook page, so that is where this came from.  She is with the Pueblo Latino Democratic Forum and she said I could join even though I am not Latino, so I figure to look into that very soon.  If someone as nice as Janet is in charge, I want to be there.  And I am a Democrat.  And a liberal and short.

So this picture is one I lifted from her album.  On the left is the Reverend John Mark Hild  of the Metropolitan Church.  The couple in the center are David and Margaret Barber from the Christ Congregational United Church of Christ in Belmont.  And I am on the right representing First Congregational United Church of Christ  in the Mesa Junction area.  Steve Parke played his guitar and we all sang.  Let me see if I can steal his picture.

Ah!  There he is!  I am getting quite adept at stealing other people's work.  I just love to sing along with Steve.  Every where I go, he is around some where and we manage to hit a note or two.  Makes me feel so special.  So the reason we were here today was to present a united front in asking that we could actually talk to the gun advocates on a level ground without all the emotion.  Doesn't seem like too unreasonable to ask that.  But it was a lovely moment.

Reverend  Dr. Neema  Caughran presented two lovely sentiments, one from Ghandi and one from Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. which were both lovely.  My little mind did not retain the words, but they gave me peace and in this world of anger and incivility  for what more can I hope ?  Little peace of mind here and a few kind words there is what makes the world go around. 

So to my new friend who lets me steal pictures and my friend Neema who gives me peace of mind, I send a big thank you and say to the readers of mine who read this blog, be kind to each other, and remember, You can not sprinkle showers of happiness on other people without getting a few drops on yourself.

 

Testing one, two, three...

Ok, I think I   have found the address for the picasa slide show!  It is 5:15 in the morning so I am going to publish this one after while and see if it works.  This is the river by Sherman's house and I think it was taken the spring of 2012, but it might have been 2011.  Anyway, here it is!

 

A labor of love.

Got this link in an email today and I must confess it brought a tear to the old eye!  Back in 1983 Sherman Schroeder and two other fellows started a group called the British Motorcycle Association of Colorado.  These guys were not your run of the mill Harley riders.  They rode the bikes that were known as British, for whatever reason. 
When I met Sherman he was forever telling me about his Matchless, his Norton, his featherbed frame, his TT Special and I had no idea what he was talking about.  I was in his garage and all I saw was motorcycles in various states of repair or disrepair depending much on the eye of the beholder.  I , myself, thought it was a hell of a mess.  Then dear Sherman   was diagnosed with terminal cancer and I got the wake up call of my young life.
Mark Bosworth, a life long friend of Sherman's, came from St. Louis.  He had a pickup and a trailer and in the trailer was a Norton motorcycle that Sherman had ridden 30 years earlier.  It was restored to pristine condition by Mark.  He had even gone so far as to have decals painted because they did not make the decals anymore.  Sherman was tickled to death.  I have a picture on my desk of Mark, Steve Vallejo, Sherman, Dave Irving, and Ken Ito standing behind the Norton.  If you look closely you can see Cleo, the dog.  This was the first labor of love.
In Colorado Springs is a beautiful man name Dana Robbins.  He took the Matchless, which gave new meaning to "Basket Case" and restored it to museum quality.  I want you to just click on that link and see for yourself!  You can even hear it run and it is smooth as butter.  And check the garage.  Sherman was always fascinated with Dana's garage.  He used to tell me "It is neat as a pin.  It is so nice you could take a date there.!"  Dana has worked very hard putting this bike back into running order and there is no way that this was done with anything but love. 
Over the last year or so I have had occasion to spend time with many of Sherman's friends.  They have all treated me with the same love they had for Sherman and I am touched beyond words by all of them.  So as I settle in for a night alone I leave you with this video made and posted by the man who built the Matchless, Dana Robbins, a wonderful man who shared Sherman's love of the British Motorcycles.  A heart felt thank you to Dana for a true labor of love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y57dnNtUk_Q&feature=youtu.be

Spring time in the Rockies.

It is about to get to be spring here in this neck of the woods.  I actually thought about digging around out there to see if I can find my crocus.  I love spring!  My little acre here in the foothills is soon going to be covered with goat heads.  Do not let them fool you with that notion that geese eat goat heads, because they do not.  I have read that if I take baby geese and pen them up and feed them nothing but goat heads they will eat them, but my geese are so old and tough you could not even eat the gravy off of them, and I know you can not teach an old dog new tricks and the same goes double for a goose!
I have gotten 4 goose eggs so far this month.  I sent the first two to Andrea in California.  Thought I had them packed pretty well.  First I put them in a box with 200 pounds of side wall strength.  Packed them in bubble wrap before putting them inside.  I did not mark them fragile as this is a red flag to the post office workers! Then I put that box inside another box.  One was completely broken and the other cracked.  I had told the lady at the counter that there were two raw goose eggs inside, which I think was my mistake.  I expect as soon as I left she took the package to the back and hollered "Heads up Johnny!  Got goose eggs here!" and lobbed the box across the warehouse to Johnny who then went out for the touchdown. 
So I found out those two were shot and this time I packed each egg in a separate box after double wrapping them in bubble wrap.  Then I padded the box with the large bubble wrap and fitted them all around with more bubble wrap.  I left it rounded on the top so nothing could be set on top of it and slapped my label on, wrote "fragile" in red marker every where there was a place to write it and kissed it goodbye and wished it well.
Now if this does not work I am going to try UPS and see how that goes.  Right now I am watching a seed catcher try to make it's way to a lady in Canada.  It left customs on February 20 and is "in transit".  I love this selling on ebay, but it seems like the more I pay for postage, the less I get in service.  I sent towels to Austrailia after I mailed the seed catcher and she has already received them and left feedback.  Amazing!
But back to the Spring time thing here in the Rockies.  I know that means nothing.  Two days ago we had a blizzard.  Today it will be almost 70 and I think we have another blizzard coming Saturday or Sunday.  And they all say, "We need the moisture!"  And I say, "Hey, rain is moisture and I do not have to shovel it!" 
It was so simple back in Kansas.  We planted our potatoes on St. Patrick's Day.  I think out here they plant on Good Friday.  It really is no never mind, because I always dig mine up way to early any way and only wind up with a little hand full.  I love to go back to Kansas the end of March cause it seems like the Lilacs are blooming and the trees are leafing out and Tulips and Daffodils every where.  I just love Spring.  When I go there and then come back here then I get to enjoy spring twice!
But I can not go again this year cause I have to gather the goose eggs or I will have babies and that is not good.  I keep saying that when Goosie dies, I will get rid of the flock, but then Goosie has a husband and son that will need taken care of.  (Just ended that sentence with a preposition which I hate to do, but seemed no way around it.)  Somebody suggested I just chop their heads off and call it good.  Bastard!
Off to a sewing class today.  I am going to learn to make a cup cake pot holder at Sprinkles.  Now I know how to do about anything that can be sewed, but it is rather a social thing.  It is only two hours and we will have fun.  And then I will come home and hopefully do something!
Have a good one.
 

Sammy comes for a visit and now he goes home!

My son flew in from Dallas a week or so ago and what a time we had.  Rather then rent a car or have me drive up to Denver, he opted for the little plane that shuttles passengers down here.  Methinks he may not make that choice again.  He is a seasoned traveler, unlike his stay at home mother, but this was his first flight on in a "crop duster.  His first clue that this might be different was when he stepped through the door and was told they would need to "balance the load".  He chose to set right behind the pilot so he would not have to look out the window.  He deemed the pilot to be a school boy out on Spring Break.  The co pilot seemed to be his baby sitter.  He was first instructed that in case of an emergency he would be in charge of unlatching the door and kicking it open!  And he took the orders very seriously!

The flight down was only 39 minutes from take off to landing, but he still had time to look around the cabin.  He spotted an instruction manual in the flap on the back of the co pilot's seat and wondered why they were required to carry them, being seasoned pilots and all.  At that moment the lady co pilot reached back and got the book, and my optimistic little son was sure she was reading the part entitled "How to Land the Plane."  But he did take precautions when they said they would be landing in Pueblo in just a few moments.  He braced one foot on the aisle seat and his arm against the fuselage.  OMG!  I would have given an arm and a leg to have been on that plane!  When he came down the stairs and into the lobby he was laughing that hysterical laughter that is a sign that one has been wound too tight and is now coming unwound.  Good to see.

And home to dear sisters we went.  Dona is my middle child.  She looked at Sam and the conversation that ensued is as follows:
"Oh, Sammy!  You have no hair!"
"Never had any.  Male pattern baldness!"
"You are getting pudgy!"
"Well, I have not been working out because I am busy at work."
"Still with so and so?"
"Yes."
"Wow you are lucky to still have the same one after all this time.  You are lucky to have anyone!"
At this point Sam turned to me and said, "Boy she really missed her calling!  She should have been a motivational speaker, because she is sure motivating me towards suicide!"

We did have a lovely 5 days which passed much to quickly.  And then it was back to the airport to send the little guy home.

Sammy at the check in counter.

In the "holding area"

 

Taxiing down the runway!

Up, up and

away!

Sam makes the flying thing look so easy.  I wanted to take a train trip this summer.  I could leave here and stop in Garden City and spend a day with the girls, then to Hutchinson and spend a few days with the sisters, and then Kansas City and visit Shirley, on to St. Louis to see Jeffery and Fred, and then finally to Dallas.  See, the train does not go North and South, just East and West.  And the train ride is roughly 24 hours with all the layovers and such.  Plane goes straight.  Much quicker.  I labor under the notion that if the good Lord wanted me to fly he would have made me a bird!

But I have only been on an airplane once in my life and that was because Kenny and Clifford tricked me and I almost showed them how to have massive coronary over a mountain pass!  But that is another story all together.

So, the son is back in Dallas, the girl's are back in Kansas and I am once more home alone.  Life goes on and time passes.  Right now, I am off to take care of the geese, then downstairs to sew and then up one level to list on eBay.  I leave you with this video from youtube.  Rather made my day.

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=z1mhPVs0llI

 

Copied directly from MSN News in case you missed it on the PFLAG Blog.

Following her son's beating death 15 years ago, Judy Shepard has become a forceful voice for gay rights and a sort of mother figure for gay teens turned away by their own families.

NEW YORK — The mother who championed gay rights after her son was tied to a fence and beaten to death couldn't bear to sit through the play that has helped keep his memory alive for the nearly 15 years since his murder.
But this weekend, at the opening of a double-billing of Moises Kaufman's "The Laramie Project" and "The Laramie Project: Ten Years Later" at the Brooklyn Academy of Music, Judy Shepard — seated in an aisle seat to allow for an easy escape — soldiered through the entire five-hour production, which recalls the story of Matthew Shepard's death in 1998.
"I just really didn't feel I needed to watch it because I lived it. And so many of the scenes bring back such horrific memories. I've never felt comfortable crying in public," Shepard said just before the Saturday performance. "It's been 15 years. I should be able to do this now."
Shepard made it through with the help of hugs from well-wishers at the intermissions.
Kaufman, a playwright and director who leads the Tectonic Theater Project, recalled the Shepard murder as a watershed moment that helped create a generation of activists and energize "straight allies" to the cause of gay rights.
"All of a sudden we had an image, we had an event, that operated as a catalyst," said Kaufman, a Venezuelan native who lives in New York.
The original play was born from the question of why Shepard's murder resonated more than other hate crimes, Kaufman said. The play has been staged more than 1,000 times.
Ten years after Shepard's death, Kaufman and Tectonic returned to Laramie, Wyo., to produce an epilogue and to interview Russell Henderson and Aaron McKinney, who are serving life sentences for the murder.
Nine U.S. states have legalized same-sex marriage, and in March the U.S. Supreme Court will hear a challenge to the U.S. Defense of Marriage Act, which defines marriage under federal law as being between a man and a woman, and whether Proposition 8, a California ballot initiative that outlawed same-sex marriage, should be struck down.
ANATOMY OF A MURDER
Henderson and McKinney confessed to meeting the 21-year-old at a Laramie bar on the night of Oct. 6-7, pretending to be gay and offering him a ride home, with the intent to rob him. They grew enraged after Shepard made a sexual advance, they said, and took him to a desolate area in the outskirts of town, tied him to a fence and repeatedly struck him in the head with a handgun.
Shepard was close to death when he was discovered 18 hours later and he died in a Colorado hospital on Oct. 12. In her 2010 book, "The Meaning of Matthew," Judy Shepard wrote that while she was at her son's side, she was barely aware of the rallies by thousands of well-wishers in cities across the country.
Judy Shepard, who is soft-spoken and shy despite her years in the limelight, says she is a reluctant advocate. But she has become a forceful voice for gay rights and a sort of mother figure for gay teens turned away by their own families.
"Many of us feel that Judy is the mother we never had. But it goes way beyond that," Kaufman said. "It's a story of a person who was put in an untenable situation and got the skills to triumph in that situation."
Shepard, who still lives in Wyoming, heads the Matthew Shepard Foundation and has fought for gay rights in her home state and for a federal hate crimes bill, which President Barack Obama signed into law in 2009 with Shepard at his side.
"I did what people didn't expect me to do, which was not go away," she said. "As a straight person, I have a gravitas that someone in the gay community saying the things that I say would not have."
She said she has been frustrated that change in Wyoming, also the setting of the 2005 film "Brokeback Mountain," has come slowly. The state has no hate crimes law and this year the legislature rejected a gay marriage bill and a domestic partnership bill for same-sex couples.
Before the performance, a man who said he was about the same age as Matthew Shepard would be now tearfully thanked Shepard for her advocacy and said gay people "could not have had a better angel and a better mother."
Shepard's eyes also filled with tears, but she quickly regained her composure, saying: "This is what happens when you piss off somebody's mom."
 ——

No call lists and unsubscribe emails.

Seems like every couple weeks my e-mail box begins to fill up overly quickly.  This is because AOL does not kick everything that is spam over to the spam box which I can delete.  And when I delete the spam I am really not solving anything, because they just send more.  So I read each one until I reach the unsubscribe link and go that way.  So today I cut the ties on super cheap Viagra, declined funding Diane De Gette's run for congress, lost the contact with match.com, lost my chance at a time share and unsubscribed from Adstars 5 times.  I feel good about all this though I do resent having to unsubscribe from something I never subscribed to in the first place.
I have had lord only knows how many phone calls from companies wanting to sell me supplemental insurance and this confuses me.  I was under the impression there is only a small window of time that I can change insurances with, but they do not seem to have any time limit on when they can call and ding away at me.  Seems like the "Do Not Call" list is just a list and nothing really happens because it does not really stop anyone from calling.
Oh, and a survey!  Click.
And I am still fielding phone calls for a grandson that lived here  13 years ago and someone else who never lived here, but used my phone number for what ever reason.  And try to tell these people that I have lost contact numbers for them.
Oh, and today was Valentine Day so in honor of the big occasion, I dug out my wedding rings, just so I can remember that once upon a time, Valentine's Day actually mattered.  And better days are ahead.  Sam will be here on Saturday and so will two of the girls.  And I have a quilt in the quilter, the towels are off the loom and life in general is still good.  Or as good as it gets around here.
 

My take on the 18th Annual Chocolate Indulgence.

Welcome to the Chocolate Indulgence chocolate competition.  Here we have Susan and Adele, ready to accept my entry.  Since Dan had to work I also took his in for him.  And you know me and my better early than on time attitude.   I was the second one to bring my items.  Judging will be from 1:00 - 3:00 this afternoon.  So I drifted off to the YWCA to pick up Dan's ticket and then up to the hospital to see John  followed by meeting Tim at the Airport for lunch.

Here are my gluten free brownies and Dan's lace cookie w/bourbon butterscotch brownie waiting on the table for the judging.

And in case you think we were the only ones, take a look here!  Plenty of competition.

There were two tables of judges.  This is the table closest to where I sat.

Ah!  The auditors who are counting the ballots. 

See, each table has 6 judges and they taste every item.  It is then judged by each judge for flavor, appearance, texture, and creativity.  Flavor counts 40 points and the other 3 are worth 20 each.  The auditors then add the points and choose a winner.  No peeking for me!  I tried, but they did not seem to like that, so I just had to wait until that evening.

 

  Poor little Lou.  In all fairness, I do not know how many of you have tried the gluten free products, but they do no stand a chance in competition with regular product made with wheat, and I knew this.  I was sure I would not win, because of that.  My brownies were very good (for the record), but they finished some where way down the line and went to the "luck of the draw" table.  I am sure they found a good home!

And the first place winner goes to Mr. Dan Leavenworth and his Lace Cookie with Bourbon Butterscotch Brownie!  I shine with pride!  Dan is quite the chef extraordinaire!

 

And this concluded our evening at the 18th Annual Chocolate Indulgence hosted by the YWCA to benefit the Women's Shelter and Domestic Violence Programs.  I am not familiar enough with the work at the YWCA to name all the people connected with the organization, so I am not going to say I am.  I do know a few people there and love them dearly.  Dennis and  Brandi are the two I deal with most.  Oh and the lovely lady at the desk.  And the girl in the office behind Dennis.  And Doris Kester's daughter.  And I love their pool!  It is 90 degrees which is good for my old bones.

 

I do know the YWCA has been a bulwark in Pueblo society forever and I am going to start volunteering there, I hope.  Just as soon as I get a little time, because I feel this organization has done more to bolster women than a lot of other places and let's face it kids, where would we be without women?

 

And am I going back next year?  Let me see.  Chocolate everything.  Eat free with your admission ticket.  Chocolate everything.  Eat free with your admission ticket.  That answer would be

"Hell, Yeah!"

 

Big day today and next week is coming up fast!

I am setting here in my pajama's thinking about what a wonderful time I had at the Chocolate Indulgence last night and this is not a good thing, because pretty quick there are going to be a bunch of people show up here to load books out of my garage.  I told Ross I would make some Monkey Bread and coffee.  But first I have to go feed Nancy's cats.  Well, before that I have to get dressed and here I set.
See, PFLAG is going to have a big book sale up at PCC.  I told you my garage is getting very full!  Also someone is bringing another load of furniture and the place is starting to strain at the seams as it is!  So here is my plan. 
I am going to get dressed.  I will run over and take care of the cats.  I will hurry back here and throw the Monkey bread in the oven and throw together a few breakfast burritos.  After they leave I will clean up my mess and turn on the computer down stairs and download the pictures I took yesterday and hopefully figure out how to do the slide show thing and then do my blog on the Chocolate Indulgence by the YWCA to benefit the women's shelter and domestic violence program.  Empowering women is what it is all about. 
So, you just check back later or maybe even tomorrow and I should have last night's report.  It was a most wonderful event and since this is the first time I have attended it, you will see it through my innocent little eyes!  For now, I am off in search of clothes!
And if you get a chance stop by the Pueblo Community College February 11 & 12 and check out our selection of books.  Going to be something for everyone!  And I will be there both days.  Hopefully I will be dressed!

Phases of my life

I was just sitting here with the Super Bowl on down stairs and not listening to it and I started thinking about different mantras I have had hang on my wall and how little impact they actually made in the grand scheme of things. 
Right after I married Earl Duane, I made a little cross stitch thing that said "Home Sweet Home". 
Two  divorces and 5 kids later I had a bumper sticker that said "If It Feels Good Do It." 
Then I changed cars and husbands and of course a new bumper sticker.  "Horn Broken.  Watch for finger!"  That was my rebellious years. 
Followed by "Love Many, Trust Few, Always Paddle Your Own Canoe."
Then came Kenny and I began to grow into myself.  The needlework on the bathroom wall now said "Ewe's not fat, Ewe's fluffy!  That was the cutesy one. 
Then came "When you are over the hill, you pick up speed."
 That was followed immediately by  "You know you are old when everything either, sags, dries up, or leaks."
Today I stare at my final thought for the day.  "Of all the things I have lost, I miss my mind the most."

Ten years and holding....

Today marks the 10 year anniversary of my late husbands passing.  While acceptance is a given, it is still a date that is marked and called an "anniversary".  Suffice it to say I still miss him, but years have changed the sharp cutting pain to a dull ache of every day existence.  I am just thankful every day that I had the time with him and know that it was a special relationship that can never be duplicated, nor should I try.  I am the product of all my past experiences and I thank God for that!
That being said, I laid awake late last night thinking of things and it seemed that my mind wandered back to Nickerson, Kansas.  I think in my last post on Nickerson, we had just moved to 709 Strong Street which was the house my father bought on an acre of ground.  Might have been 2 acres or 3.  No way of knowing now.  It had a front and back porch and a root cellar.  Now that root cellar was some place I would not have gone for love nor money.   It was just a hole in the ground with steps chopped into the dirt and a wooden door.   It was accessible from the back porch and more dirt was piled on top of it so it appeared to be fairly stable.  Mother said if a tornado came we were to run down there and close the door behind us.  I am here to tell you that not a way in hell was that going to happen in my life time!
Ever seen one of those things?  There are spiders down there that have teeth and crawly things that could stop your heart just by looking at you.  When I exited the back door I always ran across the front of the opening in case some of those things had decided to march on us.  Tornado?  I laugh at danger, but not the creepy things.  To this day I can go into convulsions thinking about that root cellar.
Mother raised rabbits and other fowl, so chicken poop between our toes was a given rather than an exception.  We had the one pair of shoes when school started in the fall and by spring we were grown out of them and since we were not going any where we did not need shoes.  One day I spotted a chicken that had apparently swallowed something that had a string attached to it.  I suspect it was a button.  I tried to catch it and pull it out, but the chicken was having none of that! 
We had a sink in the kitchen that drained through a pipe that ran through the wall and emptied in the back yard.  Mother had Muscovy ducks and that was their favorite place to gather.  Now that was a nasty mess and had the health department (had there been one back in those times) ever ventured by I fully expect there would have been some prison sentences handed out to our parents for child abuse!
But what I was thinking about mostly last night was a big cactus that was in our front yard.  Lord that thing had needles on it over an inch long and sharp as a mother-in-law's tongue!  All we had to do was walk past that thing and somebody was going to have to dig the sticker out.  What we really liked to do that was the most fun, was try to throw each other into the heart of the cactus.  The simple act of trying got our little fannies warmed good.  Mother had no sense of humor at all on that.  And dad was never home because...who knows.
And we had a mulberry tree that was the really good kind that produced black mulberries.  Those were fun to walk barefooted on because in the summer they were cool.  Not very good to eat unless you picked them at the precise moment when they were at the peak of sweetness.  If you went 3 seconds past then they were rotten.
And the currant bushes!  There was another fruit that had to be eaten right as soon as it turned black.  A second before and they puckered you up and a second after and they were worthless.  Birds liked them.    Course the cats liked birds and the bushes were low so picking was easy for the cats.  And we learned the cycle of life up close and personal more than once.  That coupled with the fact that my dad still farmed with horses and they were getting very old and dying made us rather callous to death.  I remember when a horse would die, someone called the "dead animal wagon" so they could be taken to the glue factory.  A man showed up with a big wagon that had a winch on it.  This was pulled out and secured around the neck of the hapless horse and a motor rolled the cable in and the horse ended up unceremoniously on the top of the heap of dead animals.  Sometimes their feet ended up sticking out over the top and that was rather sad.  These were animals who had once been very vibrant and dad usually kept their tails braided and tied with a ribbon.  I think about that a lot as my road gets shorter, but only in a fleeting moment and never with any great sadness.
And so I bid Nickerson adieu for the day.  I will be back.  There are a lot of memories there of things that will never be again and can not ever be forgotten.  Until then I am recalling something that goes "May the road rise to meet you and may the wind always be at your back!"  God only knows where that came from.




 

Chocolate Indulgence,Women's Shelter, and the YWCA from my side of the street!

Ever been to the YWCA annual Chocolate Indulgence?  Me neither, but that is about to change.   Several things have transpired to bring this little experience to the fore front.  First I have a kitchen that was designed by me and built by my dear late husband that is every cooks dream.  Lots of cabinets, lots of counter space, an island in the middle, stainless steel sinks, electric oven, and  cookware and bakeware with all the mixers and utensils one could only wish for at my fingertips.   That is the first thing.

 The second thing is a friend who loves to cook, but is limited by space at his home.  That coupled with my favorite hobby being the love of eating makes this a match made in heaven!  He started yapping about the competition at the Chocolate Indulgence and I was listening with one side of my brain as I am known to do.  I did keep picking up words like cream, butter, chocolate, baking, tasting and other hints that something good might be coming out of this little kitchen yet!  So by the time it dawned on me something was happening, he already had a plan.
So, I got online and downloaded all the info and the entry forms, added the event to my desktop calendar and began to take an active interest in what was going on here!  Having read the YWCA mission statement  (YWCA is dedicated to eliminating racism, empowering women and promoting peace, justice, freedom, and dignity for all.  Eliminating racism & empowering women. )   I decided this was a charity worthy of my attention and maybe a few dollars.  Lord only knows I could have used one of these back in the day.  Granted I am a little late getting on the band wagon on this one, but as a very wise woman (namely me) says, "Better late than never!"  So he has his list of things he is making and I have my one thing I will do.
I have already consumed two cakes, 4 pounds of candy, 11 cupcakes and three salted nuts to cleanse my palette!  I am starting to get a little excited here!  ( A little excited and a lot FAT! )  So we have to have our stuffat the convention center Friday, February 8 between 9 and 11:30 and then the judging is from 1-3.  I hope to go to the judging, but not sure my heart will take that.  I am  about to talk myself out of entering here!  Better be careful.  I hate to go aginst him in competition, but what the hell! 
I sure hated that they closed the pool at the YWCA.  It was so warm and nice, but I understand that our economy is kind of in the crapper right now and it took a lot of money to keep that thing open.  I learned how to swim in that pool a few years back.  Had that "learning to swim thing" on my bucket list for many years and decided I better just do it and get it over with.  My teacher was Doris Kester and she is such a lovely lady.  Well, in all fairness, everyone at the "Y" is just peachy.  And I love that Dennis Lowery to pieces!
I am putting you a link right here so you can go get all the info straight from the horses mouth, so to speak.  And look me up when you get there.  I am taking my grand daughter, who is a looker, and I am the little old grey headed lady beside her with chocolate smeared all over her face.  If I get a chance you may find me sitting in the chocolate fountain.  Yeah, I think I can manage that one!  So until then, Cheerio!


 

January 16, 2013. Lunch at my house with my new floors.

From left to right around the table are Faye Gallegos, Maurine Hale, Sister Barbara, Sister Nancy.

 

Under the table is Elvira, Mistress of the Night who thinks she is in charge.

Sister Barbara and Sister Nancy

Pastor Faye listening intently and Pastor Maurine taking notes.

 

This little gathering was one of my better ideas.  What better way to break in my new floor than to have four sainted women over for lunch and discuss a matter dear to all of our hearts?  Just nothing else would do.  A little background here will help you understand.  Pastor Faye is a retired UCC minister and lives in Colorado Springs.  She was Interim pastor at First Congregational when I attended there.  More importantly she was then and still remains my very dear friend and confidante.  She marched with Martin Luther King, Jr. and was most vocal and active in the fight for Civil Rights passage.  She is very active in all ministry work including the animal shelters and Heifer International.  And she raised kids at the same time.

Pastor Maurine is very active in the UCC Conference and various groups around Colorado Springs one of which she was representing this day.   This group takes on a project and this time it is Sister Nancy and her Los Pobres Migrant Center.  (An aside here.  Maurine is married to Max Hale, who is still very active in Pastors for Peace and does a blog that you can reach by clicking here! )  While her husband is retired, Maurine remains very active.
When I write about people I usually like to list 4 or 5 things that they will be remembered for, but that is not going to work for this bunch of women. 
So I have introduced you to the two UCC ministers and now we move on to Sister Nancy and her mission with the migrant workers of Southern Colorado.  I finally got a little of the skinny on how Los Pobres came to be the operation it is today.  Seems that many years ago , 1979, to be exact, Sister Nancy was having dinner with Father Gallagher at his parsonage at Sacred Heart of Avondale.  As the evening progressed there would be a knock at the door.  Father Gallagher would excuse himself and step out for about 10 minutes and then come back and set down and resume his job as host.  About the third time this happened, Sister Nancy decided to "spy on him", and was surprised to see him sacking up clothes and food for a man who was clearly an illegal immigrant. 
When she confronted him, he confessed and she told him, "Well, it is clear you are sort of organized, but let me help you and I think together we can do a lot more good."  In the beginning of their operation, it was run from a room in the parsonage.  Sister Nancy began to keep records of the immigrants who were accessing provisions and services.  Of course all this was done behind closed doors as the workers were all illegally in the United States.
But thank God for people who will do what ever is necessary and trust that good will win in the outcome.  In the year 2000 they built a small shed behind the rectory and the operation was moved to that area.   This is how it works in the real world...People die, babies are born, INS arrests and deports illegals to Mexico, women cry, and every day the business of living is a matter of course.  Children who do not know where Mexico is, are sent back there to live in a land they have never seen with people they have never known.
(An aside here  to a personal experience.  I think it was back in about 1980-81, I had daughter Debbie and her husband living in this town with or near me.  Patty and Dona were also here.  Well, Tex and Patty decided to go "work in the fields", since it was ready work and they could make lots of money.  So they piled into my Chevy and off they went.  8 hours later they returned.  Patty's eye was bloodshot and looked very bad.  Seems they were picking peas and Tex had pulled a weed and flipped it over his shoulder into her eye.  They were sunburnt beyond belief, exhausted, dehydrated, generally out of sorts with life.  The opened their hands to give me the fruits of their labors.  This grand total amounted to $3.28.  I was disappointed, to say the very least.)
The point with that story is that wages have nothing to with hours spent bent over in the hot sun.  I recall several years back that there was a lot of uproar about the illegals coming into this country and taking jobs from the locals.  So Pueblo County "cracked down" and the illegals were deported and none came from Mexico.  As I recall, the crops rotted in the fields because no one came to pick the produce.  I think they have lightened up since that little fiasco!
Back to Los Pobres.  In 2002 they received a grant from the Packard Foundation and built the big shed they are in now.  There are 5,000 families registered.  200-220 families weekly access the food bank.  The center distributes 1000 pounds of pinto beans, 600 pounds of rice and 720 cans of vegetables.  Everything at the center is done by volunteers.   Donations are made to the center by word of mouth, mostly.  Got clothes you want to donate?  Sister Nancy east of town,  Furniture, blankets, diapers, hygiene products, appliances, pots and pans, and on and on.  Sister Nancy east of town.  Everyone knows who that is.   I have a bag of coats in my car awaiting delivery.  Last summer I packed up a house full of clothes and household goods.  Took me 7 trips, but I got it all out there.  They are always in need of cooking oil, flour, beans, rice, canned vegetables.  I have a brochure here that I would love to send you.  Just call me.  719-546-1555. 
Well, I have once more digressed.  We did have a lovely lunch of one of my better offerings; home made chicken and noodles, mashed potatoes, some sort of veggie and gluten free biscuits with cheese and garlic just because I wanted to make them.  Finished that off with a fresh peach cobbler with ice cream.  So after several hours of visiting, I gave them a tour of my little corner of the world and then they hopped in their cars and away they went.  All things considered, I thin we had a very lovely day and would love to do this again very soon.
Want to join us?
 

I am getting behind here!

Well, I was just checking my stats and happened to notice that I have not been on here for over a week!  That will never do.  Do not think that these little hands have been idle, because they have not!  My floors are laid and the contents are slowly making their way back into their respective positions.   They do not do this alone, you know!  And the little cold snap we have endured for God only knows how long has the goose tank frozen completely solid.  To the untrained goose herder, it sounds simple, but to the geese it is a crucial matter.  They need water to survive and when the temperature continues to hover below 32 degrees, any water I carry out there freezes.  This means I have to do it several times a day.  This is starting to take a toll on the back that was already headed out the door.
And eBay continues to be a thriving place in my world.  Granted I do not sell as much as Eric or other friends, but I do manage to send out a package or two every day.  That sounds simple, huh?  The package usually contains a seed catcher, lotion, or something that I have made or will need to make to order before it can get into the package.  Right now I am finishing up a big order for my new friend in Alabama. 
Well, that is not quite true.  Right now I am trying to figure out how I sent this post off into cyber world and got it back mostly gone.  If you ever run into anyone who thinks they are smarter than a computer and have Windows 8 all figured out, you just let me know, because I want to meet that person.  No one is smarter than this computer!
And there is that book I am working on.  Well, two of them actually.  I have put Chapter One...The Antlions Den on hold while I do the fantasy novel of what life would have been had I met Sherman earlier in life.  That is entitled Long ago and Not Very Far Away.  It can be found at http://delilahsdatingdilemma.blogspot.com/ .
Also life creeps in and maybe a grand kid comes by, or a step daughter, or the loom calls me to weave, or meet the kids for lunch, or Daisy wants to go to the vet, or Elvira needs groomed, and also three is that Weavers Guild meeting, lunch with a friend, grocery shopping or a myriad of other things that need my attention.
The next post will be the luncheon I had with the Catholic Sisters and the ministers from Colorado Springs.  I will have to do that on the downstairs computer, because I have not found a slot on this computer to put my camera card in so I can have pictures.  Always something here in the real world, isn't it?
Off to sew.

And this is how the day went down.

The guys from Carpet Clearance Warehouse showed up at my door about 8:30 Wednesday morning.  Jason ramrodded the little fellows inside, pointed this way and that way, and Casey and Ron went right to work.  In very short order the old carpet and pad were gone.  The pad went to the dumpster and the carpet went to the front yard.  The carpet went to a new home in Boone where a man named Leroy uses it to insulate his chicken houses.  By the time the years of dirt that had filtered down through the carpet was sucked up and gone, I was breathing much better.  By 9:30 the first strips of flooring were in place and by 10:30 the living room was covered.

Then to the kitchen and dining room which were more of a challenge.  By that time Jason had left and some one else had come in his place.  Then another change and finally at 2:00 the floors were done.  Oh, don't be mistaken, that did not mean I was done!  The guys moved the entertainment center in off the back patio and moved the china hutch into the dining room where it belonged.  Deven and I would do the rest.  But first it was off to Lowe's to buy the little pads that go under the couch and table legs.  Home again, home again, jiggity jog, after a quick stop to pick up some chicken nuggets. 
We moved the table in from the patio, putting the felt things under it.  Then the chairs.  Then the couches had to be felted and moved where they belonged.  So now it was starting to look like this:

 

Now isn't that pretty!  The name of this is Sunset Oak.  Tomorrow the base boards will be put in place.  I have made rugs and I will put them down.  Then it should be ready for my company on Saturday.  I am having Sister Nancy, Sister Barbara, Pastor Faye and Pastor Maureen over for a nice lunch of Chicken and Noodles with mashed potatoes and some sort of veggie.  Home made rolls, and a dessert of something scrumptuous, perhaps a root beer float.  I know these women eat like a bunch of rabbits so I am giving them comfort food.  And Deven and Mikey are going to drop in to see Pastor Faye.  That will be a nice surprise for her.

 

As for me, I am setting in my office looking down at my kingdom and wondering why I did not get rid of that damn carpet years ago.  I think I am really going to like  this and I thank Jason for doing such a good job.  I know he had planned on doing it a few days earlier, but he wound up with pneumonia and landed in the hospital, but he made it and now it is done and I am very happy.

I will take better pictures when we get the base boards and the rest of the furniture in place.  Looks kind of Spartan right now, but you know I will have crap all over the place very soon.  For now, I think I will just go weave a little bit before I put the tired little body to bed.

 

Good night and sweet dreams.



What a way to spend a Sunday!

Here is the goose house when I opened it this morning.  It is beginning to look pretty nasty.  I would not want to sleep in there, would you?  My 13 little geese are certainly more deserving of something better.  Oh, look what I have in the back seat of my car!  I think I know what to do.

The man at the feed store looked at me like I had lost my marbles when I ordered a bale of straw and handed him the big black bag.  He thought I was nuts when I told him to slip that right down over that bale.  I had to help him because I do not think he had done this before.  Then when I told him to just toss it in the back seat he told me it would not go.  But this was not my first rodeo and I knew it would.  So I told him just put it through the door and slide it across the seat and close the door.  How simple it was then.  The real trick is not actually getting it in the car, the trick is getting it out without the bag breaking and leaving straw all over the seat.  That was my job.

So I jumped up bright and early this morning and traipsed out to the goose house with my shovel, broom, heavy coat and gloves.  Lyn did not know I was going to do this today so I did not have to get the sermon about wearing a mask and all that.  I did have to stop about half way through because my little fingers were very cold and I feared frostbit.  But with peraverance, in just a little over an hour it looked like this:

And then I filled the feeder .

And to make thier day complete, I ran them a big pond on water because the stock tank is frozen and I think it will remain that way until the spring thaw.

 

And Icarus checked it all out and pronounced it finished!  I headed for the shower!

 

So tonight I will sleep good knowing the geese are warm and dry tonight with new straw.  And let me tell you this is one chore I am glad is done for a few months.  A friend of mine called earlier and asked what I did today since they did not come and do my floors.  I told him I cleaned the goose house and he said, " I told you I would do that!  At least I meant to tell you I would do it."  I told him, "Oh, I misunderstood.  I thought you said 'Pass the cookies'. "  MEN!