What is normal?

Recently I have had the occasion to wonder, what is normal?  What is not?  To me, 5'1" and 160 pounds is normal.  Not so to my 100 pound step daughter.  Getting up at 4:30 is normal and perfectly acceptable to me.  Not to my 23 year old grand daughter.  Spending 7-8 hours a day on my computer is "normal" to me, but I have friends and family members who are challenged to turn their computer on, if they even have one.  I talk to one daughter several times a week on the phone, another weekly, one monthly and one I have not spoken to in years.  Which of those scenarios is "normal?"
When I was raising my babies it was "normal" for me to work 2 and three jobs just to make ends meet.  Yet I know families where no one works.  To them it is "normal"  for some one else to "take care" of them.  I do not consume alcohol, but I know people who drink as a matter of course.  I don't buy or drink soda pop, but I know people who  drink it on a regular basis.
What I am trying to get to here, is what is normal?  Could it be that there is indeed, no "normal?"  When we were growing up back in Nickerson, it was much like being raised by the wind.  Mom worked cleaning houses.  Dad did not work.  Mom came home and cooked our supper, we ate and then mom ironed a basket of clothes for one of the ladies in town.  We went to bed.  We got up and did it all over again.  My Dad sometimes had a "hot toddy" for his "cold".  Sometimes he let us have a teaspoonful.  Usually not.  The woman at the end of the block kept an eye on the little kids for 50¢ a week.  (She liked to ride stick horses and the little kids would run behind her.)
We were very poor, but so was everyone else.  Poor was the "norm."  We moved to Hutch and fit right in with that society.  Mom was a secretary by that time.  She would later go on to waitress work which paid better then office work back then.   By that time us kids were all beginning to leave home.  Mary got married at 15, I got married, Dorothy got married, Donna drifted off to school, and Jake was Jake, and Josephine was divorced and remarried with her kids grown and gone.
I immediately had a nest full of kids and began travelling the state with my tree trimmer husband.  I remember back when I was raising kids, Ward and June Cleaver were raising kids at the same time as I was, but talk about a world of difference!   A two parent home!  Ward went to work and guided the children in the right direction.  He did not appear to drink or carouse.  That was the "normal" for June but  my "normal" was far different. 
And so it is now today.  I look back down the road of my past and I see a skinny little girl with bare feet picking her way down a road of shattered dreams, lost opportunities, broken hearts, dragging 5 little kids behind her to reach the ever elusive rainbow at the end.  I now stand at the precipice to what, I know not, and I ask myself, "Did I do it right?  Did I do the best I could?"  The answer is "no".  But I do know this, I did the best I could knowing what I knew then with the tools that were at my disposal. 
I got all my kids into the world of adulthood.  They are all functioning members of society.  True, they are no doubt scarred by their childhood, but aren't we all?  They all have a different perception of "mother, hearth and home," but don't we all?  If I could walk the road again and know what I know now, they would all have gone to college.  We would be a close knit family and we would vacation together and talk on the phone every day and be so happy.  But until some one figures out a way to live our lives in reverse, they will just have to live with an imperfect mother, but one that loved them all nonetheless.
So, I just got off the phone with the oldest daughter who reassures me that there is no such thing as normal and as for her childhood, when someone says,  "How are you ?"  she replies, "Mentally unstable, but I am very friendly."
So there it is in a nut shell!

Big misunderstanding on my part about the Sherminator!!!

Just had a short email from the Danaman.
 Lou,
          The Sherminator is for racing @ Bonneville, it's not street legal. So I will be coming down to your place on Sherman's black Matchless that I got running awhile back. Now I am counting on giving you a short ride on the Matchless, so make sure your life insurance is paid up (hah!)
Danaman
Hey, that is even better.  Check this out!  Whoops, never mind.  Was going to link you up to the youtube of the Matchless, but that is not there any more .  RATS!

Thanks, Dana!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y57dnNtUk_Q

 

Yes! It is a go on the cook out at my house!

SHERMAN J SCHROEDER, JR.

MEMORIAL RIDE AND COOKOUT

JULY 6, 2013

FEATURING THE

Sherman's Black Matchless

RIDDEN BY DANAMAN

AND ESCORTED BY THE BMAC

Call for details  719-546-1555

Just heard from the DanaMan and July 6 is a go!  Soooooo, the bike club should arrive here between noon and 1:00 for lunch.  I just want to say, if there is anyone out there who would like to join us for whatever reason, just give me a call so I have a heads up on how many to cook for.  Or leave a comment at the end of this blog.  Or send a message through my email.  I will give you good directions to my house and be most happy to see you.

Dana added this: I don't have email addresses/phone numbers for these three, so could yet let them know about the ride ? Let them know they can either come to Colorado Springs for the starting point of the ride, or just meet us at your place for lunch. We will start the ride @ around 11:00 AM from Johnny's Navajo Hogan bar and restaurant ( 2817 N. Nevada Ave, Colorado Springs, CO ). I would guess we would be arriving at your place between noon and 1:00 PM.  Also if they want to attend our club meeting at the Hogan, that starts at 10:00 AM, they are more than welcome.

I would love to see a good turnout for this event.  This is one week before the anniversary of Sherman's passing so we need to celebrate the little fellow one more time.  Sherman was one in a million!

Here is a link to the newsletter showing lots of pictures.  http://www.bmacinc.com/Newsletter.html
And look for them on Facebook.  https://www.facebook.com/groups/293247852308/?ref=ts&fref=ts

So that is the scoop for now.  I look forward to seeing or hearing from some of you very soon.
loumercer3@aol.com
 

This was Saturday when the smoke was at its worst at my house.

 

This was the sun about mid morning on Saturday.  I pointed the camera straight at it and clicked.  Normally all I can see when I do that is the glare, but this was filtered through a lot of smoke from the fires all around us.  The air was filled with a smoky smell and a haze hung over everything.

 

 

About 1:00 in the afternoon we caught a break and I got this picture of a helicopter on its way to one of the fires.  See how blue the sky was?  The smoke smell lifted for this period.

 

 

And then in the early evening it all came back.  Guess the cool morning and evening air held it closer to the ground.  My friend, Wanda, lives over at South Fork which is now under pre-evacuation warning and she said they can not even smell the smoke.  It apparently goes straight up and then down to the valley.  Lucky her.  Well, not really lucky her, because she is still in danger of losing her home.  I would not like to be in her shoes at all!

 

I picked Doug up for church yesterday morning and he said it had rained at his house the night before.  He said it was really nice.  I would not know since it did not rain at my house.  I have not even seen a rain cloud;  just smoke clouds.  I have been talking to the good Lord about this situation and I am sure he will remedy it soon.  Think how fast he could put out those fires, if he had  mind to.

 

But you know how this goes.  It is called nature and ever so often the forest fires thin the underbrush and the dead and diseased trees.  When we were down on the North Rim of the Grand Canyon, they had a practice of going in and cutting down the dead trees and hauling them down to the road for people to use as fire wood.  Forest fires there are very rare, but of course the naturalists think that is interfering and a fern may loose it's happy home on the forest floor.  I do not know what the answer is.  I do know that there has been very little loss of life this fire season, which is indeed a blessing.

 

But I have been thinking, if I could get all my friends to pray for rain, maybe it would happen.  If you don't do the praying thing, try the karma and send good thoughts this way.  Just picture a nice soft rain falling all over Colorado.  Not a heavy downpour, because we have lots of areas that are now without vegetation.  That would cause flooding.  Just a little soft rain.

 

I would very much appreciate it!

 

 

Just a heads up for you biker fans or Sherman fans.

This is the "Sherminator" and it is ready to run.  Pretty sure this is going to Bonneville this fall!  The BMAC is having the annual Sherman Schroeder run and Dana called yesterday to tell me the plan.  We are not sure exactly where but it will be before noon. 

 

As soon as I know I will let you in on the specifics.  For now, just know it is in the works!

 

When Sherman passed last year he left the garage to his beloved British Motorcycle Association of Colorado, which he had helped found back in 1983.  Only one of the founders is left and hopefully he will be there that day. 

Any way, the club dug this out of the rubble in the garage and have spent the past year restoring it to museum quality.  This is going to be very exciting, at least for me

The cat and the hummingbird and NO CAMERA!

I have Sherman's desk that he left me right by the front window.  Outside the front window hangs the hummingbird feeder.  Inside the window is a bookcase and of course, a window sill.  Scenario is set!
I sat down in the little chair at the little desk for just a moment.  In that moment, the calico cat, Icarus, leapt on to the bookcase.  At the same moment outside the window, the hummingbird arrived for his afternoon feeding.
Hummingbird and cat spotted each other at the same moment.  Hummingbird came closer to the window to tease get a better look at the cat.  Icarus was plastered with front feet against the window while hummingbird dove and fluttered within inches of those deadly claws!  I knew exactly where my camera was.  It was on the front seat of the car, ready for action.  But I was inside the house and the action was here!

And isn't that rather how life goes?  Seems if I have the good shot in my eyesight, the camera is not near.  If the camera is near, there is not a good shot!  So, what does this say about my life?  Could it be that I am missing a lot of good opportunities simply because I was not expecting them to arise and I did not appreciate them when they did?  See the word tease up above?  See the word tease here?  That is called a strikethrough and it is done with a process called HTML.

 A couple of  years back ebay had chat rooms and I spent a lot of time in one.  There I met a man who was an editor for a newspaper in Chicago or some such place. (And he really was because I googled him and found his bio.  See, on the internet, you can be anything you want, until someone googles you and you are reduced to being an everyday nobody.)   Maybe Cleveland.  Anyway, at the time I was interested in learning the art of HTML.   I would ask him "How do I do the copyright sign?" and he would tell me. ©   See how easy that was?   Or something like this:

WATCH THIS

So I hung out in that chat room until ebay finally did away with our little playroom, but I still have my HTML sheets and I may very well surprise you from time to time with my prowess in this area.  Give me an HTML format and I can dazzle you, but do not be confused that this means I am a computer genius by any stretch of the imagination.  Just something to do.

Alas, back in May of 2011 I noticed Dan was no longer hanging out.  I emailed him.  Nothing.  I thought that odd and I started asking around the chat rooms.  Finally I got an email from someone I did not know, sent outside of the chat rooms.  It contained short note that said simply "Because you care." and a  link to an obituary.  And that was it.  I do not know why this came up today, but it just goes to show how thinking about a hummingbird led to thinking about a computing process which in turn led to thinking about something silly that happened many years ago.

I guess this just goes to show that nothing ever really goes away.  The more things change, the more they stay the same.  And that, my friends, is my words of wisdom for the day!

 

Look, Faye! Up close and personal!

My first rendering of fused glass!

I will bring these Monday so you can see them.  But for the rest of my friends, just look at what I made.  I think I will do even better next time.  I am rather excited about this new little venture!

Button class today, ah the brilliance of it!

Here we are at Lane's House of Glass where we can throw no stones!  This is located at 111 Colorado Ave., Pueblo, Colorado.  Phone # on that is 719-542-2210.   Now the way I happened to wind up in here was I was at the Weaver's Guild meeting and they said who would like to take a class on fused glass and I got confused.  For some reason I thought it was a wine tasting class and since my hand was already up and I was hollering "Pick me! Pick me!" when I actually figured out what was going on and I did not want anybody to know I was not paying attention, I signed up for the fused glass button making class.  Now, I had walked past Lane's House of Glass a time or two on my way to the homemade candy store (which incidentally, is going out of business if they don't find a buyer.)  I knew they had beautiful stained glass hanging in the display window, but that was a far as my tiny mind had taken me, until that day.

Now as I anxiously awaited the day of my class and told people, "No, I am busy that day at my fused glass class", I was asked several times exactly what kind of class it was and what was I going to do.  Did I get here before you?  What is fused glass?   I have no idea.  No idea whatsoever, but when I get done I will know what I did.  That seemed to satisfy my most ardent admirer; sort of anyway.

So today it arrived and off I went at the allotted time.  I was greeted by two of the nicest people I have encountered in quite some time; Bob Lane and his able assistant, Lisa.  We were ushered into the workroom in the back which was all laid out for us.  I at first thought the dark marks on the table were dried blood but was told that was a  crock.  See, I am smart enough to know that glass is sharp and broken glass is really sharp.  Bob asked if any of us had ever worked with glass before and I told him that one time I actually washed a window, but that did not count.

This is my work station.  It consisted of a big square of paper, glass cutters, pliers, some glue and lots of containers of broken scraps of glass and other stuff that I did not remember what was. 

These are my little palettes which I shall attempt to turn into works of art.  They are squares of thin glass.  The big ones are about 1 1/2" and the little ones about an inch.

Now after much brilliance I ended up with little piles of stuff that I am sure were what I did although I am not sure what I saw in my head and what ended up on the palette were any where near the same thing.  You people do know I have about as much artistic talent as a slug, but I gave it the old college try.

Here is my efforts laying in the bottom of the jewelers kiln.  Look kind of sad, don't they?  Ah, but wait!  The master will bake them!  10 minutes at some temperature, then raise it for another 10 minutes and then raise them to 1600 degrees.  I think that is right.  And voila!  The glass I had piled and glued and placed strategically would begin to slump and fuse together, hence the term, fused glass.  Get it too hot and apparently it all turns into a big ball and is good for not much of anything!

 

 

 

 

So, now tomorrow, I can go pick them up, because today they are really hot! 

 

So, I count today as a good day and let me tell you why.  I learned a craft that I had never had an inkling of how to do it.  I now know what fused glass is and I made some.  That is one thing.  I met two very wonderful people, Bob Lane and Lisa.  I tell you this much, they were very kind to me as I navigated this world that was totally foreign to me.  Bob did a lot of my glass cutting for me because I think he could foresee a lot of blood if he didn't.  Lisa is a font of knowledge and the two of them together made my journey a lot of fun.  And my fellow classmates were quick to point out my mistakes.  Ah, bless them! 

So if you think you can not do it, just pop right in to Lane's and tell them Lou said.  I am sure they will work you into a class and what is life if it is not the never ending quest for knowledge.  And it is always fun to learn how to do something first hand.  I am probably not going to take this up as a full time hobby, but it was fun.  Hey, if I can do it, you can do it.

 

 

 

 

 

Oak Valley Township has a new Trustee!

 

I finally have a child in the elected political arena.   Can you tell by looking that this is my oldest daughter?  Kind of surprised me that she looks so much like me!  Let me introduce you to my daughter Debbie and her husband Carl.  Well, we do not call him Carl.  We call him Hammer.  They live in a small town in eastern Kansas.

 

It seems that dear Debbie has gotten involved in the politics of the county.  This seems to be the only one I raised that is into all the things I hold dear, like recycle, GMO, civil rights, animal cruelty, organic, and on  and on we go.  She was the first to stand up and tell them about recycle centers and I do not know what ever became of that.  She is the first at the council meetings and holds their feet to the fire on all the issues.

 

She has been described as a pit bull.  She stands her ground and listens to what is presented and then explains her point of view and then listens to your point and if it is unfair, the back bone straightens and locks in place and the tail with the stinger that was wagging is now poised right above her head.  When she leaves the table, things are all as they should be and everyone is happy.  Happy is what it is all about, isn't it?

 

Now Debbie did not run for this office.  She did not campaign for this office, but when the votes were all in and the write-ins were counted, she was the clear winner.  She received a letter stating that.  Not sure what this entails, or when the entailing happens, but I am sure she will fulfill her obligation with pride and a fair open mind.

 

And our little Hammer is now the First Man.  Some how when they were  standing in front of the Justice of the Peace with my friend Shirley as their best man (many years ago ) taking wedding vows or roaring the highways and byways of western Kansas on their Harleys, they could not see what the future held.  I sure never dreamed that my survivalist daughter would be the first politician in my family.  I rather thought that would go to my son, but so goes it.  For the record, I am pretty sure she is a Republican!

 

So, I send her my congratulations! 

 

 Hats off to Debbie Kiesel for doing something her mother never had the guts to even try!

 

Snake #3, or as I laughingly named the folder, Friday snake.

 

 

 Ok, kids, this is what happens when you keep catching the snakes and relocating them and they keep coming back.  This is the third snake in less than a week.  Just more than I can handle.  This one was just under 5 feet.  Bret thought he would like to take this one home, but Amanda thought better of it.  This one was very mean.  The one night before last was rather docile, but this sucker was wanting to eat some one and I did not want it to be me.  I do not think this was the great big one and I am hoping it does not come back. 
I will keep you posted and in the meantime know that I do not like killing a snake, but this is getting plum ridiculous.  I ought to be able to walk in my own yard without them scaring me.  And when I throw a pebble I would very much appreciate them slithering off and leaving me in peace.

Well, we are starting this week off right!

This is Jimmy at my house doing the same thing he was over here doing 4 days ago, only this time the snake was much smaller.  Now I have no idea what I have done to attract all these snakes, but I am here to tell you that I may be moving into town and into a high rise.
I seriously think that the first snake was the father snake.  I think he came out from under my patio.  I think this one was the mother and she just woke up.  I fully expect to walk out there in the morning and find the babies headed for the goose house.  How many babies does a snake have for crying out loud.
The only thing that would make my life perfect at this point is for a great big tarantula to crawl in through the doggie door.  I may be getting too old for this farm life.
 

Finally made that hike I was looking forward to for so long.

Check out the scenery in this slide show.  Last Tuesday I finally got the chance to hike in the high country.  I forget what the name of this place is but it is out of Canon City.  Beautiful scenery.  This is the bluest sky in the world.  Almost as blue as Kenny's eyes.
I even wore hiking boots, back pack and everything.  I went with a friend who does this on a regular basis and I want to go on record as saying he was very understanding that this was my first trip doing anything like this.  You all know that I am a city girl at heart and my favorite things in life are hot and cold running water, electricity, a firm mattress and indoor plumbing.  Sad to say that there were none of my favorite things there in the wilderness, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.  No doubt he chose the easiest trail he could find, and for that I am eternally grateful.
So enjoy the slide show and I am going to go post to Long Ago and Not Very Far Away.

I have passed a milestone and it only inspired me to set another.

See, I have had over 30,000 reads on my blog!  To me it  is very exciting to know that at different points over the last several years 30,000 people have actually clicked on my site and hopefully read what I had written there. I do know that on occasions I have had a note from someone telling me "good job".  Got to tell you, that really makes my world light up.  I know my sister Mary is a regular reader or I should say listener since one of the girls reads it to her.  They say she smiles and laughs because she remembers the story I am telling, especially our early marriages and attempts at mothering our off spring.  Sister Dorothy just doesn't read that much and Sister Donna is pretty busy, but you will find me gearing my words to dear sister Mary.
I know I have my regular readers, my sporadic readers, a few land on my site by complete accident, some because they type in a "tag" that matches one of my tags.  For whatever reason you find yourself reading this blog, be sure I appreciate you dropping in and staying awhile.  Sign up over under the followers link and I promise that very soon I will write something worth reading.  I have had several new adventures this week, one of which scared me so bad I forgot I had a camera.  One broke my heart.  So stick around, this old lady is not done yet!

The May meeting of the Handweavers Guild of Pueblo!

I you click on the square in the lower left corner, the captions will show up.

Kind of amazing, this little slide show.  First you see the orchid Bret and Amanda gave me for Mother's Day.  Isn't that pretty?  And all I have to do is put 3 ice cubes per week in the pot.  I can put an extra one in sometimes if I feel like it.

Then it was off to the monthly Handweavers Guild meeting.  Dona Marie had give me the teal scarf for Mother's Day and I was wearing it for a belt.  No, that would not do.  Joanne Caldwell and Carol Salas ( Yes!  I used their full names.  They are the culprits.)  decided that it should be on my head because that is where the hippies wore them.  As I recall the "Flappers" also wore things like that, so I thought, "What the hey!"  So Joanne tied it on my head and Carol took the pictures.  Then I decided everyone else should be on camera too. 

So enjoy the little slide show.  See you in a few!

Hopefully this is not a disaster waiting to happen.

Ah! Spring is in the air so this morning I took myself to Peppers Plus and purchased, among other things, 6 healthy tomato plants for my garden.  Yesterday I had driven home along the ditch and noticed that the two geese who return every year to have babies had once more fulfilled their purpose.  So when I went today I was armed with my trusty camera.  I spotted them shortly after I turned off Aspen.  I do not click and drives, so I pulled over and shut off the car.
Daddy goose was very alert and immediately woke the little goslings and sent them down the bank and into the water.  But I was determined and you see I got pictures!  Yes!  This $79 camera is worth it's weight in gold.  I took my few pictures and since  I was making them nervous, I called it good and proceeded on my merry way home.  Barely a mile from the geese, I spotted something in the field at 23rd and South Road.
I once more stopped and got out.  Peering closely and squinting confirmed my worst fears.  Fox!  No, not just a fox, but a mother and 2 (for sure) kits.  She watched me as closely as I watched her, but I had the camera and she did not.  So I got the best pictures I could without invading her space.
Now, what is going to happen when mother fox gets hungry and baby geese wander too far from Daddy goose?  I know what happens in my yard when the fox comes around.  I just have to trust that daddy will take care of it.  These geese, or decedents of the earlier ones have been having babies on the ditch bank for many years.  Kenneth and I used to watch them teach the babies to fly many years ago.  At that time they were close to 23rd Lane and now they are close to Aspen.  I guess Daddy goose knows what he is doing.
So I just thought you might enjoy this little slide show!  And you can help me worry about the babies.
I think if you click on it that it may get bigger.  If not, come on out to my house!  I got the originals!

Follow up on the dreaded colonoscopy.

It has been 2/1/2 weeks since the dreaded colonoscopy so I need to catch you up on where we stand right now.  First, I hate my doctor.  I hate my insurance company.  I am now back to falling asleep before 4 AM and staying there for 7 hours.  Libby says that is the sedative side effects.  I know they killed every good bacteria in my complete digestive tract, so I am still eating pretty funny.  Lots of yogurt, pro biotics,and  kim chee trying to get my stomach full of rotten stuff;  cheese (for the binding effect), and lots of water.  I can now walk upright without clutching my stomach to releif the ache in there.  And guess what !  Got my letter from the hospital.  They had managed to corner one tiny polyp about the size of a dust particle and removed it.  It was not cancer. ( I think it may have actually been a tiny vestige of my immune system that was hiding from them.)
Oh!  And I might possibly have a sign of a hemmorhoid!  Ya think!  I have given birth 5 times and anyone that has been through that knows what that means!  That, coupled with the indignities I suffered the night before was enough to drive a lesser woman over the edge.
So now that the "procedure" is a fading memory, I am here to dispense my wisdom.  I understand that colon cancer is a real problem and if caught early is much better managed.  So while I may make light of it, I feel much better knowing that for me, it is not a problem.  So, if your doctor recommends one, then by all means, do it.  But first try the begging him not to do it.  This always makes them feel that they are in control.  They will also know you are scared shitless (I do not mean that literally.) and may take pity on you.  At least you can always hope!
 

And my world is once more in turmoil...or is it? Could this be a good thing?

No, I am not perfect!  I thought I was and  by the end of the day I may be perfect again, but last night I lay in my little bed trying to  rationalize myself to sleep.  I marched through 6 husband much like William Tecumseh Sherman marched through Atlanta on his way to the sea during the latter part of the Civil War and never dreamed any of it was my fault.  I came through all those years, while not unscathed, my head was still held high.  Today I am humbled, bloodied, and bowed.  This is the reason:

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	Start of Layer The positive Feedback percentage is calculated based on the total number of positive and negative Feedback ratings for transactions that ended in the last 12 months, excluding repeat Feedback from the same member for purchases done within the same calendar week (eBay time). Note: This could mean that the number of ratings used for this calculation is different from the same number shown in the recent ratings table on the left. Positives Positives + negatives This member's 12 month Feedback ratings Positives: 290Negatives: 1 This member's positive Feedback percentage 290 290 + 1 = 99.7% End of Layer Positive Feedback (last 12 months): 99.7% [How is Feedback percentage calculated?]
	Member since: Feb-06-06 in United State

Recent Feedback     ratings (last 12 months) This table shows the number of positive, neutral, and negative overall Feedback ratings the member has received in the last 12 months. More help about Feedback Rating- opens in a new window or tab   1 month 6 months 12 months Positive 35 205 326 Neutral 0 0 0 Negative 1 1 1 I have been operating on ebay since February 06, 2006.  In all those years I have maintained 100% both as a buyer and a seller.  Just check around and you will find that few people have managed that along with a Power Seller button and a Bronze rating.  Ebay is a cold, hard business with a lot of rules.  I have managed to stay on the good side of the powers that be for over 7 years. Needless to say when I checked my feedback yesterday I was astounded to find a red negative on  a $12.00 item.    Let me explain further what feedback does.  100% ties in to give me the power seller button and the bronze rating.  The best part about the bronze rating is the discount on my monthly bill to ebay.  Ah!  Now we come to the real nitty gritty of the business.  I pay for all my privilege's and the bronze rating reduces that bill by a percent that is tied to the feedback.  Now, I talk to people who do not give feedback or just click neutral.  Neutral is also bad, but does not actually count.  When I buy on ebay I will check a seller's rating.  If it is not over 99.5% I will find a seller that is.  Feedback is my bread and butter. So I contacted this lady and asked her what I had done to displease her.  Her verbal feedback was good, so I thought she may have just hit the wrong button. I was right.  She did say she would get on later and try to fix that.  If not the red negative will march across my dashboard for all the world to see for a full year.  But the damage has already been done to my little psychic.  My potential customers will see it and may choose another seller.  But all the "could'a, should'a, would'a," can not undo what is now planted in my little mind.  Perhaps I was not the perfect wife after all!  Maybe if I had the grit and determination during the marriages as I do with my little ebay business, I would now be a widow to my first husband, or the second, or the third......you get the picture.  But I wasn't and that brings to mind another old saying, "That is water under the bridge."  Yep!  Lot of water under the bridge and it looks like storm clouds gathering out west!  (That is a cryptic message to my avid followers.) So today I am off to church.  I am furnishing communion today and I made fresh bread, not because I want to impress anyone, but because I was to lazy to go into town and buy it!  While in the hallowed house of God, I shall bow my head and ask him to do something about this little problem.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I do not think that God will reach down and change that negative to a positive, but I think he may do a little something about this haughty spirit of mine that could sure use a little humbling.  As I contemplate my bucket list, that is one of the things that I want to change.  That and my filing system and my will.  Oh, yeah and clean the damn car. So you all have a good day and as a biker friend tells me, "Keep your hand on the wheel and the rubber side down.  Life goes better that way!"

Steve Parke, a man for the ages.

Every so often, a man comes along who is comfortable in his own skin.  I rarely actually meet such a man, but here you see one!  Let me introduce you to Steve Parke.  And see that guitar hanging off his shoulder?  He can play that!  And he can sing!  And sometimes he lets me sing with him.  Usually that happens when he is at the Peace Flotilla at the nature center in the fall.  Everyone goes down to the river to launch the floats and we wail away.  Here he is at the courthouse steps where the faith leaders were  holding a rally to ask for civility in our discussions on gun control.  Steve is a retired minister and is often found at any gathering for anything that even faintly resembles civil rights and that means any civil right for any human, animal, or anything that comes up.

And he plays that guitar and sings for Mothers Day Out at our church.  He is now working on publishing his second album.  Don't know what it is called, but do know that I will be in line for one of the first ones sold!  Then I can sing along with him all day!

He can travel to Ireland in search of his roots, come home with a slide show of epic proportions and make us all feel like we had gone there with him!  Ireland is beautiful and he is proud of his roots!  Steve is one of the best story tellers I have encountered and I have known a few!  He is at home in the coffee shops, nursing homes, church meetings, ski slopes, gym, river walk, and anywhere he points his little nose.  And girls, he is single!

 

 

But at our fundraiser at the church last Saturday, Theresa caught a side of Steve that we had never seen.  Now I am not sure that he was setting at this vanity because he was thinking about purchasing it, or just wanted to get off his feet for a break, or what was in his mind, but we got quite a kick out of this and I did promise him that I would present him in a good light.  I at first thought he had a necklace there, but if you look closely it is his phone.  His shirt has a Coors Light advertisement on the back.  He did not wear the one I like that says "Well, just because beer makes everything easier." 

So I present to you Mr. Steve Parke, retired from the work he did at the State Hospital, retired from active ministry, but always on hand to help his fellow man, brighten our day, or pet a stray kitty on the street.  A Godly man and one loved by everyone whose life he touches and touching more lives then even he knows!

I will let you know when his new album is out and will make it available in my store if he lets me, or if he doesn't, I know how to photo shop and that cell phone may turn into a tube of lipstick!

Love you, Steve!

 

 

 

 

Ever had a colonoscopy? Want one? Niether did I!

This is Debbie and her darling Hammer yesterday morning.  It was my date with destiny for the colonoscopy, which I had fought tooth and nail for years.  As luck would have it they had driven in the night before from Longton to attend a funeral in Pueblo.  Picked the one day of my life when I was not allowed to eat anything, thus I was not cooking.

This is my daughter Patty who had driven in from Lakin, Kansas specifically to take care of me during the time I would be incapacitated, and to drive me to and from the hospital.  So, I was in good hands.

If you have ever had this procedure, you will recall that visiting on the night before was a challenge at the very best.  They did fend for themselves in the eating department, which I think means they probably did not eat.

Now let me just go on record here as saying at no point in time did I ever WANT a colonoscopy, but some where along the line it became a power struggle between my doctor, who shall remain nameless,  and me.  I had a perfect doctor before him.  Dr. Riechert.  I never seen him.  If I had a problem, which is rare, I called and he fixed me up.  Silly stuff like poison ivy, pleurisy, and the occasional renewal of the thyroid prescription.  But, unfortunately, he took better care of me than he did himself and after his demise, I was on the hunt for a new doctor.  Enter Dr. Nameless.

Since he was now the man who was in charge of my health care, I thought I should at least meet him.  So I made the appointment and we met in his office, both of us fully clothed.  Nursie took my vitals and he checked the chart when he came in.  The following conversation ensued.
"So are you in any pain?"
"No, not a bit."
"I see you have high cholesterol.  I will give you Lipitor."
"I tried it once.  Didn't like it.  Like the high cholesterol better."
"You do not need a pap smear.  Do you want a colonoscopy?"
"Do I look like I want a colonoscopy?"
"Why are you here?"
"I am here because you are my new doctor and if perchance I end up flat on my back in the ER, I want you to be able to say, 'Oh, I know her.  She is my patient.'  I require very little maintenance, but I do need a family doctor."

Thus began our patient/doctor relationship, which over the years included one pap smear, and several referrals for the mammogram (which was invented by a frustrated husband some where) every year or so.  He did finally talk me into Zetia for the cholesterol problem, which I managed to tolerate for almost 2 years.  But the colon business was just a formality of "Do you want a colonoscopy?"  "Do I look like I want one?"  In all fairness, I felt rather sorry for him trying to doctor someone who does not want doctored.  Finally he asked if I would do the "poop test" and since that was non invasive, I agreed.  Now this is where my life spiraled out of my control, so listen and learn.

Nobody told me, do not eat red meat for 4 days before you do the test.  Nobody told me, do not eat beets or anything red.  And since I eat damn near anything except cooked apples, I ingested probably anything that crossed my path prior to the "taking of the sample with a paint brush".  (Playing in my poop is not something I normally do just for the record)!

To make a long story short, of course it came back positive.  Of course I was going to have a colonoscopy.  My insurance insisted on that.  So that is what I did yesterday.  Now I am here to tell you that Sunday I was not allowed to eat food and could only have clear liquids.  Eating is my passion and I did not enjoy that at all!  Sunday night was the worst experience of my life.  I had to drink a gallon of the most foul stuff I have ever encountered in my years of drinking and I have downed some pretty gross stuff on my way to a good drunk (if there is such a thing as a good drunk).

Now, I am happy to report that I passed with flying colors, and have two pages of pictures showing nothing but the cleanest colon in town.  My kitchen floor should be so clean!  My friend stopped to see me on my way into the hospital and decided I looked "fit" and after work came by to reassure himself that I had indeed survived and was amazed that I showed no signs of being any worse for the wear.  I tried to look pathetic, but could not pull it off because I had to laugh at him.  Bless his heart.

So in closing, let me tell you this... if you find yourself facing this, not to worry.  It is a piece of cake.  If you survive the night before you can survive anything.  And so I can continue my march down or up the road with that behind me and when I see the doctor again, I shall remind him that I am one of the healthiest old ladies he will ever encounter and not to make me take any more tests!

And where do I put thier memory?

This is the braid that was cut from Grandma Haas's head when she entered the nursing home only a few days before her death in  1955 (as I recall.)

Now I do not want you to  think I have some sort of hair fetish, because I do not.  Mother had kept Grandma's braid for many years and when she passed it was given to me because I was the only one who knew whose it was or how it came to be in mother's possession. 

 

I recall the day I came home from Plevna High School and found I did not live there any more.  Grandma was not well.  We knew she had a light stroke.  It was her second.  When I had gone to live with them, she was using a walker and Great grandma Hatfield who was 99 years old at the time, was taking care of her.  I was there to help lighten her burden.  I loved both of those old ladies almost beyond belief.  They taught me to crochet and to read the Bible every night and pray before I took a bite of food or dared to raise up out of my bed in the morning.  Actually, it was not a bed.  I slept on the couch because they were worried that if I slept upstairs in one of the beds that something drastic could befall me.  I could fall down the stairs if I walked in my sleep.  The house could catch on fire and I would perish.  Some one might creep up the outside of the house and carry me away.  Any number of things could befall me, so I slept on the couch.  When cousin Carl would come to stay a night, I had to sleep on the settee behind the stove because he was taller and I fit just fine on that little thing as long as I drew my knees up to my chin.  Cousin Carl was a hoot!  He played basketball and I worshipped him.  (As I look back on my life I find I have loved and worshipped a lot of people.)

 

So back to that day.  Aunt Mabel and Uncle Goll had come from Coldwater.  Aunt Mabel was grandma's sister and she was married to my grandfathers brother, Uncle Goll.  That made all of us kids double cousins.  Sad as it seems, I have no idea where any of them are.  Course, they have no idea about me either!  I really think most of them are reaping their rewards up over my head.  Aunt Lola, mother's sister, was there.  Uncle Frank, Uncle Ray, and Uncle Charlie had all been consulted.  The decision was made to place grandma in the nursing home and Great grandma would return to Coldwater with Aunt Mabel.  (She remained there until her death at the ripe old age of 104.  She was in complete control of body and mind until just a few days before her death.)

 

My mind is not clear as to the sequence of events.  I know grandma was placed in the nursing home.  I may have remained with Aunt Mabel and Uncle Goll and Great grandma until grandma died just a few days later.  I do recall being in Plevna  and in school when she died.  The funeral service was held next door at the Congregational Church of Christ.  After the burial I returned to Nickerson and never saw the inside of the house again.  I know Aunt Lola emptied it out and mother received a small gray hassock full of crocheted doilies.  I thought that was so sad. 

 

I have been back to visit the town, but it has changed so.  The high school is torn down and all that remains is the gymnasium.  But in the gym was also the kitchen where Mrs. Crawford taught home economics.  It was in that room that she informed me I would never be anything important, because I was nothing like my beautiful mother.  And I flunked cooking under her tutelage, which I found ironic since I have owned and managed very nice restaurants most of my adult life and am a very good cook.  And she was wrong about me not being like my mother, because I am.  I just never made the beautiful part, but all the rest is there for the world to see. 

This braid was cut from the head of Bret Mercer (nee Cavendar) when he came to live with us in 1998 (as I recall).

Bret was our grandson.  When he was first born he spent lots of time with us.  Then his parents divorced and took new mates.  Bret still spent time with us.   When he was a tiny boy, he always wanted a "Kenny Mercer haircut", which we gave him.  He disappeared from our lives for sometime and when he returned he had very long hair.  As circumstances some times happen beyond our control he ended up coming to live with us and the first thing he wanted was his hair cut.  We of course gave him what he wanted.  So this is a symbolic hank of hair here.  We ended up adopting Bret and this remains in my top dresser drawer with the one from Grandma Haas.

 

So my question here is this:  What do I do with these mementoes?  I can not just throw them away.  That would be sacrilegious as far as I am concerned.  So I keep them in the drawer and take them out very rarely.  Grandma's is very dry and brittle.  Bret's is still supple and filled with color and highlights.  But what about 10, 20 or 30 years from now when someone is going through my belongings and they come upon this hair?  Will they know what it is?  I could put a note in with it, but do I want to do that?  It is a quandary.

 

For the time being, I am just going to put them back in the drawer and forget I seen them.  Grandma's especially brings tears to my eyes to just look at it.  It is like spun gold and the head that produced it is so dear to me ......