The bane of my existence is such a small thing.

As far back as I can remember I have been plagued by the dreaded mouse!  I hate them.  They are small, dirty little creatures that carry germs and poop on the counter. They can go into very tiny places and I read once that if they can get thier nose in a crack they can collapse thier body and slide through.  I do believe that.  My first recollections of mice as actual creatures in my world was when we lived on Strong Street.  I was probably 6 or 7, which is awfully young to be subjected to the rigors of mouse killing, but I was.  Mother opened the vacuum cleaner and there was a nest full of baby mice in there.

I must digress here for a moment to say this, never do I remember ever having carpet in any house we ever lived in and there certainly was no carpet on Strong Street for damn sure, so what that woman was doing with a vacuum cleaner is more than I can fathom.  I think she had it just as a large mouse trap, because that was the only time I ever recall it being in our home and why she opened it is definitely beyond my reasoning capabilities.  Back to the tale.

She handed the bag to me and some other sibling with the instructions to "Take those out on the front sidewalk and mash them with a brick."

I digress once more to interject that not only was the sidewalk in front of the house the front sidewalk, but it was also the only sidewalk any where around the house, or any of the neighbors houses.  For that matter it was the only concrete walkway on Strong Street at all!  It joined a flat concrete slab that was the front of the house that was cracked and falling away from the house, but it was, nonetheless, the front sidewalk.

I remember peering into the bag and seeing the tiny, pink, hairless mice in there.  Thier eyes were not open and they made a sort of squeaking sound.  As sure as there is a God in Heaven and a devil under the deep blue sea, I knew I was not going to mash them on the sidewalk.  I ran back into the house and pleaded with momma to let us keep them because they were so tiny and so cute.  I told her I would feed them and take care of them and they could sleep with me.  Needless to say, I was relieved of mouse mashing duty.

My house has a doggie door in the back door.  That is so the dogs can come and go.  It used to be big enough that I could crawl through  when I locked myself out, but over the years the size of my animals has diminished so that now it is about big enough for a cat.  Icarus has always been an indoor cat with out door habits which means I do not have the litter box to deal with at all.  What I do have to deal with is her eating habits.  Or her lack of eating habits.  I have been told that cats bring mice into the house to reward the owner for thier care and the cats know the owner is not smart enough to catch thier own food.  What ever the reason it seems that sometime during the course of any given day, I will be rewarded with fresh food.  Cat brings it in and bats it around until I notice that my dinner has arrived and then she stands back and waits for me to eat!

Ah, but I am wiser and faster then that damn cat!  I have 2 of those long handled pinchers that are used to pick something up off the floor that I have dropped.  I have become quite adroit at reaching down and snapping up the mouse, taking it to the back yard and flinging it over the fence into the field where it will be safe (broken ribs and all.)  If  I happen to look out my back window and see her coming across the yard with a treat for me, I slide the doggie door in place.  Cats are not very bright are they?

My doggies are getting old and I fear I will not have them too much longer.  I am getting a little older myself so I have decided when these animals are gone, they will not be replaced,  As it is, if I dropped dead tomorrow, they could never adjust to the real world.  But that cat is going to outlive me sure as the sun comes up in the morning.  When the dogs are gone, I think I will eliminate the doggie door and get Icarus a litter box.  Not sure how that will work, but I am getting too damned old to catch mice!

How many years ago was that?

I woke up this morning in a black 1949 Ford on my way to Jetmore, Kansas.  One kid in the front seat and 3 more in the back seat.  Going to go see Grandma Seeger.  Jesus!  How many years ago was that?  It must have been about 1968 or 1969.  I was newly separated  and it was my day off so I was trying to keep some sort of continuity in my life.  I had shaken the dust of Garden City, Kansas off my feet and was living in a 2 bedroom rented house near the Reformatory in Hutchinson.    Just off East Sherman but I do not remember the name of the street.  I doubt that it is still standing, because it was barely standing then.

The first thing that happened was when I called to have the gas turned on, they condemned the stove which was the sole heat source for the house.  That had to be fixed, of course.  Probably should have left the gas off as it turned out later to be a thorn in my side.  It was a constant battle to keep the kids from touching it and burning themselves.

I was working nights and sleeping very little.  I had done the laundry and not folded it yet so it was laying on my bed which was located on the back porch.  I set down in the front room for just a minute and fell sound asleep, only to be awoken to cries of "FIRE!"  Shit!  Debbie threw water on me and I was awake instantly!  Seems dear Sammy, turned the kitchen stove on and poked a piece of paper in the flame to see "What would happen?"  He did not want to burn his fingers so he threw the burning paper on my bed full of clothes.  Need I go into detail?  Of course I do.  I immediately began dousing the fire with water and finally had it out and no smoke was coming from it.  To be on the safe side, I drug the mattress into the back yard.  I called a friend of my brothers and he came and hauled it away.  I am not sure the landlord ever knew where his mattress went.

Smith!  That was the name of that street.  That was my baptism by fire into the world of single parent life.  The girl who lived across the street babysat for me.  She also babysat my only pair of jeans I liked. Remember that when I left my husband I weighed 92 pounds so I was considerably thinner than I am now.  Actually, there could be 2 of me now!  She also releived me of my class ring and my wedding rings.  That was also where the kids got ringworm.  Sam filled the gas tank on the Ford with sand.  The old $150 Chevy that I arrived in Hutchinson threw a rod and I bought a 1949 Ford from Jake's friend, Clell.

You must know that back in those days, child support was optional and my husband opted out.  Welfare was there to help single mothers, but if you worked, they did not help you because you had an income.  Since I worked and could see no way to feed us if I quit, I never drew welfare.  No welfare, no alimony, no child support.  I must say part of the child support not coming was my fault.  My husband explained to me, as if I were a couple bricks short of a load, "You wanted the divorce.  I did not.  You have the kids.  I have nothing.  You should be paying me because you took them away from me."  And in my befuddled, insecure little mind, that all made good sense.

After a time the roof began to leak and the landlord would not fix it so my mother let me move into her house over on 5th Street.  That also brought a change of employment and began my career as a cook at the Red Carpet Restuant.  The husband moved to Hutchinson and took a job at Cessna.  We reconciled for a week or so and then he left town because he "just could not do the boring existence thing."  Welcome child number 5 and a tubal ligation!

I dated a radio personality and learned to decorate wedding cakes.  The radio guy turned out to be a real jerk but the cake decorating turned into a fairly lucrative part time job.  I dated a guitar picker and learned how to sing country!  When Christmas time came, his mom gave me 3 pairs of cotton underwear.  Never really got over that and so much like Glen Campbell or Hank Williams, I moved on.  Then  I found out just how good booze could be and it could always be depended on to see me through the rough patches.

And now I dream about those days.  When I was there it was a constant battle and there were times I wondered if I would survive.  There were days and nights when putting one foot in front of the other was the only hope I had.  Just one more day.  One more night.

Got to end this here because I am starting to feel sorry for myself and I do not want to do that.  That is how life becomes unbearable.  Just gotta keep my shoulder to the wheel, my eye on the prize and take it one day at a time.

Click to play

If I could shut off my memory....

Morning seems to be when I remember best.  I woke up this morning  back in the late 60's.  I was working as a waitress in a restaurant in Hutchinson.  It was my first job in the real world with my kids dependent on me since I was newly seperated and had filed for divorce.  Back in those days child support was optional and welfare required that you not work to qualify for help from the state.  So there I was.  I had never waited tables as a means of support.  Many years before I had been a cook/waitress/dishwasher at a place out on 4th street called the Tiny Tear.  Course most of my life at that time was spent in an alcohol induced fog, so I remembered little of that experience.  But now it was   ten years later.

The people who ran this resturaunt took pity on me and were very patient and they needed help on the night shift really bad.  The logistics of the job are not important, just the people.  There were the two "real waitresses" and a young girl who was attending college and supporting her self.  There was also a cook,  cook's helper and a dishwasher.  We were closed one day a week and that was the only day off that we had.  To make a long story short, the cook and the young college girl fell in love.  Oh, it was so romantic.  They billed and cooed and carried on something fierce.  She, however, appeared a lot more enthralled with the relationship than he did.  The strange part was, they never dated.  Never.

 He would leave work on Sunday when we closed and not appear again until Tuesday afternoon.  Where did he go?  The young college girl did not know.  Nor did anyone else.  She cried and he gave her a ring.  But still they never dated.  He swore he loved her with his whole heart, and she believed him.  We all did.  And like all things in life and like mother always taught me, "It all comes out in the wash!"  He was going to Wichita.  Why?  Why not?

The young college girl gave up and returned the ring.  She moved on.  He quit cooking there, the two "real waitresses" moved to Texas, and I took a job cooking at the Red Carpet Resturant.  I saw the cook from time to time, but that friendship petered out as any friendship that has secrets will.

Many years later found me in Pueblo, Colorado.  A lot of water ran under this bridge and I finally found my niche in the construction industry.  The AIDS epidemic reared it's ugly head.  It was sad back then.  People were dying at an alarming rate.  I divorced again, got my degree in accounting and all my little acolades because I was so damn smart.  Then I married for the last time.  For whatever reason I began volunteering with the AIDS group in town and it was tied in tightly with the Gay community.  I have watched the face of AIDS and sexual orientation change from complete denial to total acceptance in my life time and I am proud to say I was in the forefront of most all of it!  but I digress.

I remained friends with only a few people back home, but one of them was a friend of the cook.  Remember him?  He was the one who ran away to Wichita every chance he got.  The one who left the college girl crying.  He became quite successful in his chosen profession, but he never married.  One day his friend called me and said "Do you remember 'the cook' "?  Sure I did.  She then told me he was rushed to the hospital and they had no idea what was wrong with him, but he was in a coma.  The next day he was dead.

Weeks would pass before the autopsy returned the results of his demise.  AIDS.  Not really AIDS, but disease associated with the syndrome.  At that time it was still a "gay disease."  At that time it was selective.  It was a scourge.  You were not even tested if you were not gay, and he was not gay!  Oh, wait a minute.  All the trips to Wichita began to creep in on the corners of my mind.  Could he have been leading a secret life?  Was that what that was all about?  The young college girl had become a quite successful architect and married very well, but he had not.  He lived all alone in a very nice house and had friends, but no romantic interests.  Or  so we thought.  It all comes out in the wash.

And why do I have this on my mind this morning?  I think it is because of the hatred that is being spewed through this election.  One governor struck down a bill passed by his state governing body that legalized discrimination.  Another is proposing legislation that legalizes it!  Contenders for the position of president are calling to criminalize birth control, homosexuallity, gay marriage, and about anything that has been passed in the last 20 years.  I may have to run for office myself.

My platform would be love and tolerance.  No discrimination.  A living wage and a chicken in every pot.  The only two things I would outlaw would be homelessness and poverty.  Everyone that wanted an education would get it and a few that did not want it would get it anyway.  Drugs would be illegal.  Gangs would be illegal.  Killing people because you are a jerk and can, would be illegal.  You get the picture?  Kind of a pollyanna world, so to speak.

But in the meantime, I send good thoughts to "the cook" and everyone who hides in the shadows because of fear or shame or whatever reason.  If the college student/architect or the "two real waitresses" or someone who knows them happens to read this, I wish you would contact me.  Just go google loumercer3, or Lou Mercer.  Or leave a comment below.  I would love to hear from anyone that knew me back then.

In the meantime remember:

 BLOOM WHERE YOU ARE PLANTED!

This is mine and I know how to use it.

From the time I was hatched back in Nickerson, Kansas, I knew right from wrong, up from down and which side of the road to walk on most of the time.  When it came time to ride a bike I knew which side of the road to do that on also.  When walking I walk on the left side of the road so I can see and avoid the oncoming traffic.  If it becomes necessary, I can step into the ditch.  

When I drive that is done on the right side of the road because that is where I belong.  When I ride my bike, I ride on the right side.  My bike is the same as a car or motorcycle.  It makes sense to me.  If a car comes up behind me, it can slow down if there is oncoming traffic or speed up and pass me. I bring this up for several reasons.  Last evening I went out to fill up the car so I did not have to do it in the blinding blizzard this morning which is neither here nor there.  On 25th Lane the inevitable occurred.  There was a car coming towards me on the left side of the road.  And there was a bike coming towards me on the right side of the road.  Neither one was going to give an inch so I just stopped.

And this brings me to the next part of the equation.  Our city fathers, in their infinite wisdom have spent tax money painting bike lanes all over our fair city.  I have yet to see a bike rider in those lanes and the bikers I talk to refuse to use them because they are not suicidal.  Bikers still ride on the sidewalks and dart across the street in the middle of the block.  On fifth street, which is one way going east.  They have 2 bike lanes, one going east and one going west. Parking is in the middle of the street.  And yet on Mark Hamal heading towards Santa Fe, the parking is against the curb and the bike lane is between the parking and the traffic lane.  I would not try that one, because a door is going to open right in front of me and there I go.  When you get to Santa Fe you will need to run over the cyclist if you want to turn because the bike lane abruptly ends there.

Now to my rant.  Wouldn't it have just been easier and a whole lot cheaper and less confusing to teach people how to ride a bike on a public road?  We have to have driving lessons and a drivers license, why couldn't they require the same for a bike?  Now I am getting pretty damned old here and I am sure at some point they are going to revoke my license, but I can ride a bike!  Or I could ride a bike except for that balance thing that seems to go south with age.  I do know one thing, sooner or later, if I keep driving in town and anyone is stupid enough to use the bike lane, I am probably going to run over them.  And since I said this, it will no doubt be pre-meditated!  

You know, I kind of hate this getting old because now I can see where the government is screwing up and I am just to tired to give a shit!  You have a good day!

Nothing I do is ever simple, or ever done only once!

When I went to Sam's Club the other day, I bought tuna.  Canned tuna.  10 cans of canned tuna with The Bumble Bee Lable.  I rarely buy 10 cans of tuna, but since this was in water, I thought it ought to be good for me.  150 calories in the whole can!  How could I go wrong?  Today I flipped to the news online and guess what!  My tuna is recalled!  Recalled!  So I get my tuna cans out and search for the recall lot #.  After due time I find it and I am saved only by the sell by date.  But, this process took 15 minutes out of my day.  See?

Just now I went down to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee and then had to come back upstairs because I forgot my cup.  I searched for that cup and started a load of clothes and went back down to get a cup of coffee and remembered I left my cup upstairs so I came up and looked for it up here and finally remembered that I took it to the kitchen when I went to get the tuna.  See?

When I leave this morning to dash into town, I will forget my phone.  If I may hap remember the phone, I will forget what I am going to town for in the first place.  So I make a list and forget the list.  The first curve after 25th Lane on the way to town is known as the "oh, shit!" curve because that is where I always turn around and come back to the house to get whatever it is that I forgot.

Every day I promise I will do better, but those are empty words.  Today I do need to call and see when my doctor appointment is, because it is not in my calendar.  I put the card some where and wrote it some where, but God only knows where that might be. 

My mother always said that as long as I remember the daily things, like hygiene, eating, people I deal with daily, and things I do on a regular basis that I am alright, but I am not so sure.  I have stopped in the middle of a sentence and forgotten where I was going with that thread and launched off on something that popped in to replace the first thought.

My world is full of "Sorry, I forgot," and "Damn when did I say that?"  and, "Refresh my memory on that again."  So far I have not forgotten anything that was earth shattering, although I did get on 1 25 the other day and had to get off suddenly when I remembered that I was going to Canon City and not Colorado Springs!  Guess I just had the Springs on my mind.  I have not stepped out in front of a Mack Truck, but that is because I am rarely around Mack Trucks. 

So I have this to say...

If I see you some where and do not recognize you, refresh my memory.
If you are one of my kids and I do not recognize you, don't take it personally.
If we had an appointment and I stood you up, call me.
If I have something that belongs to you and I have not returned it, come and get it.
If you have something that belongs to me,  go ahead and keep it because I probably bought 3 more to replace what ever it was.
As it is I have forgotten why I even started this little spiel, so I guess I will just go down and get a cup of coffee!

Have a great day, because you deserve it!

A sad state of affairs.

I woke up early this morning and peeked out the bedroom window and there were a million stars twinkling in the sky.  It made me so happy to just be alive.  Since it was still before 5:00 AM I decided to just lay there and reflect.  You know, I have seen a lot of "firsts" in my lifetime.  Now, I do not mean in my personal life, but more in the political arena. 

1.  First President to serve 4 terms (also the last!)
2.  First President with only an initial for a middle name.
3.  First President that was a 5 star General.
4.  First President to publicly admit wrong doing and resign from the Presidency.
5.  First Catholic President.  And also my first public assassination.  And my first public     
     assassination of the assassinator. 
6.  First divorced President.
7.  First Black President.

As it now stands, the primaries are in full swing and we will have an election in November.  I will once more witness a first no matter who wins.
1.  Bernie Sanders, Jewish and of Polish descent. 
2.  Hillary Clinton, Former First Lady and a Woman. 
3.  Donald Trump, Racist, Bigot, married 3 times, divorced twice, bankrupt 4 times, not his fault.

Now, I ask you, is this any way to start my day?  How can I let go and let God with this mess on the news all day long?  Right there is reason enough to not even get out of bed in the morning!  And it is not just the political arena that has me dancing around on my back legs.  We are living in a world of the have's and the have not's.  While millions of dollars are being spent on this race for the white house people are starving.  Drive past the soup kitchen down town before 11:00 AM.  The lot is full of people with their worldly possessions in a box or sack or a shopping cart they have commandeered from some place.  Some do not have anything but the clothes on their back.  They have absolutely nothing.  We live in a world where you either have it or you don't.
   
If you have it; you have it.  If you don't; you aren't going to get it.  The rich get richer and the poor get poorer.  It was designed that way.  It is set up that way.  And it works that way.  Way back when I started school, I was taught if I worked hard and was honest, I would succeed in life.  Later in the Baptist church I was taught that if I gave my 10% God would reward me.  I did not even really need to go to church, just make sure I got the 10% there. 

Now many years later, with a lot of lessons well learned and deserved or undeserved hard knocks under my belt, I look back down the road that was my life.  I have a big house full of possessions.  I have a car.  I have bank accounts and bills and a social security check that helps me maintain a certain lifestyle.  Will I ever go on that cruise?  Probably not.  Will I ever have more money than I will ever need?  Probably not.  Do I thank the good Lord every night for getting me through the day and every morning for waking me up?  I sure do. 

Would I want to me the President?  No way in Hell.  That is one of those damned if you do and damned if you don't jobs.  I would rather set here on my little acre and listen to my geese honk, with a cat on my lap and dogs at my feet and watch the sun come up in the east and go down in the west and wonder what I can cook today that I haven't cooked before.  Sure was not the soufflé!

Just some of my ramblings that nobody really understands or cares about, but this keeps me sane!

Wait a minute! I thought I was supposed to vote.

What happened to the primary?  I thought I was supposed to go to the poll over at South Mesa where I always go and cast my vote for my chosen person for the big election in November?  Apparently not.  It now appears if I want a say in who is the Democratic nominee for President I have to go to County High and attend a caucus.  When I register out there and they see I am really a registered Democrat then I will get a black X on my hand.  Then apparently both sides will tell me who I should vote for.  Now, sorry, but this insults my intelligence.  Does it appear that I have been living in a bubble all this time that Hillary and Bernie have been slugging it out with the debates an all?  I would have to be pretty brain dead not to have made a decision by now.

It was certainly a lot easier when I had all day long to run by the school and show them my identification, step in the booth, and vote.  Then I could see my friends and I always ran into some one I knew. When I was done I always got a little round circle that said "I voted" in the center.  Wonder if I will get one of them tonight?

And speaking of tonight, do you think I will actually make it out there?  I have to be there at 5:30 and I also have chores that need done at 5:30.  That means the geese will have to be locked up early.  They do not like that.  It also means my dogs will be alone and I will miss Jeopardy.  I do realize it is my civic duty to vote and like President Obama said "If everyone votes, it will not matter what the 1% want."  It was just so much easier when I had the whole day to take care of a 3 minute job.

This is what confuses me... I now receive a ballot in the mail.  No more going over to the school and doing that either.  I then have that mess to figure out and be sure I sign it and put proper postage on it, or load up and drive into town to one of the convenient drop off locations which I have yet to find one bit convenient and have had to park and go up to the second floor where I am once more questioned about whether I am a legal voter.  That in itself is amazing because had I put it in the mail they would not be able to confront me and make me feel like the criminal for exercising due diligence in voting.  Course when I mail it in I have to go to the postoffice and buy the stamps required.

So my question here is this, who decided to change the whole system?  Seemed like it was working pretty well before they fixed it.  And on what level of government was this decided?  Is the whole state this way?  Will we ever get back to being a civilized society, or is this the best I can hope for in my remaining time here on this little blue and green ball?  And how much longer is this little ball going to be spinning?  I love the advertisement where goat girl says "We have been fracking saftely for 65 years."  No we have not!  I remember an unexplained explosion near where I worked in Hutchinson  40 years ago.  I also remember the furniture store going skyward "for no apparent reason."  I remember sink holes opeing up in the streets.  That one may have had more to do with the salt mines that run under the city, but come on people!

Once more I have digressed, but old age does that to you or at least to me.  Makes me long for the good old days when a man's word was his bond.  When credit was extended at the grocery store on the corner because the owner knew who you were and knew you worked hard.  When mother stayed up late ironing clothes for the rich people in town and dad made a hot toddy because he did not want to get a cold.  And when President Roosevelt talked to us on the radio and all of us kids listened, because he was the President.  Then Harry Truman came and he said "damn!" and we were all amazed that he was elected when he used "dirty words."  And the words that I lived by then were words that I live by today.

And the world keeps turning and people keep killing each other, drugs are rampant, and the news is filled with what some movie star wore to some big deal in Hollywood.  And I really do not give a shit!