This is Marilyn Hoisington who taught me to weave.

This is Marilyn Hoisington, my teacher and mentor who taught me to weave at the Sangre de Cristo Arts Center up there in the class room. I had wanted to learn to weave since I was knee high to a grasshopper.  I think it went back to the days when momma would tear rags into strips, cut a slit in one end and link them together and have us kids roll the rags into a big ball.  This was then taken to the "rug weaving lady"  who took the balls and in due time returned to mother a rug six or 7 feet long.  That always amazed me.  The cost of the weaving was about $3.00.
While looking through the paper the Arts Center put out periodically I saw that I could take weaving lessons so I was all over that.  I remember how scared I was that first night.  Marilyn was very understanding as to my intimidation by the loom and all the threads. Just did not look like anything I could possibly master.  But under her tutelage I not only learned to weave, I learned how to measure a warp and warp the silly loom.  When classes were over, I bought her floor loom and it and I have become inseparable.

On the left is one of her items for sale.  It is a tapestry wall hanging of some sort.  And on the right is the tapestry work that greets the customers at the front door.  You should know that all the tapestry work she does is designed by her and she has wonderful taste.  I just kind of look at a blank piece of paper and all I see is a piece of paper, but she sees visions and all sort of designs.  And colors and dreams, I think.

Tapestry is not all she does.  She started weaving 30 years ago and the tapestry came to be her medium several years back.  I think in another life her name was Rapunzel and she spun straw into gold.  I have never seen anything come off her loom that was not a work of art.

But look at this one.  She says this is a failure.  Remember when Aunt Grace gave you a baby blanket and you washed it and it shrank up to be the size of a dinner napkin?  We called that "not taking care of something handmade and ruining it."  Now they do it deliberately and they call it "felting" and it is very much to be desired.  So she was trying a new technique called 'bead leno'.  That involves using a bead between the heddles and beater, I think.  She said it did not work so she felted it or something.  I got a little confused, but here is the important part.  When she held it up to the light, a design was inside the scarf.  It could not be seen looking at it on either side, but it could be seen through the scarf. And that is just cooler than anything!

Here is our little Marilyn doing what she does best which is teaching someone how to weave with nothing but a piece of cardboard and some string.  This is called card weaving.  And see the things over on the right side of this page? Those were all made on card looms.  The round ones were made on the paper plates.  Isn't that about as ingenious as you can get?  She embellishes with beads and whatever happens to be laying around.  I think her mind goes 24/7.  The little brown bear you see in the pictures is Star and he has his own little hand woven scarf that Marilyn made on the card loom.  She says when she is away from her loom her hands need something to do and this is quite easy to pick up and requires very little equipment.  So as I left Marilyn today she was busily making another scarf for little Star. Such a good Mama Bear!

 I have decided that there are so many ladies in our Guild that need to be spot lighted that one week is not nearly enough time, so I will be continuing to present more of them to you as I can catch them and beat them into submission.  I will drag them kicking and screaming through the pages of Lou Mercer's Words of Wisdom or know the reason why!

See you tomorrow when I think I am going to corner that wily little Joanne Caldwell.

Joanne Caldwell can do way more than warp a loom!

Meet Joanne Caldwell.  Doesn't she look innocent there?  She is showing off one of her many creations.  This one just happens to be a shrug or some such thing.  Isn't it pretty?  If at all possible you should wrangle an invitation to her house.  The woman probably has 15 looms, all warped and all in various stages of work being finished.  She also has yarn up the grommit and handles sales for other people.  And she hosts classes and dye days and stores the rental equipment and her husband Bill, is an absolute jewel.  Have yet to figure who got the best end of that deal!  Just kidding there!
Now what did she teach me?  Among other things, the Inkle Loom and this old gal is very good at what she does.  In case you do not know what an Inkle Loom is let me tell you.  It is used to make narrow bands like this:              

But over here she is getting a neck massage from yours truly.  She was demonstrating so I showed her how to relax.  Sue shot the picture cause Sue is a good girl.  Now let me go see if I can find a few of her Inkle Looms that are all dressed and ready to be used.

Well, and there they are, just like magic.  I love the rainbow one there on the right.  I guess I will dig out my Inkle loom and make me a pretty rainbow one like that.  Wonder if I remember how to do that.  Surely I do. 

 Now in case you think dragging all this stuff from her house to the Vail is easy I want you to know it is not.  I have a few candid shots here that I want to share with you.  Here is Joanne coming in the front door and it is easier to bring everything in one trip then to make two trips.

And here she is looking for something in this suitcase. I think it may be Bill! You know I would never put these pictures on here if this was someone else, but it is dear Joanne and she is more fun than a barrel of monkeys and keeps me in stitches all the time. A great sport! I love you, Joanne Caldwell!

If you ever get to thinking that the Weaver's Guild is just for fuddy duddy's you are very sadly mistaken. You know me and you should know that I do not go for the mundane. The Guild is just a bunch of women who like to have a good time and share secrets and tips on how to produce beautiful pieces of art. That is what weaving is, you know, art.

The sale is just about over for the year.  We have Friday and Saturday until 3:00 PM.  Then it will be packed away until next year.  But we have a meeting every month, so if you are interested at all in this ancient art you can contact me through my profile, or leave a comment.  We would be most happy to have you in our midst and maybe you can teach us something!

See you tomorrow.

Donna Gower keeps them all in line!

This is the chair of the Chair!  Donna Gower is Chairperson and Head Cashier.  She is the one you go to when you have a problem.  She is the problem solver and problem solver she is!  I asked her if she would be in my blog and she used some kind of rough language for my tender ears.  NO was in there somewhere so I did talk her into letting me do one and not putting her face up front and out there.  I do not know why because she is a beautiful woman.  And we have a lot in common.  She loves purple even more than I do.  See that jacket?  It is actually purple.

On the left is her purple and white bowl, her purple die, and her purple stapler along with her purple cup.  At one point her hair was purple, but now it is white, which holds the purple dye very well.  On the right is her foot in it's usual position., if you get my drift?  And yes, she did knit that sock!
I finally told her, "Donna, you gotta give me something!  I have more photo's of Big Foot then I do of you."  Now this woman has a way of making her eyes very little and looking at me very mean, but I know she is a cream puff and I know secretely way far down in the inner depths of her soul, she likes me.  Or at least tolerates me.  So she turned around and spread her arms and I got this picture.  My coup de grais, so to speak!

She made this and if you could see this up close you would see some workmanship that rivals the best of them. ( I think you can click on my pictures and they will get bigger.  If not you just wasted a little finger muscle.)  She designed and made all those things hanging down herself.  I think it is knitted but what ever it is I may have to kill her and take it. 

As I recall, Donna moved here a couple years ago from back East some where.  I knew at the time, but that memory has been replaced by something else.  She fit right in the Guild from the first day she walked through the door and is a very take charge person and follows through on what she says she will do.  That is always the mark of a truly wonderful person. So highest accolades to Donna and her crew for a wonderful 27th Annual sale this year.

See, Donna, this was not so bad was it?
 And I think my spell checker is on the blink cause I did this whole page without the yellow coming on, so just ignore my mistakes.

Joan Archuleta and who is that with her?

Well, I'll be darned!  It is Joan and her lovely daughter, Sheryl and the twin grand daughtes, Sophia and Anna!  Come to see Grandma!  Grandpa Ruben is probably home warming up the television and rooting for the Raiders!  Bad Ruben! Not really.  Ruben is a publish author as well as a very accomplished sculpter.  And he used to be police chief or something along that line.  I do not know that personally, only what I read in the papers!  (I am a very good girl!)  Goes to show our Guild ladies do have a life away from the loom, spinning wheel, sheep  and whatever else occupies their fingers and minds.

 Now take a gander here at a couple pieces Joan made.  On the left is a purse and on the right are 2 mats.  This woman is one of the best Navajo weavers I have ever had the chance to encounter.  I am dieing  to go to her house cause I know she has a "walking loom" and I do not even know what one is.  Her rugs do not hang around long so I do not have any pictures to show you.  You might check over on Facebook cause I think Ina has been snapping pictures all week and she actually takes very good pictures as opposed to mine.  She would never zero in on a purse in front of an open window and expect that to come out good.  But that is just a small part of my charm!

But to show that wool is not her only medium, here are a set of placemats she produced.  They are very nice and she did the hem stitching on the ends which is always a very nice finish.  I do it cause it is easier then trying to catch all those thread and tie knots in them.
Now, to show her softer side, last year she was busy knitting helmet liners for our brave troops in Afghanistan.  They were  wool and made out of either drab olive or black.  She gave me the directions and I actually made one and started a second, but I never got them over to her and now I do not know where they are.  (See why I make lists?)
I am very proud to count Joan as one of my friends in the Guild.  There are probably about 85 ladies in our Handweavers Guild of Pueblo.  They come from small towns around also.  I probably know about half of them well enough to call them by name if I met them outside the meeting room.  I would love to be able to spend a day on each of them so you would know them also, but you know how this blog works.  World AIDS day is coming up and I have that to cover.  And life presents me challenges every day, that I must tell you about or pop open!  So here is the deal.  I am going to bring you one or two spaced out over the month.  That way I can pique your interest in my Guild. (Isn't that cute how I call it MY Guild?)
Course I ran into a small problem when I would say "Can I put you on my blog?"  Quick answers...."NO! Now get outta here!"  And some really got firm with me.  LOL! 
Come see my ladies at the sale.  There are only 4 days left!

Sharon Pollock is on the hot seat today!

Let me see how the old memory is working today.  Well, I know this is Sharon Pollock.  I know she comes from Colorado City, which is just up the road a ways.  The "road"  is I 25.  I 25 is one of the nations supply lines from Canada down to Mexico and vice versa.  And according to the paper I see it is not all legal trade either.  I am not really sure Canada exports a lot of merchandise into Mexico, but I only read headlines anyway.
Ok, now I think I remember.  This is Merino and if you click on my pictures they will get bigger.  This has a lovely design and check out the edges on her work.  They are as even and her tension on the whole thing amazes me.  I may have her come hold my little paw and teach me a few tricks.  My edges usually look like a drunken caterpillar laid them out!

On the left is a hand dyed scarf that Sharon made.  On the right is another she made and went to a lot of work tying this into a knot that the ladies have learned to tie and I have not as my attention span is not that long.  I have even forgotten who taught them how to do it, but I knew at one time.  Oh, I remember, it was Jennifer some one.  Hang on and let me go to Youtube and see if I can find the video.  It is called Jennifer ties one on.   Found it.  I will post it at the end of the blog. 
Back on topic.  As I recall, both of these scarvers were white and she hand dyed them at one of Joanne  Caldwell's "Dye Party's".  Remember when we used to throw Tupperware Party's?  Now we just throw Tupperware.
I know Sharon has worked two days at the sale already.  Maybe more.  She is a very good salesperson.  She is a Guild Lady!  And I am very happy I got the chance to work with her at least the one day.  I enjoy working the sale as it gives me a chance to get to know all the ladies better.  So here we have Sharon at the end of her shift and I could be wrong, but I think she may have dozed off on me.  My stories do get a bit boring!



See ya tomorrow!!   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiB6HtZNXb8

Betty Kochevar, one of the Grande Dames of the Guild.

Here is our lovely Betty standing by the perpetual calendar, which we are selling at the sale going on right now!  Now when I say Betty is a Grande Dame it is not to be pronounced Grand Dame.  The "a" will be soft as "Graund Daume".  See?  This woman is every inch a lady!  Know up front that classy ladies rarely befriend me, but the ladies of the Guild are different.  See I have to give you a lesson in ladies here.  Women fall into three classes mostly.  There are women, ladies and then the "B" words.  Most of the females in the Guild land right smack in the lady category.  They all have a rather genteel quality about them which is not something that can be forced, but rather something deep inside that is a part of their very being.  Imagine when I first stumbled into a Guild meeting.  Oh, dear!  But most of them accept me without question and actually seem to like me just the way I am.  So, I hang out with my ladies of the Guild!
But this is about Betty and her endeavors.  I forgot to ask her how long she has been with the Guild, but I bet it is a long time.  (When you meet Marilyn Hoisington  I will give you more history.)  Betty was there before me.  She lives over in Joanne Caldwell's neck of the woods and more on that little fox later also.
And here are pictures of Betty showing off some of her work.  Top picture is a Christmas Ornament.
Then a very beautiful scarf of which I did not get a very good picture, but you have come to expect that, haven't you?
Bottom is a beautiful blue vest, which I thought pretty strongly about stealing, but for some odd reason, the women of the Guild bring out the "not being bad girl" side of me.  Bet if I asked her for that she would give it to me.  Sure hope it sells , but the chances of that happening are very good.  Stuff is flying off the shelves.  I think we are going to set a new record on our sale.  I think I heard someone say this is our 27th sale.  Same time, same place every year; the first weekend in November at the Historic Down Town Union Avenue District. 
But once more I do digress!  Back to Betty Kochevar.  I do not ever recall not seeing a smile on her face.  And what I know about her  life is pretty much zilch.  I know she has a husband and that exhausts my knowledge of her home life.  Oh, wait!  This woman is a fantastic cook!  Course most woman that weave their own clothes are not going to be picking up a lot of fast food on the way home from anywhere.
So for the sake of brevity, let us bid a fond farewell to our little Betty and let me go do some thing about that mess in my kitchen!  See you tomorrow; same time, same place!

Tara Matthews is showing off her wares today.

I would like you to meet Tara Matthews.  She is showing off a something or other here that you pull over your head.  She told me what the name of this is but the vacuum between my ears was so loud I missed it.  I think it is like a shawl kind of.  I do know it was very pretty and very soft.  She did a very good job, but then she does very good work.

Now this is a very lovely scarf.  Tara likes to makes scarves and I like to buy them so we have a lot in common there!  Tara has been with the Guild off and on, sometimes here and sometimes moved a way  for about 15 years.  Oh, I like her fingernails!  I usually dine on mine.

When the elections are held next month, I think, Tara will be our second vice president.  First we have a president, then a vice president and then a second vice president.  I think that is how it goes.

Can you see that purse back there?  I did not get a very good picture of it, I am sorry to say. The colors in it are abosolutely vibrant.  Now, what else did you make Tara?

"Oh, let me see!  Hmmm.....I forgot."  I know that feeling Tara, so don't feel bad!  I have never seen so many handwoven pieces in one room before.  I do not even know where mine are.  So I want to thank Tara Matthews for being my subject for today.  And a very good subject she was!

OK, I am going to call it a night and hit the sack.  Remember to set your clocks back an hour.  One year I set them the wrong way and I was two hours early for church.  Course I had 3 grandkids with me and they were little and just figured I was old and addled so I just let them think that.  But now that I am old and addled I have to act like I am not or they will revoke my park pass!!

Have a lovely evening and I will see you tomorrow when I once more go the Vail Hotel and run down some innocent little Guild member and embarrass her to tears.  I am so worthless!

Karen DeQuardo is our secret shopper today, or is she?

Today was the first day of the Handwoven Holiday Sale which happens every year the first week end of November and runs clear through to the next weekend.  What a fun time for the Guild. It is held at the Historic Vail Hotel and what a beautiful back drop this is for the work these women produce.  Oh, yeah, I do it too, but not like these women.  They are artisians.  I am a klutz.  See that towel I showed you yesterday?  Look real close.  It has a big yellow mark on it so it is in there soaking in some bleach water right now.  Some times I amaze even myself.
So I had to set up the craft show at the church this afternoon and after I checked out the black bear stuck in the tree down in the blocks, dropped a package in the mailbox, I headed down to the Vail.  I got there at exactly the same time as Karen DeQuardo.  Think way back to when I took the pine needle basket class at Colorado Fiber Arts and you will remember Karen.  She is the one that owns the place now.  She and her friend Winnie were taking turns; one minding the store and the other shopping at the sale.  Karen was shopping for a rug.  Well, that in itself is an undertaking because there are some works of art on the rug wall this year.  Hell, there are works of art all over that Vail Hotel!
So back to Karen.  I asked her how many times she had visited the sale and she told me every year for as long as she could remember!  I watched Karen wander around the sale and I think I can safely say that she touched everything in there at least once. Some of the pieces got an extra groping.  Made me laugh.  I just love to watch a woman who loves to shop and this girl does.  And she knows quality when her fingers and eyes encounter it.  And there was a lot of that going on in there.
See, if you had visited the store like I told you to, you would know that she carries some of the best fibers in the state.  Colorado Fiber Arts, located at 121 Broadway here in Pueblo, Colorado carries about anything you could want in the line of threads, yarns, wools, batts and stuff I know nothing about.  I do know there are skeins of hand spun stuff that I would trade an arm or leg for, but she does not take body parts, so I am out of luck.  And if you want to learn how to do something she can fix you right up with a class, or teach you herself.  I learned how to felt there.  Oh, and the gourd classes. And the basket weaving.  See I know a little about a lot of things.  What was it momma used to say, "Jack of all trades and master of none!"  Yep!  That is me.  Course she also told me "Do what you do, do well, girlie."  Well, mama, I am trying!

Whoops, back to Karen.  Never let it be said I have a one track mind.  So, if you wonder about anything fiber related, pick up that phone and dial 719-543-1161 and tell her or Winnie that Lou said.  Now sometimes that "Lou said" will get you in  a world of hurt, but these people like me.  They like every body and nothing would make them happier than helping you turn out a lovely piece of knit, crochet, tatting, felting or weaving.  I like to just go in there and feel stuff.  Some times I just pick up a button that is handmade for the purses I make.  I think they also have groups that meet and set around and knit or crochet and shoot the breeze.  Hope they are not talking about me!
Back to business.  Why do I call Karen a secret shopper?  Because she is very quite and unassuming and is very quietly gathering her treasures and stashing them up at the cashier so it actually looks like she is not even buying anything, but in all honesty, she did buy all three of the rugs that T.L. draped on her.  That is why she draped them on her!
So that is it for today.  I have decided to spotlight a member every day. I may expose the people who work behind the scenes one day.  But for tomorrow, I am going to do the craft show at the church and then pop over to the sale and see who is hanging out just wanting me to interview them.  Be sure and make some time for the sale! And stop by here daily and see if I have your face on my slide show.  That will be changed daily also.
Damn!  I am good!

The Weavers Sale is going to start tomorrow and I am there!

 




This is what my towel looked like on the loom. This is the finishing end of it. I made this one with a cotton warp and Pigtail Cotton Chenille. It is 100% cotton and weighs 2 pounds and 4 ounces. This sucker is big and it is soft and I thought about keeping it myself, but I am so money hungry it makes me sick.

This is what it looks like after it is washed, blocked and then tossed in the dryer for a little fluffing up job.  My daughter has a towel I gave her three years ago that I made out of Island Cotton.  She is going to bring it over so I can see it.  She says she uses it and loves it and washes it and it is just like the day she got it only it is softer and more absorbent than ever.  Sure makes me feel good when some one actually likes something I do. 
Course it is a little hard to beat anything that is home made whether it is a tea towel, a shawl or a bowl of mashed potatoes.  I had a friend once named Judy and she always brought mashed potatoes to the pot lucks.  I think that pound and a half of butter that she added finally caught up with her because she moved to California and promptly died.  And what all that has to do with the Weavers's Sale I have not a clue, but here is the deal for you!
I am going to stop by the sale tomorrow afternoon and take lots of pictures.  Then I am going to download those pictures into my Picassa.  Then I will spend three or four hours trying to figure out how that slideshow works.  And when I hit the publish button I will also hit the notify button and send it off to Joanne Caldwell who will send it out to her contacts.  So you ladies better be ready because I am going to snap your little pictures for the next week and then all my friends out there who read this will get to meet you.  This is going to be so much fun!!
But if you are a reader of my blog and not a member of the Handweavers Guild of Pueblo, and you live in this area, I fully expect you to pop in and visit at the Vail Hotel,  217 South Grand (at Union), in Historic Pueblo, Colorado.  Hours are from 10:00 AM-6:00 PM.  And keep a sharp eye out here cause I am going to devote a lot of digital snaps to this sale this year.
I love these women in my Guild and never cease to be amazed at what wonderful work they do.  Oh, and hey!  They let me sell my soaps and lotions at the sale.  I feel so special!

Halloween is a bad time of year.

Yesterday was October 30.  Had I remained with my kids dad we would have celebrated or in some way acknowledged 51 years of marriage, but I did not, and since he is no longer in this world I am assuming he did not either.  1964 marked the one and only time he took me out for our anniversary.  Took me to Saint Catherines Hospital in Garden City, Kansas and I gave birth to my third daughter, Dona Marie.  One year later to the day, he took me on a trip back to Hutchinson as my only brother was in a coma from a car crash the day before.  He died the next morning which was Halloween.  So you see, Halloween is not much fun here at my house.
But I do recall the Halloween's we had in Nickerson and they did not even faintly resemble the ones I see here in Pueblo County.  See. we did not buy a costume.  I had never heard of a costume shop.  We did what is know as improvise.  If mother happened to come across an old sheet in one of her cleaning jobs that was cabbaged on to and brought home and saved for Halloween.  Cut a couple eye holes and you were good to go as a ghost.  Old clothes were never tossed until after Halloween.  Hell, they were never tossed.  More about that later.  So when we left the house we were dressed as a ghost, a farmer (overalls), or a hobo (a stick with a bundle on the end of it), or a little kid going to school. The inside of the old wood stove gave us the black paint necessary to smear on our face so nobody knew who we were.
Brother Jake always led the pack with strict instructions that he was to watch out for the little ones and not let them get lost out there in the dark.  Hell, we held on to each other and if one of us got lost, we were all goners.  We knew that this was Halloween and that meant the real ghosts were out there and the Gypsy's were camped on the edge of town and we might not ever get home again.  Halloween was a very dangerous time.  I do not think sister Joanne went with us because she became interested in the boys very early and married an older man from town before I was even old enough to really know what marriage even was.  I just knew he had a black and white car and it was really nice.  But back to the streets.
"Oh, look Elmer, it is all six of them!  Let's see what we got here for these little ghosts and goblins."  And we would all hold out our brown paper bags which were saved just for this occasion. See back in those days there were no plastic bags.  Those came much later and were considered a luxury.  And she would smile at each of us and put a home baked cookie in our bag.  Or a piece of cake, or fudge or a hand full of store bought candy corn if we were really lucky.  Some times we would each get an apple.  Or an orange.  Most times they were just wrapped in a piece of wax paper or maybe nothing at all.  But that was back in the day before people started putting stuff in the home made cookies to kill little kids or sliding a razor blade into an apple so when they bit into it their gums would be sliced.
Yeah, that was back in the good old days of front porches, happy neighbors, good clean fun and everybody watching out for the little ones.  And as much as I miss those days, there were signs then of what was to come.  Nickerson was a little town with maybe 1200 people, but even then there were signs of what was to be.  We knew we needed to be off the streets and home before 8:00 because then the bullies came out.  Only one year did the bullies get our candy.  They just ran out of the dark and grabbed out bags and ran away.  My God, mother could her us wailing as we came home and thought surely the Gypsy's had gotten one of us this time for sure.  But my mother was wise beyond belief.
She knew who the bullies were and she was not even there.  The next day she left the house early and when she returned she had a big brown sack full of goodies for us.  Of course we immediately ate enough to make us very sick.  But the point here is this;  small towns are open books.  You just kind of know who the trouble makers are.  There were three of them in our town and they hung together.  Now whether my mother went to the bullies homes or just did daylight trick or treating and explained to every one what had happened,  I do not know. 
And trick or treating and Halloween aside, I would not trade my growing up years in Nickerson, Kansas, for all the tea in China.  While we were poor, we were rich.  I had a guy tell me just yesterday that he is rich beyond beleif because he has friends and a home and a dog and what more could one man need.  And he is right.  As I get older I find it takes less to make me a happy content woman.  Nickerson is always in my head.  I can travel to the ends of the world and meet Kings and Queens, but I will always be the little ragamuffin girl from Nickerson, afraid of my shadow and always needing my momma.  I can bury my brother, but I can never bury Louella Bartholomew because she will live forever my heart.   My hope is that some day, some one will pick up one of my journals and actually read it and think, " I would love to have met this woman.  And her mother.  And her brother.  And I wonder where her kids are today."
But right now, this is just another day to get through and I can feel my brother over my left shoulder as I write this, and I can see his lopsided grin and the long scar on his left cheek where the horse kicked him when he 9 years old and he snuck up behind the horse and "goosed" it.  He changed the date on his birth certificate and joined the Army at 16 years old.  That was before computers.  I sure do miss that boy and can not help but wonder about the man he could have become had he stayed on this side of the veil with me.  I guess today I will mourn the "what could have been." 
Happy Halloween.

And here is my sainted Mother when she was a Senior in high school.

I look at this picture and I can see a lot of myself in it.  Our teeth were identical; the same smile lines.  We both have the blue/gray eyes that change from one color to the other depending on what we are wearing and our mood.  My cheek bones are higher than hers.  We both had auburn hair.  In later years her's was completely silver.  Mine is still salt and pepper.

Mother worked hard all of her life.  I never knew a time when her hands were not busy.  I guess the first recollections I have of mom and dad were when we lived on the Alemore place in Nickerson.  It must have been located about a mile Southeast of town.  I had not started school yet.  We lived in a 2 bedroom shack with a kitchen and front room.  I call it a shack because it was not painted, not insulated, no electric, the water was in a pump out the back door.  Sister Josephine was in charge of us little kids while mom worked in town cleaning houses for the rich ladies. 

Now I am sorry to tell you this, because I know her kids read this sometimes, but my sister Joanne, as we called her, was very mean.  I recall once when my brother Jake and I walked up to Bull Creek and caught the biggest bull frog you ever seen.  I put it in my dress tail and ran home to show her so she would give me a box to put it in.  Well when I opened my dress tail that damn frog leaped out right in the front room.  She went ballistic and started beating me with the broom.  "You catch that damn thing and get it out of here!  Hurry up!  Hurry up before it pees on my clean floor!"

Well, I do not work well under pressure and crawling around under beds trying to catch that jumping frog was definitely not something I was good at.  But she solved the problem by whacking it with the broom and then beating it to death there in the middle of the bedroom.  And guess who had the honor of cleaning up that mess?  Thirty minutes later my beloved frog was in the field out back and the floor was once more spotless.  She did not know that Jake and I buried the frog and I cried.  Seems like I spent most of my childhood in tears over one silly thing or another.  Jake was always my friend.

Up the road from us was the Rumble's house.  They were an old couple who always waved at me when I went by and sometimes I stopped.  He taught me the words to Buttons and Bows  and when I sang it alone the first time he gave me a shiny dime!  Back in those days a dime was a lot of money.  I lost it and that was that.  Across the road lived the Barthold sisters who were school teachers.  They had a forest behind their house and Jake and I used to crawl through the underbrush when they were in the back yard having tea and spy on them.  Damn!  That was exciting!

Back in those days we had phones and we were all on party lines.  The way you used the phone was pick up the earpiece and then crank the handle on the side for what ever the person you were calling's ring was.  That is if they were on your party line.  Other wise you cranked a long ring and got the operator, Mrs. Humphrey.  We were fond of picking up the ear piece and cranking in someone's ear who was talking on the phone.  Got a lot of lickings over that little trick.

My dad liked to drink in his younger days.  One year he was going to the fair in Hutch and mom made him take all of us.  Well, as soon as we hit the fairgrounds he found the beer tent.  He lined the three of us up on a bench ( little kids had to stay home) and told us to stay there for a little bit.  Hours later he bought us each an ice cream cone before he went back in to have "just one more and then we will go home."  As I recall that ice cream it seems like it was probably pineapple sherbert.  It was not good.  I was hot and tired and kept falling asleep, but we were all three scared to move cause where could we go?  Let me tell you, see that sweet little woman up there?  She damned near ripped that man's head off his body when we arrived home and she found out we had spent the whole day on a bench while he drank.  I actually think that was the end of his drinking days!

Our stay at the Ailmore house ended when a tornado (but they called it a cyclone for some reason) hit and blew everything away except the house and the big cottonwood tree at the end of the drive.  But what does any of this have to do with my mother?  I will tell you.  That period of our lives was spent in abject poverty.  That was the period of time when I learned, although I would not realize it for many years, what a real woman must do to survive with her children.  My mother had a will of iron and a spine of steel.  She went without so us kids could eat.  She worked all day and mended our clothes at night.  She foraged and canned food for the winter.  She could wring the neck on a chicken and have it plucked and in the pot with out ever losing the ethereal quality that shone from her eyes. 

There is a passage in the Bible that tells about my mother.  It is the one that says "Her husband shall call her blessed and her children shall adore her.  She shall rise up early in the morning."  That was my mother.  If I could be a fraction of the woman she and my grandmother were I would die a happy woman. 

I recall the very last time I saw my mother.  I had gone for my usual 5 day visit and when I left she was having some problems.  I remember looking into her eyes and seeing the my soul reflected back at me.  I recall thinking "I will never see my mother alive again."  And I was right.  I talked to her every Sunday at noon.  I always called her at that time so she would not be confused about whether I had called or not.  We would talk for about an hour about everything under the sun.  I rarely told her my problems, and she was always fine. 

As I begin to face my mortality it is the memory of those blue/grey eyes that makes death almost a welcome relief.  It is her down to earth common sense that has helped me over the hills and through the valleys of life.  I could fill a book with things my mother taught me, and never cover all the lessons.  So, I say this to you....If you have a mother cherish her.  If you don't then learn to cherish life, because some where some one gave life to you.  God did not put us on this earth to just take what it gives, he put us here to prepare it for those who follow behind us.  I hope I am doing that in some small way.  As I transition from Louella Bartholomew to Lou Mercer and back to Louella Bartholomew, I have remembered all you taught me.

And so,  Good night, dear Momma, you did a wonderful job and I will be there one of these days, so watch for me!

My world is slowly tilting back to the level mark, but not 100%.

Before I can continue with my mother and father, I have to wait for a part to arrive from the Philippine's for my new printer/copier/scanner.  In the mean time life rather goes on here on South Road and on the Internet.  Kids are settling into their house and getting ready for an open house on the day I have to work at the weavers sale all day, but that is par for the course.
Today it is snowing but not sticking.  I went out and planted Rye for the geese and they should be very happy in a few weeks.  See the rain will fatten the seeds and the sun will warm them and they will sprout. Hooray!  I can see better days ahead.  I have been in a terrible funk, mostly of my own doing, but you know me, I never accept all the responsibility for anything.  Wiggle room abounds in my world.
My eBay is chirping right along and I hope you read about my string of plastic pearls getting 16,000+ hits.  My products are all ready for the November sales here in the real world except  for putting the bottoms in some purses and finishing weaving the big bath towel.  Patty came and helped (did) with the packaging of the lotion and body butter. 
I am currently alone and think I shall remain that way.  I had a fellow on the East Coast that I had met in the chat room over a year ago and that was perfect, but alas, all perfection is in the eye of the beholder and apparently I had a rather cock eyed view which was way different than his.  I figured he and I and Amy would continue our friendships until we grew old or the hard drive got a virus.  Well that was kinda what happened.  Amy and I are still tight and she and her husband are coming out to Colorado next month.  Course I have to lure her with cookies, but it will be a very fun time and I am looking forward to the visit.
But see the online romance was perfect.  We talked and laughed and everything was hunky dory as long as that was all there was to that.  I made the mistake of thinking that mayhap the guy ought to acknowledge my birthday or the fact that I was going on a long trip alone and he actually chastised me for feeling that way as he was very busy.  OK, now you people who deal with me in the twilight world of reality know how well I took that little rebuke.  You know like when I thought the Fourth Street Bridge should be straight and not curved in the middle.  I was right and you all know I was right, but the engineers just would not see it my way.  I am still pouting over that one and the bridge has been open for over a year.  Or when the AIDS walk did not go my way.  Well, you see what happened there don't you?  I pulled out and then Karma sent all that snow and they had to close the Garden of the Gods.  I am not saying I was right or wrong on this one either.  But you all understand Karma, don't you?
But this is how it goes in my world.  I always get what I want.  If I don't I don't play.  So I have had to kill him.  I hated to do that, but I just can see no other solution.  If two people disagree the game is over. Should I apologize for being a needy neurotic woman?  No.  that is what I am.  Should he apologize for not wanting to be bothered in his busy little life?  No.  He has his life  and I have mine, but in order for everyone to win, he has to die.  Course he has the option of killing me also.  And the joy of it is no one ever knows.  He does not know he is dead and if I am I do not know that either.
But then the Internet is a big place and I know there are a couple little fellows out there who are waiting in line.  Just a word to the wise, be very careful what you wish for cause you just might get it. 
For now I am content to set here in my little world and dream up things to do.  I want to write a book and have the blog set up for that.  It is called  Chapter One and as soon as the Weaver's Sale is over I am going to jump into that.  It is going to be about an online stalker and I am making notes!  I have the notes made on the stalker and he is a hunk and a half,  just a little off in the head.  And Meg is a very sweet woman.  I hate to see her have to go through this, but hey!  She should not have gotten in my head!!  LOL

Well, that printer did not last long, did it?

I went off to Staples about a month ago and bought a new printer.  The last one is now setting over there with the last three that I am sure would work if they just had a little tweak here or there.  So this time I got one of the little higher priced ones.  This one has the individual colors which the man assured me was the wave of the future.  Big mistake.
Did I want the extended warranty?  Nope.  I figure it has a one year warranty and that ought to be good.  So I bring my little printer home and man am I proud.  Got me a new printer and I am stylin'.  Well, about the first thing that happened was I ran out of black ink.  So off to buy that.  Few days later I am out of blue ink.  Actually it is called Cyan.  By now I am wising up.  I buy all three cause I know what is going to happen next.  By this time about 10 days have passed and I am off to buy black ink again.  This time I splurged and got the one that has lots of ink.  Another week three colors later I go to print a mailing label.  Well all went well until about half through the printing it decides to print in pink.  Post office ain't buying that I am here to tell you.  So I go into the maintenance program and find I need to clean my print head.  Two labels and it is now printing orange.  By now I am wiser.  I put the label which is half black and half orange in the copy place and make a black copy.  Day 15 and I am now off to buy more ink.
Now I am spending more money on gas and ink then I am paying for rent.  Now the maintenance program recommends I do a deep cleaning for the print head.  More ink.  But we are making progress, we are now printing in blue.  I have now had it with this thing so I call Staples.  "Did you buy the extended warranty?"  "No".  "Too bad because you have to deal with Hewlett Packard now.  If you had bought the extended warranty we could have handled it, but you didn't so now all you have is the HP parts and labor warranty and we don't do that."  OK, well thanks Mr. Staples guy.  Gonna buy my next one from China.
So I made myself be calm and dialed the HP friendly help center.  I got a wonderful guy named Michael who lives in the Phillipines and actually spoke pretty good English. I explained my tale of woe and guess what he had me do.  Clean the print head.  More ink.  Unplug it.  Plug it in.  Clean the print head.  While it was cleaning for the upteenth time he offered to sell me an extended warranty.  I asked him just why in hell would I want to buy an extended warranty on a printer that does not work?  Michael got the idea that I might be getting testy so after 1 hour and 6 minutes he sent me to his supervisor.  He had me take all the ink out and remove the print head.  He then had me clean it with a lint free paper towel and replace it.  Put the ink in and prepare to print.  Nope.  The printer now knew I had put in a used cartridge and was having none of that.  So I poked the ok button a couple times and must have pissed somebody off inside that printer, because now it rejected the ink as counterfeit.  But the supervisor knew how to outsmart it so I printed out an email. Beautiful black email.  But now I could get no color.
To make a long story short, Farouk is going to send me a kit with a new print head and all four inks!  I can hardly wait until it gets here.  Total time on the phone was 1 hour and 58 minutes.  But I made 2 new friends today; Michael who I shall never speak with again and Farouk who has promised to call and check how the printer is working when the kit with the new stuff arrives.  That was my day.  And how was yours?

Nostalgia at this time of the morning? Sure, why not?

For some reason I decided to go back and read some old blogs.  I know what it was!  I wanted to download the pdf. of all of them as I want to have a record when I turn toes up and the kids are remembering me fondly.  I started out just pretty boring and mundane, but as time went on I managed to actually hit my stride there for a while.  So rather than tax my tiny brain this morning, I give you one of my first that I wrote about my mother. 

 

Friday, September 25, 2009

My Mother

My mother shaped my life by example and a lot of her down home wisdom. I am going to tell you some of these at this point and what my thoughts at the time were.

1. "Get that pencil out of your mouth. You don't know where it has been." (Where did that thing go when I wasn't looking?")

2. " Do you want a lickin'?" (Oh, yeah! That is exactly what I want, a lickin'!)

3. " If Beth stuck her head in the fire, I suppose you would too!" (How is wearing my socks rolled down comparable to sticking my head in a fire?)

4. "Eat that mush! There are people starving to death in China." (Well, I sure wish they had this mush!"

5. "Get that coat on before you go outside and freeze to death!" (Wonder how long it takes to flash freeze.)

6. " Do not stick your tongue on that metal pole, cause it will freeze there." (Of course I am going to do that if I can just make it to the pole before I freeze to death.)

7. "Break this candy bar in half and give your sister the biggest half so you do not appear greedy." (Yeah, give the big half to her because she is greedy.)

8. "The early bird gets the worm." (And why do I want a worm?)

9. " Stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off!" (There is a visual I do not need.)

10. "Keep your legs crossed or some little boy will look up your dress." (And what will he see?)

11. "I am going to knock your block off!" (What is a block? Is that possible? Where will my block land and can I put it back on?)

12. "Keep eating and you are going to pop open!" (So that is what that belly button is for! To hold me shut.)



And there is not a day that goes by that one of her idioms doesn't pop into my mind and jerk me back to the straight and narrow. Today this would be called child abuse, but back in those days it was just called "doing the best we can."

I would not trade my roots for any other roots in the world. I came from good, hardworking, honest German and I am sure this has helped shape me into the person I am today.

Correct the dates on Reuben Bartholomew

There, Debbie, thanks for calling and drawing my attention to the mistakes on the dates. I do not know where I got those, but these seem to be correct now.  You were indeed the apple of your grandfathers eye in your little easter out fit that he had aunt Joanne make for you  and little red shoes that he bought.  I must have a picture of that for this blog.
And I know how to do it.  I have a thing that you feed the picture in and it puts it on a digital form on a flash drive.  I will get that to you soonly. 
For now, I am off to the city.  Enjoy your sharp mind while you still have it!  ;)

Rueben Floyd Bartholomew

This is my father. Well it is actually a picture of my father. It hangs on my sister Mary's wall and I just happened to see it when I last visited there. The last time I seen my father was in 1964. He was born February 3, 1893. He passed to another level on February 17, 1965. He married my mother, Christine Josephine Haas on January 19, 1935.  It was a second marriage for both. 

Mother had a daughter from her previous marriage who was barely a year old. My brother Jake was born on October 5, 1937.  He was killed in a car crash on October 31, 1965.  I was born on October 1, 1941  and I am not allowed to say when the other three sisters were born.  They are vain little things.  However, as matriarch of the family I am proud to be my age.  (Oh, do the math for crying out loud!  I am 70 this year.)  I never knew my dad as a young man since he was 23 years older then my mother.  I do know that when we lived in Nickerson, Kansas he farmed.  He always had horses and always a matched team. 

He share cropped with a man named John Britain.  His wifes name was Salina and they had a daughter and as I recall her name was Mary Ella.  I thought that was nice as it kind of matched with sister Mary and my Louella.  John Britain had been a carpenter and back in those days he held his nails in his mouth as opposed to an apron.  As  a result he had cancer of the jaw and had part of his face removed.  Guess it is kind of funny what sticks in a young kids mind, huh?

I also remember that John Britain would pick dad up and sometimes I could go.  John had a shack on his land which was located South(?) of the Arkansas River in Nickerson, Kansas.  I also remember he had a stove to heat water and he would put cocoa and sugar in a cup and then fill it about half with boiling water.  The rest he filled with canned milk.  That was hot cocoa.  The elixir of the Gods!!  Best stuff in the whole world to this barefooted ragamuffin.  Now I must tell you that since those days I have tried many times to make the same hot cocoa and failed miserably!  Why that stuff would "gag a maggot off a gut wagon!"  (Kenny used to say that, so blame him for that.)

I have since decided that I grew up in the post depression and World War II years and things were sure different then.  When I talk about the "good old days"  I am talking about abject poverty and a time when the wolf at the door was a very real thing.  When meat on the table was the exception rather than the rule.  When Carp and fried apples was standard fare and an egg was best saved for the hen to set on and hatch.  When a wonderful, beautiful Christmas was finding a coloring book and a red ball and an orange all for me under the tree my big brother had drug home from the school room the day before.  Back when a feast was prepared because many people brought a dish and we all shared.  Or Momma got tired of that old Rooster being mean and lopped off his head and he was soup de jour!

After the busy season is over here in my little corner of the world, I am going to drag out the pictures of days gone by and scan them and let you meet my brother, sisters and the old cemetary where most of them are.  Until then, I have my memories and a driving need to make Lotion, Body Butter and print out the Inventory List for the Weaving Sale.  But at night I can walk the furrowed fields of my mind and make notes on how to best present the days gone by.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life!  Better days ahead.

You can easily judge the character of a man....

I
 I found this on face book and it struck me as one of the truest things I have ever read.  To often in this dog eat dog I find even myself cow towing to the one who can give me the favors that I want.  But always it seems when I get caught up in the day to day existence and become embroiled in the fight for the almighty dollar, something will jar me back to reality.  Like this little rabbit!  Have you ever seen anything more helpless in your life?
 Having grown up in the country, not on a farm actually, but kind of was, we raised rabbits.  Or I should say Mother raised rabbits. That was back in the good old days when there were not all the nitrates and nitrites in the grain supply and it was a simple matter of letting the rabbits breed and then the doe would give birth and raise the babies.  Course we would eat them, but that is what you do on a farm.  But the period between when the babies were born and the landed on the dinner plate, we could play with them.  At first they did not have their eyes open and were completely helpless.
 Now, I must interject a little story here and this will no doubt make my sister Donna mad, but facts are facts.  We knew we were not supposed to  hold the little bunnies until their eyes were open and then we must be very gentle with them.  Well, Sister Donna really loved those bunnies and she held one a little tighter than she should have.  When she saw it was not moving she thought it might be sick so she took it and put it in a dresser drawer and covered it up with a handkerchief to keep it warm.  And of course when Momma came home, she knew one was missing and me being the good daughter showed her where it was.  I thought Donna should have been beat unmercifully, but mother used it as a learning experience.  Good mother's do that, you know.
 Oh, the little rabbit brings back so many memories.  We had chickens and they lived in a coop out back, but they were allowed to run loose.  One day there was a button with a string and the chicken pecked the button and the string stayed outside.  Course I was inconsolable.  Little note here; we were little ragamuffin kids running around with no shoes on and we tended to worry about some of the damnedest  things.  Much of my life was spent worrying about one thing or another, and I was the biggest tattletale you ever saw.  I used to get up on the chicken coop and jump off and try to fly.  I never could figure out why that did not work.  I had a dish towel tied around my neck and everything!  We ran up the road to Vincent's sand pit.  Since none of us could swim, we got in trouble over that one. 
 It was always great when school started cause the ladies at the church would make sure we all had dresses to wear.  And we all got a new pair of shoes.  That was rather a mixed blessing cause I did not like shoes.  Still don't.  But it was one of those necessary evils.  And we had to wear them until the weather got nice in the spring.  By that time we had usually grown out of them, but everyone passed theirs down to a younger kid.  Rather sucked that my older sibling was my brother.  So I did not wear shoes for the last couple months of school.  My God!  If we tried that now the teachers would be aghast.
 There were 6 of us little urchins and we all left our childhood behind with a different perception of the reality of the experience.  I never tire of revisiting my childhood.  As I recall, we lived in pretty much abject poverty.  We did not have indoor plumbing until we moved to Hutchinson when I was 16.  We heated with wood and pumped water in the kitchen.  We took a bath in a galvanized tub on Saturday night.  Seems like we had kerosene lanterns, but I recall electric also.  That confuses me.  We usually had meat on Sunday and Carp and fried apples was regular fare.  Oh, dear, let's don't go there!
 I have this little rabbit as my background on my computer so I can remember that I am not king of the hill and that there are people out there who really need me to be strong for them.  But you know, sometimes I just wish I were one who could let some one else fight the battle, sometimes.  I am getting better at it.

Well, of course this was a mistake on my part, but I think I will just leave it as it is.!

Yesterday was one cent auction listings on eBay.  So like the good little shop keeper I profess to be, I got busy listing.  Listed 17 items.  Strangely enough most of them were not even looked at, but two of them began pulling in the lookers right away.  I was kind of surprised to see that I had 78 views by the time I went to bed.  I was amazed when I got up this morning and the new totals were 358 on one and 347 on the other.  I just peeked and one is setting at 948 and the other at 957.  Less than 24 hours.  Since I am a fairly intelligent woman I immediately thought the counter was screwed up.  That is until I took a closer look at the titles.
  See when you list you are supposed to be very descriptive so people can readily type in a few words and find your item, or one like it.  My items are both completely worthless plastic bead necklaces, so I  wrote "3 strings of plastic beads worthless to the naked eye as well as to the experienced."  Sounds very descriptive and honest to me.  But what if I were looking for something else and typed in "worthless, naked, experienced".  I would no doubt come up with something else and would be very surprised to find myself looking at plastic beads.
  So there you have my lesson for the day in how to attract lookers to your listings on eBay.  Now I have had no bids so I am pretty sure that the people purusing my site are not looking for a necklace!  Funny the things that come out of our mouths without a thought until some one calls our attention to it.
  Just wanted to share that with you.

So this is a Pheasant Farm!

I think if you click on that you will see the captions and it will get big.  Course I have been wrong before and Google does have a mind of it's own.  That being said, this is a Pheasant Farm along Highway 50 in Western Kansas.  And I want you to know that I took these pictures while driving with the passenger window down.  Course there was no traffic and I had slowed to a crawl.
  Now I am no stranger to things like this, but I thought you might find it interesting.  See way back  before I moved to Colorado the kid's dad bought 10 acres in Deerfield, Kansas.  Now I moved to Colorado in 1977 so we are talking 35 years ago.  He had a vision at that time of becoming a host on a game farm.  I must say he did pretty good at it.  He moved onto the 10 acres and built a "Club House" along with Pheasant Pens.  I do not kow how many birds he had, but I do know how this worked.
  When Pheasant season was upon him, the "hunters"  would come up from Texas and stay in the Club House.  I think he did most of the cooking.  A real "Man Retreat" there!  When it came time for the hunt the allotted number of birds were released and the hunters shot them!  As the birds were cleaned, they began their "celebration".   The Texan's got their game and a great vacation and he made money.  It was a match made in heaven.
  I must interject here. How many of you have ever eaten wild game that was hunted and shot?  We are talking about a bird that while beautiful is about the size of a chicken.  They live in the wild and fly and run so they are very tough.  Might as well throw the wings and legs away.  They are shot with a shotgun.  Now those "BB's" travel into the bird carrying feathers.  So think about that a minute.  I do not know how much time I spent as a young wife spitting feathers at the supper table. But such was the lot of a frontiersman's wife and children.
  After Earl D. passed the kids remained on the land.  Or at least some of them.  The daughters.  They did try to keep the Pheasant business alive but only for a brief time.  The Club House was used for family dinners, but that got to be more work than fun so now it sets idle.  Kind of sad the way time marches on, isn't it?

Cesar Chavez as seen by Octavia Ocampo.

As you know, Cesar Chavez is the American Farm Worker who was a Labor Leader and Civil Rights Worker for the American Farm Worker.  Along with Delores Huerta he founded the United Farm Workers Union which gave collective bargaining rights to the men and women who work in the fields to harvest your food.

He was born on March 31, 1927 and passed on April 23, 1993.

Portrait of LaCausa

Please click on an image to enlarge the area so you can clearly see what I am talking about.

I want to give you a close look at this print which hangs in Sister Nancy's office.  It is by Octavia Ocampo.  It shows what at first appear to be human skulls, but upon closer examination you see the are human beings placed to look like skulls. The farm workers have long been the neglected in our country.  Would you work in a field in the blazing sun all day?  What if you had absolutely no choice?  Farm workers are some of the poorest of the poor and a hand up is not the same as a hand out.

  

The farm workers cause was a very long and while Chavez tried to keep it peaceful with his Ghandi philosophy, it did not always turn out that way.

I now leave you to study this print and see if you are as moved by this work as I was.  When you eat your salad tonight or your veggies tomorrow, think of Cesar and the millions of farm workers who are responsible for getting it to your table.