What a lovely day I had and got a lot accomplished!

Dan showed up bright and early to load the car!  It is drop off day for the annual Handweavers Guild of Pueblo sale at the Vail Hotel.  First weekend of November every year, just like clockwork.  Drop off day is always a hoot.  Being the competitive person that I am I always have to be first in line.  Dan had my 208 items inside when the key hit the door.  Dayle MacCormack was the lucky check in lady who got me.  We were both absolutely amazed that not only were my 5 big boxes labeled correctly, but they were in a semblance of order.
The guild always amazes me at how well organized they are.  It took them 3 years to convince me that the inventory and the codes and the items numbers all had a relevancy.  The first year I sat on the floor with Terri Rostad and wrote my initials, item #, code #, and price on 200 items on a little tag 1" x 3/4".  But not this year!  Hooray!  I printed the sticky labels up on tiny labels on my computer and stuck them to the little tags.  Well, I had one tiny glitch and that was the computer refused to print the item # so I left that blank and did it by hand.  Thank you ladies for your patience and I will see you on Friday which is opening day, when I bring in my cookies.
You people have got to check this sale out.  November 2- November 10, 10 AM -6:00 PM at the Vail Hotel.  I work Sunday, Monday and Thursday. 

And then it was off to Beulah and the Stompin' Grounds to visit my friend Jan.  It was Halloween so she was dressed up like robin Hood.  I thought she was a brownie, then I thought she was Peter Pan, then I thought she must be a Pixie, but she told me she was Robin Hood, so I know that is right!  We had a lovely visit.  I have not been up there for a while so that made it even better.  I met a guy there named Russ and sold him one of my books.  He and Dan had a nice visit and I think Dan may rent a house he has over near his home for his mother.  His mother and brother are moving here after the first of the year from Fayetville, Arkansas.  That will be nice.  His mom is named Nancy and she is a lovely woman.  I think the brother is just named Brother.  I am looking forward to meeting him.
After I had what I like to call a "Cappachino Blaster" we took our leave of Jan after promising that I would bring soap, lotion and body butter to sell in her area for Christmas.  I told her I would be back next week.  Hope that works.
Dan is quite the hiker and back packs a lot so I took him to the Rocky Mountain Park just up the road a ways and he located several trail heads.  Now a little interjection here...I do not do this.  As I understand he takes his little back pack and walks off into the wilderness and usually spends the night.  I saw no signs of running water, heat, memory foam mattress, bathroom facilities and sure no stove to cook my daily meals on.  What I did see was a poster telling about the wild animals in the forest and what to do if I encounter one.  No, no, no.  Not for me.  So little Dan, with his dreams of a trip into the forest giving a happy glint to his eyes and me, sorely in need of a nap, started back down the mountain and home.

Upon arrival I decided to whip up a bunch  of cream puffs.  See, Dan wants to start his catering business and he is fascinated with my kitchen, so it is sort of a match made in heaven.  Ater we ate our fill of cream puffs with French Silk filling, all made in my kitchen, Dan departed.
I spent a little time downstairs sewing and then it was off to the Chiropractor for an appointment at 6:30.  Dr. Walters jerked, poked, massaged and manipulated my poor bones until I think she finally cracked a rib.  I made it home at 8:15 and the geese were anxious to go into thier house.  I was in bed by 9 and this is the first night I have slept all night since the back went south back in August.  What a relief that was. 
So, now it is the next day and I am full of piss and vinegar, I tell you.  I am off to Canon City for a meeting, then stop by Sprinkles to see how they are doing for the Anita Goodesign show they are having at a church on the south side Friday and Saturday.  So you have a good day and try to stay out of trouble.

 

************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale. You can buy it by simple clicking the Buy Now button.  This will take you to an invoice.   Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Wrong day yesterday, today is October 29.

Yesterday I started to do this blog and my little mind wandered and I think I wound up chasing the cow down the ditch bank.  This is my older brother.  He is about in about the eighth grade in this picture.  I think that because back in those days, it had to be a special occasion to have our picture taken.  Those were few and far between and usually marked a very big event in our life.  See that scar on his cheek?  Today I will tell you how he got that.
Like I told you yesterday, we were living on the Stroh place right outside of town.  One day Dad went to the sale and came home with a Shetland Pony.  Oh, we were in seventh heaven.  We had our own horse.  Now why we needed a horse is more than Mother could fathom.  Years later as I put the pieces together I came to the conclusion that Dad was probably drunk and meant to buy a milk cow since ours had died.  In his befuddled mind he decided that we would get more use out of a pony then a cow any way.  The mere facts were that my father did not know he had children most of the time and while he did provide for us, the pipe and slippers and kiddies on his knee were not pictures I recall of my childhood. Back in those days, men were not "soft" like they are today and I was not the first nor the last kid in those days to only feel my fathers hand in anger, never love.  More about my father in a different blog, when I can deal with it fully.
But all that aside, a horse it was.  I remember seeing it unloaded in the moonlight.  It was the most beautiful horse I had ever seen and coming down the ramp from the trailer it looked very tall.  Daylight would bring many surprises.  I could barely sleep that night as Jake and I talked into the night about the wonderful horse our wonderful father had brought us.  From sounds drifting into our sleeping area we gathered that Mother was not near as happy as we were.
Morning found us gazing into pen where the horse was.  He was spotted and not very tall.  He had a long mane and it was spotted too.  There was a sort of star looking spot on his forehead so we named him "Star."  He came with his own saddle and blanket, but we were not allowed to saddle him or ride him until Dad was there to show us how.  We had never been this close to a horseso the chances we could saddle it up and ride away were very slim.  Unfortuneately Dad was not feeling well that day, so we only got to stare at the horse through the fence.  I think that we thought if we looked at Star long enough he would grow taller.  Ever see a Shetland pony?  They are by nature much smaller than the big ones we watched Dad work with.  See, my Dad was one of the last men in the area to give up the "team of horses" and go to a tractor, but more about that later.  This is about Jake and his scar.
Mom and Dad played cards once a week with friends and that evening the friends came and brought there kids and we were left to our own devices.  Of course we wanted to show off our new horse, so we gathered at the corral.  I do not remember the exact chain of events, but I do recall the chaos that followed.  Jake was always curious and tonight and the showing off for the kids was no exception.  I remember the kids all screaming and Jake holding his face as blood squirted every where from his right cheek.  Very quickly Mother and Jake were loaded in the back seat of the car and the couple visiting whisk them off the 11 miles to Hutchinson and the nearest medical attention. 
I do remember being so afraid that Jake would die.  We were sent to our beds and the visiting children were made pallets in the front room.  I surely drifted off, because some time in the night Jake woke me up to show me his bandaged face.  I cried.  He had been such a handsome boy and now he had this horrible injury and he would carry the scar the rest of his life.
Over the next few weeks the story of what really occured that night in the moonlight came out in bits and pieces.  Dad was going to shoot the horse and Jake confessed that maybe it was not all the horse's fault.  Seems one of the boys visiting "dared" Jake to creep up with a stick and "goose" the horse.  The horse reacted just like one would expect a horse to react and kicked backwards at the offending stick.  Jake just happened to be on his hands and knees right behind the horse.  And no one could see that coming?
Over the days and weeks ahead Jake slowly healed.  Star remained in the corral because we were all afraid of him.  Sometimes I would try to pet him and he would let me.  Dad did finally saddle him and ride, but the horse was way to short for Dad.  Josephine finally ended up riding him most.  She would put us on his back and give us a ride around the yard, but we were always terrified that Star would kick us so that was really not much fun.  I do not know if you know about Shetland Ponies, but they are mean by nature and I think they were looking right at Star when they wrote that definition.
So, my dear brother carried a very ugly scar on his right cheek until the day he died, but no one seemed to notice.  He was such a charamatic kid that the scar never mattered.  Nothing could have detracted from the personality that was my brother.  And why am I telling you about him today?
Today is October 29, 2012.  On October 29, 1965 I lived in Garden City, Kansas.  I had two daughter's ages 2 & 3 years old. I had a daughter who would turn 1 year old tomorrow.  I had a son who was 25 days old.  Tomorrow  would be my 5th wedding anniversary.  And today, October 29, 1965,  my brother, Jake, was returning home from a day at work and the driver of the pick up he was riding in went through a stop sign near McPherson, Kansas and ran into the side of a loaded gravel truck. 
Tomorrow I would not have parties; tomorrow I would travel to McPherson, Kansas to visit my brother as he lay comatose in a hospital bed with his right leg kicking as if to apply the brake.  He would not know I was there.  He would not know my mother sat by his bed from the moment he was brought there.  Or would he?  I like to think that on some level he knew.
He died early the next morning....Halloween. 

My dear brother, Jake 

 

Delbert Leroy Bartholomew

10/ 4/ 1937-10/31/1965



Today is October 28.

And this is my brother Jake when he was in about the eighth grade.  See that scar on his cheek?  Do you know how he got that?  I remember.  We were living on the Stroh place on the edge of town.  Lot of memories there.  Donna stuck her finger in a turtles mouth and it was the general consensus that they could cut the head off, but the turtle would not release her finger until the sun went down.  Seemed nothing ever stopped until the sun went down.  Kill a snake and it would wiggle until the sun went down.  And then when the sun did finally go down, the boogie man would come out and get us if we were not very, very good!
I was going to write about Jake, but memories of that period are very fresh today, so I am just going to remember them.
The year must have been 1947.  Sister Dorothy was born while we lived on the Stroh place.  Mom laid in bed for 10 days and missed harvest.  Dad was not happy about that, but 10 days was how long one laid in bed after giving birth.  At that time Josphine was in charge of us while mother helped with the farming.   That would have made her 12 years old at the time.  About right.
Mother always went to "Club" once a month.  I do not know what "Club" was, but she drug us along and we all had to set in a row up against a wall with all the other little kids until club was over.  And we had to stay clean.  That was not hard to do unless there was a mud hole on the way to club, where ever it was.  I know it was close because we walked.
The chicken house was where all the action was.  Something was always getting in and stealing a chicken.  Once dad thought it was a fox, but laid a trap and found out it was a weasel.  No way to keep a weasel out of the hen house. 
Once while we were setting in the back yard, the old yellow tom cat came up with a baby chicken in his mouth.  Mother immediately sent Jake and the tom cat into the forest.  Jake carried a hatchet and was under the strict orders that the tom cat must never be seen again.  Shortly after that mother could not find her potato peeler. It seemed I recalled Jake taking that to the forest and told mother so.  She said I was a trouble maker.
The best part of the whole day was when we brought the cow up.  See, we had a milk cow and the grass was very green along the road that ran in front of the house.  So each morning Jake would take her out and stake her along the road.  He went several times and moved her, but when it was milking time, I went with him to bring her up to the barn to be milked.  She was very slow, but if we grabbed her tail she would run.  Sometimes we did that.  More fun than you can imagine, but sure made milking her hard because she was upset and would not release her load!
Dad had three sons before he married mother.  They had been placed in an orphange when his first wife died, as I recall.  I remember when Gene Barthololmew, the oldest got out of the Army and came for a visit.  I do not remember Richard or Earl coming during that period, but they had been adopted and had thier own family.  I did meet them in later years.  Richard Nichols and Earl Siefert.
One memory that is so vivid it hurts of that period is our hair care.  When we needed a hair cut, mother would set us on a box on a chair, place a bowl over our head and cut our hair to that length.  Then she trimmed our bangs.  Wish I could find one of those pictures! But the worst part was the washing of the hair.  We did not have running water, hence no hot water.  What we did have was a pitcher pump that pumped water by raising and lowering the handle.  When hair needed washed mother would grab the kid that was next in line which in this case was me and tuck me under her arm.  Josephine would pump the handle up and down and water would pour forth and mother would jam my head under the water, the apply soap which I am sure was lye soap and work it into my poor scalp.  Then back under the pump I went and my God that water was cold!    Since I was only 6 years old at the time my memory of a lot of things is not real clear, but on that one thing I am sure.  Bath time was once a week and it occured in a galvanized tub.  Littlest kid got the first bath and the reasoning behind that was that the younger they were, the cleaner they were.  Josephine always got the last one and by that time there was a soap scum floating on the top and bath had a whole new meaning.  To this day I stand under the shower with the water as hot as I can stand it.
I remember the old cow dying and we had to move her body to the pasture because there was some sort of disease and the only way to get rid of it was to burn and bury the carcass.  Must have been anthrax, since I think that occured about that time.  Not sure she had it, but we did it anyway.
That was also the first time I was ever allowed to go to the store.  I felt so big walking that mile to Flemings grocery with my hanky in my hand and the money for the loaf of bread tied safely in the corner.  I remember Mr. Fleming gave me a piece of candy because I did such a good job.  I recall that it was very scary being alone out in the big world when I was 6 years old.  But I look back on that simple life and it breaks my heart that our kids today will never know the simple joy of a mud puddle, a dying turtle, or a trip down the dirt road to bring the cow up!

Oh, those silly geese!

For several days the geese had been acting strange.  Now I been herding these geese, thirteen of them, around for several years, so I know strange when I see strange.  Their living quarters consists of a wooden shed about 10 feet wide by 14 feet long.  This has a big door on the west side that I go in to fill the feeder and such.  On the south side down low is a small door about 12 inches wide and 20 inches high that leads to a wire enclosure that is the same size as their house and is covered and has a big door that they enter and exit from.  When it is just dark I go out with my flashlight and they all go into the wire part.  I close that door and secure it and they are snug and tight for the night.  They can go into the house or sleep out in the wire part.  Every night this happens like clock work.  In the morning I open the wire door and they all come running out and over to the water tank which serves as their pond.  Not so the last few days.
They began by being afraid to go in the enclosure.  When I got them herded inside they would cower in the corner.  The first night I actually went into the goose house to see if perhaps Brer' Fox was lurking their.  Nothing amiss.  The next morning they did not rush out as usual, so I just latched the door open and in due time they ventured forth.  Same scenario that evening and the next morning.  I was beginning to be concerned and checked everything I could think of to make sure nothing was able to get near enough to frighten them.  It was a mystery and it really upset me to see them act like they were terrified.  Yesterday was the clincher.
I opened the wire door and no goose came out of the goose house.  I could see them in their milling about so I went and opened the big door.  They cowered in the corner and my eyes finally spotted the "intruder". Yes!  That is it.  A piece of blue plastic cord that fell off of a tarp!  That was blocking the door!  I remembered it laying on the ground in the wire enclosure. 

 

It sure seemed harmless enough to me, but then, I am not a goose.  Did they think it was a snake?  I am a thinking I would have been getting the hell out of there if I were them.  Geese have the herd mentality and I do not know how they communicate, but they were all 13 of them scared to death of this piece of cord.  After I took pictures of the offending item, I dropped it into the burning barrel.  I think the geese now look on me as some sort of hero because they gather at the fence around the yard and stare at me.  And then they take thier naps.  So I take my cue from them and dose in my chair knowing that once more all is right in my world!

 

 

 

************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale . Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Memories of Great Grandma Hatfield.

The summer before I started my high school days, I was sent from my home in Nickerson, Kansas to Plevna, Kansas, to live with my great grandmother and my grandmother, both on my mother's side.  My dear grandmother had suffered a stroke at some point and since great grandmother was over 100 years old, the family thought she should have some help and I was a likely looking candidate since the only girl cousins I had were of marrying age and I was barely into puberty.  So off I went.
The grandmothers had a two story frame house.  Two bedrooms upstairs, one down, a large living room, a dining room, kitchen and located in the hallway under the stairwell, a commode.  That is to say a bathroom stool and that was it.  No sink, no nothing and I was not allowed to use it.  I might either break it or wear it out.  It was for grandma Haas only.  Great grandma and I could just trot on out back and use the "outhouse".  And so we did.  Rain, sleet, heat, or snow could not stay us from our several times daily rounds.  Had a "chamber pot" for night time needs cause God only knew what was out at night.
I was not allowed to sleep upstairs in one of the beds because Lord only knows what was up there.  So I slept on the couch right outside of thier bedroom.  My clothes were kept in a box inside the stair way on the second step.  I took a "bath" once a week by setting an enamel bowl on grandmothers stool and using a wash cloth.  I missed the big zinc tub we had at home.
Great grandmother was a very regal lady.  She was small boned, but tall.  She always held herself in a very formal and staid position.  At least I thought she had regal bearing, but as I think back, the woman was over 100 years old!  She probably couldn't have bent if she had to.  I am not near that old and I am beginning to get a little formal bearing about my own self!  She was very hard of hearing (again the age thing no doubt).  The high school was only one block from home, so I ran home for lunch every day.  When I would come out the door and start home I could hear great grandmother's old stand up radio broadcasting the market prices for wheat and corn.  The only time the radio was turned on was at straight up noon and that was to hear the market report.  She did not always have it tuned in exactly and the news would bleed in also, but she was happy as she sat in her rocker and nodded her head to the man giving the report.  No doubt she was lost in another time and place.  Farming runs in our blood.
Every evening we set up the kitchen for breakfast.  3 plates on the table each with 1/2 an orange and silverware. A dripolater was filled with water, coffee grounds were put in the basket, and it was set on a pilot light.  The egg poacher was filled with water and set on the other pilot light.  3 eggs were placed in a bowl on the table near the stove along with the bread.  Jelly was in the center of the table and the table was covered with a cloth.  Next morning the coffee was pulled to the burner and the fire started under it.  Same with the poacher.  Eggs were broken and placed in the poacher tins.  Bread was placed in the toaster and it was plugged in.  The toaster toasted the bread on one side and that side was opened and the toast slid into place so when I closed it the untoasted side would be next to the bare wires and it could be toasted.  In the meantime the dripolater magically sucked the boiling water up into the top of the pot.  I then turned it off and it magically let it come back down through the grounds again.  Time elapsed making breakfast...5 minutes.
I was allowed to put the dishes in a dishpan and set them under the sink to wait for evening.  Great grandmother had a sandwich for me at noon and I could add those dishes to the pan.  When I came home from school I immediately put the kettle on to heat the water to do the dishes.  Those being done and put away in the cupboard, I then went outside to water the plants.  Sometimes I stole a leaf of mint off the big mint plant and chewed it.
You should know that the 85 year difference in great grandmother and myself was most evident in my schooling.  She was very strict and very set in her ways.  I was not allowed to read books for enjoyment.  If I had time to read, I must read the Bible.  Every evening I read to them for at least an hour.  What we read was never discussed.  It was the holy gospel and that was that.  Never question and interpret the way she said.  Needless to say, I got a goose egg for a book report.  Mother explained that one to the principal  and while he understood, a book report was required.  So I gave him a synopsis of the Holy Bible.  Kept me from flunking.
For fun she taught me to crochet.  She gave me a hook and a ball of thread and I started the world's longest chain.  Every night after supper, we would set in our chairs and "take up" our needle work.  I will say this...I made some beautiful doilies under her watchful eye.  If it wasn't correct, it was ripped out and the mistake corrected and done over.  Guess that was where I got this perfectionist attitude I deal with today.  Damn!
My introduction and education into matters of sex education took place one afternoon when great grandmother was at the outhouse.  Grandma said, "Have you started your woman thing yet?"  Since I had no idea what she was talking about I said, "No" and she replied, "When I did, mama let me stay in bed all day."  I decided I sure wanted that to happen to me! 
When they needed groceries great grandmother would ring up Mr. or Mrs. Hinshaw at the store and she would tell them what she needed.  They would deliver it to the house.  Some times if it was just a loaf of bread or something small, she would tie the money in the corner of a handkerchief and I was sent to the store which was a block away, being trusted to remember what I wanted. I really felt like a big girl then!
Grandma used a walker and the only time she got to get out of the house was to go to the doctor.  But she was so sweet.  Her smile would melt the heart of the devil himself.  I am so glad I got to spend the little time with her that I did.

Next time I pop in here I am going to tell you how this chapter of my life played out.  So stay tuned.

 

 

 

************************************************************************ This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon. Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

This is friggin' unbelievable!

Do you see this picture?  Of course you do.  I was bringing my big Philedenron in and happened to wonder what I kept in the trunk it sets on, so I opened it up and riffled through the papers inside.  There was a plastic bag which contains a "Slip and Slide" Plastic thing that fits on an iron to make ironing of clothes easier.  It appeared to have my sister Josephine's handwritting on the outside.  Inside was the thing for the iron along with this picture.  This is 5 generations.  Well, it was at the time. 

Since Mary Jo was born in 1951, this picture had to have been taken in 1952.  That is 60 years ago!  The lady in the upper right corner is my great grandmother, Helen Hatfield.  She is a history lesson in herself.  She was born November 22, 1861 in Madison County, Illinois.  I have diaries that show her younger years in Abbyville, Kansas.  Her mother was Julie Calame and her father was James Gottlieb Gagnebin.  He was born  July 13, 1830 in Geneva, Switzerland.  Apparently they migrated to the Abbyville, Kansas area, because he was a farmer and raised sorghum for molasses and geese and turkeys for meat.  He hired the brothers out to farms in that area, but here is the best part: my great, great grandmother Julie was a nurse/doctor/midwife of sorts.  When someone was sick they sent for her and she would leave the family and go to the home where she was needed.  I can see a lot of her in my way of life. Great gandmother died in 1964.

The next lady is Josie Haas. She is the daughter of Helen Gagnebin.  She was born Josephine Miller on January 8, 1881 in Nevada, Missouri.  She married Christoph Haas and begat my mother along with 3 brothers and a sister.  Grandmother died prior to 1964 because Great Grandmother took care of her until her death.  Than she moved to Coldwater, Kansas and lived with Aunt Mabel until she passed in 1964.  Mother is there on the left end of the top row.  Can you imagine the history in the picture?  I am going to elaborate on these women in the next couple weeks. 

Then down on the bottom is my sister Josephine and her daughter Mary Jo.  Mary is the only one left in that picture.  I am so happy I found that!  Also in the same trunk is a picture of my brother when he was in about the 6th grade.  And that is not all, there is a picture of him as a grown man.  I had been lamenting that I had no pictures of him as a grown man and up pops this picture.  I did not even know it existed.  So my work is cut out for me!  I shall regale you with memories from now until Thanksgiving.  I just love to relive the past, so stay tuned!

 

 

************************************************************************ This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon. Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Getting rid of the frail old body and moving on up!

Not to be alarmed, kiddies, it is not me!  But yesterday I got a phone call.  A friend is dying and would I come?  Of course!  I left the sewing job I was working on down stairs, put on my bra, and drove across town.  I joined her husband, the minister and a girl from Sangre de Cristo Hospice at her bedside.  She had grown even frailer than the last time I had seen her a week before.  She is at home in a hospital bed in the front room surrounded by the remnants of her life.  Throughout the afternoon a few friends stopped by, more of hospice stopped in, and flowers were delivered.  She did not know it, but we all did.

I looked around the room at pieces of art that represented her life.  There were framed tatted doilies that she had made.  Art work by her daughter.  Pictures of her and Doug when they were young.  Pictures of the kids, the grandkids, the dog, and where had the cat gotten off to anyway?

And everywhere reminders of the activism in thier lives.  I do not know when I met these people nor where.  It seems I had always known them.  The Peace Flotilla, Meals on Wheels, Ghandi Peace Garden, Rally against Amendment #2, on and on.  Always Doug passing out flyers or leading the march and always Dorothy on his arm.  We belong to the same church, and apparently belong to the same causes!

I believe that on this level words are not needed.  I believe the person preparing for the journey knows exactly what is going on and can intercept our thoughts.  So I gave her good ones!  Green valleys, cool sunshine, soft clouds, and the gentlest rain.  I gave her soft music, beautiful flowers, and sweet smells.  I gave her soft kittens and butterflies; and I hope a glimpse of the Holy City where she will live after she flits around the world and fills her head with the knowledge of the ages.  And finished with the face of Jesus, so kind, caring and welcoming with his out stretched arms.  "Come home, Dorothy.  I am waiting."

I had to come home for a while in the evening to do chores.  When I went back Dorothy had quieted.  Her daughters arrived about 10:00.  I think she was waiting for them.  I took my leave so they could say thier goodbyes without a stranger there.  I have not heard this morning and it is kind of early to call, but if I were a betting person, I would bet she is free from her body that held her prisoner and is soaring above us, smiling down and touching us with a peace that is not attainable on this level.

God speed, Dorothy!  See you soon!

 

Did I watch the debate last night?

Well, yes I did!  I was a little late getting into the house so I missed part of it.  My first few moments were spent watching Mitt Romney and the moderator parrying about whether his time was up and should Barack Obama be allowed to make his point.  Sorry.  I very quickly decided that this was too much chaos for my little mind.  Two minutes is 2 minutes any way you look at it.  Aren't there rules?  Something like you get 2 mnutes and then he gets two minutes and then you each get one miunte for rebuttal.  That is what I want to see.  Yeah, order out of chaos would have been good.  After that is it down hill. 
And something else that bugs me is this Mr. Obama and Barack Obama.  It is President Obama and Candidate Romney.  President.  I was taught way back when I was barely big enough to pee hard on the ground, a little thing called "respect."  Whether it war President Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Richard Nixon, or Clinton, they were always prefaced with "President."  I remember mom and dad listening to the radio which was a precursor to television.  They would stare intently at that little box and await words from our leader.  Vaguely I can remember the one announcement that announced the end of World War II.  "The war is over.  The allies have prevailed. The world is at peace."  It was my president speaking.  I had no idea what he looked like at the time, nor if those were his exact word, but he was the leader of this United States, and he was speaking to me.
We have come a long ways to end up on such familiar ground with Barack and Mitt.  The respect is gone.  They stood before me last night two men, debating or argueing, what ever, and I was saddened that the world has come to this.  Not only did I grow up with President Harry Truman and President Dwight Eisenhower, but the principal at Nickerson Elementary School was Mr. Houston.  My music teacher was Miss Barkiss.  The man next door was Mr. Rienke.  That was how it was.  Anyone who was our elder was called by something that showed respect.  Well, almost everyone.  The exceptions were Whittlin' Joe and Johnny Carson over on the highway and Hank Windiate, the old guy up the street.  Those guys were characters.  So does that mean that the President of our United States and the man opposing him in the election are now relegated to become "characters?"
Now follow my train of thought here for just a moment.  Could it be that this is one of the reasons our great country is in the shape it is in?  The man who is head of our country today was elected by the people of this fair land.  Doesn't he deserve any respect for that?  I was in court yesterday and we had to stand up when the judge came in.  She was referred to as the Honorable Judge of such and such.  Then we could set down.  The plaintiff called her "Your Honor."  Slap that fellow with contempt if he doesn't.  Just goes to show that we know the terms, we just don't use them.  I think we need to get back to some of the basics and I rather suspect we should teach our children this little thing called "respect".
So this is my rant for the day.  I shall get ready for the next debate between President Obama and Candidate Romney.  Maybe Washington has turned our leaders into objects of ridicule and that is sad.  I just wonder if we will ever be able to return to any semblance of what was long ago normal?

 

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This is the novel I have for sale.   Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

I am almost done.

Very soon this will be a part of my past.  Last weekend we had the estate sale.  Last night Ross and I emptied the house almost completely.  I will go over there today and load a couple boxes and run the vacuum.  Then that goes in the car along with me.  Wednesday we will empty the garage. 
It has been a long 2 1/2 years.  I would like to say it was all smooth sailing, but it wasn't.  Dealing with  death is never easy for anyone involved.  I will say this for Sherman, he handled it with  more grace and acceptance than I thought it was possible for one human to muster.  I hope I can do as well when my time comes.  He set the bar pretty high and I am just not sure I can reach it.
I had been a widow 7 years when I met Sherman.  Following that I will be 78 years old before I date again.  Wonder how that is going to work?  If you look carefully at the porch trim on the top you will notice that one of the white pieces is missing.  It was not there when I met him and we always meant to finish that, but never quite got around to it.  Kind of like life, isn't it?  There is always one more thing that needs done!
Miss you Sherman.
 

Feedback is now at 100% where it has always been!

Do you know what this is?  It is my feedback profile on eBay.  I have been operating on eBay since Febuary of 2006.  To save you doing the math, that is 6 1/2 years.  Knock on wood I have never had a negative feedback.  I try very hard to remain 100%, but let me tell you what happened one year ago today.
A kid in California bought a seed catcher for $12.00 with free shipping.  When it came time to leave feedback he wrote "Very nice product, but a little pricey."  Then he hit the Neutral button.  Neutral does nothing to the feedback rating, but my heart was broken.  I wrote him and explained that the shipping cost $2.50, the fabric cost $2.00, elastic, thread, vytek envelope to mail it in, final value fee to eBay, fee to paypal, wear and tear on my machine making it, gas to drive to the post office, and my time involved fairly well left me with very little if any profit.  He wrote me back and apologized saying he did not understand the feedback so he just hit neutral and agreed that my price was more than reasonable.  He said he tried to go back and change it but he could not.
I thanked him and have now spent exactly 365 days checking my feedback and watching the little gray button.  30 days the number 1 was under 1 month.  Then it stayed under 6 months before moving to 12 months.  And this morning it is gone!  It marched on off the right side of the page.  I feel the need to celebrate, but that will not happen.  In the dog eat dog world of online sales I can not let my guard down for one moment.
I try very hard to keep my customers happy and for the most part I succeed, but there is always the little chance that the mail will not move fast enough, the seed catcher will not be the right color, or a chip will miraculously appear on a piece of pottery.  I try not to do glass or anything fragile, but sometimes that is what appears on my door step.
So I would ask you when you are dealing with us sellers on eBay to be kind and think carefully about what you leave on the feedback. I know there are shyster sellers out there that will screw you over.  If you have a problem, discuss it with the seller and don't just leave a bad feedback because the cat ticked you off first thing in the morning!
So bottoms up on my clear feedback.  100% and still trying!  Thank you , my customers!  And little guy in California, if you happen to read this, I love you and learned from you.  Everyone in my life has taught me something and you taught me patience!

Recent Feedback ratings (last 12 months)

Click for help 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 BubbleHelp Opens Start of layerBubbleHelp End of layer

	1 month	6 months	12 months

	Positive	22	125	411
	Neutral	0	0	0
	Negative	0	0	0

UPDATE ON BIRD!

It is 5:23 in the morning and Icarus is on the prowl. I suspect she is looking for the bird. I think she knows more than I do, so I am going to go help her. I have the first of 4 pans of cinnamon rolls in the oven so I am at loose ends until I can finish those and head down stairs.

Wish me luck!************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon. Do not be confused by the title. Chapter One simply means this is my first book. There may never be another, or there may be many more. I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety. Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

 

A day in the life of a madwoman!!

5:15 AM Decide I might as well get up since I can't sleep anyway.
5:16 AM Turn on computer.
5:30 AM Get my first cup of coffee.
5:36 AM Breakfast consisting of 1/4 cup glucosomine for the joints, 2 Tablespoons flax seed for the inner workings, toast with 9 grains and 4 kinds of nuts for the carbs, butter cause I like it, 2 eggs for protein, and milk for the bones.
5:40 AM Into the bathroom for my first round of DMSO (Liniment) on the right hip and right knee. 
5:41 AM Brushing of the teeth (amist much gagging and such).
5:42 AM To the computer and boot up AOL.  (You may notice I skipped the one part in the bathroom about the relieving of myself and that would be because I was up half the night taking care of that little chore.  Seems my bladder works best when I am in a prone position!)
5:44 AM Open email and check for sales on eBay.  Print out paypal payments and then go to personal emails.  Two sentence answers to those.
5:54 AM Check the downstairs for anything I forgot to finish last night.
5:55 AM Crank up the wii exercise thingy.  Do the body test thing.  I have lost 3.5 pounds since yesterday and appear to be 48 years old according to the wii test.
6:05 AM Back to the computer to see if anyone read my blogs last night while I was sleeping.  Yes!
6:07 AM Take pictures and list one Anita Goodesign CD. Check to see how the other auction is doing and how much I now owe ebay for thier magnamously helping me in my endeavor.
6:40 AM Notice there is a bird dropping on the INSIDE of my window.  I do a cursory look on this level and find no feathers or other signs of a bird in distress.  No signs of that damn cat either.  I make a post it note for the lower part of the computer screen reminding myself that if I smell a strange odor in the next few days that there is no doubt a bird body somewhere.  I make a mental note to myself to kill that damn cat when I find it.
7:35 AM Wander out back to let out the geese and start the water in the tank so it will overflow and make them a puddle which they like.  While I am out there I fill the feeder and make a note that I need to go by Big R and buy three more bags on Tuesday.  It is cheaper on the second Tuesday, but I never seem to run out and God forbid I buy anything ahead.  Every time I have to wrestle those 50 bags of feed around I make a mental note to myself that I need to get married again.  First I will need to tear the post it note off the bottom of the microwave oven reminding me not to get married again.
8:37 AM Decide I have had way to much coffee this morning and I need to do a blog.  And now it may be done since I need to get in the shower and get ready for church. 

Thank heaven for church (I can grab a much needed nap!) as it is the one constant in my hectic little life.  When I get home, after meeting Ross and consulting with him about some electronics over on Howard, I am going to start sawing away at the apple tree out front.  Seems when I planted it I managed to plant it right over the sewer line and now it is running roots into the line and plugging it up. 
So there you have it in a nutshell.  My life may not be organized and it may not seem like much to you, but it is my life and I would not have it any other way!
************************************************************************
This is the novel I have for sale on Amazon.  Do not be confused by the title.  Chapter One simply means this is my first book.  There may never be another, or there may be many more.  I am very proud of this endeavor and guarantee you will enjoy the book in it's enirety.   Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Where did summer go?

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

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

 

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

 

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

 

Lou Mercer

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains

Look Debbie, you can not even see it.

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

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

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

Me not so good!

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

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

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

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

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

                                         

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

It is time to move on.

 

 

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

Dickies - Men's Painter's Wea
r

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Namaste!

 

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

Your chance to buy my first novel!

From the back cover

Chapter One...Loose Ends
Lou Mercer

Meg Parker led a simple life.  She was a widow of three years and lived on a chicken farm at the foot of the mighty Rockie Mountains.  Life was good and her little store on eBay made her extra spending money.  But snow and wildlife were not the only things lurking in the forest above her house.  Nor did it stay in the forest for long.

Marshall Purcell came home a wounded veteran from vietnam.  He still had his dreams, but they were of an incestuous past that threatened to consume him.

When Meg and Marshall met it seemed an inconsequential meeting, but it changed both their lives forever.  And change is not always a good thing.

This is adult fiction at its best without all the sex.  Well, maybe just a little bit. 

About the author.  Lou Mercer was born in Nickerson, Kansas. She came to Pueblo, Colorado in 1977 and is now a product of the majestic Rockie Mountains