When I started writing my blog it was with the intentions of working on my writing skills so I wouldn't look like a blithering idiot as I expressed myself in my book. My book has stalled and the blog has turned into a personal gift to myself, a place to share my observations and thoughts on the world around me. I am able to be free and creative here and something more. It is a refuge of sorts, a place to be authentic. There are days when I sit down at my computer and pound out my feelings on the keyboard that I feel as if I have had an hour long session with a grief counsellor. A counsellor who is never opinionated, who never questions my decisions. Only quietly listens and lets me pour my heart out until I can intelligently reflect on my past and present life and voice my fears for my future.
I have expressed my feelings towards my friends and family in blogs written here in the past as dearly beloved treasures. That still holds true but there is another side of me besides the social butterfly who flits from friend to friend soaking up the sweet joy they bestow upon me. I also enjoy being a loner. I truly enjoy my time being alone. Quietness is an integral part of my happiness and my inner peace. Some people find being alone uncomfortable. They feel loneliness. I am not one of those, I feel I am not alone, I am with me, with my thoughts and dreams. It is my opportunity to become the creative person I thrive to be. Having time to truly be alone and work through my creative process brings such joy into my life.
Yet another gift from blogging is my new found blogging friends. My blogging friends have made my story richer by them sharing their stories with me, free of charge. What a gift, and they have never met me and quite possible never will. I am relatively new at blogging and have a feeling more gifts will be revealed to me as time passes and I delve deeper into the blogospere. I just love surprise gifts, don't you. I can hardly wait to see what gift I will open next.
Observations from a scatterbrained, unorganized, extremely messy,romantic, chai tea drinking, mad hattering, work in progress with an obscenely large lust for life.
Scathenly Brilliant Ideas
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Rock Climbing
My sisters and I have a Bucket List that whenever possible we have tried to fill together. Yesterday we completed our forth accomplishment together, we went rock climbing. We have already gone skydiving, rode a mule down the Grand Canyon and completed the Hannibal Cannibal.
For years we have heard of the tenacity needed to be a rock climber from one of my brothers who has been an avid rock climber for years, traveling around the U.S. with his boy scout troop sampling the many different surfaces of rock terrain. He explained to us that not only was the sport challenging but also costly. Due to the dangerous situations one can get into while scaling a wall of rock it is essential to purchase good gear. The shoes alone start at $75, his were much higher. None of us have the money to purchase such expensive gear.
Still this was something Sue had been talking about for at least ten years so Mary and I were determined to make her dream come true. I began my research on the Internet and found there are hundreds of rock climbing gyms located around the states. Even better, I found one located in Springfield, Missouri, just a short hour drive from Sue's home. I called the gym and talked to a very nice young man who was friendly, knowledgeable and anxious to help. Just what three middle aged novices needed.
We have a cousin, Lynette that lives in Springfield who expressed a desire to come observe our first attempts. By the time we all met she had worked up the courage to climb with us. Perfect! It takes a team of two to rock climb, one person climbs while the other (the belayer) holds the rope taunt. We now had two teams.
A young man perhaps 20 years young took our money, gave us our gear and told us he would spend the next 45 minutes or more teaching us how to use the climbing gear, safety techniques and get us climbing the easiest wall. The wall was 15 to 20 foot tall with hard plastic objects scattered along the flat surface for hand and foot holds. This was only one of the half dozen or so climbing walls in the large building but we were beginners and did not tackle any of the other walls.
We listened intently to our young friend's instructions and then excitedly geared up for our own challenge, the wall. Sue and Lynette were the first team to climb. Sue was the belayer and Lynette the climber. They were both awesome. Lynn was about half way up and with a shaky voice yelled down, "Did I forget to tell you I am afraid of heights?" I knew she was but she overcame her fear with real bravado. Coming down was the fun part. She leaned way back and simply walked down the wall. When she reached the floor the room erupted in a cheer and we quickly prepared Sue for her climb. Sue was a natural. She looked like a monkey climbing that wall. She didn't seem to have any fear at all and she even jumped around on the wall while descending. I was very proud of her. Next came Mary who also did very well.
Sadly I did not fair as well. I started off great until I let the Whattheheckamithinking monster take over reasoning power. Three years ago I broke my left wrist roller skating. Not just broke, shattered. I struggle with fears of injuring that wrist further. While hanging on to the wall the monster told me my wrist was not strong enough to hold me if I were to slip and fall. Once again I listened to Monster Fear who told me not to bother, just give up. Realistically that should not have been a concern. The rope would have caught me, not my wrist. I did not go up near as far as the other three and when they went up again, I did not follow suit. While I was changing clothes I thought about this and started thinking of different routes I could have used and my confidence started returning again. I felt like Sidi in the book the Ya Ya Sisterhood when she did not go flying with her brother, sister and friends and later cried because she hadn't gone.
This was such an awe inspiring adventure. When we first discussed learning to rock climb we said we may never do it again but at least we tried. Now we know we will do it again and next time I will have my head on straight and not worry about what could happen. Just enjoy the thrill of the whole experience.
For years we have heard of the tenacity needed to be a rock climber from one of my brothers who has been an avid rock climber for years, traveling around the U.S. with his boy scout troop sampling the many different surfaces of rock terrain. He explained to us that not only was the sport challenging but also costly. Due to the dangerous situations one can get into while scaling a wall of rock it is essential to purchase good gear. The shoes alone start at $75, his were much higher. None of us have the money to purchase such expensive gear.
Still this was something Sue had been talking about for at least ten years so Mary and I were determined to make her dream come true. I began my research on the Internet and found there are hundreds of rock climbing gyms located around the states. Even better, I found one located in Springfield, Missouri, just a short hour drive from Sue's home. I called the gym and talked to a very nice young man who was friendly, knowledgeable and anxious to help. Just what three middle aged novices needed.
We have a cousin, Lynette that lives in Springfield who expressed a desire to come observe our first attempts. By the time we all met she had worked up the courage to climb with us. Perfect! It takes a team of two to rock climb, one person climbs while the other (the belayer) holds the rope taunt. We now had two teams.
A young man perhaps 20 years young took our money, gave us our gear and told us he would spend the next 45 minutes or more teaching us how to use the climbing gear, safety techniques and get us climbing the easiest wall. The wall was 15 to 20 foot tall with hard plastic objects scattered along the flat surface for hand and foot holds. This was only one of the half dozen or so climbing walls in the large building but we were beginners and did not tackle any of the other walls.
We listened intently to our young friend's instructions and then excitedly geared up for our own challenge, the wall. Sue and Lynette were the first team to climb. Sue was the belayer and Lynette the climber. They were both awesome. Lynn was about half way up and with a shaky voice yelled down, "Did I forget to tell you I am afraid of heights?" I knew she was but she overcame her fear with real bravado. Coming down was the fun part. She leaned way back and simply walked down the wall. When she reached the floor the room erupted in a cheer and we quickly prepared Sue for her climb. Sue was a natural. She looked like a monkey climbing that wall. She didn't seem to have any fear at all and she even jumped around on the wall while descending. I was very proud of her. Next came Mary who also did very well.
Sadly I did not fair as well. I started off great until I let the Whattheheckamithinking monster take over reasoning power. Three years ago I broke my left wrist roller skating. Not just broke, shattered. I struggle with fears of injuring that wrist further. While hanging on to the wall the monster told me my wrist was not strong enough to hold me if I were to slip and fall. Once again I listened to Monster Fear who told me not to bother, just give up. Realistically that should not have been a concern. The rope would have caught me, not my wrist. I did not go up near as far as the other three and when they went up again, I did not follow suit. While I was changing clothes I thought about this and started thinking of different routes I could have used and my confidence started returning again. I felt like Sidi in the book the Ya Ya Sisterhood when she did not go flying with her brother, sister and friends and later cried because she hadn't gone.
This was such an awe inspiring adventure. When we first discussed learning to rock climb we said we may never do it again but at least we tried. Now we know we will do it again and next time I will have my head on straight and not worry about what could happen. Just enjoy the thrill of the whole experience.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Happy Halloween
Witches, ghosts and goblins, going two by two,
I'm not the least bit frightened; unless they holler "BOO!"
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Stop Saying You're Fine
One of my new blog friends introduced me to Mel Robbins' book Stop Saying You're Fine which is just another sappy self-help book. She made thisinteresting point "We deny how we feel because in our society, you're not supposed to be unhappy." I've come to notice I am not happy and as confusing as this may sound, I am not unhappy. I am somewhere in between.
I have been trying to use her book as a guide to determine what is going on in my little pea brain. It is pretty scary. It is beginning to look like I have been reading too many books to the grandchildren. My grey stuff looks an awful lot like Pooh's grey fluff.
Mel Robbins says we normally pick easy, surface level problems to work on so we don't have to tackle the tough stuff, things like I need to lose weight, go back to work, my fiances are a mess. You get the picture. Sure enough, when I first started listing problems I realized these items were simply annoyances. So what is really bothering me?
Shame! Regret! I have just realized I have squandered too many years without ever chasing my dreams causing me to feel life is empty, without purpose. It is difficult admitting this to myself and even worse admitting to others. It is as if I am a bad girl and I am disappointed and frustrated on a daily basis with myself.
So what's a girl to do? The dreams I had for success as a young woman no longer have value to me. Back then I wanted to have a good paying job and respect from management.
What do I want to do with this life of mine? Looks like I am going to have to stir the grey fluff around in my head a little more. What will I find?
I have been trying to use her book as a guide to determine what is going on in my little pea brain. It is pretty scary. It is beginning to look like I have been reading too many books to the grandchildren. My grey stuff looks an awful lot like Pooh's grey fluff.
Mel Robbins says we normally pick easy, surface level problems to work on so we don't have to tackle the tough stuff, things like I need to lose weight, go back to work, my fiances are a mess. You get the picture. Sure enough, when I first started listing problems I realized these items were simply annoyances. So what is really bothering me?
Shame! Regret! I have just realized I have squandered too many years without ever chasing my dreams causing me to feel life is empty, without purpose. It is difficult admitting this to myself and even worse admitting to others. It is as if I am a bad girl and I am disappointed and frustrated on a daily basis with myself.
So what's a girl to do? The dreams I had for success as a young woman no longer have value to me. Back then I wanted to have a good paying job and respect from management.
What do I want to do with this life of mine? Looks like I am going to have to stir the grey fluff around in my head a little more. What will I find?
Somethings Gotta Give
I am quite literally living on a prayer. The price of gasoline keeps going up and with it the price of everything else. It takes gasoline to get products to market and we can't expect the truckers to take a hit. They have families to take care of too.
I don't mean to whine and I know that is what this sounds like. I'm just expressing what I see around me.
Today I went to Meideke to have new brakes put on my truck. The mechanics were polite and pleasant but I noticed something else. There seemed to be a sense of hopelessness about the two men I spoke with.
Jobs are difficult to come by. Thousands upon thousands of people are unemployed. Managers know they have their employees in a tough place. My son was actually told by his immediate manager to keep his mouth shut and do what he is told right or wrong. As employees come he is a dime a dozen and easily replaced.
I came across this old poem the other day and it made me wonder, is this the way the average American worker is feeling? He/she is certain there has got to be something better out there but have been trod upon for so long they just don't know where to begin their climb out of the deep hole they have dug themselves into. The average American has sky high mortgage payments and credit cards that have been maxed out.
Something's Gotta Give by Christine Kane
One of these days I'm gonna jump off that shelf
Hit that ground runnin'
At least that's what I keep telling myself
I've been sitting on the fence for way too long
Warmin' that bench as chance moves on
And believe me that isn't the way to live
And this barely getting by is really getting old
And it's hard to turn the wrench on a rusty bolt
But someday, something's gotta give.
Is the American worker literally living paycheck to paycheck?
Are they as poor as Job but not as patient?
What next?
I don't mean to whine and I know that is what this sounds like. I'm just expressing what I see around me.
Today I went to Meideke to have new brakes put on my truck. The mechanics were polite and pleasant but I noticed something else. There seemed to be a sense of hopelessness about the two men I spoke with.
Jobs are difficult to come by. Thousands upon thousands of people are unemployed. Managers know they have their employees in a tough place. My son was actually told by his immediate manager to keep his mouth shut and do what he is told right or wrong. As employees come he is a dime a dozen and easily replaced.
I came across this old poem the other day and it made me wonder, is this the way the average American worker is feeling? He/she is certain there has got to be something better out there but have been trod upon for so long they just don't know where to begin their climb out of the deep hole they have dug themselves into. The average American has sky high mortgage payments and credit cards that have been maxed out.
Something's Gotta Give by Christine Kane
One of these days I'm gonna jump off that shelf
Hit that ground runnin'
At least that's what I keep telling myself
I've been sitting on the fence for way too long
Warmin' that bench as chance moves on
And believe me that isn't the way to live
And this barely getting by is really getting old
And it's hard to turn the wrench on a rusty bolt
But someday, something's gotta give.
Is the American worker literally living paycheck to paycheck?
Are they as poor as Job but not as patient?
What next?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Winnie The Pooh
My granddaughter has requested I don my Winnie the Pooh costume again this year to escort her around the neighborhood trick or treating. Since I am a loving grandmother and would never dream of disappointing her, I have once again dug out the costume.
Recently I came across Pooh's Little Instruction Book. Since I am going to portray Pooh, I thought it might be beneficial to read the small book. This is what I learned:
"If possible, try to find a way to come downstairs that doesn't involve going bump, bump, bump, on the back of your head." Very good advice indeed!
"Try not to sit down on thistles; it takes all of the life out of them. Besides, someone might have planned on eating them for lunch." I find thistles to be a bit too stickery for eating but perhaps Eeoyre does not.
"If you secretly get into a kangaroo's pocket and she begins to jump away, be prepared for a bumpy ride." Now that sounds like fun!
"When having a smackerel of something with a friend, don't eat so much that you get stuck in the doorway trying to get out." But isn't it impolite to turn down a perfectly good smackerel?
"When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it." So perhaps it is best not to waste so much gray fluff thinking of all those things.
"When going round a spinney of larch trees tracking something, be sure it isn't your own footprints you are following." Yes, sadly I have been known to get lost going to visit my father.
"Before floating up into the sky with a balloon in search of honey, make sure the bees you are looking for are the right sort of bees." And all this time I thought everyone was good, kind and loving and of course wanted to share their honey with me.
"People who don't think probably don't have brains; rather, they have grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake." And grey fluff is hard to come by so must not be wasted on trivial thinking.
"If you think you see a Heffalump in a trap make sure it isn't really a Bear with an empty jar of honey stuck on his head." Oooops, do I need my eyes checked?
"If you are looking for Home and find instead a sand-pit, try looking for a sand-pit. Then you'd be sure not to find it, which would be a Good Thing, because you might find something that you weren't looking for which might be just what you were looking for." It is also a very good way to begin a new adventure.
"Tiggers can climb trees. Of course, there's the coming down too, which is difficult, unless one falls, in which case it is .....easy." Been there, done that. Now it is my honor and pleasure to teach my grandson how to climb trees.
For a Bear with Very Little Brain, Pooh seems to be a smart little guy; but then I may think that because I can relate to the predicaments Pooh gets himself into. I wonder what would happen if I had a CAT scan? Would a brain be found or just gray fluff? My family would probably tell you fluff.
Recently I came across Pooh's Little Instruction Book. Since I am going to portray Pooh, I thought it might be beneficial to read the small book. This is what I learned:
"If possible, try to find a way to come downstairs that doesn't involve going bump, bump, bump, on the back of your head." Very good advice indeed!
"Try not to sit down on thistles; it takes all of the life out of them. Besides, someone might have planned on eating them for lunch." I find thistles to be a bit too stickery for eating but perhaps Eeoyre does not.
"If you secretly get into a kangaroo's pocket and she begins to jump away, be prepared for a bumpy ride." Now that sounds like fun!
"When having a smackerel of something with a friend, don't eat so much that you get stuck in the doorway trying to get out." But isn't it impolite to turn down a perfectly good smackerel?
"When you are a Bear of Very Little Brain, and you Think of Things, you find sometimes that a Thing which seemed very Thingish inside you is quite different when it gets out into the open and has other people looking at it." So perhaps it is best not to waste so much gray fluff thinking of all those things.
"When going round a spinney of larch trees tracking something, be sure it isn't your own footprints you are following." Yes, sadly I have been known to get lost going to visit my father.
"Before floating up into the sky with a balloon in search of honey, make sure the bees you are looking for are the right sort of bees." And all this time I thought everyone was good, kind and loving and of course wanted to share their honey with me.
"People who don't think probably don't have brains; rather, they have grey fluff that's blown into their heads by mistake." And grey fluff is hard to come by so must not be wasted on trivial thinking.
"If you think you see a Heffalump in a trap make sure it isn't really a Bear with an empty jar of honey stuck on his head." Oooops, do I need my eyes checked?
"If you are looking for Home and find instead a sand-pit, try looking for a sand-pit. Then you'd be sure not to find it, which would be a Good Thing, because you might find something that you weren't looking for which might be just what you were looking for." It is also a very good way to begin a new adventure.
"Tiggers can climb trees. Of course, there's the coming down too, which is difficult, unless one falls, in which case it is .....easy." Been there, done that. Now it is my honor and pleasure to teach my grandson how to climb trees.
For a Bear with Very Little Brain, Pooh seems to be a smart little guy; but then I may think that because I can relate to the predicaments Pooh gets himself into. I wonder what would happen if I had a CAT scan? Would a brain be found or just gray fluff? My family would probably tell you fluff.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Oh, What a Day!
This morning I woke up with energy to spare.
This was a day to accomplish great things. A day to check off the many items on my to-do list that keep reappearing day after day because I just don't get around to them. This was the day to make all those phone calls, to mop the kitchen floor, to take down curtains and wash them, to wash the windows, to organize the closets, to mow the grass, to strip the bed and wash the sheets. This was the day to write that pesky book, to finish painting those baseball caps, to walk to the park and breath in the fresh autumn air and dream the wildest most daring dreams.
So why is it that such a perfect day can be ruined in one simple act? An act that is so common, so ordinary. I simply opened my mail. No it wasn't an unexpected bill. It was my monthly investment statement. Oh Hell's Belles! My portfolio took another hard hit by the stock market and I only have half of my investments in the stock market. No wonder my broker called Friday for a little friendly chit chat. He has never done that before. (When you are as poor as I am, the brokers don't bother with you.)
If things continue as they are now, when I really need the money it will all be gone. I started to panic and then started to cry. All those years of saving so that I could retire and travel are now all but gone. What am I going to do? I could truly understand why business men jumped to their deaths during the great recession.
I was feeling that low but managed to pull myself together and do some ho-hum work. (That is housework to those who enjoy it. Personally, I find housework to be the most boring activity anyone can do and avoid it whenever possible.) Then rather reluctantly I headed over to Darrell's house to spend the evening as promised. Believe me, the mood I was in, I would not have gone if he had not sounded so pathetic when I told him I had things that needed to be done.
He suggested we go to Monk's Mound for a little walk. I agreed but wasn't sure why he would want to climb up those steep mounds. Turns out he had other ideas. There is a path that runs through a stretch of woods on the Mounds property where perhaps one hundred wild deer live. His intention was to startle some deer so that they would run and show themselves to us. We walked all the way through the wooded area and only saw one lonely deer. Once through the area we had the choice to turn around and retrace our steps back through the woods or walk along the edge of the woods in an open field back to where we began. Since we were unable to stir up any deer in the woods I suggested we walk back along the edge.
Wow! am I glad we went that way. The deer were everywhere grazing on the tender grass in the fields. We hadn't gone far when we saw three, then four more. Once they spied us they shook they fluffy white tails at us and entered the woods out of sight. One big doe decided to stand her ground and would not budge as we slowly walked towards her. Finally she snorted, flicked her tail and left us standing alone. We must have walked a mile around the woods stopping every once in a while to point at two or three deer quietly grazing.
The finale came at the end of the trail. The open field at the edge of the parking lot where we left the vet we saw eighteen deer grazing on sweet grass. This must be a regular event because there were several cars parked on the edge of the parking lot with people taking pictures and watching through binoculars at these lovely animals.
Yes, I am still worried about my financial future, but today was still a day to remember. The days go by so much faster as I grow older. Remember how slowly the days pasted while we were in school? Not any longer. I will try to shake off the feeling of dread and remember, this was a special day.
This was a day to accomplish great things. A day to check off the many items on my to-do list that keep reappearing day after day because I just don't get around to them. This was the day to make all those phone calls, to mop the kitchen floor, to take down curtains and wash them, to wash the windows, to organize the closets, to mow the grass, to strip the bed and wash the sheets. This was the day to write that pesky book, to finish painting those baseball caps, to walk to the park and breath in the fresh autumn air and dream the wildest most daring dreams.
So why is it that such a perfect day can be ruined in one simple act? An act that is so common, so ordinary. I simply opened my mail. No it wasn't an unexpected bill. It was my monthly investment statement. Oh Hell's Belles! My portfolio took another hard hit by the stock market and I only have half of my investments in the stock market. No wonder my broker called Friday for a little friendly chit chat. He has never done that before. (When you are as poor as I am, the brokers don't bother with you.)
If things continue as they are now, when I really need the money it will all be gone. I started to panic and then started to cry. All those years of saving so that I could retire and travel are now all but gone. What am I going to do? I could truly understand why business men jumped to their deaths during the great recession.
I was feeling that low but managed to pull myself together and do some ho-hum work. (That is housework to those who enjoy it. Personally, I find housework to be the most boring activity anyone can do and avoid it whenever possible.) Then rather reluctantly I headed over to Darrell's house to spend the evening as promised. Believe me, the mood I was in, I would not have gone if he had not sounded so pathetic when I told him I had things that needed to be done.
He suggested we go to Monk's Mound for a little walk. I agreed but wasn't sure why he would want to climb up those steep mounds. Turns out he had other ideas. There is a path that runs through a stretch of woods on the Mounds property where perhaps one hundred wild deer live. His intention was to startle some deer so that they would run and show themselves to us. We walked all the way through the wooded area and only saw one lonely deer. Once through the area we had the choice to turn around and retrace our steps back through the woods or walk along the edge of the woods in an open field back to where we began. Since we were unable to stir up any deer in the woods I suggested we walk back along the edge.
Wow! am I glad we went that way. The deer were everywhere grazing on the tender grass in the fields. We hadn't gone far when we saw three, then four more. Once they spied us they shook they fluffy white tails at us and entered the woods out of sight. One big doe decided to stand her ground and would not budge as we slowly walked towards her. Finally she snorted, flicked her tail and left us standing alone. We must have walked a mile around the woods stopping every once in a while to point at two or three deer quietly grazing.
The finale came at the end of the trail. The open field at the edge of the parking lot where we left the vet we saw eighteen deer grazing on sweet grass. This must be a regular event because there were several cars parked on the edge of the parking lot with people taking pictures and watching through binoculars at these lovely animals.
Yes, I am still worried about my financial future, but today was still a day to remember. The days go by so much faster as I grow older. Remember how slowly the days pasted while we were in school? Not any longer. I will try to shake off the feeling of dread and remember, this was a special day.
Witches Night Out
My little sister, Mary and I attended the 10th annual Witches Night Out in Historic Lebanon, Illinois. This was Mary's first opportunity to attend, my 9th. I have been fortunate to watch the annual activity go from only the merchants wearing witches costumes to over 100 women from all over the state wearing elaborate witch costumes competing for prizes.
We saw good witches dressed in pink and feathers, bad witches brazenly flashing their wickedness, teeny bopper witches wearing short short skirts and push up bras exposing as much flesh as the law will allow, old crones with warts and ghastly green complexions, beautiful witches dressed in flowing material with feather boas of all different colors, and cute little toddlers with striped socks, black frilly tutus and black pointed hats on their sweet little heads. Even some of the men ventured out in their grandest wizardry suits and top hats.
Mary was surprisingly quiet as we strolled along the streets observing the wide variety of costumes.
Finally I asked Mary if she was having fun, after all she just drove almost 4 hours to witness this event. Turns out she was just enthralled with all the costumes and her head was filled with ideas of how she would create a witch costume.
I couldn't believe my ears. I had wanted to dress in years past but didn't think I would be able to convince any of my friends they should join in the fun. I had thought I had done well by convincing them to don one of my many witch hats. Now I have someone and I didn't have to twist her arm to get her to do it with me.
All the way home we discussed different options to decorate our witch costume. We have one year to prepare. We are going to start hitting yard sells and Good Will for black dresses that would be appropriate to adorn with feathers and sequins and whatever ephemera we can come up with. My mind is all a whirl. Should I wear a fitted black dress or one with yards and yards of material so that I can be noticed from a distance? Perhaps taffeta? It would make the most delightful crackling sound when I walked. Should I check out the many Halloween patterns put out by the major dress making companies?
Double, double toil and trouble;
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Next year all witches watch out,
Mary and Lou will be trampling about.
HeeeHeeeHeeeHeee (that is suppose to sound like a witch's cackle)
We saw good witches dressed in pink and feathers, bad witches brazenly flashing their wickedness, teeny bopper witches wearing short short skirts and push up bras exposing as much flesh as the law will allow, old crones with warts and ghastly green complexions, beautiful witches dressed in flowing material with feather boas of all different colors, and cute little toddlers with striped socks, black frilly tutus and black pointed hats on their sweet little heads. Even some of the men ventured out in their grandest wizardry suits and top hats.
Mary was surprisingly quiet as we strolled along the streets observing the wide variety of costumes.
Finally I asked Mary if she was having fun, after all she just drove almost 4 hours to witness this event. Turns out she was just enthralled with all the costumes and her head was filled with ideas of how she would create a witch costume.
I couldn't believe my ears. I had wanted to dress in years past but didn't think I would be able to convince any of my friends they should join in the fun. I had thought I had done well by convincing them to don one of my many witch hats. Now I have someone and I didn't have to twist her arm to get her to do it with me.
All the way home we discussed different options to decorate our witch costume. We have one year to prepare. We are going to start hitting yard sells and Good Will for black dresses that would be appropriate to adorn with feathers and sequins and whatever ephemera we can come up with. My mind is all a whirl. Should I wear a fitted black dress or one with yards and yards of material so that I can be noticed from a distance? Perhaps taffeta? It would make the most delightful crackling sound when I walked. Should I check out the many Halloween patterns put out by the major dress making companies?
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.
Next year all witches watch out,
Mary and Lou will be trampling about.
HeeeHeeeHeeeHeee (that is suppose to sound like a witch's cackle)
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Grandma Nina's Nose - Another Sappy Saturday Story
My maternal grandmother was a real character but unfortunately she was ashamed of this fact, she tried to keep her personality hidden under a barrell. She came from the poor side of the tracks and didn't want anyone to know it. She wanted to be liked and respected by what she considered the good people of the world and was afraid they would look down on her because of her family. As hard as she tried to hide it, her tongue often gave her secret away. My father always spoke highly of her. He said it doesn't matter where you came from. It is where you went from there. Grandma taught school in a little one room country school for $40.00 a month. She saved her paychecks to buy her parents a home and to buy herself a horse and buggy to drive back and forth to school.
My favorite story told by my grandmother was about her nose. She hated her round pugged nose. She once told me God must have been running low on noses when she was being made so he just took a little bit of hamburger meat and rolled it into a ball and slapped it on her face.
Grandma's story goes like this: When Grandma was carrying my mother, the first of three little girls, she thought to mark her by holding on to Grandpa's straight skinny nose all night long throughout the pregnacy. It worked, my mother had a skinny nose much like Bob Hope's famous nose. Raising children is a lot of hard work, especially back then when there was no automatic washers and dryers. With every baby she let loose of Grandpa's nose a little more and by the time the last baby came along, Virginia, she just didn't have the strength to hold on resulting in a little girl with a round pug nose just like her mother's.
My favorite story told by my grandmother was about her nose. She hated her round pugged nose. She once told me God must have been running low on noses when she was being made so he just took a little bit of hamburger meat and rolled it into a ball and slapped it on her face.
Grandma's story goes like this: When Grandma was carrying my mother, the first of three little girls, she thought to mark her by holding on to Grandpa's straight skinny nose all night long throughout the pregnacy. It worked, my mother had a skinny nose much like Bob Hope's famous nose. Raising children is a lot of hard work, especially back then when there was no automatic washers and dryers. With every baby she let loose of Grandpa's nose a little more and by the time the last baby came along, Virginia, she just didn't have the strength to hold on resulting in a little girl with a round pug nose just like her mother's.
Friday, October 21, 2011
The Flavors of Fall
Awww, the sweet aroma and flavors of fall!.
I know I said I was giving up cakes, candies and cookies. My will power has failed me but let's put this in perspective. I said I was giving up these sweets that I dearly love in exchange for the sweetness of life. What could be sweeter than the flavors of fall?
Last night I spent the evening with Darrell's sisters and brother-in-laws. We had a delightful carefree dinner followed with dessert. Norma had made some sort of pumpkin bars or cake. The smells of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg were intoxicating. I couldn't resist. I had two little bites. Just two. Not bad. Then as we were leaving for home we were asked to take leftovers. Darrell declined and I over rode his decision. Did I take the healthy foods? Of course not. I took a whole plate full of pumpkin cake and before retiring to my warm cozy bed I succumbed to the sweet intoxicating aroma of fall's spices with a big glass of milk.
How could I have been so blind? Part of the sweetness of life is the warm fuzzy feeling we enjoy when we indulge our taste buds, to savour the rich flavors of spices. It is a mistake to rigorously forbid ourselves to indulge in sugary foods. The problem is not the cookies and candies, the problem is with binging. Yes, I do binge. I don't eat just one cookie. I eat the whole box.
Joy can be found in the simple act of slowing down and truly savouring the flavors of your food, whether it be cookies and milk or a pork loin cooked slowly with vegetables.
How will I delight my taste buds next? I've been thinking I need to make a trip to Starbucks for a nice hot cup of chai tea latte. Sweet bliss. A little bit of heaven caressing my taste buds with cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom.
I know I said I was giving up cakes, candies and cookies. My will power has failed me but let's put this in perspective. I said I was giving up these sweets that I dearly love in exchange for the sweetness of life. What could be sweeter than the flavors of fall?
Last night I spent the evening with Darrell's sisters and brother-in-laws. We had a delightful carefree dinner followed with dessert. Norma had made some sort of pumpkin bars or cake. The smells of pumpkin, cinnamon and nutmeg were intoxicating. I couldn't resist. I had two little bites. Just two. Not bad. Then as we were leaving for home we were asked to take leftovers. Darrell declined and I over rode his decision. Did I take the healthy foods? Of course not. I took a whole plate full of pumpkin cake and before retiring to my warm cozy bed I succumbed to the sweet intoxicating aroma of fall's spices with a big glass of milk.
How could I have been so blind? Part of the sweetness of life is the warm fuzzy feeling we enjoy when we indulge our taste buds, to savour the rich flavors of spices. It is a mistake to rigorously forbid ourselves to indulge in sugary foods. The problem is not the cookies and candies, the problem is with binging. Yes, I do binge. I don't eat just one cookie. I eat the whole box.
Joy can be found in the simple act of slowing down and truly savouring the flavors of your food, whether it be cookies and milk or a pork loin cooked slowly with vegetables.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Dress Up Fun with Grandkids
When Sue and I were children one of our favorite activities while visiting our grandparents was dressing up in old clothes Grandma had packed away in a large box in an attic room. My favorite was a pale yellow dress with a full skirt that swayed when I walked and made me feel so grown up and beautiful. I would put that long dress on with a big sun bonnet and dance around the room. Or, weather permitting I would swing as high as I could on the tree swing Grandpa had hung for us in an enormous tree in his backyard, feeling the soft material of the skirt as it blew up against my face, my eyes closed dreaming that I was the beautiful herione of the book I was reading. (Even then I loved to read.)
My granddaughters have followed in their grandmothers footsteps. They also love to dress up in old clothes I have kept just for them to play in. I pray that they are making precious memories of time spent with their grandmother as I did with mine.
My granddaughters have followed in their grandmothers footsteps. They also love to dress up in old clothes I have kept just for them to play in. I pray that they are making precious memories of time spent with their grandmother as I did with mine.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Life is difficult still
I pride myself at being an optimist or at least that is the public side of me.
Do you want to know the truth?
Do you want to know how I really feel?
I've decided to come clean.
I'm scared. My head chatters scare the dreams right out of me. My life was so much easier when I had a good paying job and my best friend and lover by my side. When he became ill I knew my place was by his side so even though I realized my finances were weak I decided not get a job. Three years later and I still don't have a job and my lover's ashes have laid in a box for over two of those years.
There has always been a part of me that thought life would be easier once I survived the grief, once I embraced my new mantra "life is short" and let go of all my fears. But that hasn't happened. Life still feels as difficult as ever, if not more so. My insecurities and fears have grown into gluttony monsters who devour all my hopes and dreams all the while whispering in my ear, "You are not good enough, you are untalented, and you never will be".
Yes, I have been lucky. I have lots of wonderful friends and family and a new man who wants nothing more from me than to love me. But tonight, I am sad. Tonight I mourn for the beautiful life I had. Tomorrow I will once again embrace my new mantra "life is short" and put on a happy face.
Do you want to know the truth?
Do you want to know how I really feel?
I've decided to come clean.
I'm scared. My head chatters scare the dreams right out of me. My life was so much easier when I had a good paying job and my best friend and lover by my side. When he became ill I knew my place was by his side so even though I realized my finances were weak I decided not get a job. Three years later and I still don't have a job and my lover's ashes have laid in a box for over two of those years.
There has always been a part of me that thought life would be easier once I survived the grief, once I embraced my new mantra "life is short" and let go of all my fears. But that hasn't happened. Life still feels as difficult as ever, if not more so. My insecurities and fears have grown into gluttony monsters who devour all my hopes and dreams all the while whispering in my ear, "You are not good enough, you are untalented, and you never will be".
Glorious Imperfection
I recently found Susannah Conway's blog Notes on Unravelling the Heart. I was drawn to her blog
because she writes about loss and grief. One blog I found interesting was called "Glorious Imperfection" listing some of her characteristics.
It made me think of my personal characteristics, those things that make me Lou, not the public Lou who hides her flaws behind a sunny smile earning the reputation as Bubblely Lou.
Here goes:
I am unashamedly gloriously flawed
I don't like to exercise alone
And I hate to exercise in classes
I have cellulite - everywhere
I hate shaving my legs
I hate to dye my hair
But hate my white hair more
I am a slob and lazy to boot
I hate housework with a passion
I love to paint and have NO talent
I need my time alone
I love my friends and family more than life itself
I'm learning to forgive myself
I'm doing the best I can
I love to dance - I have two left feet
I am a senior citizen
I love surprises and practical jokes
I love adventures - big and small
I love old movies
I can't eat just one cookie
I love to laugh
I am not smart but don't want others to know
I am a procrastinator
Sometimes I don't like myself
Sometimes I love myself
I am a daughter
I am a mother
I am an aunt
I am a sister
I am a friend
In other words, I am a unique human being, a woman who for far too long has tried to appear perfect and fallen flat on her face trying. My imperfections are many. It's rather scary just thinking about how imperfect I am. I am learning to go from "What will people think" to "I am enough". I may disappoint people, but I am striving and that is the best I can do.
because she writes about loss and grief. One blog I found interesting was called "Glorious Imperfection" listing some of her characteristics.
It made me think of my personal characteristics, those things that make me Lou, not the public Lou who hides her flaws behind a sunny smile earning the reputation as Bubblely Lou.
Here goes:
I am unashamedly gloriously flawed
I don't like to exercise alone
And I hate to exercise in classes
I have cellulite - everywhere
I hate shaving my legs
I hate to dye my hair
But hate my white hair more
I am a slob and lazy to boot
I hate housework with a passion
I love to paint and have NO talent
I need my time alone
I love my friends and family more than life itself
I'm learning to forgive myself
I'm doing the best I can
I love to dance - I have two left feet
I am a senior citizen
I love surprises and practical jokes
I love adventures - big and small
I love old movies
I can't eat just one cookie
I love to laugh
I am not smart but don't want others to know
I am a procrastinator
Sometimes I don't like myself
Sometimes I love myself
I am a daughter
I am a mother
I am an aunt
I am a sister
I am a friend
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
If Not Now, Then When?
If not now, then when? I hear that everywhere.
I can't be really happy until:
my kids are raised ....
I make more money ......
I lose this excess weight ......
my house is paid off .....
YADA YADA YADA YADA YADA
So tell me again ... when will you be happy? Next thing we know we are old and gray without the energy to fullful those dreams that we simply know deep in our hearts will make us truly incredibly happy.
After Les died I realized I had been making lame excuses for not living the life I wanted. I have made great strides at achieving my dream life but of late have found myself slipping back into that old rut. Back to making excuses for every little set back. It is never my fault.
Fear has taken over again. I must conquer my fears and once again skip along the path of happiness toward my dreams. After all:
I AM STRONG
I AM WOMAN
HEAR ME ROAR!
Or something like that.
I can't be really happy until:
my kids are raised ....
I make more money ......
I lose this excess weight ......
my house is paid off .....
YADA YADA YADA YADA YADA
So tell me again ... when will you be happy? Next thing we know we are old and gray without the energy to fullful those dreams that we simply know deep in our hearts will make us truly incredibly happy.
After Les died I realized I had been making lame excuses for not living the life I wanted. I have made great strides at achieving my dream life but of late have found myself slipping back into that old rut. Back to making excuses for every little set back. It is never my fault.
Fear has taken over again. I must conquer my fears and once again skip along the path of happiness toward my dreams. After all:
I AM STRONG
I AM WOMAN
HEAR ME ROAR!
Monday, October 17, 2011
Always Settle for More
Sometimes I live my life to its fullest and then there are days when nothing truly lights me up inside. I then become a settler. I except. I concede. I survive. Is that all I have to hope for? To just survive? Where and how have I settled for less instead of more?
I've always been a people pleaser. I guess that comes from sharing the honor of being the first born with my twin sister and always feeling a responsibility to my four younger siblings. When I was a young adult I heard others talk about time to settle down but I never was wild and free. The wildest thing I ever did was find myself pregnant my first year of college. Even though I knew that it was a mistake I did the right thing and married the father of the baby thus beginning a life of settling for less rather than more.
I believe it is never too late. Time to start thinking about what I can settle for.
Here's my list so far:
More fun loving friends who accept me flawed as I may be
More walks on a sunny beach, wooded avenue and hikes in the woods and hills
More laughter .... lots more laughter
More playing cards with Dad
More rides in a convertible, top down, hands in the air yelling "Yeehaw!"
More road trips
More chai tea latte
More silly string
More adventure
More chocolate
More good books
More self indulgent vacations
I want to taste what life offers me, swallow what nourishes me, and grow from it all. I want more!
I've always been a people pleaser. I guess that comes from sharing the honor of being the first born with my twin sister and always feeling a responsibility to my four younger siblings. When I was a young adult I heard others talk about time to settle down but I never was wild and free. The wildest thing I ever did was find myself pregnant my first year of college. Even though I knew that it was a mistake I did the right thing and married the father of the baby thus beginning a life of settling for less rather than more.
I believe it is never too late. Time to start thinking about what I can settle for.
Here's my list so far:
More fun loving friends who accept me flawed as I may be
More walks on a sunny beach, wooded avenue and hikes in the woods and hills
More laughter .... lots more laughter
More playing cards with Dad
More rides in a convertible, top down, hands in the air yelling "Yeehaw!"
More road trips
More chai tea latte
More silly string
More adventure
More chocolate
More good books
More self indulgent vacations
I want to taste what life offers me, swallow what nourishes me, and grow from it all. I want more!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
The Notch - Another Sappy Saturday Story
I had a favorite uncle (actually he was my father's cousin but out or love and respect we called him uncle) who was a lay minister for the Perry Methodist Church. The following story was written by Herman Beatty Reese aka Uncle Bill about my father. The story was one of his sermons. Here goes:
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. He also created Adam and then Eve and as the centuries rolled by He created you and me.
Each of us have our own little world or circle that we live in. Just as God created Adam and Eve for a purpose, later He created you and me also for a purpose.
I think there are times when each of us have probably wondered why and for what were we put here. Why do we live in this little community?
Is there an answer to that question? I think there is. For one thing if we all were to move to the city there would be no one to raise the food on the farms or to work in the smaller factories. And I think it would be very congested and hard to live in that kind of environment.
When God created Adam and Eve He had a plan, a Master of Plans. How many of us ever stop to think about this plan? Adam and Eve started this population we have today. And I think that was part of God's plan for them. In the millions of people on this earth there are all kinds, colors, creeds, sizes and personalities. And each one has his or her place or part to fill in God's plan.
In the Bible we read of kings and peasants. Some kings are good and some are bad and that goes for the peasants. I don't think God cares whether you are a king or peasant. He wants only for you to follow him and practice his teachings brought to you by Jesus Christ.
Each of us are individuals entirely different from one another. Each of us have a different goal to reach. A different rainbow's end to find. We are all somebody, as the picture (which I'm sure many of you have seen) of a little boy with his hands crossed on the table and his chin resting on his hands and the words below, "I know I'm somebody, 'cause God don't make no junk". So by the same token we are all somebody, a very important somebody.
We have different roles to fill in this giant play of life. We can't all be President or King but I think that very few of us would really want to be president. And too I don't think God would want us all to clamor for that title or position. We each have our own little or large notch to cut in time. It to me matters not whether you are president or the general of the army, but as to how you fill the notch God has put you in.
God's love is with you where ever you are. And if your love and faith is any way near as strong as God's you have nothing to fear. Your hill isn't near as steep, your notch isn't near as hard to fill.
When you chose your occupation, your career, your life style, you thought it was the thing best suited for you. Or that is the way it should be. Maybe you have a pot of gold that is just out of reach, that bigger job with more prestige and more pay. But those are material things. Does God care about these things? I believe God wanted you to do the best you can in the notch that He has for you.
When I was in grade school an eighth grader recitered a poem for graduation. I can only remember the idea or message and two lines. If you can't be a big tree on a hill, be a big bush in the vale. It went on to sight other examples but said, what ever you were be the best bush in the valley.
I know a Grandpa that possibly could be a writer of children's stories, but he thinks that is a little far for him. So what is he doing? What has he done? First he told stories to the grandchildren, (they were too small to read). They sat on his lap and at his feet wide eyed and spell bound. The stories were of animals on the farm and in the woods around here. Now they can read so he writes letters with stories in them, long stories that hold an adults attention, and yet a little comical and far fetched. The older ones say Grandpa, "you're funny and we love you!".
Paul, the apostle and his co-worker, Silas, were thrown into prison. This was for a reason, in God's plan. At midnight, in shackles, they prayed and praised the Lord and the other prisoners heard them and listened to what they said. Paul wasn't the Christ and didn't want to be. But he was the best he could be in his role. The people that came in contact with him were better by it. Not the tree on the hill but the best bush in the vale. Grandpa, not an author, but the best Grandpa he can be and I know his grandchildren and children will be better by his love and stories.
I don't think God wants us all to be leaders of our country. Just the best we can be in our Notch, then let it rub off on our friends and all people we come in contact with.
So again, maybe we are not the minister, the leader in the church or community, but let's be the best we can be in our notch and with God's help make others able to fill their notch better. Make our friends better by knowing us.
In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. He also created Adam and then Eve and as the centuries rolled by He created you and me.
Each of us have our own little world or circle that we live in. Just as God created Adam and Eve for a purpose, later He created you and me also for a purpose.
I think there are times when each of us have probably wondered why and for what were we put here. Why do we live in this little community?
Is there an answer to that question? I think there is. For one thing if we all were to move to the city there would be no one to raise the food on the farms or to work in the smaller factories. And I think it would be very congested and hard to live in that kind of environment.
When God created Adam and Eve He had a plan, a Master of Plans. How many of us ever stop to think about this plan? Adam and Eve started this population we have today. And I think that was part of God's plan for them. In the millions of people on this earth there are all kinds, colors, creeds, sizes and personalities. And each one has his or her place or part to fill in God's plan.
In the Bible we read of kings and peasants. Some kings are good and some are bad and that goes for the peasants. I don't think God cares whether you are a king or peasant. He wants only for you to follow him and practice his teachings brought to you by Jesus Christ.
Each of us are individuals entirely different from one another. Each of us have a different goal to reach. A different rainbow's end to find. We are all somebody, as the picture (which I'm sure many of you have seen) of a little boy with his hands crossed on the table and his chin resting on his hands and the words below, "I know I'm somebody, 'cause God don't make no junk". So by the same token we are all somebody, a very important somebody.
We have different roles to fill in this giant play of life. We can't all be President or King but I think that very few of us would really want to be president. And too I don't think God would want us all to clamor for that title or position. We each have our own little or large notch to cut in time. It to me matters not whether you are president or the general of the army, but as to how you fill the notch God has put you in.
God's love is with you where ever you are. And if your love and faith is any way near as strong as God's you have nothing to fear. Your hill isn't near as steep, your notch isn't near as hard to fill.
When you chose your occupation, your career, your life style, you thought it was the thing best suited for you. Or that is the way it should be. Maybe you have a pot of gold that is just out of reach, that bigger job with more prestige and more pay. But those are material things. Does God care about these things? I believe God wanted you to do the best you can in the notch that He has for you.
When I was in grade school an eighth grader recitered a poem for graduation. I can only remember the idea or message and two lines. If you can't be a big tree on a hill, be a big bush in the vale. It went on to sight other examples but said, what ever you were be the best bush in the valley.
I know a Grandpa that possibly could be a writer of children's stories, but he thinks that is a little far for him. So what is he doing? What has he done? First he told stories to the grandchildren, (they were too small to read). They sat on his lap and at his feet wide eyed and spell bound. The stories were of animals on the farm and in the woods around here. Now they can read so he writes letters with stories in them, long stories that hold an adults attention, and yet a little comical and far fetched. The older ones say Grandpa, "you're funny and we love you!".
Paul, the apostle and his co-worker, Silas, were thrown into prison. This was for a reason, in God's plan. At midnight, in shackles, they prayed and praised the Lord and the other prisoners heard them and listened to what they said. Paul wasn't the Christ and didn't want to be. But he was the best he could be in his role. The people that came in contact with him were better by it. Not the tree on the hill but the best bush in the vale. Grandpa, not an author, but the best Grandpa he can be and I know his grandchildren and children will be better by his love and stories.
I don't think God wants us all to be leaders of our country. Just the best we can be in our Notch, then let it rub off on our friends and all people we come in contact with.
So again, maybe we are not the minister, the leader in the church or community, but let's be the best we can be in our notch and with God's help make others able to fill their notch better. Make our friends better by knowing us.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Painting Hats for Cancer Patients
Bless Sue's pea picken' heart. She unwittingly grabbed me and shook me thoroughly. Just what I needed. I had stopped painting, stopped creating in general. I'm good at making excuses but this time I don't even have a good excuse. I just simply stopped!
Darrell and I stopped by Sue and Vic's home for a quick visit on our way to Eureka Springs this past weekend. Sue had a gift for me. One dozen white baseball caps. White baseball caps with no snappy verse or colorful picture imprinted on them. Twelve blank canvases just waiting for a story to be created and then passed on for the world to view.
The man Sue works for at Bennett Springs State Park (Jim) had ordered the caps with the name of the park embroidered on them. Somehow these had been shipped without the advertising. They would not sell so Sue told Jim she could find a use for them explaining how I had done just that a couple of years ago.
While caring for Les as he lie dying of cancer I conceived an idea to pass my time productively while Les slept. I purchased plain baseball caps and painted perky designs on them with uplifting verses and then donated them to the cancer ward at the hospital where Les received his therapy to be given to ladies who had lost their hair after chemo treatments.
Sue's boss has a daughter fighting cancer so he was happy to donate the caps to the cause. Sue has a dozen and I have a dozen and once again I am painting.
I had abandoned my happy place, my kitchen table with a paint brush in my hand. I have come to realize it is necessary for me to abandon my happy place once in a while because I become obsessed with creating and before I know it there is not a clean dish in the house and I haven't bathed in days. Oi Pee uuuuu! (maybe not that bad) Sue and I have always said we would one day live together again. Sue also becomes obsessed with creating. We might have to set some ground rules or our house could look something like I have seen on television in the homes of hoarders. Not a pretty picture.
It does feel wonderful to shake out the cobwebs and stir up the sunbeams of sweet creatively again.
Darrell and I stopped by Sue and Vic's home for a quick visit on our way to Eureka Springs this past weekend. Sue had a gift for me. One dozen white baseball caps. White baseball caps with no snappy verse or colorful picture imprinted on them. Twelve blank canvases just waiting for a story to be created and then passed on for the world to view.
The man Sue works for at Bennett Springs State Park (Jim) had ordered the caps with the name of the park embroidered on them. Somehow these had been shipped without the advertising. They would not sell so Sue told Jim she could find a use for them explaining how I had done just that a couple of years ago.
While caring for Les as he lie dying of cancer I conceived an idea to pass my time productively while Les slept. I purchased plain baseball caps and painted perky designs on them with uplifting verses and then donated them to the cancer ward at the hospital where Les received his therapy to be given to ladies who had lost their hair after chemo treatments.
Sue's boss has a daughter fighting cancer so he was happy to donate the caps to the cause. Sue has a dozen and I have a dozen and once again I am painting.
I had abandoned my happy place, my kitchen table with a paint brush in my hand. I have come to realize it is necessary for me to abandon my happy place once in a while because I become obsessed with creating and before I know it there is not a clean dish in the house and I haven't bathed in days. Oi Pee uuuuu! (maybe not that bad) Sue and I have always said we would one day live together again. Sue also becomes obsessed with creating. We might have to set some ground rules or our house could look something like I have seen on television in the homes of hoarders. Not a pretty picture.
It does feel wonderful to shake out the cobwebs and stir up the sunbeams of sweet creatively again.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
No unimportant people
The year was 1980 and I was starting my first "real" job as a bank teller at little First Granite City National Bank. I was excited and a little apprehensive about handling all that money.
A friend offered some advice that I have never forgotten. He told me not to worry about the money. I was conscientious and honest. Those qualities would serve me well. His advice? "Don't forget the unsung heroes in the pits, the worker bees that are not seen. All workers are significant and deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello." He was talking about the proof operators who checked back all the tellers work for any possible errors.
That was 31 years ago. I have never forgotten that valuable lesson and have used the philosophy not just in my career but in every aspect of my life. There is no unimportant person. The three proof operators I worked with all those years ago are still close valued friends.
A friend offered some advice that I have never forgotten. He told me not to worry about the money. I was conscientious and honest. Those qualities would serve me well. His advice? "Don't forget the unsung heroes in the pits, the worker bees that are not seen. All workers are significant and deserve your attention and care, even if all you do is smile and say "hello." He was talking about the proof operators who checked back all the tellers work for any possible errors.
That was 31 years ago. I have never forgotten that valuable lesson and have used the philosophy not just in my career but in every aspect of my life. There is no unimportant person. The three proof operators I worked with all those years ago are still close valued friends.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Melancholy has come for a short visit
In everyone's life, at sometime our inner fire goes out. For the last two days my fire has only been an ember, an ember that is fighting for its life. The fire wants to burn brightly to light up the darkness all around but just doesn't seem to have the strength.
Fire needs oxygen to burn hot. I've been congested for a couple of weeks. Perhaps my brain just isn't getting the oxygen it needs.
Or perhaps it is my old companion Melancholy come for a short visit. Melancholy has visited me often in the past. I can't say I enjoy her visit but I know the signs when she comes a-callin'.
No, dear friends, this is not depression simply melancholy. I've made the mistake of allowing worry to creep in and take over my troubled mind. I've become distracted by the small voice in my head that is constantly reminding me of the poor decisions I have made lately. My problems are so meager compared to the problems that beset our world. So today I choose to feel sad; sad for all the people around the globe from their apocalyptic ills to their struggles just to exist and a little sad for me too.
Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow I will smile and my fire will burn brightly once more.
"It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves." Sir Edmund Hillary
Fire needs oxygen to burn hot. I've been congested for a couple of weeks. Perhaps my brain just isn't getting the oxygen it needs.
Or perhaps it is my old companion Melancholy come for a short visit. Melancholy has visited me often in the past. I can't say I enjoy her visit but I know the signs when she comes a-callin'.
No, dear friends, this is not depression simply melancholy. I've made the mistake of allowing worry to creep in and take over my troubled mind. I've become distracted by the small voice in my head that is constantly reminding me of the poor decisions I have made lately. My problems are so meager compared to the problems that beset our world. So today I choose to feel sad; sad for all the people around the globe from their apocalyptic ills to their struggles just to exist and a little sad for me too.
"It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves." Sir Edmund Hillary
Mean Little Birds
Fall is officially here, the hummingbirds have headed to their winter homes in South America. I will truly miss the little rascals in their aggressive dance around the hummingbird feeder. The male hummingbird will not allow the female or weaker males to partake in the nectar until they are quite certain they have proved without a doubt who is the dominate male. Watching the tiny birds flit here and there chasing the weaker is quite entertaining.
It's not so entertaining when the male of our species acts in this manner. What is it with the male of the species? Every year in the U.S. it is reported that 4.8 million women suffer abuse from their intimate partners. But in our case it is not just the men abusing the women. There is reported that 2.9 million men are abused by their partner. This is only the number of victims that have been reported. My twin sister and I were both victims of abuse but never reported it.
It is a damn shame the sense of ownership some people feel over the lives of others. I am told and I know it was true in my case that domestic abuse is used to gain and maintain control over their victim. What I can't understand is why. Why must someone have control over another human being? Why would they want control?
Fortunately they aren't all like that. I feel fortunate to be with a sweet man who believes in sharing and caring. He never raised his hand and seldom raised his voice to his departed wife. I have found him to be kind and generous and not once has he tried to be the dominate bullying male.
It's not so entertaining when the male of our species acts in this manner. What is it with the male of the species? Every year in the U.S. it is reported that 4.8 million women suffer abuse from their intimate partners. But in our case it is not just the men abusing the women. There is reported that 2.9 million men are abused by their partner. This is only the number of victims that have been reported. My twin sister and I were both victims of abuse but never reported it.
It is a damn shame the sense of ownership some people feel over the lives of others. I am told and I know it was true in my case that domestic abuse is used to gain and maintain control over their victim. What I can't understand is why. Why must someone have control over another human being? Why would they want control?
Fortunately they aren't all like that. I feel fortunate to be with a sweet man who believes in sharing and caring. He never raised his hand and seldom raised his voice to his departed wife. I have found him to be kind and generous and not once has he tried to be the dominate bullying male.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Sweet Bliss, Sweet Sleep
"O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, that thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, and steep my senses in forgetfulness." William Shakespeare, Henry IV
For years and I mean y-e-a-r-s I have suffered from insomnia. As I recall the long nights began about the time I started going through menopause, some 20 years ago. I'm one of the lucky ones who toss and turn night after night but not every 365 nights a year. Five to six nights in a row I roll from one side of the bed to the other, I beat my pillow and tell the small voice in my head to SHUT-UP, then I dose for a couple of hours. Finally exhaustion sits in and I sleep for a few nights. Sweet bliss. Sweet sleep.
I've learned to adapt. So it's all right. Perhaps tonight I will sleep. Or not.
For years and I mean y-e-a-r-s I have suffered from insomnia. As I recall the long nights began about the time I started going through menopause, some 20 years ago. I'm one of the lucky ones who toss and turn night after night but not every 365 nights a year. Five to six nights in a row I roll from one side of the bed to the other, I beat my pillow and tell the small voice in my head to SHUT-UP, then I dose for a couple of hours. Finally exhaustion sits in and I sleep for a few nights. Sweet bliss. Sweet sleep.
I've learned to adapt. So it's all right. Perhaps tonight I will sleep. Or not.
Time to Choose your Personal Story
Each of us has a personal story. A story that begins "Once upon a time" just like we heard as children. Too often those childhood stories were narrated by nay sayers who were trying to reinforce values that lead to perfection. Since perfection is a goal done of us can achieve the child hears negative reinforcement rather than positive. Sometimes that works but more often it teaches the child to judge her/himself harshly.
For example, one fall evening as my father was helping my little sister with her homework he became irritated by her inability to understand a concept. Finally in frustration he stood up, raised his hands and said "Are you stupid?" In my father's defense he had just gotten home from a hard day of work, hadn't eaten his supper yet, and probably was wishing he could just simply watch a little television and chill before he resumed his duties as a family man. I am quite certain he forgot he said those words one hour later but those words echoed in that small child's head for years.
She struggled through grade school and high school still hearing those words. Ten years after high school she fell in love, not with a man but with an occupation. She fell in love with nursing. To be a nurse she had to face her internal fears of inadequacy, she had to go back to school. She had to choose to continue listening to that small voice in her head that told her she wasn't smart enough or to ignore it and do what she loved.
This fairy tale ended "happily ever after". She went to college and graduated top of her class. She is now the lead nurse for the CEO of the medical clinic in Hannibal MO.
Not all our personal stories end well. We must all learn to choose who we are to be. Who we are is our choice. For years I thought I was making a choice by not choosing. I was wrong, because not to choose is to choose. It is a choice not to choose. We must choose who we are to be. We choose to be oppressed and downtrodden or we choose to be happy and leaders. How will you choose today?
For example, one fall evening as my father was helping my little sister with her homework he became irritated by her inability to understand a concept. Finally in frustration he stood up, raised his hands and said "Are you stupid?" In my father's defense he had just gotten home from a hard day of work, hadn't eaten his supper yet, and probably was wishing he could just simply watch a little television and chill before he resumed his duties as a family man. I am quite certain he forgot he said those words one hour later but those words echoed in that small child's head for years.
She struggled through grade school and high school still hearing those words. Ten years after high school she fell in love, not with a man but with an occupation. She fell in love with nursing. To be a nurse she had to face her internal fears of inadequacy, she had to go back to school. She had to choose to continue listening to that small voice in her head that told her she wasn't smart enough or to ignore it and do what she loved.
This fairy tale ended "happily ever after". She went to college and graduated top of her class. She is now the lead nurse for the CEO of the medical clinic in Hannibal MO.
Not all our personal stories end well. We must all learn to choose who we are to be. Who we are is our choice. For years I thought I was making a choice by not choosing. I was wrong, because not to choose is to choose. It is a choice not to choose. We must choose who we are to be. We choose to be oppressed and downtrodden or we choose to be happy and leaders. How will you choose today?
Monday, October 10, 2011
Time to get Creative - Again
Not sure but I may have finally figured out why I have been stuck and unable to proceed with my book. The work I have been doing is mediocre. Mediocre is pretty good but not good enough. The material for my book must be more compelling, more noteworthy, more shareable.
When I conceived the idea I was certain I was creating a work of art that was world-changing, something I could be truly proud to promote. For a year now every time I told someone I was writing a book I felt like a sleaze bum because my words were not speaking to me so I was certain they would not speak to my readers. Somewhere along the way I wandered off the creative path. Who knows (or perhaps who really cares) where I began my detour? Perhaps I began worrying too much about failure, or perfection, or perhaps and this is quite likely the story, it was because I started living again after Les' death and simply lost the desire to ponder death and grieving.
Still I strongly believe I have something of importance to say. Now that I have some idea of what is causing me to stall, it is time to start that creative engine running again. That is the good thing about creating. I can start again, and again, and again until I am happy with the final results. So let's begin!
When I conceived the idea I was certain I was creating a work of art that was world-changing, something I could be truly proud to promote. For a year now every time I told someone I was writing a book I felt like a sleaze bum because my words were not speaking to me so I was certain they would not speak to my readers. Somewhere along the way I wandered off the creative path. Who knows (or perhaps who really cares) where I began my detour? Perhaps I began worrying too much about failure, or perfection, or perhaps and this is quite likely the story, it was because I started living again after Les' death and simply lost the desire to ponder death and grieving.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Eureka Springs 2011 Trip
For one whole year Darrell and I have planned the adventures we would have with our friends on the Looking Glass Corvette Club's annual meet in Eureka Springs Arkansas. This event is so popular if reservations are not made a year in advance you're just out of luck because there are no vacancies in that little touristy village.
Perhaps we put too much contemplation into this outing because if something could go wrong it did.
The difficulties began one week before the scheduled event when Darrell decided to check on our room reservations. Luckily Darrell is a cautious man. I go through life by the seat of my pants and would have said, "What's your worries? We made reservations, didn't we?" The man on the other end of the telephone line in Eureka Springs informed him his reservation had been cancelled. After some harsh words were spoken and the manager of the motel was contacted we were able to obtain our room.
Whew, that was a close call.
Then the morning of the day we were to leave I had a case of the shits. I was trying to come up with a gentle way to break the news to Darrell that the trip would have to be postponed a day so that my bowels could calm down, when the bathroom trips simply stopped.
Whew, another close call. The trip was still on as planned.
We had planned to stop on our way to Eureka Springs for a short visit with my sister and her husband who happen to reside right on the route and about half way to our destination. Due to a couple of unanticipated delays we did not arrive at my sister's home until 10 P.M. Tired but excited to see my sister, we sat up and chatted into the wee hours of the morning.
When we left my sister's I noticed that Darrell no longer seemed quite as excited about the trip. I thought it was from lack of sleep but felt certain his spirits would rise again once he was among his friends.
Wow, was I ever wrong this time. His problem was not from a lack of sleep, rather from a sinus infection. He tried not to show how miserable he was but it was obvious. He worried that I wasn't having fun and I worried that he was forcing himself to entertain me when he was much too sick resulting in neither one of us having much fun.
It was not a wasted trip. We still managed to have some really good moments. As they say, "Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." The little town of Eureka Springs was jammed packed with corvettes, old, new and every color of the rainbow. Some corvette owners had spent thousands of dollars on specialty paint jobs. The cars themselves were exquisite pieces of art. Then of course there was the magnificent view of the Missouri and Arkansas rolling hills. Talk about breath taking! God's own paint brush always outshines man's attempt to copy His creation. The fall foliage had just started its annual color change. There was still a lot of green but what a glorious picture, blue skies, rolling hills covered in green, gold and orange trees, deep valleys sprinkled with ponds and lakes and lazy cattle grazing in the fields. Last but not least, surrounded by friends who care about us.
The trip may not have been all we dreamed it would be but beautiful memories were still formed. Living through experiences good and bad is what makes us truly come alive. I am happy to say I am alive and loving it.
Perhaps we put too much contemplation into this outing because if something could go wrong it did.
The difficulties began one week before the scheduled event when Darrell decided to check on our room reservations. Luckily Darrell is a cautious man. I go through life by the seat of my pants and would have said, "What's your worries? We made reservations, didn't we?" The man on the other end of the telephone line in Eureka Springs informed him his reservation had been cancelled. After some harsh words were spoken and the manager of the motel was contacted we were able to obtain our room.
Whew, that was a close call.
Then the morning of the day we were to leave I had a case of the shits. I was trying to come up with a gentle way to break the news to Darrell that the trip would have to be postponed a day so that my bowels could calm down, when the bathroom trips simply stopped.
Whew, another close call. The trip was still on as planned.
We had planned to stop on our way to Eureka Springs for a short visit with my sister and her husband who happen to reside right on the route and about half way to our destination. Due to a couple of unanticipated delays we did not arrive at my sister's home until 10 P.M. Tired but excited to see my sister, we sat up and chatted into the wee hours of the morning.
When we left my sister's I noticed that Darrell no longer seemed quite as excited about the trip. I thought it was from lack of sleep but felt certain his spirits would rise again once he was among his friends.
Wow, was I ever wrong this time. His problem was not from a lack of sleep, rather from a sinus infection. He tried not to show how miserable he was but it was obvious. He worried that I wasn't having fun and I worried that he was forcing himself to entertain me when he was much too sick resulting in neither one of us having much fun.
It was not a wasted trip. We still managed to have some really good moments. As they say, "Life is not measured by the breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away." The little town of Eureka Springs was jammed packed with corvettes, old, new and every color of the rainbow. Some corvette owners had spent thousands of dollars on specialty paint jobs. The cars themselves were exquisite pieces of art. Then of course there was the magnificent view of the Missouri and Arkansas rolling hills. Talk about breath taking! God's own paint brush always outshines man's attempt to copy His creation. The fall foliage had just started its annual color change. There was still a lot of green but what a glorious picture, blue skies, rolling hills covered in green, gold and orange trees, deep valleys sprinkled with ponds and lakes and lazy cattle grazing in the fields. Last but not least, surrounded by friends who care about us.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Dad's Cholesterol Poem
Years ago my father wrote this poem after his doctor told him his cholesterol was too high and he was going to have to change his eating habits. Two or three years ago he rewrote the poem while we were in Florida and was honored with a request to recite the poem to the residents of the campground where we stayed. I liked his new version better than this one. Unfortunately he gave his copy to a musician in the group who planned to put the poem to music. That version is probably lost forever because the musician was a victim of Alzheimer's disease.
I went to the Doctor and the Doctor said,
You look to be much, much overfed,
After you pay me my overpriced dues,
I'll tell you the foods you cannot use.
All those fast foods you so dearly love,
Get rid of them all with a great big shove,
For breakfast you can have a big bowl of mush,
To start your day with an enthusiastical rush.
Coffee you can have it only it's black
NO! I'm not going to give your money back.
Don't understand you must get this under control,
Your arteries are being choked with cholesterol.
It comes from those things we all like to eat
You must stay away from most types of meat.
We cannot allow anything that is sweet
Unbuttered popcorn you can have as a treat.
That should take care of most of your needs,
If you crave a little fat? Try sesame seeds.
Eat freely of vinegar, spices, bouillon and mustard.
That's when I called him a name rhyming with custard.
Hey, he thinks I'm a bird.
Craziest thing I ever heard.
I went to the Doctor and the Doctor said,
You look to be much, much overfed,
After you pay me my overpriced dues,
I'll tell you the foods you cannot use.
All those fast foods you so dearly love,
Get rid of them all with a great big shove,
For breakfast you can have a big bowl of mush,
To start your day with an enthusiastical rush.
Coffee you can have it only it's black
NO! I'm not going to give your money back.
Don't understand you must get this under control,
Your arteries are being choked with cholesterol.
It comes from those things we all like to eat
You must stay away from most types of meat.
We cannot allow anything that is sweet
Unbuttered popcorn you can have as a treat.
That should take care of most of your needs,
If you crave a little fat? Try sesame seeds.
Eat freely of vinegar, spices, bouillon and mustard.
That's when I called him a name rhyming with custard.
Hey, he thinks I'm a bird.
Craziest thing I ever heard.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Rocketry Winner, Colt McNally
Baby Sister Tina, lives in Texas with her husband and three teen age children. The eldest, Colt McNally graduated from high school this past spring. I would like to say he graduated with honors but that is not the case. Colt is too mischievous for that yet he managed to pull off one high jinks that millions of students would love to do.
My nephew Colt and three buddies (Michael Gerritsen, Landon Fisher and John Easum) were members of the Team America Rocketry Challenge, a nation-wide contest where students in 7th through 12th grades, design, build, and fly a rocket to reach specific parameters competing for over $6,000 in scholarships and prizes. The rocket entries were required to reach over 750 feet in altitude and land in 40 to 45 seconds, all while carrying a raw egg payload. If the egg breaks, or even fractures, the team is disqualified. Over 600 teams from across the nation entered the challenge. Colt's team got first place at the national finals located in The Plains, Virginia on May 14, 2011.
That isn't the end of the story even though that is pretty spectacular. The four young men then entered the international champions at the 2011 Paris Airshow against the top teams from the UK and France and won first place there. This time not only did their rocket have to pass strict standards but the boys were required to give presentations covering their extensive rocket program to a panel of judges.
Michael Gerritsen said, "The Paris Airshow was absolutely incredible. It was the perfect way to end our story in rocketry and made all of the hard work, long hours of trouble shooting, and failure worth it." Colt summed up his experience as life changing, "The adventure the program put me through has really changed my view of science. I first joined the rocket club purely because of the potential to win money, never thinking that I would become a science major."
We hear so many horror stories about our public school system but our teachers must be doing something right. These boys attended Rockwall Texas public high school. They have been working on this since they were in 8th grade. My family and I were impressed with their efforts in 8th through 11th grade when they had qualified to enter the contest and had placed in the top 10. We are now bursting with pride. These young men are real winners and I am proud to say one of them is my nephew.
My nephew Colt and three buddies (Michael Gerritsen, Landon Fisher and John Easum) were members of the Team America Rocketry Challenge, a nation-wide contest where students in 7th through 12th grades, design, build, and fly a rocket to reach specific parameters competing for over $6,000 in scholarships and prizes. The rocket entries were required to reach over 750 feet in altitude and land in 40 to 45 seconds, all while carrying a raw egg payload. If the egg breaks, or even fractures, the team is disqualified. Over 600 teams from across the nation entered the challenge. Colt's team got first place at the national finals located in The Plains, Virginia on May 14, 2011.
That isn't the end of the story even though that is pretty spectacular. The four young men then entered the international champions at the 2011 Paris Airshow against the top teams from the UK and France and won first place there. This time not only did their rocket have to pass strict standards but the boys were required to give presentations covering their extensive rocket program to a panel of judges.
Michael Gerritsen said, "The Paris Airshow was absolutely incredible. It was the perfect way to end our story in rocketry and made all of the hard work, long hours of trouble shooting, and failure worth it." Colt summed up his experience as life changing, "The adventure the program put me through has really changed my view of science. I first joined the rocket club purely because of the potential to win money, never thinking that I would become a science major."
We hear so many horror stories about our public school system but our teachers must be doing something right. These boys attended Rockwall Texas public high school. They have been working on this since they were in 8th grade. My family and I were impressed with their efforts in 8th through 11th grade when they had qualified to enter the contest and had placed in the top 10. We are now bursting with pride. These young men are real winners and I am proud to say one of them is my nephew.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Taste the Sweetness of Life
This morning Darrell hopped on his big hunken bathroom scales that looks like something from a doctor's office back in the 50s and excitedly exclaims "I'm down to 188." "That's nice" is my bland return. "I haven't stepped on the scales in a couple of months." Nonchalantly I step on the scales. Yikes! Could I really have put on 10 pounds since I started dating Darrell? Darrell starts laughing, his big toe was lightly pressing on the scales; but to my dismay when he stepped back, I still had put on 5 pounds. Sweetly Darrell tells me how good those 5 pounds look on me.
Darrell is a super duper person and I have a wonderful time with him but he has found my weakness. Sugar! For as long as I can remember I have worshipped sugar, all forms of sugar; crystals, powdered, honey, fruit, anything sweet. In Darrell's endeavor to make me happy, he has become my supplier.
I am declaring war on sugar. I fully expect this to be one of the hardest things I've done, (especially since Halloween is just around the corner with all that candy supposedly for children when in truth it is for me, the Candy Monster). I am told to end an addiction one must substitute something good for the harmful substance. I intend to substitute the sweetness of life for cakes, cookies and candies, the terrible Cs. No more sugar or overdosing on carbohydrates. Instead I will devote myself to savoring the sweet things in life such as my grandchildren, visits with family and friends, lunch dates with girlfriends and of course my upcoming trips to Eureka Springs, the Bahamas and to fabulous Spain.
To truly savor the sweetness of life I need to feel great; to do that I need to stop eating sugar and start exercising regularly. Life is full of sweetness. It just doesn't have to come in the form of sugar.
Darrell is a super duper person and I have a wonderful time with him but he has found my weakness. Sugar! For as long as I can remember I have worshipped sugar, all forms of sugar; crystals, powdered, honey, fruit, anything sweet. In Darrell's endeavor to make me happy, he has become my supplier.
I am declaring war on sugar. I fully expect this to be one of the hardest things I've done, (especially since Halloween is just around the corner with all that candy supposedly for children when in truth it is for me, the Candy Monster). I am told to end an addiction one must substitute something good for the harmful substance. I intend to substitute the sweetness of life for cakes, cookies and candies, the terrible Cs. No more sugar or overdosing on carbohydrates. Instead I will devote myself to savoring the sweet things in life such as my grandchildren, visits with family and friends, lunch dates with girlfriends and of course my upcoming trips to Eureka Springs, the Bahamas and to fabulous Spain.
To truly savor the sweetness of life I need to feel great; to do that I need to stop eating sugar and start exercising regularly. Life is full of sweetness. It just doesn't have to come in the form of sugar.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Eric Clapton
I read a quote today that shocked me. No, not the quote. The quote is an expression most of us have said or wanted to say a millions times. The author of the quote was the surprise.
"Given the choice between accomplishing something and just lying around, I'd rather lie around. No contest." Eric Clapton
Eric Clapton? Really"
He is so over the top talented. He is the only triple inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (as a member of both the Yardbirds and Cream and as if that wasn't enough as a solo artist). He kicked his addiction to heroine and alcohol and now works towards helping the poor kick their habits. (Maybe he could help me kick my slothenly ways habit, I really could use a little help and I'm poor.)
Just goes to show you where there's a will there's a way. He got off his butt and made things happen. Guess I better get off my lazy ass before I'm too old to do something, not that I'll ever be an Eric Clapton.
"Given the choice between accomplishing something and just lying around, I'd rather lie around. No contest." Eric Clapton
Eric Clapton? Really"
He is so over the top talented. He is the only triple inductee into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame (as a member of both the Yardbirds and Cream and as if that wasn't enough as a solo artist). He kicked his addiction to heroine and alcohol and now works towards helping the poor kick their habits. (Maybe he could help me kick my slothenly ways habit, I really could use a little help and I'm poor.)
Just goes to show you where there's a will there's a way. He got off his butt and made things happen. Guess I better get off my lazy ass before I'm too old to do something, not that I'll ever be an Eric Clapton.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
The "Gold Bob", The "Ghost" and "Poddy" Sappy Saturday Stories
Pleasant Hill community has been the birthplace of many humorous tales involving local residents of the past. The stories are so amusing they live on and on and when repeated are enjoyed by the listeners as much as when the events occurred years ago. One tale, judging from the number of times it has been told, deserves an academy award as the "cream of the crop". This particular story is the ghost story of W.H. Barnes, better known in this locality as "Poddy", a familiar figure on the streets of Pleasant Hill until his death in 1944.
Slight variations have been noted in the story from time to time but the basic facts simmer down as follows. The all-star cast involved consisted of George Moore, Cleve Windmiller, Bert Hoover, Jim Youngblood and W.H. (Poddy) Barnes and they will be herein-after referred to as Churney Moore, Cleve Windmiller, Shad Hoover, Youngblood and Poddy. The setting for the event was on what is known as the Bybee Farm at the north edge of Pleasant Hill along the ridge to the north of Crescent Heights Cemetery. The farm is now owned by Bob Webster. The time was about 11 o'clock on a very dark night around the turn of the century.
First, it is necessary to explain the "gold-bob" craze that was an important topic of conversation in the community at that time. The said gold-bob was a small metal gadget suspended on the end of a buckskin cord and when in presence of metal, especially gold it gyrated in a manner as if to say "It's Here! Keep Looking!" Churney was the owner of a gold-bob and it was reported the ingredients placed in the "bob" were supplied and mixed by S.H Clare, a druggist in Pleasant Hill for many years. "Churney stated he had forgotten the secret formula but recalled experimenting with the "gold-bob" and the uncanny manner it located gold. He reported on one occasion he and Price Hosford were giving it a test and under one cup he placed a gold coin. Churney had no trouble locating the cup hiding the gold with the use of his gold-bob. One time, however, it failed to settle on any of the cups and Churney was beginning to wonder what went wrong. Finally Price admitted there was no gold under the cups, he had the gold coin in his hand.
Several years previous to the ghost episode another story had been handed down by an old eccentric fellow named McDonald who resided in the old shack that stood along the ridge on Bybee Farm. According to McDonald he heard his dogs viciously barking one night but never left his bed to determine the reason. The next morning though there was evidence someone had dug a hole near the house and unearthed a pot. The pot was still there and marks inside indicated it had been filled with gold coins.
For several years afterwards Pleasant Hill people wondered if other pots of gold remained buried near the site of the dwelling. Churney was hoping the gold-bob would lead him to a hidden treasure somewhere in that area. He often talked with Poddy about the supposed buried gold at the McDonald homestead and the possibility of finding more with the gold-bob. From this background of circumstances Churney, Cleve and Youngblood conceived the idea of working a ghost hoax on Poddy and Shad. Poddy and Shad knew the story and were easily convinced to join in the dig to find gold on the old McDonald property with the use of the gold-bob.
Churney and Cleve developed a plan of action and Youngblood, who was to be the ghost, was the unknown member of the party. Poddy and Shad were convinced only four men in the entire community knew about the proposed search. The plans were discussed (probably over a bottle of White Lightning) by the men and solemn obligations taken to not divulge the secret mission to anyone. The big night came and the party of four men, with the gold-bob, quietly slipped out of town to the Bybee Farm with tools to dig near the site of the old cabin. Youngblood had previously arrived at the scene and was hidden nearby in brush awaiting their arrival. He was wearing a white sheet over his clothes and over the sheet an overcoat. When the treasure hunters arrived they selected a spot and started digging. It wasn't long until they had excavated a hole five feet deep the approximate size of a grave.
They talked softly and made little noise as they worked. They thought someone might be spying on their project. Occasionally they would hear a noise in the brush and all would stop working and listen intently. Churney would usually ask if the rest thought someone was watching them. (The said noise was being made by either Churney or Cleve throwing a clod of dirt into the brush when Poddy or Shad were not looking.) Finally after hearing another rustle in the brush they decided to investigate to determine if there was someone actually spying on them. This departure from the open grave gave Youngblood the opportunity to leave his place of hiding and drop into the hole with the black overcoat over him. The two men, Churney and Cleve had also dug a hole near the bottom along one side and Youngblood was able to crawl in the niche and was completely hidden.
After the four men made a thorough investigation and were positive no one was near, they returned to the hole and all they could see in the hole was complete darkness below. The hour was late and a storm was approaching in the west when Churney suggested returning to town. Cleve at this point reported he had the power to call the spirits of the the dead, had done it many times before and believed he could do it again. He wanted to contact Mr. McDonald to ask about the more gold. There was considerable doubt about his ability to do this so they insisted he prove it. Cleve agreed to try. First he had the group join hands and remain very quiet, and after several moments of silence, reported he wasn't able to make contact in that manner. He then had the four men gather around him and place their hands on the wooden spade handle. This, he said, was necessary if the spirit was to be contacted.
In a loud but slow voice he called out into the darkness of the night: "McDonald, if your soul is in hell come out and show it!" At that instant the "spirit" robed in white, began to appear in the bottom of the hole and started to arise toward them. Variation in the story appear from here on. One report stated Shad made a quick jump away from the side of the open grave, broke both the she-strings, then fell to the ground.
When he saw Churney and Cleve start to run he got up and left the scene, destination Pleasant Hill. Poddy, they reported, didn't waste any time in getting into motion. Nearby was a four foot woven wire fence with two barb wires on the top and he cleared the fence with ease. Further facts, as told , were Poddy crossed a freshly plowed field and the only visible tracks were occasional marks as if something floating across the field. There was some doubt about Poddy carrying a rock in each hand when he reached Pleasant Hill with moisture dripping from the stones. There are two things all participants agreed on, first: Poddy and Shad were really frightened and second, the departing speed was quite fast. Poddy and Shad attested to both facts many times. It was several days before the two men were convinced the ghost experience was a hoax and was many more days before they felt at ease after dark.
This is one of my mother's stories as told to her by her mother, Nina Dennis.
Slight variations have been noted in the story from time to time but the basic facts simmer down as follows. The all-star cast involved consisted of George Moore, Cleve Windmiller, Bert Hoover, Jim Youngblood and W.H. (Poddy) Barnes and they will be herein-after referred to as Churney Moore, Cleve Windmiller, Shad Hoover, Youngblood and Poddy. The setting for the event was on what is known as the Bybee Farm at the north edge of Pleasant Hill along the ridge to the north of Crescent Heights Cemetery. The farm is now owned by Bob Webster. The time was about 11 o'clock on a very dark night around the turn of the century.
First, it is necessary to explain the "gold-bob" craze that was an important topic of conversation in the community at that time. The said gold-bob was a small metal gadget suspended on the end of a buckskin cord and when in presence of metal, especially gold it gyrated in a manner as if to say "It's Here! Keep Looking!" Churney was the owner of a gold-bob and it was reported the ingredients placed in the "bob" were supplied and mixed by S.H Clare, a druggist in Pleasant Hill for many years. "Churney stated he had forgotten the secret formula but recalled experimenting with the "gold-bob" and the uncanny manner it located gold. He reported on one occasion he and Price Hosford were giving it a test and under one cup he placed a gold coin. Churney had no trouble locating the cup hiding the gold with the use of his gold-bob. One time, however, it failed to settle on any of the cups and Churney was beginning to wonder what went wrong. Finally Price admitted there was no gold under the cups, he had the gold coin in his hand.
Several years previous to the ghost episode another story had been handed down by an old eccentric fellow named McDonald who resided in the old shack that stood along the ridge on Bybee Farm. According to McDonald he heard his dogs viciously barking one night but never left his bed to determine the reason. The next morning though there was evidence someone had dug a hole near the house and unearthed a pot. The pot was still there and marks inside indicated it had been filled with gold coins.
For several years afterwards Pleasant Hill people wondered if other pots of gold remained buried near the site of the dwelling. Churney was hoping the gold-bob would lead him to a hidden treasure somewhere in that area. He often talked with Poddy about the supposed buried gold at the McDonald homestead and the possibility of finding more with the gold-bob. From this background of circumstances Churney, Cleve and Youngblood conceived the idea of working a ghost hoax on Poddy and Shad. Poddy and Shad knew the story and were easily convinced to join in the dig to find gold on the old McDonald property with the use of the gold-bob.
Churney and Cleve developed a plan of action and Youngblood, who was to be the ghost, was the unknown member of the party. Poddy and Shad were convinced only four men in the entire community knew about the proposed search. The plans were discussed (probably over a bottle of White Lightning) by the men and solemn obligations taken to not divulge the secret mission to anyone. The big night came and the party of four men, with the gold-bob, quietly slipped out of town to the Bybee Farm with tools to dig near the site of the old cabin. Youngblood had previously arrived at the scene and was hidden nearby in brush awaiting their arrival. He was wearing a white sheet over his clothes and over the sheet an overcoat. When the treasure hunters arrived they selected a spot and started digging. It wasn't long until they had excavated a hole five feet deep the approximate size of a grave.
They talked softly and made little noise as they worked. They thought someone might be spying on their project. Occasionally they would hear a noise in the brush and all would stop working and listen intently. Churney would usually ask if the rest thought someone was watching them. (The said noise was being made by either Churney or Cleve throwing a clod of dirt into the brush when Poddy or Shad were not looking.) Finally after hearing another rustle in the brush they decided to investigate to determine if there was someone actually spying on them. This departure from the open grave gave Youngblood the opportunity to leave his place of hiding and drop into the hole with the black overcoat over him. The two men, Churney and Cleve had also dug a hole near the bottom along one side and Youngblood was able to crawl in the niche and was completely hidden.
After the four men made a thorough investigation and were positive no one was near, they returned to the hole and all they could see in the hole was complete darkness below. The hour was late and a storm was approaching in the west when Churney suggested returning to town. Cleve at this point reported he had the power to call the spirits of the the dead, had done it many times before and believed he could do it again. He wanted to contact Mr. McDonald to ask about the more gold. There was considerable doubt about his ability to do this so they insisted he prove it. Cleve agreed to try. First he had the group join hands and remain very quiet, and after several moments of silence, reported he wasn't able to make contact in that manner. He then had the four men gather around him and place their hands on the wooden spade handle. This, he said, was necessary if the spirit was to be contacted.
In a loud but slow voice he called out into the darkness of the night: "McDonald, if your soul is in hell come out and show it!" At that instant the "spirit" robed in white, began to appear in the bottom of the hole and started to arise toward them. Variation in the story appear from here on. One report stated Shad made a quick jump away from the side of the open grave, broke both the she-strings, then fell to the ground.
When he saw Churney and Cleve start to run he got up and left the scene, destination Pleasant Hill. Poddy, they reported, didn't waste any time in getting into motion. Nearby was a four foot woven wire fence with two barb wires on the top and he cleared the fence with ease. Further facts, as told , were Poddy crossed a freshly plowed field and the only visible tracks were occasional marks as if something floating across the field. There was some doubt about Poddy carrying a rock in each hand when he reached Pleasant Hill with moisture dripping from the stones. There are two things all participants agreed on, first: Poddy and Shad were really frightened and second, the departing speed was quite fast. Poddy and Shad attested to both facts many times. It was several days before the two men were convinced the ghost experience was a hoax and was many more days before they felt at ease after dark.
This is one of my mother's stories as told to her by her mother, Nina Dennis.
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