Livin' Till I Die & Other Fantasies

Christmas Nostalgia

2011-12-23T11:14:00.003-07:00

Here I sit, two days before Christmas, thinking of what a relief it will be for it to be over for another 10 months until the merchants start filling their shelves with gifts and deco for Christmas, while trying desperately to sell the remainder of leftover Halloween merchandise sitting along side the Thanksgiving 'stuff'. It's almost like the world is in a mass stage of holiday hysteria for the last three months of every year. Kids, along with many adults, start hinting at the myriad of stuff they can't live without, with no knowledge or consideration to the stress it creates for many a struggling family. After all, we rationalize, isn't this what credit cards were created for? Buy, buy, buy; worry about paying later. Maybe I am cynical about this in my golden years because I have memories of a time when Christmas was much simpler; stress was rare, and happy anticipation filled the air during the month of December.

It's funny how I remember very few of the gifts I ever received; which is unimportant, but I do remember the trips to Woolworth's Five & Dime store, with the two or three dollars I might have, to spend on gifts for Mom and my seven siblings. No one asked for or expected anything, which made the hours it took to pick something special for each one, so much fun. Searching the Internet or running from store to store, searching and grabbing for made-up sale priced items because 'I can't pass up such a good buy so I might as well get it' was unheard of. Retailers charged an honest price and people spent within their means. Yes, some people had more 'means' than others, but 'keeping up with the Joneses', whether we could afford it or not, hadn't reared it's ugly head in earnest, until the late Seventies. Whether we were believers or not, Christmas was all about the birth of Christ; the feelings of joy, of giving, of good will; the pageants, the choir concerts in schools and churches, the gatherings of family, and the community, the parades, the sparkle and the lights all around, were a true celebration of an historical event that changed the world. Christmas was simple in my youth...I miss it dearly. Now, don't get me wrong, I am still a fan of Christmas, it's true meaning, and fun parts of getting there. I just long for the celebration and anticipation to start in December, not October, so that when it's two days before, I don't have the ugly thought..."I'll be so glad when it's over."

BEING THANKFUL: MY PERSPECTIVE, 2011

2011-11-08T19:13:00.003-07:00

My Granddaughter-in-law, via Facebook, recently challenged friends and family to post something, each day until Thanksgiving, for which they are truly thankful. It's been fun to see the similarities, interesting to see the differences of each person. Being the semi lazy person I have become since retiring, I've thought about this challenge but not posted a thing. This does not mean I am an ungrateful, why bother person, it simply means I sometimes have to get out of my 'thinking is too much work, even the simple stuff' mode, kick myself in the butt, grease up the gears in my head and put the metal to the pedal. The 'think' road can be rocky and sometimes unexpected thoughts pop up but the beauty of the memories make for a breathtaking view of what is truly important in life, if you allow yourself to look. With that in mind, I will share my thoughts on what about life gives me pause to be thankful. Using this format also means the lazy in me is still alive and kicking, for I will only have to address this once before Thanksgiving arrives.

I am thankful for my family and friends; ALL OF THEM, living or passed on; especially because there are millions of humans on this earth who have absolutely no one in either catagory.
I have had serious illnesses and broken bones; I am thankful for these because they have helped me to appreciate that I am more healthy than not and have been given the strength of spirit to overcome these blips and go on.
I have felt searing sorrow and grief many times; I am thankful for these feelings because they have reminded me that I am blessed to have the ability to love and truly care.
I have been successful and I have failed; I am grateful for both because the first gave me confidence, the second has taught me humility and given me the opportunity to become a better version of who I am.

I have felt pure love, happiness, euphoria, joy, laughter, and silliness; rejection, depression, humility, fear, anger, hatred, physical and emotional pain. I am thankful for the experience of all these because it tells me that I have lived a life full of the diversity of just Being a Human.

Yes indeed...Life if good and I am most grateful to my Creator who gave this life, at this time, to live according to the whisperings of My soul.

It Hurts to Adapt

2011-11-04T15:35:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, Mike and I went to Dolores' to get my pickup; Mike wanted new tires on it before Winter. Dolores and Cindy had been using it for a few weeks to get Cindy & Tiffany moved into their new home, haul things from one house to the other, and to take a few loads to the city dump; 'stuff' they had finally admitted they could live without.

Dolores & I excused ourselves to the patio to have a quick smoke and cup of coffee while Mike remained inside watching a news program. We chit-chatted for a few then Dolores said to me, "Dorothy, Mike is so thin I didn't recognize him when I answered the door". She hadn't seen him for a few weeks because I usually go to her house because it's just easier for her.

I was shocked into realizing that I had adapted to the changes Mike has gone through since his cancer diagnosis last January. When we got back to our home, I looked at him and remembered; this is not the man who always stood tall and erect, that stance of a man trained in the military. Instead I saw a little old man, stooped beyond his years; I remembered his trim & mostly fit body and saw the how the size 31 Levis that he had worn for years hung off his body like a too-big sack; I looked at the jacket he always wears too keep warm even though the furnace thermostat is set way higher than is comfortable for me; I saw his once thick hair, thinned and dried from radiation and chemo, his once pink skin sallow and colorless, his eyes sunken and darkly circled from the pain he feels every minute of every day. I longed to hear the deep melodious voice I loved so much, knowing it is forever silenced. I have adapted to this because he has a backbone of steel, never complaining, just accepting what is, is. I love him more because of his strength but it would be a lie to say anything other than it hurts to adapt.

THIS SENIOR CITIZEN NAILED IT...

2011-10-03T18:01:00.001-06:00

I think the feelings and comments of this 63 year old reflect the sentiments of many people!

Alan Simpson, Senator from Wyoming, Co-Chairman of the deficit commission, calls senior citizens the Greediest Generation as he compared "Social Security" to a milk cow with 310 million teats.

Here's a response in a letter from an unknown fellow in Montana...I think he is a little ticked off!! He also tells it like it is!

AUGUST 2010

"Hey, Alan, let's get a few things straight.

1. As a career politician, you have been on the public dole for FIFTY YEARS!

2. I have been paying Social Security taxes for 48 years (since I was 15 yrs old, I'm now 63).

3. My SS payments, and those of millions of other Americans, were safely tucked away in an interest bearing account for decades until you political pukes decided to raid the account and give OUR money to a bunch of zero ambition losers in return for votes, thus bankrupting the system and turning SS into a Ponzi scheme that would have made Bernie Madoff proud.

4. Recently, just like Lucy and Charlie brown, you and your ilk pulled the proverbial football away from millions of American seniors nearing retirement and moved the goalposts for full retirement from age 65 to age 67. NOW, you and your shill commission is proposing to move the goal posts YET AGAIN!

5. I, and millions of other Americans, have been paying into Medicare from Day ONE, and now you morons propose to change the rules of the game, Why? Because you idiots mismanaged other parts of the economy to such and extent that you need to steal money from Medicare to pay the bills.

6. I, and millions of other Americans have been paying income taxes our entire lives, and now you propose to increase our taxes yet again. Why? Because you incompetent bastards spend our money so profligately that you just kept on spending even after you ran out of money. Now, you come to the American taxpayers and say you need more to pay off YOUR debt.

To add insult to injury, you label us "greedy" for calling "bullshit" on your incompetence. Well, Captain Bullshit, I have a question for YOU.

1. How much money have you earned from the American taxpayers during your pathetic 50-year political career?

2. At what age did you retire from your pathetic political career, and how much are you receiving in annual retirement benefits from the American taxpayers?

3. How much do you pay for your government provided health insurance?

4. What cuts in YOUR retirement and healthcare benefits are you proposing in your disgusting deficit reduction proposal, or, as usual, have you exempted yourself and your political cronies?

It is you, Captain Bullshit, and your political co-conspirators called Congress who are the "greedy" ones. It is you and your fellow nutcases who have bankrupted America and stolen the American dream from millions of loyal, patriotic taxpayers. And for what? Votes.

That's right, sir. You and yours have bankrupted America for the sole purpose of advancing your pathetic poltical careers . You know it, we know it, and you know we know it.

And you can take that to the bank you miserable son of a bitch.

No one has been able to explain why men and women serve in the U.S. Military for 20 years, risking their lives protecting freedom, and only get 50% of their pay, while politicians hold their political positions in the safe confines of the capital, protected by these same men and women, and receive full pay retirement after serving ONE term. It just does not make any sense.

On Fox news they learned that the staffers of Congress family members are exempt from having to pay back student loans. This would get national attention if ALL news networks would broadcast it. When you add this to the information below, just where will all of it stop?

35 States filed lawsuits against the Federal Government

Governors of 35 states have filed suit against the Federal Government for imposing unlawful burdens upon them. It only takes 38 States to convene a Constitutional Convention.

This will take thirty seconds to read. If you agree, pass it on.

This is an idea that we should address:

For too long we have been to complacent about the workings of Congress. Many citizens had no idea that Members of Congress could retire with the same pay after only one term, that they specifically exempted themselves from many of the laws they have passed (such as being exempt from any fear of prosecution for sexual harassment) while ordinary citizens must live under those laws. The latest is to exempt themselves from the Health Care reform...in all of it's forms. Somehow, that doesn't seem logical. We do not have an 'elite' that is above the law. I truly don't care if they are Democrat, Republican, Independent or whatever.

The self-serving must stop.

Proposed 28th Amendment to the United States Constitution: "Congress shall make no law that applies to the citizens of the United States that does not apply equally to the Senators and/or Representatives in Congress; that does not apply equally to the citizens of the United States."

THIS MESSAGE IS OVER A YEAR OLD (basically, only businesses use email these days) BUT IT CAN SPREAD QUICKLY THROUGH THE SOCIAL NETWORKS IF YOU 'LIKE' OR 'SHARE'.

Yesterday

2011-07-25T11:06:00.001-06:00

YESTERDAY:

You could lay out on your lawn at night and see so many stars that it was hard to notice the black velvet sky surrounding them
You knew the names of every neighbor on your block; kids, parents and pets, included.
Houses and cars were never locked; doors and windows were left open all night to allow cool breezes to ease your sleep.
Door to door salesmen were allowed into your home with no fear; even if you were alone.
Kids could play outside all day long with no supervision.
Children had to complete their chores, do their homework, and be responsible before any play came into play. No exceptions!
Children respected adults and never dared talk back to them or ever, ever used fowl language. (well maybe with very special friends who would never squeal on you)
School was an eight hour day; class size was 25 to thirty pupils; teachers were respected; students got individual help; no one ever heard of a teachers "Aid".
PE was just that...."Physical" Education; jumping jacks, squats, bending, stretching, running, sweating. Potatoes and gravy were a staple and kids were very rarely fat.
Girls dressed like girls and boys, like boys. There was never a question of gender.
People who didn't grow a garden and/or can food for the winter were rare.
Going to a "Drive-in for burgers, fries and a coke, or ice cream was a rare and huge event.
Pizza! What's pizza?
Canned soup for lunch was for the very, very wealthy.
Popcorn and candy, at the rare movie you were privileged (had to earn it) to attend, was affordable for anyone.
Learning to drive at nine or ten was normal; having a license to drive at fourteen was expected.
Traffic jam? What kind of fruit is traffic?
Television? Only on rare occasions if one of the more affluent neighbors happened to own one.
Radios were on all day and all night. Music, comedy, drama and, believe it or not, soap operas were listened to... rarely seen on a tv.
Sex was always S. E. X. but only adults knew what it really meant.
Cold cereal was a treat. Your choices: Corn Flakes, Shredded Wheat, Rice Crispies, Wheaties, All-bran, Puffed wheat or rice. That's it folks.
Soda Pop? Maybe on the Fourth of July or if your rich uncle came to visit. Kool-Ade, Kool-Ade. Tastes Great! Kool-Ade, Kool-ade. Can't wait!
A severe summer rain storm meant hours of play in the ankle high water covering the streets of your neighborhood.
If you were lucky enough to have living grand parents, they were damned old. Sixty years old? How can anyone possibly live that long?
Having a baby meant three or four days in the hospital where you were pampered by nurses. (back massages, body lotioned, feet rubbed, hair shampooed for you; assisted baths) you were served good, REAL food cooked by someone other than you; it was a terrible way to treat an exhausted new mother. Having a large family meant you got a little vacation every year or two. Hehe.
Buying on credit, except for a house or rarely a car? Do people really do that?
Three pairs of shoes: excessive-compulsive.
An automatic washing machine can't possibly get your clothes white enough!
Wadda ya mean, a machine that can wash dishes? That's what kids are for!
People who use mop sticks are just plain lazy!
Vacuums were available from the door-to-door salesman or the Sears catalog. Otherwise you didn't own one.
A compact car was a Volkswagon. Real people drove "tanks".
A dime and a nickle would buy you a gallonof gas to "cruise" downtown for hours on Friday night; that is if you could find enough pop bottles to sell to get the fifteen cents and were lucky enough to borrow the family car.
October was for Halloween, November for Thanksgiving, December for Christmas. Stores decorated and stocked items for those holidays ONLY in the month pertaining to the holiday. Same for all other holidays.
Every home owned an iron and ironing board and actually used them!
Only GIs and construction workers used the "F" word and never around women and children.
Gay was a woman's name or meant you were in a happy mood.
Pink, blue, orange or green hair was for Halloween only.
Pierced noses, chests, cheeks (and nakedness) were only seen in the National Geographic magazine.
'Respect' for others was a way of living, not a top hit on a music chart.
Being late for school or work was totally unacceptable.
Not going to school or work because you were sick meant you were near death.
Being lazy was equivalent to being a crack addict or drug dealer.
Discipline at home, school or work was not a dirty word. No one was sued for applying it.
Visiting with neighbors every day was normal.
Strangers were not people to fear.

Remembering You

2011-05-28T15:58:00.001-06:00

Memorial Day: A day created to remember and honor the men and women of America who have given their lives while serving in the Armed Forces of the United States.

I can't give the year when this day was first observed but I know that it has been a special day in my life as far back as I can remember. We, like most families when I was a child, were poor so when we would arrive at the Cemetery to honor our family and friends, as well as the Veterans, we would have arms full of lilacs and peonies, picked from our own yard or that of a friend's or neighbor's. They were layed with love at the graves we visited. The Cemetery in Pocatello, Idaho is very beautiful and serene; the roadways around the sections are lines with tall, majestic shade trees, each section planted with pines, shrubs and various flowers. As you pass through the arched gates at the main entrance you pass a beautiful stone chapel, then on to the manicured lawns of the resting places. On Memorial Days long past, we would view a sea of lilacs and peonies, their fragrance filling the air, as we drove to the places where we would honor our family and friends.

I have not lived in Pocatello since 1960, but I still love that cemetery and the memories of family and friends resting there; the parades and picnics that took place on that special day to honor and celebrate all those who had passed on to a better life.

Today, I honor my family and friends who have passed:

Beth Kinghorn - Mom
Clyde Kinghorn - Dad
Alexander Kinghorn - Grandfather
Molly Kinghorn - Grandmother
William Spillman - Grandfather
Violet Spillman - Grandmother
Robert Kinghorn - Brother
Carol Andreason - Sister
Lois Norton - Sister
David Kinghorn - Brother
Sharon Andreason - Infant niece
Dave Andreason - Brother-in-law
Sharon Kinghorn - Sister-in-law
John L Norton - Brother-in-law
Walt Nelson - Brother-in-law
Tom Divine - Brother-in-law
Speed & Meryl Lloyd - My sister Mary's in-laws
Lucien Marchand - Family friend
Beatrice Knowles - Mom's best friend
Maxcine Turman - My very, very good friend
Archie Waddoups - Father of my children
Rachel, Orba, Becky, Marva - Sisters-in-law
Ed, Andy, Leon, Rex, Enos - Brothers-in-law
Tom & Janie Davis - Eric, Janelle & Ashley's (my grand kids) Grandparents

This list could go on and on but I will end it with two more never-to-be-forgotten people who have touched my life:

Cailin Marie Davis - My first Great-granddaughter
Suzanne Allen - My best friend ever and sister of my soul.

THEY ARE NOT GONE, THEY ARE ONLY AWAY..'TIL WE MEET AGAIN

Colors

2011-05-20T21:10:00.000-06:00

I was just thinking, which can be dangerous in my case, and had an epiphany about colors. Our lives are filled with color; not just what we see with our eyes, but the colors of emotion and feeling too. "I'm feeling blue today", or " Today is blue skies and sunshine; I'm feelin' it!" Sometimes we are green with envy or maybe the thought of eating onions make us turn green from nausea. What about the man who is red-faced with anger or the sweet innocent girl who is red-faced with embarrassment when given an unexpected compliment. Certainly, we can't forget the times when we or someone we know or work with was in an unexplainable black mood.
We are white, or black, or yellow, or red and all shades in between; colors assigned to us by someone long ago in history to set us apart according to our country of origin, cultural habits, parents or a mixture of all. Our lives are filled with colorful people, animals, places and things, all making up the tapestry of humanity. Whether we realize it or not, every day of our life adds our own tone to that tapestry, until one day you wake up, look in the mirror and find......
A person staring back at you with a head full of white hair. You ask yourself, "When did this happen"? Then you realize it is the result of living in a colorful world full of colorful people; experience and adventure, both bright and dark. You have drank in the colors of nature everywhere you have been, the color of moods from every person you have known, the color combinations you have created to make your life unique... in your dress, your home, your speech, your relationships.
These thoughts about color, and many more, have made me realize that white is the combination of every color ever imagined. With that in mind, I must come to the conclusion that this head of white hair I stare at every day in the mirror, tells me that I have crammed a lot of color into my sixty-six years, and...if all goes well it will get even whiter still. Or, if you are one of those folks who detest that 'white' hair, rather than try to cover it up with some imitation color...think of it as God's 'highlights' and that in the end it turns out that 'silver' is indeed more precious than gold. After all, it took you a lifetime of colorful living to create it.

Sadness and Celebration

2009-04-07T21:13:00.000-06:00

Today is April 7th, the day Suz, my best friend ever, was born. One year ago today, she passed from this world. Today I celebrate both her birth and her death. Her birth because it brought her into my life at the most perfect time for both of us, giving birth to a wonderful and lasting friendship and an enduring love for one another; her death because it took her into a perfect environment where I know she is young again, she is with family and friends, she knows no pain, she is filled with joy, and is embraced by her Father and Creator, with a perfect and non-judgemental love and, Who also celebrates her return to her real home where time has no meaning, love has no end and every moment is perfect. My comfort is in knowing, without a doubt, that the friendship and love we share, will continue forever and that she will be there, waiting with my family, to greet me when my time comes; probably with a hot cup of coffee in hand, blue eyes sparkling and a great big grin on her fabulous face. The thought of that happy moment brings tears to my eyes and fills me with joy and anticipation.

There is also sadness in my heart today; sadness for the friendship I miss so much in this life. I think of Suz so often which always causes a lump to well up in my throat and brings an empty ache into my heart. Being sad is not necessarily a bad thing, for I know in my heart, that it draws the attention of those loved ones who have gone before, letting them know that our love for them is alive and well. Sadness is not grief nor is it depression. Sadness is an expression of love and caring.

Suz...today I celebrate your eternal life and am sad because I love you and miss you.
So here's to you my friend and soul sister.........until we meet again.

Love you forever,
Dort

Treasures From My 'Creative Treasure'

2009-03-22T12:23:00.000-06:00

1961...I was madly in love. March, 1962...the first of the fruits of that love came into my life, namely my lovely daughter Michelle. Like all Mothers, I fell in love instantly with this little bald headed, blue eyed beauty. It's hard to believe; that beautiful day in March was forty-seven years ago! In the jewelry box of life, I have stuffed all the priceless treasures which mean so much to me. Michelle is certainly a contributor to that box; in honor of her birthday this month, I would like to share a few of the tangible treasures she has added to my life.

The first two pictures were created by a very young Michelle from rocks, glue, paint and and imagination that never stops creating, to this day. The others are a drop in the bucket of what she has given to me and the world.
Hope you enjoy and join me in wishing Michelle a very happy and joy filled 47th year.

My Treasure gallery

2009-03-22T12:21:00.000-06:00

49 Questions..More Likely Less

2009-03-12T18:56:00.000-06:00

I can't even get Twitter to work so why would anyone think I could somehow get the 49 questions thing copied to my blog. Therefore, I shall make an attempt to see how many I can remember on my own. I've read Sandee's for a month, so you would think I would have the list memorized.......hehehehehehe. Here goes.

1. Are you named after anyone? Yeah, all the people born BEFORE me. Had to wait my turn you know.
2. When was the last time you cried? Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. It was a long term stay on the pity potty, what can I say.
3. Do you like your handwriting? Yes I do. If it weren't legible, Miss Ziebarth, who insisted all her students have "perfect" penmanship, would come back and make me do the "exercises" in my sleep, if necessary.
4. What is your favorite lunch meat? Hands down........meatloaf with mayo and catsup/ketchup (whichever you prefer). Mike....start cooking!
5. Do you have kids? Yes I do, four. And yes, they are the best looking, most intelligent on earth! So there!
6. Would you have yourself for a friend if you were another person? Absolutely! With are my charm, wit and personality, who wouldn't want me for a friend? Don't answer that!
7. Are you sarcastic? Every chance I get
8. Do you still have your tonsils? Yes, I do and the damn things remind me of their existence every once in a while. And it ain't in a fun way!
9. Would you bungee jump? Are you out of your mind! Why would anyone jump off a perfectly good bridge, or whatever, with a big rubber band tied to his/her leg. My mental illness has more sense than that!
10. What is your favorite cereal? Honey Nut Cheerios or mini shredded wheat.
11. Do you untie your shoes whenever you take them off? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. It's part of my mystique. Or........depends on how tight the jeans, which I happen to be wearing at the time, happen to be..
12. What is your favorite ice cream? Plain old vanilla with Hershey's choc syrup and sliced bananas. Oh yeah, chopped walnuts and caramel or butterscotch syrup too, if I happen to have some. Excuse me while I go to the freezer. Boy! Howdy!
13. What is the first thing you notice about people? The eyes have it.
14. Red or pink? Red when I'm feeling dynamic, pink when I'm feeling demure.
15. What do you like least about yourself? I suppose it is my Republican tummy. (Jelly Belly)
16. Who do you miss the most? Living? see no. 5 above. Gone before? My lovely mother, Beth
17. What are the colors of the pants and shoes you are wearing? "Can't untie my shoes" jeans are factory faded blue; the shoes (with ties) are white sneakers.
18. what are you listening to right now? Two TV's, four dogs and two cats.
19. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Lavender Blue, dilly, dilly
20. What is your favorite sport? Avoiding sporting events
21. Hair color? Natural........silver. Right now........thank God it's fading, red.
22. Eye color? more green than blue, but some of both.
23. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings. Scary, huh?
24. What color shirt are you wearing? Pale peach....matches my hair.
25. Summer or winter? Mix the two, add a little color and you've got it........Indian summer in the Fall.
26. Hugs or kisses? Both with a few dog slobbers and cat purrs for good measure.
27. What book are you reading now? I'm not, I'm answering these questions. However, I have Gold Coast and Cathedral, both my Nelson DeMille, waiting in the wings.
28. What did you watch on TV last night? Hauntings. Everything else is a blur.
29. What are your favorite sounds? A brook, babbling something I can't understand, the ocean, roaring in the wind, wind chimes tinkling in a gentle breeze, laughter from a small child, piano music, a church choir singing "How great Thou Art", a philharmonic orchestra playing anything and oh, so much more.
30. Where were you born? Pocatello, ID. It was a beautiful day in March. The birds were beginning their Spring song, flowers struggling just below the surface, in the warming earth, to raise their little heads........oh, sorry. Sometimes I do get carried away.
31. How did you meet your spouse or significant other? The former spouse, I picked up, while Friday night cruising with my friends on the streets of Blackfoot, ID, the significant other.......I picked up at the Sunshine Saloon in Boise, on a girls night out with my BFF, Suz. They chased me until I finally caught them.
32. Is the cup half full or half empty? The majority of the time it's half full. If it's half empty, I didn't like the contents to start with, but swallowed all I possibly could at the time. Man! That was certainly profound.

This is it.......the questions I pulled out of my memory. Obviously the 17 I missed were not memorable or I would have answered them. I do not ask or expect anyone to send this on or any of that stuff. I'm sure this little bit of information is sufficient to confuse the best of minds. Do have a good evening and remember.........Life is indeed, good!

'Taking Chance'

2009-03-09T17:40:00.000-06:00

I'm on vacation this week but Mother Nature stepped in, ruining my plans. Driving to Boise to visit with my family was foremost in my thoughts; not to be...the ISP road reports were of hazardous conditions for most of the trip down US95. Ok, so I argued with myself for a few hours and decided to book a flight to leave Saturday 7th at 4:10 PM. The airport is probably 15 minutes from my house; I left home, stopped at the ATM, then headed for Pullman. The wind was blowing a little, the skies cloudy, but otherwise it seemed like there would be no problem with flying that afternoon. Maybe two miles from the airport, it started to rain a little; by the time I reached the parking lot, the rain was a whiteout blizzard. Needless to sat, all flights were canceled for the day. The weather reports for the next couple of days were not encouraging (they were right, for once) so on Sunday I unpacked my bags and have felt sorry for myself ever since. Sunday was my 64th birthday which I wanted to celebrate with my kids, grandkids, and twin sister, Dewe. Instead, I pouted, refused to get dressed, slept a lot, and watched movies until 4:30 AM Monday because I'd slept a lot on Sunday.

I was going to go back to work (cancel my vacation) this morning but obviously, after watching tv all night, was in no condition to be productive, Guess what I've done all day? Watched movies on the tube and snow through the windows. And, my butt aches from sitting/laying on it so much the past few days.

All is not bad, however. While flipping channels as fast as my arthritic hands are able, I happened upon an HBO, fact based movie, titled "Taking Chance', starring Kevin Bacon. I feel it was meant for me to be here to see it. It is about a Marine officer who volunteers to accompany the body of Chance Phelps, a 20 year old soldier, killed in Iraq, home to Montana. If you have not seen it, you must! It made me cry for nearly the entire movie. In addition, it made me realize how much I have to be thankful for and that trivial things, like a canceled trip, which can be done at another time, are so unimportant compared to a life that has been willingly canceled by the bravery of a young man who died to save his comrades, and the freedoms that you and I take for granted every day of our lives.

I will never think about the death of a soldier the same again, for my heart will accompany each that I hear of, on that last journey to home, as well as the soldier who is a steadfast companion on that journey; who assures that his fallen comrade is treated with the utmost care, love, honor and respect. Please watch this poignant film.

What the Heck is That?

2009-02-23T21:31:00.000-07:00

I'm speaking of the gobblety gook in the previous post. I use Firefox as my web browser and just for the heck of it, clicked on the Scribefire button to see what it is. Well, it is a word processor that is supposed to allow me to post to my blog, or yours, from my web page. Just so it doesn't drive you nuts, the words were testing, testing, testing. Obviously, I failed the test. Don't have a clue why. However, I shall do my best to try to figure the damn thing out because it has some cool features...I think. Besides, my brain has been stuck, like a broken record, on nothing but work related stuff, for months. I would hope that maybe, just maybe, I might have something to contribute to the world other than the price of a can of beans or which bacon is the best. It may take me a while, and the loss of some of my thinning hair, but I, like Martin Luther King said, shall overcome. Come hell or high water...I swear!!

Where is the Wise Old Owl When I Need Him?

2009-02-03T19:35:00.000-07:00

Will someone please tell me how to tweet on Twitter? I signed up, posted a couple of useless tweets and haven't been able to utter a peep since. I can operate a multi-million dollars business and manage a staff of 120 people but can't chirp a few little words about my aching feet? What's up with this? ARRRRRRRGGGGG!

I Pledge

2009-01-19T20:48:00.001-07:00

I have not seen such hope and enthusiasm among the people of this nation since John F Kennedy was elected President in 1960. I am not so naive as to think that every person in this country is as hopeful and enthusiastic as others. However, it seems to me that this hope is spreading like rich, soft butter on warm, home made bread, and once you get a taste of the goodness of it, you want more and you want others to taste the deliciousness of it too.

I've been watching news programs or listening to the televised celebrations going on all over this country. The songs, the joyous words, and tears of hope for a better America have affected me more than I would have ever thought.

I'm in love with the thought that maybe, just maybe the people of this nation and the whole world are beginning a spiritual shift that is bringing the realization that we are one people who, like the flowers of the fields, have many colors, sizes, shapes and needs. Alone, we are unique and beautiful in our own way; gathering together, if we stand back and look with open eyes, we will see the exquisite beauty this blending can create.

President Obama strongly believes this, and has asked, throughout his campaign, that we believe it too, and to pledge, individually, to contribute in any way we can, to making this nation one of exquisite beauty. He is not talking exclusively of money, although it is crucial, he is speaking of trusting in our greatness, giving of our time, speaking out of our belief in the innate goodness of every human being, being willing to get our hands dirty to help our neighbors, cities and states, putting our families first; not with "things", but constructive time spent together; talking, laughing, reading, playing, teaching, working, volunteering to help others.

Tonight, I heard a black man, waiting for tomorrow's inauguration, make a profound pledge. This quote may not be exact, but close. He said, with great emotion "Barack Obama has given me hope for the first time in my life. Tonight I pledge to be an American, for I no longer have the need to be an African-American." The cheers his words arose, from the crowd of many colors, told me that he is not alone in this.

Obama is not perfect; certainly mistakes will be made; his enemies will try to bring him down; critics will take pleasure at picking him apart. Regardless of this, he is our President and I, for one, pledge to be an American first, supporting our Commander-in-Chief in his sincere desire to bring this country back to being the most respected, powerful, generous, well educated, and prosperous nation in the world. I have the utmost faith that this successful journey begins at noon on Tuesday in Washington DC, United States of America, with every citizen. Together, we can do it!!!

Peace and blessing to all........................

Amazing Grace?

2009-01-18T09:56:00.001-07:00

Thanksgiving day was nothing special at my house. I was tired from working ten straight days to get through the much appreciated frenzy of people coming into my store to fill their carts with all the ingredients for the feasts they would enjoy with their family and friends on this day. The weather was lousy and I had canceled my plans to drive to Pasco for dinner with my sister, not just because of the weather, but because I was feeling a little punk.

I was all nestled up it my bed that morning, my favorite flannel jammies keeping me warm and comfortable, determined to spend the day reading or watching old movies..or both at once. However, I have these four little furry creatures who can't stand it when I've found the perfect position of pure comfort where I can enjoy my laziness. Oh, no... it is only then that they demand to be let outside to do their "thing". So... I get up for the third time that morning, pad to the doors off the deck to let the little rascals out, while telling myself they could just stay out for an hour or so, after all they do have thick fur coats. And, just maybe they would appreciate staying in a little longer when they came back into "their" cozy, warm abode. I nestled back into a comfortable position, eyes drooping and ready for a little nappy-poo, when I heard a loud chorus of snarling, snapping and yapping creatures, wondering what the H.. is going on out there? The Fireman was oblivious to anything except the latest book he was reading, so I jumped out of bed, forgetting my slippers, and ran to the deck to investigate. My feet were freezing as I looked down the stairwell which lead to the yard. There they were, my four little darlings, attacking something. I was thinking maybe it was a field mouse or one of those little brown rabbits living in the neighbor hood, when Mumz pulled back to reveal a tiny little kitten whose was obviously scared to death.

I yelled to Mike that the dogs were trying to murder a kitten as I ran past him to get my slippers. By the time I retrieved them and got back to the door, (a matter of seconds) Mike, who loves animals with a passion, was coming in, kitten in hand, with four rabid dogs nipping at his heels. He handed the poor, helpless little thing to me. She was shaking with fright, soaking wet from dog slobber, and had pooped all over herself. What could I do but give the little ceature a bath, dry her, feed her, and try to soothe away her fear while keeping her away from those other brats who thought she was some kind of toy to knock around.

I'm not sure where she came from, but I couldn't just put her back into that cold weather and snow, could I? It took a few of days of isolation and slow introduction, but soon she and the dogs were cool with each other and playing like kids do. I admit..I payed a lot of attention to her for the four days I was off work and when I came home that first night, after going back to the job, she saw me, stood up on her hind legs and reached up for me, like a little kid! For the first couple of weeks, (no one ever claimed her) she followed me like a puppy dog, licked my face and let me hand feed her. (she still likes that ). It was amazing! That is why I call her Gracie. What can I say? She is now a part of our family, curling up next to Buddy, to sleep with me every night. I am such a wuss!!

Anyway, though hard to capture, here she is: Amazing Gracie........................................

By the way, Maggie Mae, my other cat, tolerates her to a point, but Gracie loves her anyway. LOL

YOU MADE ME LOVE YOU...............................

2009-01-11T17:38:00.000-07:00

You maaaaaaaaade me love you.
I didn't wanna do it, I didn't wanna do it.

Anyone remember that old song?

Well, here's the reason I am bringing it up at this time. As I have mentioned before, it is that damn global warming which has made the North Pole slide down over the Northwest, making it impossible, on many days, for me to get my vehicle out of the driveway so that I can get to work. Since the buck stops with me at the store I manage, I have to figure out a way to get there, come hell or high water. On the worst days of snow, and after the plows have left a two to three foot berm in front of the drive way, I get up extra early and wait with anticipation, shovel in hand, to spend an hour or three digging my way out. Not fun for a worn out old body like mine!

Last week I finally found someone who was willing to shovel my entire driveway. He brought his eight year old son, they went to work, (yes, the eight year old worked like a man) and two hours later, after several weeks of wading through snow to my knees, I could see the concrete and had a clear way to back out onto the street. It was awesome!
The next night we had a huge snow storm and I woke up to about 14" of snow covering that same driveway. It was Monday morning, I had to be to work because my Assistant was on vacation, and the snow plows were not running because school was cancelled for the next few days. I called work, told them I couldn't get out but would try to find a way to get there ASAP. When daylight came, I went out to assess the problem and it was still snowing heavily. I was stuck and panicking. The hills of Moscow were not alive with the sound of music. It was more like snow blowers, spinning wheels, and strong winds howling with laughter as they made impassable snowdrifts across the streets.

I watched out the window, willing the snow to stop. I watched as a snowplow finally made a quick pass, leaving me another beautiful berm to dig through. Damn! Then, a few minutes later, I watched as a huge four wheel drive pickup, with a commercial type snow blower on the trailer it was pulling, stopped across the street at my neighbor's house. In a matter of thirty minutes, he had her walks and driveway clear of snow. A beautiful sight. I put on my coat, waded through the snow, approached the stranger and sweetly asked if he could possibly fit another job into his schedule. I introduced myself, explained my job position and why I had to get to the store. Turned out he is a loyal customer, and a business owner who understood why I needed to be there. He was glad to clean my driveway but explained that without following that snow plow, he would not have made it up the hill to my neighborhood, even with his four wheel drive rig...the roads all over town were treacherous and he doubted I could get there in my car that day. So........he offered to give me a ride after he finished clearing another neighbor's driveway. I accepted. Then I went into my house, packed a bag for a couple of days and reserved a room at the motel across the street from Winco. I would worry about how to get home later.

This was the last straw! I couldn't take any more of digging or begging for rides to work, or paying $100 bucks a night for a room when I had a perfectly good one three miles away. Winter is in it's infancy, leaving me with no choice but to give up the vehicle I have loved more than any I have ever owned. I fought the battle with my Azera last winter, I just couldn't do it any more...so on the first good day that I could get around, I started calling dealerships to see which would be open after my work hours so that I could go in to look for a vehicle with the ability to maneuver throw these awful Winters. I started with a Mercury Mariner. Very nice and very pricy. I was honest..telling them I was comparison shopping and would not buy until I found the right vehicle at the right price. My secretary recommended a dealer with a certain type of vehicle, which she owns, so I went there next. I fell in love! It had everything I wanted...leather heated electric seating, six disc player, air, a fabulous reputation for getting around in snow, energy saving gas milage, almost zero emmissions, and best of all an affordable price.

No, it is not as luxurious as my Azera (I will always love you) or as big, and the ride isn't as smooth, but this morning, after it snowed again, I backed out of my driveway with no problems whatsoever! Yes, my precious little Subaru Forester, you made me love you...even if I didn't wanna do it! Let me introduce you to the world............................

2009-01-11T17:29:00.000-07:00

Yes, most of the snow melted by this afternoon and life is indeed, good..................

Facebook and Twitter????????????

2009-01-01T21:17:00.001-07:00

I have never been ashamed to admit this fact: when it comes to electronics of any kind, i.e., remote controls, video players, computers, cell phones, etc., I am somewhat challenged. For example: my first cell phone. I am not a telephone person; that is, I could live life perfectly well without one even though I love it when someone calls to talk to me, sometimes even a friendly salesman. (is that sick, or what?) Anyway, I do realize that phones are a necessary part of life from time to time. When I was promoted to Assistant Store Manager in 2000, I decided it was important that anyone at work, especially my boss, be able to contact me at any time in an emergency situation, regardless of where I might be. Thus the cell phone. It was a pretty little thing, (candy apple red) and seemed quite simple to operate. Like the dedicated-to-my-job person I am, I carried it with me everywhere, even making a call now and then. (I have over 4000 rollover minutes, if that tells you anything)

One day, Blaine, my store manager, asked me why I never answered my cell phone when he had tried to call me on several occasions. Of course i quickly answered that the phone had never rang, assuring him that it was always on my person and that I charged it faithfully. He asked to see it. I handed it to him; he looked it over; he got a silly looking grin on his face; he told me I had to turn it on; my face matched the candy apple red of that phone. What can I say? The damn things are wireless; some nano size little phone faerie is supposed to magically make it ring, right?

Ok, so this is basically the same experience I am having with Facebook and Twitter. I have managed to do just enough with each to be in danger of losing what little mind I have left. This baffles me because I have no problem with the programs I use on the computers at work on a daily basis. Therefore, for those who send me flowers, drinks, kisses, hugs, snowballs, invites, etc., etc., or who may be slightly interested in anything I might "twitter" about, you are SOL for a reply....I do try. I would tell you to read my mind for my responses, but I do have enough wits left about me to realize... that would require 'thinking' on my part. Apparently, I ain't good at that either. But........keep in mind.....I am lovable! And, I may just be the tool God gave you to learn patience.

Winter? I wonder.............

2008-12-27T10:35:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows that the Northwest has been hammered with snow and wind for the past two or three weeks but this is getting to the point of rediculous! Can you imagine Seattle and Portland coming to a complete stop? And, Spokane too? Last winter was enough to last for the rest of my life; apparently, Mother Nature doesn't care what I think. I'd take pictures of what's happening this very minute but you'd can't see anything because of the heavy snow falling.

Reports are coming in every few minutes of more road closures. Luckily, I am off work for the next three days so I don't have to worry until Tuesday morning of how to escape from this snowy prison, otherwise known as my driveway. There is three feet of snow in front of my garage door so my poor vehicle is having to endure this pounding out in the cold. Oh, how I long for the flat lands of the Boise valley!

This storm is supposedly coming from the south Pacific, near Hawaii, causing the air to warm. By noon, the snow is reported to be turning to rain. Straight across the road from my driveway, is a road that is quite a steep uphill grade. Now, my imagination is limited; however, visions of a river invading my garage keep running through my head. This is troublesome since I have procrastinated building that Arc I've been planning all my life.

I don't mean to be a complainer, many people are suffering from this onslaught, but my arms and back can't get enough Aleve for the pain resulting from all the shoveling I've done recently, not to mention the cold feet and hands that barely get warmed up before the next round.

The environmentalists say the globe is warming. The proof is at the North and South poles. Well, I believe them because the North Pole is sliding over Moscow and the whole Northwest as I speak.

Winter? I wonder whether (no pun intended) it will ever end.......another something to visualize and hope for. In this case, life WILL be good again, the sooner the better.

A Bundle of Joy for Christmas

2008-12-22T21:18:00.000-07:00

December 22, 1970 was a cold, snowy Winter day. I was nine months pregnant and tired from all of the Christmas preparations for the big day coming up. Darrell and Michelle were out of school for the holidays so the they, Sandee and I slept past our normal 6 AM arising time that morning. When I did get up, heading for the bathroom to empty what seemed to be an extra full bladder, I noticed something I'd never seen with my other pregnancies; I had a (don't mean to be gross) bloody mucus on my panties. You'd have thought I had never had a baby before, but this scared me so I called my Mom, who was a nurse, to ask what this meant. "Well, Honey", she said, "you are starting labor and that mucus is what is known as "show". She advised me to call my GYN, which I did. I was so sad to find that his mother had passed away so he would not be available to deliver my baby that day if I was in labor. His nurse told me I should go to the hospital to be checked, just in case.

I didn't really want to have a baby that day, being so close to Christmas and, with three young kids whom I wanted to be with to celebrate the day. However, I always (at least in those days) listened to my doctor or his nurse, so I took a bath & made myself beautiful, got the kids dressed and fed, then called my husband at work to tell him I needed to go to the hospital. He was home in a flash, we took the kids to his sister's, and headed for Pocatello, about thirty miles from our home in Moreland. By the time we arrived at the Bannock Memorial about 11:00 AM, I no longer had any doubt that I would give birth on that day.

We were so happy to be having this baby, and we were absolutely certain it would be a boy. My only disappointment was that Dr. Olsen would not be there to do the delivery. I had such absolute trust in him and knew nothing about the on-call Doctor which made me a tad uncomfortable. However, it was also the "new" thing to allow fathers into the delivery room for the birth, which we thought was pretty cool and made me feel better because I would have at least one person in the room with whom I was familiar.

I really had a pretty short, but very hard labor and was glad to be wheeled into the delivery room around 3 PM. The doctor gave me a Saddle block, numbing me from the waist down to my toes and the work began. Between contractions, Archie and I were having a little argument about whether our new son would be David Craig or Craig David. I wanted the latter. However, much to our surprise, Craig David didn't have the right plumbing for that name. I'm so darn smart, I figured that out as watched her delivery in the overhead mirror. It didn't matter...we were thrilled to have her. The doctor did give us a fright when she slipped out of his hands toward the floor, but he caught her and all was well. She went to the nursery and I stayed on the table for the tubal ligation that followed her birth. She was the last precious baby I would ever give birth to. Again, on the advise of Dr. Olsen.

Oh, how beautiful this little angel was. She was my biggest baby of the four, but she seemed so tiny and fragile to me. I don't know why, but I was a nervous wreck with her, like I had no clue what to do. I would watch her every breath, worried that her tiny nostrils were too small too breath enough air. My doctor basically told me to get a grip on that one.

She was born on my oldest sister, Carol's birthday, and it was nearly Christmas, so we named her Cristie Carol. Because of the Ligation, which was considered an operation in 1970, I had to spend four days in the hospital so we didn't get to be home for Christmas that year. I was feeling sorry for myself on Christmas day because I missed my other kids. However, early in the afternoon, Archie brought them to the hospital with their gifts for me. They weren't allowed to actually come into the hospital, but he arranged for them to stand down below the window to my room, where we could smile, wave, and blow kisses to each other. That made the day much more bearable. Two days later, the Nurses put Cristie into a red Christmas stocking and we took her home to be loved and enjoyed by the whole family.

She will always be my baby and has been a joy to me her entire life. I am so proud of the sweet, intelligent, funny and talented woman she is today. I love you sweet baby girl, Cristie.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU..........AND MANY MORE

Music, Music, Music

2008-12-16T18:19:00.000-07:00

glitter-graphics.com

My daughter, Sandee, posted, on her blog Kitty Krazy, a couple of videos of Jim Reeves singing songs my kids learned to love in their very early years. This brought back memories of when the kids were very young and I would lure them to sleep with music.

I've always loved music, almost every type. I recall a great neighbor who would allow us to go into her side yard to swing on the only swing set in the neighborhood. I would often go there by myself, sit in that swing and sing at the top of my lungs for what seemed, hours. My young mind thought I was very good at it, my adult daughter, Sandee, who is indeed, very musically gifted, tells me I can't carry a tune in a bucket. Huh, what does she know anyway! Hehe. I sang (alto) in every choir I could during my school years, and at church in adulthood; even sang a solo performance of "Wouldn't It Be Loverly" in an original musical play while in my last year of Junior High School. Oh, yeah, and then there was the duet I did, with my friend Vash, of "Rye Whiskey" for a health class on alcohol consumption. Got an A+. So there, Miss Perfect Pitch, Sandee! (maybe it was the acting drunk, while singing?)

Back to the kids. They were young, we were at the upper end of poor, or maybe it was the lower end of middle class counting both of our incomes, so in the latter part of the Sixties, we bought a beautiful, state of the art RCA stereo console, built into a cabinet of solid walnut; no particle board in those days. It was a low profile, with modern sleek lines and was five feet wide. On either end was a large speaker connecting to the stereo components in the center which consisted of an AM/FM radio and a record changer which would play what was known as 45 singles or 78 albums. In addition, and what was so special about this particular stereo in those days, you could stack up to ten 45s or six 78s and listen to music for hours. With this awesome machine, I had no choice but to join the Columbia Record Club to save some money. I ordered Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Andy Williams, Jim Reeves, Marty Robbins, Elvis, The Everly Brothers, Frankie Avalon, Connie Francis, Paul Anka, The Kingston Trio, Ricky Nelson, Eddy Arnold, Frankie Lane...the list could go on and on. My husband and I worked opposite shifts, 7-3:30 or 3:30-midnight. When he was on the swing shift, I would get the kids into bed, stack the stereo with albums, turn up the sound so they could hear from their beds; they would fall asleep, listening to all of these great artists. I swear, they knew the words to every song, on every album.

That stereo was with us for many years, bringing us the sounds of the forties, fifties, sixties, seventies and eighties. Sometime during the early Eighties, I bought a set of albums from the 1940's, a mixture of big bands, the Andrew Sisters, and other artists from those years. My kids literally wore those albums out. It tickled me pink that they would love music from that era so much. Oh, yes. That RCA stereo was one of the best investments we ever made, instilling a love of music with all four of my kids. They in turn have passed this love onto their own families.

Yes, indeed, music is medicine for the soul and life is good!

Christmas's Past

2008-12-15T21:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a long time since I have felt such a longing for Christmas celebrations with my family. I miss them every year but this one is the worst.

Today is icy cold. Snow blankets the ground, ice covers the byways, the air outdoors frosts your nose and lungs with your first breath. Lights, white and colored, sparkle on the homes and businesses along the short ride home. A lump rises in my throat as I remember these same sights and feelings from years gone by. Icy roads, 26 below zero temperatures, miles of driving in barely running vehicles with bald tires; nothing could stop us from attending our annual Kinghorn Christmas party.

When my siblings and I were in our youth, with very young children, the Christmas season was filled with planning and anticipation of gathering together to celebrate with each other, kids, spouses or "partners" and our dear Mom, Beth. Like most young families, none of us were independently wealthy, so we would draw names among the kids and adults, setting a dollar limit affordable to all, for a gift exchange at our annual party. In the beginning we would gather at the home of the sibling with the most room. Everyone would bring hot foods, salads, pies, cakes and goodies to share for the feast we would enjoy all evening long. There was always roasted turkey and baked ham. Home made rolls, hot for the initial feasting, were made in abundance, leaving enough for the "sandwiches", made from the leftover meats, for later evening hunger pangs. I must say, my family was gifted with an abundance of fabulous cooks.

As the years passed and families grew larger, we had to rent a church hall, or the Senior Citizens center to hold everyone; for in addition to immediate family members, there were friends of kids, friends of siblings, friends of friends, in-laws & out-laws, aunts, uncles and cousins included. The welcome mat was always at the door for anyone.

We would visit, eat, sing carols, play games, eat more, show off the talents of our kids, then eat some more. (I said it was Feast) My brother Bob, who loved kids and making them happy, would slip out to dress in his Santa suit for the gift exchange. The kids would be thrilled, even those who were suspicious because "Santa's nose sure looks like Uncle Bob's". Everyone, adults and kids alike, would sit on Santa's lap, tell him their Christmas wishes, receive a candy cane, then the beautifully wrapped gift from the exchange. Hysterical laughter would accompany the unveiling of the "treasures" a couple of bucks would buy. In later years, we opted for white elephants only, so that those with near empty wallets could participate without pressure or embarrassment. Those were the best gift exchanges of all, a fact we all concurred on. Oh, how precious and joyous are those memories.

Years passed, our kids grew into adulthood, starting families of their own, scattering hither and yon until the annual Kinghorn Christmas celebration is no more. It was a sad passing, yet opened the door for many other family gatherings as the family tree has branched out. This is my fourth Christmas away from my family and yes, I am having a pity party for myself because I miss them and long to be singing off-key to the karaoke machine Sandee takes to Michelle's house for the Christmas gathering they have each year. I long to see my (maybe even myself) family get tipsy and silly; my grand kids get noisy and sometimes obnoxious; my tummy to bloat from too much food; to feel the warmth, love and hugs from these very important people in my life, and to just sit back and watch, knowing this will continue into forever. Maybe next year... 2010 for certain!

The Christmas Program.....I was so proud

2008-12-01T19:26:00.000-07:00

Darrell, my only son, was nothing less than a handful as a very young boy. I suppose in today's world, he would be drugged with Prozac or some other "calming" medicine for overly active (now known as ADD) kids. When he was at his "best", if you get my drift, we simply dealt with it using old fashioned parenting. He knew who was "in-charge" but never stopped testing the waters to see how far he could go. Today, as a grown man, he is one of the most mellow people I know. So let me tell you about the Christmas program.

I don't recall the year, but it was during the Christmas holidays. We lived in a small community where most people were active participants in in their religious practices. My husband and I were not. However, we allowed our kids to participate as much as they chose. They did just that, attending Sunday school and other programs for kids at the church. As most Christians do, a program depicting the birth of Christ was planned with the kids playing the various roles needed. Darrell was to be one of shepherds. Rehearsals went on for a few weeks before the night of the program. That day arrived, the program planned for early evening. I helped the kids get dressed for the parts they were to play; Archie and I loaded them into the car and off to the church we went.

Darrel was dressed in his little plaid robe and I had used a white flannel diaper to wrap around his head. With a borrowed wooden cane, he fit the part perfectly. I'm sure I wasn't the only Mom who tried to encourage her child to do his best, but to remember he would be in the church and he had better behave...or else!

We arrived at the church rec center, a little nervous to be around all these people who took their faith so seriously, hoping the roof wouldn't cave in from the shock of our attendance. However, our apprehension was quickly dissipated by the warm welcome we were given. I escorted the kids backstage where their teachers would make last minute preparations. A welcoming speech was given to announce the evening's agenda, lights were dimmed, chatter stopped and the curtain opened. Cameras flashed from proud parents as their darling children performed their parts to perfection. Knowing the story well, I knew it was time for the shepherds to appear. Two came from stage left, reverent demeanor intact. Silence. No action. I was holding my breath, waiting for the third, who should have been with the first two..namely, Darrell. It seemed an eternity passed when suddenly, like a bolt of lightening, Shepherd no. 3 came stumbling over his own feet from stage left followed by the long arm of his teacher who had obviously had to shove him onto the stage. There he was in all his glory, little plaid robe open, barely hanging onto his shoulders, exposing his Micky Mouse T-shirt, the white diaper head dress holding onto his head by one ear....my face burning hot and crimson, eyes bulging in disbelief. As I was thinking, "Why me, Lord"? the room burst into loud and hysterical laughter which seemed to last forever while I sat there horrified, imagining people judging my child rearing abilities. The laughter died, the play continued to it's finish while I was trying frantically to find a plausible answer for this humiliating disruption to this otherwise holy story.

I admit, no one said a word which was a relief. Following the program, the kids were surprised by a visit from Santa, himself. Parents and Grandparents sat in their chairs as the kids lined up, waiting for their turn to sit on his lap, give him their wish list and receive the bag of candy he had brought for each one. It was fun to listen to those innocent little angels and watch the awe in their eyes while sitting on that lap. Then came Darrell's turn..........still askew in his dress, he climbed onto Santa's lap. Santa asked the question.."And what would you like to find under the tree, young man"? Without hesitation, my precious child answered, "I already know what I'm gettin', I saw in my Mom and Dad's closet"! More laughter, more red cheeks from Mom.

It was a wondrous night..................I was so proud.

A Long Ago Saturday of Holiday Shopping

2008-12-01T19:00:00.000-07:00

It all started with several weeks or months of saving, planning and anticipation. "The" December Saturday arrived with a burst of sunshine, extra bright as it reflected off the glistening snow blanketing the landscape, then flowing right through the crystal clear icicles hanging gloriously from the low eaves of the roof. As luck would have it, the sky was blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds way to high to worry about walking through a snow storm during the walk to downtown.

As with most mornings, breakfast came first; thick slices of homemade bread, toasted to perfection, a couple of fried eggs and a big glass of the ice cold milk which had just been delivered by that handsome young Milkman on our route. Since going downtown to shop was a big deal for anyone in the fifties, getting "ready" was as important as the shopping itself.

The claw foot tub was filled with water, hot enough to make my butt cheeks rosy without actually scalding my tender young skin. I would settle into the warm water, bubbles courtesy of shampoo, (actual bubble bath was a luxury) rising to my chin as I daydreamed of the fun Vash, my best friend, and I would have that day and of gifts I would buy with the twenty or twenty-five dollars burning a hole in my pocket. Using the Ivory soap and a good rough textured washcloth, I scrubbed myself until my skin was shiny, finishing up with a double shampooing of my hair; had to shine, you know. Bathrobes were for movie stars, so panties and a bra had to do while I put the goop on my hair to hold it into place until it dried, brushed my teeth, combed my eyebrows with a little Vaseline, brushed on some cake mascara, and finally, applied the white/pink lipstick all the girls were wearing then. Soon someone was pounding on the door for their turn, so I wrapped myself in my damp towel, going to the tiny bedroom I shared with my sisters to get dressed.

Since it was a Saturday, and cold to boot, I wore my only dressy slacks, which were not allowed at school, a sweater borrowed from a friend (everyone borrowed clothes) and my precious T-Strap shoes which I knew, but didn't care, would leave my feet freezing. Socks were for sissies. I visited with my siblings and Mom while I waited for my hair to dry enough to go out into the cold for the walk to Vash's house. At 10:00 AM I arrived at her back door (couldn't use the front..it would doom her to be an old maid, according to her superstitious Mom) and was warmly greeted by her parents while she finished making her bed. She finished, we were off!

Winter in Pocatello was harsher in those days, so the walk downtown was like walking through a Courier and Ives post card. Thick blankets of snow on roof tops, icicles hanging from the eaves, white smoke rising from chimneys; boys bundled in heavy coats, hand knit mittens and hats, having snowball fights in the park; little kids in snowsuits making snow angels in their front yards while their Fathers hung Christmas lights; high school boys on their wooden sleighs, hooky-bobbing behind their buddy's hot rod. Sometimes even a girl in Junior High would be lucky enough to get a wolf whistle as those "older" men whizzed by on the snow covered streets. Funny how the beauty of this picture was lost to us at the time.

The walk from home to downtown was probably a little more than a mile, passing quickly as we chattered and giggled about boys, school mates and other things long forgotten. As we went into the Center Street underpass, we knew we were almost there.... for waiting on the other side was downtown and mysterious treasures for our shopping pleasure. Vash, list in hand, knew exactly what she wanted. I, on the other hand, preferred the adventure of "spur of the moment" decisions.

I can still feel the thrill of coming out of that dark walkway through the underpass, seeing the Christmas decorations along the streets, hearing the sounds of holiday music coming from the shops, and watching people, carrying their beautifully wrapped gifts as they hustled along the sidewalks from shop to shop.

There was The Peoples department store, Blocks, Adair dress shop, Woolworths five & dime, (where we got the most for our hard earned dollars) The Paris, a dress shop to die for, where there was never more than one of any dress style, and where every high school girl in town bought her prom dress..if she was lucky enough to be asked to attend. There was a Lerner's shop; a jewelry store where you could buy the very much in fad, dog tag everyone had to have AND get it engraved with your name, all for a buck; the drug store with a soda fountain for the cherry coke you just had to have, along with all kinds of special knick-knacks, costume jewelry or perfume that would thrill your Mom to no end on Christmas morning; the music store with sheet music and the latest 45 records, by Elvis, Fabian, Bobby Darin, Paul Anka, Connie Frances, and all the other great rock and rollers of that time, which you could play before buying (while dreaming of dancing with the boy who wore YOUR dogtag 'cuz you were "going steady"). And of course there was the little mom and pop cafe where Vash would always insist on buying Fish and Chips for our lunch, knowing I couldn't afford it but loved that special treat. She was such a special friend!

We would hit every shop, buy our gifts, enjoy each other's company and the festive cheerfulness surrounding us everywhere, then, after hours of this fun and frivolity, walk back through that dimly lit underpass to our respective homes to wrap and tag those precious gifts, content with the knowledge that we had completed our once- a -year Christmas shopping trip, looking forward to the excitement and activities of the next two weeks until the Big Day arrived.

Those simple and stress-free days, when less truly was more, are a treasure to those of us who lived them. Everyone should be so blessed in their life experience.

May the Holidays bring much joy and happiness to all. Yes, indeed......Life is good!

Careful What You Ask For

2008-11-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

Virtually every religion, philosophy, or belief system known to mankind teaches to ask and you will receive, seek and you will find. The problem is in how we go about the asking part. We pray, we beg, we supplicate, we promise to be good, better or best if only "You" will give me what I want. I want to be healthy... please make me so; I want to be happy...please show me the way; I want to be financially secure...please let me buy the winning lottery ticket or lead me to a dream job; I want to be thin...give me the willpower to leave those damn sweets alone; I want a new home, I want a new/newer car, I want peace in the world, I want to be safe and secure, I want to loved unconditionally, I want to be debt free, I want, I want....................

Think hard about this and you will realize that God, The I Am, The Universe, All That Is, The Creator...whomever or whatever you have given your faith to, will give you exactly that. Wanting. I personally am working on the premise (which I have learned from my life long search for answers) that the desires of my life will be granted by being thankful in advance of receiving.

Thank you, God for the good day I am about to experience, thank you for the good health I will enjoy for the remainder of my life; thank you for the abundance which continues to flow into my life; thank you for the love and happiness that comes to me in many ways, every day; thank you for the retirement coming my way and the new adventures it will bring to me; thank you for the peace and love which is developing at a rapid pace for all of humanity; thank you for the success and happiness life brings to my children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, my brothers and sisters and all of my extended family; thank you for the leaders of this country and the world who are working together for peace, goodwill and prosperity for all of mankind...to name a few.

Now I admit, this is not easy to do. However, with baby steps, I go forward with great faith that being thankful for the future and all the good it will bring to me and my fellow men is worth giving up that four letter word that leads to nowhere. Goodbye WANT. Hello "Thank You God", for the blessings coming every day to all, believers and non believers alike.

Thank you God, for the ears that will hear and the hearts who will believe.

Thanks For...........

2008-11-19T17:50:00.000-07:00

There are many things in my life for which I am truly thankful. First off is the very good job I am privileged to have which will keep me so busy from tomorrow through Thanksgiving day that I will not have time to express my thankfulness. Therefore, I will do that today by a simple random listing of the aforementioned "things". So here goes:

My green eyes, which go much better with my silver hair than say..brown?
My four darling children who are filled with charm, wit and personality.
My mother, Beth who kept our family together under extremely hard circumstances and always had more than enough love to go around; who taught us that work is not a four letter word, who earned the love and respect of all who knew her, who gave more than she ever received, who was beautiful from the inside out.
My home, despite the fact that the license I obtained from Fish and Game to kill the dust bunnies has yet to bear fruit.
My vehicle, which warms my butt in the Winter (I love that feature) is large enough to sit grown men comfortably, gets great gas mileage for a large car (32mpg-highway) and keeps me from walking uphill both ways to work each day.
My "first love", Jon, who actually believed I was something special...me and about four other girls.
The fact that love is blind which kept me from knowing about the "other" four for a very long time.
Being born and raised in Idaho.
Being born into poverty which makes me more appreciative of all I now have, and keeps my spending in check to this day. (do I really need that?)
My six adorable and brilliant grandchildren, my two incredible sons-in-law, my fantastically handsome great-grandson and my beautiful and wonderfully opinionated great-granddaughter-in law.
Seven fantastic siblings who have added so much to the tapestry of my life.
Sisters and brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews, aunts and uncles, grandparents, my dearest friend Suz........all loved and appreciated for various and sundry reasons.
The hard knocks in life which have made me so appreciative of the good times.
The good old days and the "best" which is yet to come.
Coca Cola in a glass bottle.
Daisy, BetziBu, Alyce, Mumz, MissieLoo and Maggie Mae-the furry creatures in my life who have in the past, or now bring me great joy and unconditional love. (yes, even the cat can love)
Books
Music
Dancing until my legs cramp.
Tiny little people who look at me with big bright eyes and say "Hi!"
People with a sense of humor.
The ability to laugh until my sides hurt.
The Doctor, the Baker, the Candlestick maker...all the people in the World who make life easier for all of us.
The physical beauty of the earth (when I really take the time to look at her wonders).
Good times, bad times, all the in-between times.
The Fireman who has taken me on the roller-coaster ride of my life.
Being an American
Being imperfect which gives me something to work toward.
Being loved in spite of those imperfections.
Everything automatic.
Flannel jammies and fuzzy sox............................

Just to name a few, but reminding me that Life is indeed good. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Religion and Politics

2008-11-11T20:40:00.000-07:00

Either of these subjects can lead a person into dangerous territory..that is; heated arguments, loss of friendships, judgement of one's sanity, hatred and ridicule, just to name a few. With that said, I will jump right in and state that I am a moderate "Demo-pendent" when it comes to politics (I shall avoid these today) and finally, after a lifetime of searching, reading the Old and New Testaments several times, along with many other religious books, participating fully in church services and activities, and seeking truth about religion and life's purpose since I was a very young girl, I have found an answer for myself.

This answer began to germinate nearly four years ago, when simply by gut feeling, I was compelled to go to the book store. Having no idea what I was looking to buy, I was led, again by this gut feeling, to the metaphysical section of that store. Yes, I have read many of this type book, some very thought provoking, others just plain ridiculous. So as I browsed through the titles, finding nothing pulling me in, I wondered what in the world I was doing there spending my precious time in futility. However, that darn gut feeling kept tugging at me until, on a lower shelf, I saw a small book entitled Conversations with God, Book 1, by Neale Donald Walsch. I somehow knew this was the book I should purchase that day, which I did. I went back to work and thought of this book for the rest of the day, anxious to read what MY self was trying to tell me. Later, I learned that these books (3) had been on the New York Times best seller lists for long periods of time. I had never heard of them.

I arrived home that evening, ignoring the Fireman, dinner, the dogs and the cat, taking time to get into my favorite flannel jammies, making myself comfortable on my bed, propped up by four big down-filled pillows, and started reading. I read those words with an increasing feeling of joy in my heart until all 211 pages had filled my head with a thousand questions when I finished that same evening. In the coming weeks, I read it over and over and over again. I shared it with some friends, co-workers and family members; some who read it and heard the message and some who read it and heard nothing. Either was OK by me. Later that same year, I obtained the trilogy of Conversations with God on CDs which have brought the words to life for me many times over. Certainly there are some things contained in this work that did not resonate as strongly as others in my heart. However, with each reading or hearing of these "conversations" my understanding becomes more clear.

In all honesty, there have been periods of time when I have not spent time with these words but when my soul thinks I need a refresher, it has nudged me into re-reading or listening once again.
I have been actively doing this for the past few weeks, sometimes forcing myself into stopping so that I can get the necessary duties at home done.

Today, after four years of studying these works and others by the same author or recommended by him, I am ready to declare that I have found my truth; something that rings true to me. It doesn't matter to me whether I am judged to be out of my mind, a heretic or anything else, I only care about what is truth for me and my soul and the joy this "knowing" brings to me. I love my God, my God love me equally. Of that I am 100% certain.

This post is in no way my attempt to proselytize anyone; it is simply my way of crying out, with no shame or reluctance, to the world of the joy I feel for the truths that make my soul sing.

Life is indeed, a bowl of cherries, even with the pits along the way! Love and peace to the world of humanity. Amen and goodnight.

The People Have Spoken

2008-11-05T12:06:00.000-07:00

My first thought, at the end of a long evening last night, was: "Thank God and greyhound they're gone!" That is, the negative advertising, hateful comments and half-truths inundating the television, newspapers, and talk radio, and the division of family, friends and neighbors over this 2008 election.

I voted for the first time in the very early sixties and this truly is the most historical political moment I have known in my lifetime. Those of you born in the seventies or later can never know the division in this country during the Vietnam war or the Civil Rights movement. It was painful then and has been a struggle ever since. Today is our opportunity to once again become what the founding fathers, intended, "One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Certainly, every person has the right to his or her opinion and beliefs. However, our first responsibility is to be loyal to our country and it's leaders, supporting them in their efforts to bring us together as "One People" to bring this country out of the darkness of hatred (fear) into the light of love and acceptance for all.

John McCain, spoke of this with great eloquence, sincerity and grace in his speech last night. It is my hope for all of humanity that each of us, whether we supported or voted for him or not, will listen to those words and accept our responsibility to work together to bring the peace, hope and vision that was born when this nation was brought forth so many years ago.

The tears of joy shed last night should be a sign that God does indeed bless America.

A Tribute

2008-09-27T18:44:00.000-06:00

He wasn't the most handsome man I've ever met; in fact, over the years of knowing him, I've heard others say he was downright ugly. Slightly built, he was rather short, had the worst case of adult acne I've ever seen; his watery blue eyes drooped at the outer corners like those sad eyes of a Basset Hound and his teeth needed the services of an orthodontist desperately.

At one time in his life he had been married, producing a daughter who was very important to him; he talked of her often to me during the years we worked together. The only other person I knew about from his private life was his mother whom he adored; it was easy to tell she felt the same, though I only met and talked with her when she came into the store to shop or go to lunch with him.

He was a quiet, unassuming man who spoke softly; I never once heard him raise his voice in anger; nor did he ever complain even though years of hard physical work had played some havoc with his back. He wasn't the speediest cashier I ever worked with, but he was steady, accurate and dependable. His customers loved him. Why? Because he was so genuinely friendly and real.

Anyone willing to look beyond the facade of his looks found a man of extreme intelligence and a sense of humor that could have made him millions. Unfortunately, some people were unwilling to do that, which was their loss. By some stroke of luck, I've been fortunate enough to be a person who doesn't care what a person wears around for a body, or what bad habits, weaknesses or flaws they may have; I try to see past all those unimportant things into the heart and soul.

My friend, Bob Looney, was a beautiful person in my eyes. Though I had few opportunities to see him in the last ten years, it was always a pleasure when I did, always involving a great hug and hilarious laughter. Bob passed away a couple of days ago, his body riddled with cancer.

I am truly grateful for the opportunity to have known such a great soul. So... here's to you Bob Looney. May your new life be filled with laughter, be pain free and have all the beer you could ever possibly want. I will miss you!

A Great Surprise

2008-09-25T21:54:00.000-06:00

I have been so damn busy, (or is it lazy?) and stressed out this Summer that all the endless information whirling through this old head couldn't figure itself out enough to even type a few meaningless words on this blog. Well...Fall is here and I am ready to dig a little deeper into the cobweb covered archives of my memories and babble a little more often on this site.

Today brought back memories of people, places and memories from the late seventies and on into the eighties. Last night I found out that Suz's, (my dearest friend ever) Mom Florene had passed away. She was also very dear to me having lived with Suz for about 15 years of our thirty + year friendship. So today when I went to work I was feeling sad and nostalgic but trying not to let it show. Several different issues at the job were testing my sense of humor causing me to be a bit of a beeotch, if you get my drift. I had to offer apologies for my bad behavior to at least two people before 10 AM, for gawd sake! My still raw feelings of loss from Suz' death in April were brought to the surface with the news of Florene's passing and I didn't have the patience to listen to other people's sad stories, along with several business related issues which needed my attention. All I wanted to do was lock myself alone in my office and cry my eyes out. It was MY day to have a pity party for myself. My secretary, who can read me like a book, chastised me gently and kept me on track. Thank you, Sherry! However, it was hard to elevate my mood much.

Just before noon, I was standing at Sherry's desk, signing some papers, when I noticed two women coming toward me. As I looked, my eyes opened in astonishment, a look mirrored in the eyes of one of these women. Almost in unison, we each said, "Oh, my god! What are YOU doing here!" as we ran toward each other, coming together in a long and affectionate hug. It was Shannon Waters Newhouse, whom I had worked with for many years at Buttrey Foods in Boise. She was a beautiful, air- headed eighteen year old when I first met her and I loved her immediately. Today, she is the mother of college kids and still beautiful. We were so excited and happy to see each other, chattering and catching up, that twenty minutes had passed before I had the sense to ask her what she was doing in my store. As it turned out, she is the Sales Manager (16 years) for the Idaho Lottery Commission, and was there to tell me about a new lottery machine that will be installed in the store in a couple of weeks. OMG! It was so good to see her! We chatted for a little while longer, exchanged phone numbers and promised to get together on my next trip to Boise. She plans to have a get together with other former co-workers who I haven't seen in years. It was hard for both of us to say goodbye and get on with our respective jobs. She will be back when the Lottery machine is installed to train us on it's operation. We plan to have lunch that day. I can hardly wait. There is so much of our lives to catch up on. I swear she was sent by an Angel just to elevate my mood to a feeling of joy, and to remind me....

LIFE IS INDEED GOOD!

My Tired Really Hurts!!

2008-09-03T18:18:00.001-06:00

Both the UI and WSU opened for fall semester on the 25Th. As I've said before, this is one of the busiest times of the year for business at my store.

I don't know whether the majority of students are sharing in a kazillion dollar lottery win, their parents are richer than a foot up a bull's butt, paying for everything, or they are just plain lazy. I say this because my business has always hired students to work part-time (or full-time if they want) to help with the extra business the academic year generates. This year however, getting students to even apply for a job is like pulling hens teeth. Of those who do apply, a majority can't pass the drug screen or, are so restricted on their availability, it is impossible to schedule them to fit our needs. I'm beginning to fear that earning your own way is sadly fading into obscurity.

This brings me to whining about why my Tired hurts. It goes without saying, that I am no spring chicken, which means that most of my get up and go has got up and went. However, I signed up to do a tough job, so for the past ten days I have worked my butt off. Well, maybe not literally, as it still has the same circumference, but I'll tell you, after ten days and 119 and 1/2 hours since my last day off, I am ready for my trip to Boise and some R&R. After about a half hour at home, I heard a knock on the door; it was my dragging-ass finally catching up with me.

There is not a cell in this old body which doesn't ache, every fingernail on my hands is broken, some past the quick, my cuticles look like they went through a meat grinder and I could put a final finish on a custom built piece of furniture with my sandpaper rough hands. I can hardly wait to see whether I can meet the challenge of putting on a pair of pantyhose for Eric and Jenn's wedding on Friday. (I wonder if gloves are back in fashion?) :) I threw freight, faced and pulled cardboard from the shelves, scrubbed floors and cleaned bathrooms, put baskets full of "I decided not to get this" items back on the shelves, and cashiered. This, along with the everyday paperwork, trying to hire people, personnel issues, getting bills paid, answering calls, dealing with vendors and taking care of customer needs.

Yes indeed, I've been working very hard but nothing compared to the folks who work graveyard stocking truck loads of freight, or cutting meat, trimming and stocking produce; those who keep the dairy full of milk, eggs, butter, etc; those who make hundreds of sandwiches & salads along with frying/baking chicken, slicing meats and cheeses; those who work constantly refilling bulk food bins and the bakers who keep fresh breads, rolls and goodies available for all to enjoy. My kudos go out to all of these people who keep the wheel greased, and lastly to the people who stand in one place all day long, legs aching, feet screaming, trying hard to keep a smile on their face, while their arms ache from scanning or weighing thousands of food items while checking out hundreds of people during a shift. All these people are the real heroes in my tired eyes and I want all to know that I appreciate each one for every ounce of effort they make to keep our customers happy with their shopping experience.

Ok, enough of this mushy stuff. Wahoo!! I'm on vacation and I plan to have a damn good one. See you when I get back.

Strange Minds Think of Strange things

2008-09-01T19:44:00.000-06:00

On Friday my only grandson is getting married. I am excited for this event which has brought another event with it; all of my living siblings will be together for the first time since our oldest sister, Carol, passed away three and a half years ago. Bill, Lois, David, Dolores, MaryHell and me. We plan to spend Saturday at Dolores' house for a good and long past due visit. I am especially excited to see Bill because he is like a fart in a skillet...hard to keep up with. He travels a lot.

I stated that strange minds think of strange things because as I was thinking of the timeline between Carol's passing when we were last all together, I thought of the house Carol and Dave had lived in for about forty-five or fifty years. The house where they raised their family of five children. It was a very nice home, which Carol and Dave took great pride in, always keeping it well maintained and looking good.

It so happens that a couple of years after Dave passed away, developers came into that neighborhood and bought up every home there, planning to build a large shopping/office complex. Carol sold the property and moved into a brand-spanking new home. Just a few months before actually moving in, Carol was diagnosed with brain cancer. She died in that new home, never getting to truly enjoy it.

Meanwhile some of the homes in her old neighborhood were torn down and some where jacked up off their foundations onto steel girders for moving to a new site. Carol and Dave's home was one of the latter. It was temporarily moved to a lot not far from it's original plot of land, along with several others, waiting for someone to come along and buy it from the developer. This lot was on Yellowstone Avenue in Pocatello, Idaho. I have to say that Carol loved that home and all the memories that it held for her. Yellowstone is a main thoroughfare in Pocatello, so family and friends could see that house sitting there looking lonely and forlorn, as often as they drove that route to WalMart or the Pocatello mall.

A day or two after Carol had passed away, her friend since early childhood, Karen and her daughter Misty, were driving that route after dark. As they passed by, they noted that the lights were on in that house. So what, you say? Well that house was sitting on the moving trailer, or whatever it is called, and was not connected to any electric power, plumbing, water , or any of those things which bring life to a structure! Was it Carol, saying her final respects to her long time home or maybe soaking up the memories of all the years she spent there with her family? No one will ever know, but it was indeed a strange happening.

The Students Are Back

2008-08-25T20:12:00.000-06:00

Last week was "rush" week at the Universities. I'm not sure exactly what happens during the week besides pledging to Sororities and Fraternities along with getting moved into apartments and dorms, but I do know that on Friday, around 5:00 PM of that week, the students of legal age (yeah, right!) are allowed to buy alcoholic beverages. This they do with great gusto here on the Palouse. I'm sure there were many a sick puppy after this past weekend.

Today classes started for these same students. I always drive through the UI campus on my way to work each morning. This morning it was just before 7:30 as I drove past the Frat houses noting the local Disposal company placing fresh dumpsters for the trash these guys would generate. I am very certain that most of the students were in class today, maybe a little hung over but nonetheless, in attendance.

This evening, after leaving work for the day, I reversed my route through campus past those same Frat houses. I am not certain about the number of hours a student spends getting acquainted with classes on this first day but as I passed by, I again took note of those freshly placed dumpsters from my morning trip to work. It was now 7:00 PM and those huge blue metal boxes were overflowing with boxes of every brand of beer known to mankind. Oh, the resilience of youth! Yes indeed, the students are "back" and feeling their oats. May the Force be with them for the next nine months.

Things About Me You Probably Don't Want To Know

2008-08-17T11:25:00.000-06:00

My daughter Michelle posted this same title on her blog Creative Treasures this morning. I don't know whether I can come up with 100 items but my wrists will ache from trying. Here goes...

My mind and body don't cooperate well. Body believes it's sixty-three. Mind believes it's still a spring chicken.
I love to dance; swing to rock n' roll or 'sleaze" (up close and touching) to love songs
I love doo-wop and big band music
I am a good cook when the urge hits
I am a twin; I call her my clone
I am very spiritual but do not believe in organized religion
I am very tender hearted about people
I love people of all cultures
I believe God does not judge and there is no such thing as Hell
I am short; 5'2" on a good day
I love the sound of the ocean; the power is incredible
The smell of fresh baked bread is heaven in my nose
Butter is definitely better
Vanilla ice cream, sliced bananas, chopped walnuts and chocolate syrup. FAVORITE!
The gold in my natural blond hair has turned to silver
My kids have never seen me with long hair; I prefer quick and easy
I've never had a perm nor learned how to use a curling iron
I am a shower person
Freshly shampooed hair and a blow-dryer are my friends
I've worn Maybelline Royal Blue mascara for nearly 40 years
I am fluffy, not fat
I love to read...whether books, newspapers, magazines or on the net
I believe I am likable
I enjoy being a little naughty at times
I can cuss like a trooper when the occasion arises
I love people but am cautious about true friendships
I love and adore my family
I consider my daughters as my best adult friends
I am outgoing but like my "go inside myself" time
I too, like big, hairy men. Nothing sexier than thick chest hair!
I love beautiful clothes but prefer to wear jeans and t-shirts
Fresh tomatoes from the garden, for me, are like caviar to the rich and famous.
I am not a huge meat eater, but I love a rare rib-eye steak.
I have four dogs and a cat. I love them, messes and all.
My dream for retirement is a small house, a beautiful yard and enough money for ice cream
I sing in the shower to drown out the fact that I can't carry a tune in a bucket
I love all the music of ABBA
Sam Elliot is a sexy, sexy man
Soldiers and firemen are my heroes
Laughing makes me feel whole again
Sometimes I talk too much
Patience is a virtue; I forget that on occasion
I am confident, except when I'm not
People feel free to tell me their innermost secrets and fears
I love to work but can no longer do very hard physical jobs. This is frustrating.
My current yard is a discord in the music of my life. I have found it impossible to find help in beautiful downtown Moscow, Idaho.
I wasn't in line when talent was passed out. My kids must have received theirs from their father 'cuz I don't have any!
My kids got their good looks from me, 'cuz their dad didn't have any. Just kidding.
I am (was) a seamstress. Anything from underwear to men's suits. And, I was very good at it.
I love surprises.
I've learned that anger hurts you more than the person you are angry with.
I love the smell of the earth after rain.
I've had bones broken; by accident and on purpose. One hurts no less than the other.
Sleeping well has eluded me for my entire life.
I believe a sense of humor is vital to living, it's inherited from God.
Hugs and kisses are also vital to life.
One of Michelle's favorite quotes is: " Help me to look at other people the way I want God to look at me." (Or, something to that effect) I am eagerly pursuing this counsel.
I am anal about my handwriting. It must be legible. (thank you, Miss Ziebarth)
No matter how expensive the perfumes I've tried, I always go back to Wind Song, my favorite.
It takes me less than an hour each morning to shower, shampoo, blow dry, brush my teeth perform the miracle on my face, get dressed and head for work.
I am very fussy about my grooming.
I iron all of my clothes. I don't believe there is such a thing as no-iron fabric.
I have a sweet tooth for bakery goods. The devil makes me eat that stuff.
I get skinny when I fall in love. I get fat when I fall out of love. I need to fall in love very soon, please.
My eyes are green, like my Mother's.
I am not a hot weather person. Never been into sun tanning, therefore I have lived my life with what I call the "embalmed look".
I no longer care when I have stubble on my legs. Armpits are another thing.
I have always had "good" skin. Hardly ever had a zit in my life. I'm making up for that with wrinkles.
I wear contact lenses because glasses don't sit straight over my broken nose and it drives me crazy. That's dangerous when you don't have far to go.
I like to own and drive a large, four door sedan. No SUV or sports cars for me, although I would like to own a Tundra.
I want to die laughing or dancing.
I would prefer not to have a funeral. Just cremation; then a celebration with lots of food, laughter and fun, for the new adventure I will have embarked upon.
The towels and bedding in my linen closet must be folded perfectly.
I miss the old Sears catalogue.
I do not like to shop- for anything! It is just one of life's necessary evils.
I am a home body.
I enjoy doing absolutely nothing on some of my days off.
I want a slave so that I can do more of absolutely nothing.
I have a weak back but a strong will. Sometimes that leaves me unable to walk fully upright for a day or two.
I don't have all of my natural teeth and am thankful that my kids did not inherit the "bad teeth" gene from me. Thank you, Lord (and my employer) for good dental insurance.
I am discouraged and disappointed by the politics of today.
It troubles me that so many parents today, do no give their kids responsibilities or teach them respect for other human beings and their property. No is not a four letter word!
I love a clean, organized house but was born with an innate hatred for housework. Where the hell is that maid I have a desire for?
I love my sons-in-law. They love my daughters.
I am proud of the adults my babies have grown to be.
I am a klutz when it comes to anything mechanical but am fascinated with what makes things work.
Color is the clothing of life.
I don't like beer but I love an ice cold red beer. (half tomato juice) Doesn't make sense to me either.
I long for family reunions in the city park.
I love casinos but they don't love me so I don't go often.
Watching the stars on clear nights help me to dream of wonders yet to come.
I have above average intelligence but have not always used it to my advantage. A girl has to have fun, you know.
I have learned that giving always comes back tenfold.
I am the head cheerleader when it comes to seeing people climb the rocky road to success, (in all aspects of life) no matter the pitfalls along the way.
I am an optimist and believe the world will come together in peace and harmony sooner than later.
History is fascinating, today is all there is, the future is the result of history and today.
I am not a telephone talker or a card or letter sender but the people I love and care about are always in my heart and mind.
I am not a technology geek but have learned that it is not dangerous to try. Besides, I can always call or e-mail my kids to rescue me from my screw-ups.
I have lived from a time when there was no television or computers; only the wealthy had telephones, cars or indoor plumbing; imagination was the biggest part of playing and the world was slow and easy, to wireless everything; instant gratification; multi-cars, homes and bathrooms; and time warp speed for living, working and playing. It is an exhilarating experience which I would not trade for anything.
Yes indeed. LIFE IS GOOD!

August Sixteenth...In My Memories

2008-08-16T23:01:00.000-06:00

August 16, 1916
Salt Lake city, Utah

On this day, 92 years ago, a wonderful human being came into this world. She was bright, beautiful and a joy to be around. Her life was difficult, her health was a constant battle but she rarely complained. She married, her senior year of high school, to a young farmer named Clyde. She worked hard as a farmer's wife, cooking, cleaning, running errands; all those tasks required by folks who feed the world. In her spare time she gave birth to eight children, five daughters and three sons. After being widowed at thirty-nine, these children, their children, and even their children, were the great love of her life. She loved unconditionally, she died unconditionally, surrounded by the family who loved her with the same intensity as was shown to each of them throughout her time in this world. At 10:30 AM on September 30, 1994, she opened her bright green eyes with a look of wonder as she sighed her final goodbye to those who loved her so much, and who miss her still, so many years later.

You are in our hearts forever, Mom. We love you and miss you!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MOM...HOPE YOU'RE HAVING ICE CREAM!

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

2008-08-12T22:10:00.000-06:00

A FOURTH GENERATION OF LOVE

Some Things are Just So Irritating

2008-08-08T21:39:00.000-06:00

Last week I went to Boise to visit family for a "mini" family reunion. I had a wonderful time; peaceful sleep at Michelle's home, great visits with family members, food to die for, shopping with my daughter, grand daughters and sisters, visits with former co-workers. When it was time to return to the North, I was relaxed and happy, ready to face the "coal mines" again.

This week, which just ended for me, greeted me with a lot of catching-up-at-work. It was a busy week with the normal challenges of managing the business and personnel who keep it going. Regardless of the fact that I sometimes find myself wondering whether it's all worth it, I love my job, the people who work with me and the customers who are the "real" signers of my paycheck.

In spite of the aforementioned proclamation, there are a couple of things that are just plain irritating to me; one being the people who are so afraid of germs, that they pee (or worse) all over the toilet seat, or leave the paper lid cover (which they peed or worse on) where they left it for the next person to dispose of. Then they go to the sink to wash those filthy little germs off their hands, take the ten paper towels they used to dry those same hands, to cover the handle of the door as they leave. Ok, I can live with that, but why do they toss them back onto the floor before the doors fully closes?? I've seen them do it! Obviously, they could not care less about the person who has to clean-up after them. Eating a little dirt as a child would probably have added years to their paranoid lives. AAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGG!

Second irritation: the drivers who can't read the stop signs on the road which runs in front of the store entrance. Our parking lot is nearly always full, meaning that there are a lot of people, many with small children, entering and exiting the store. We all know that even with very attentive parents, small children tend to leap before they look. It's almost as if they have an innate urge to run as soon as the outdoor air hits their faces. I can't begin the recall the number of times I have seen near-misses as someone barrels through the stop signs, oblivious to the danger they create for other people. And, to make matters worse, most of these are supposedly mature adults, not the teenagers and college students. One busy weekend day, I stood there and counted 25 vehicles go through the stop signs before one actually stopped. We had over 3000 (not counting children) customers crossing that speedway that day. Go figure!

Now that I have vented, I still have to admit that "Life is, indeed, good!"

Speaking of Bloomers

2008-07-27T15:15:00.001-06:00

I grew up on Southern cooking. My Grandma Kinghorn (Campbells from Kentucky) taught Mom to cook after she married my Dad. Biscuits, gravy, mashed potatoes, fried potatoes and onions, bacon, sausage, fried eggs, fried chicken, warm home made bread, slathered with butter and home made jam, fried bread dough slathered with the same butter and jam, chicken and home made noodles (Mom's were tender as a baby's bottom) roasted beef, pork and home cured ham, pies, cakes and cookies made from recipes of a little of this and a little of that, stored in the cookbook of Mom's mind; fruits and vegetables grown in the garden, extras canned for winter. Every meal was a treat, all three of them each day. I loved it then and I love it now...eating, that is.

I learned to cook the same way as Mom. By the time I was in my forties, all that rich food had caught up with me. On a routine exam at my doctor's office, I was basically told that I had an over abundance of lard running through my veins and needed to start eating like a rabbit. Well, since I only weighed in at about 123 lbs at the time, I didn't take his word as seriously as I should have, giving this new lifestyle only an half-assed attempt. So....by the time my early fifties hit me, the lard had settled in both iliac arteries, just about half an inch below my aorta. This ain't good!

To make a long story short, I ended up with stents in both arteries, making it possible to keep blood flowing to my legs and feet. Kind of important for my line of work. Then, of course, I began the routine of prescriptions to lower my cholesterol (melt the lard) and blood pressure. Now I know these have helped, but I've gained 40 pounds in the process. That one I can't figure out because I don't eat any more than before. In fact, it's more the rabbit routine, leaving me to wonder whether it's the meds, along with the hysterectomy that left me with no hormones and maybe the aging process. Anyway, the bottom line is..I have a circulation problem, which brings me to the subject of 'bloomers'.

Did you know that people with circulation problems shouldn't wear tight fittin' clothes? My current Internist checks the waistband and butt fit of my pants every time I go in for a checkup. Years ago, MaryHell introduced me to the 'boy cut' panties she had found at Nordstroms in Salt Lake City; stretchy all over, but no elastic to cut off the blood flow to my legs..again important. Well, they ain't especially purdy if you get my drift. Since I'm long past the stage of life when I care whether the Fireman prefers lace bikinis, (believe me, men never stop wanting sexy, at any age) these homely bloomers work just fine for me. I just have to tell you though, that I have found something new, again thanks to my baby sister, MaryHell, whose suffers the same fate.

On my last trip to Pasco, where I bought new skivvies for the Fireman, I admit that I also bought skivvies for me. I mean Men's skivvies. The devil (MaryHell) made me do it. They're cotton knit with longer legs and the no open-fly kind. No, they're not the typical boxer type. We giggled and laughed about the 'pouch' and what we supposed to do with it, but went forward anyway, each buying a package of two. I chose a pkg with one blue, gray and black stripe and one plain gray-blue pair. (why is a single skivvie or panty a pair?) We took them home, anxious to see how they would work. They are comfortable, don't ride up, don't roll down over my Ronald Reagan tummy (jelly belly), the 'pouch' is no problem and there is absolutely no feeling of binding anywhere. Plus, they are half the price of my homely 'boys'. I shall buy them again. OK, so now you know my intimates details, but we are friends, are we not?

Yes, indeed, life is good!

Outrageous!

2008-07-26T19:35:00.000-06:00

Ever lived in a subdivision with a Home Owners Association? I'd rather pay taxes and high gas prices any day than live under this kind of suppression ever again. The rules and the people who enforce them must be reincarnated from Hitler's regime. They tell you what color to paint your house, what trees, shrubs and plants you can grow, how often to mow and water, when to flush the toilet, what day you can buy groceries, and for God's sake don't park your Mercedes in the driveway; it's not aesthetically pleasing. Then to add insult to injury, you have to pay them to dish out their abusive judgements every month and risk fines and liens if you dare to defy their ridiculous demands.

We've all heard of the HOA in Florida who put a lien on the home of a family who chose to install a flagpole to fly the American flag. (wasn't aesthetically pleasing to the elitist golf players in the Sub)
Now, this past week, an HOA somewhere is protesting people who chose to hang their laundry outside to dry. Again, these sleazy bastards, who dare to use the wind to save energy, are ruining the aethestics of some 'Puttin' in the Ritz' neighborhood in America.

I don't live in an HOA neighborhood any longer, thank God, but I'll tell you what; if I could find one, I'd but a clothes line in my yard in a minute. Moscow, ID certainly has the wind for it and if you've never climbed into a bed with sheets fresh off the clothes line, you've never lived. The perfume of God's wind in fabrics is one of the sweetest gifts of life. HOA Gestapo leaders (?) should try it sometime, they might actually find something they like in life.

Let your bloomers blow in the the Wind. This is the Land of the Free, isn't it?

A Few of the Things I've Learned About Life

2008-07-24T18:27:00.000-06:00

Don't plan, or even hope for, the perfect life, education, spouse, career, talents, etc., for your kids. They can stumble or soar through life the same way you did, by the choices they make and own, on their own. Ever watched some of the folks trying to get on 'America's Got Talent' or 'American Idol', whose parents pushed/convinced them they were the next Barbra Streisand or Rod Stewart? Poor untalented souls probably wanted to be a Neurosurgeon instead, if Mom/Dad would have really listened.
Perfectionists can be a real pain the the arse at times. It OK for them to want and insist on their own perfection, but to put down, demean, fire, or squash another Human Being because they don't meet that perfectionist's standards is a sad commentary for Humanity.
I am far from perfect and I love it! Gives me something to work on every day.
Hell is a yard full of weeds and an aching back!
Listening is more interesting than flapping your jaws constantly.
Hugs have became a reason for lawsuits. WTF!!
"Stuff" is not what makes life worth living, it's the people in your life.
Slobbery dog kisses can make your heart fill with joy.
The majority of all the people of the Earth are good, kind and lovable. It's the very small minority who create hatred, strife and fear. Why do we allow this?
My feet are ugly and there ain't a damn thing I can do about it!
You might as well have taken the $300 you spent for the "Miracle" wrinkle cream and flushed it down the toilet.
Honesty can't be taken away from you. On the other hand sometimes the truth does hurt.
The hard knocks in life can make your life better, if you let them.
Yesterday is gone, tomorrow doesn't matter, today is all that exists.
God has a sense of humor.
Life has been very good to me, even with the bumps along the way.
Everything is beautiful if you change your perspective.
Staying angry or holding grudges can be harmful to your health.
Saying "No" gets easier with age. (except for bad habits and over eating)

LIFE IS INDEED GOOD!

A Little Trip.......shopping

2008-07-18T21:19:00.000-06:00

After a wonderful night's sleep on Saturday, MaryH and I got up to one of Bill's great breakfasts. Normally he cooks bacon, eggs, hash browns and toast; always Falls Brand bacon (the best anywhere) and the eggs and hash browns cooked to perfection. This fine Sunday morning we got home made biscuits and real (no mixes) sausage gravy along with the perfectly cooked eggs. It was delish! After lingering over coffee, freshly ground, and visiting for a while, MaryH headed for a quick shower so that I could give her a hair cut before it was my turn to perform my morning miracle on myself.

We finished dressing and headed for the Mall. I had to get the undies and socks, remember and thanks to an honest business owner, I had some cash burning a hole in my psyche, begging to be spent. We found a spot close to Penny's, went inside the Mall ready to spend a few hours. I was also looking for a dress for upcoming wedding of my Grandson so that's where we started.
The selection was plentiful and there were some that piqued my interest a little but I didn't want to make a rush decision, so we decided to look further, in other shops and department stores throughout the Mall.

I searched and looked and tried on at least 50 different dresses, learning that somewhere in time I must have become twice what I used to be, size-wise, that is. Me and thousands of other women, 'cuz the size I apparently needed was few and far between. After hours of this torture to my guilt button, and lying about how "cute" everything was, I cried out in frustration to MaryH. "Why is everything so damn butt ugly and made to fit a ten year old?" Mary H said, "Oh, I'm so glad you said that because I've been thinking the same thing. They are butt ugly!" Someone aught to find the makers of these atrocities and slap the shit out of them. What an insult to the women of the world; at least those of us who aren't kazillionaires and can have beautiful custom made clothes. I still don't have anything to wear to the wedding, damn it!

With that futile search ended, we went to CinnaBon and ordered two cinnamon rolls and 2 cokes. $11.00!!!! WTF?

While sitting there, MaryH realized she had left her cell phone in one of the numerous shops we had been to, so having tired feet and feeling cranky from our fruitless search for the perfect look, I suggested she trace back, starting at Macy's, while I went to Penny's to get the socks and undies, where she would meet up with me. The Columbia Mall in Kennewick is like a big spider with hallways going this way and that, so Mary pointed me toward JCP while she turned and went the opposite direction. I walked one long hallway and had to stop to have a "local" point me in the right direction again. So I followed his directions, turning this way and that way. On the last 'that' way, I spotted Y'S on a sign and headed that direction, which led me into the Men's department, just where I wanted to be. Yeah! Knowing Mary might be a while, I lingered through the department looking for the Gold Toes and underwear, touching, feeling and examining the virtues of each very carefully before making my final decision. MH hadn't shown up yet and I was beginning to look suspicious to the sales people, so I decided to go ahead and check out and wait in the openness of the hall until she arrived. The young man rang up my purchase and asked if I wanted to use my Macy's card. I said "No, I'm in Penny's aren't I? I instantly thought, "No wonder this stuff is so damned pricey." I was embarrassed but we both laughed at the fact that I had no clue where the hell I was.

I hurried out into the main hallway thinking MH must be tired of waiting for me, wondering where the hell I was, so I tried to call her on her cell phone as I rushed toward the Penny's sign I finally spotted, not knowing for sure whether she had even found her phone yet. To make matters worse, I had a brand new phone myself and could barely figure out how to turn it on. I was cursing myself for buying a new phone, which I did not need, just because it is Emerald green, let alone obligating me to another two year contract, when it finally rang through, only to have me cut off the call (????) as she answered. Luckily, as I neared the entrance to JCP, she spotted me. I had to confess about my wrong turn into PenAcy's, which gave her a good belly laugh.

I had to go to the lingerie department for myself to get some new bras so as we headed up the escalator, MH told me that she had stepped outside to have a smoke and there happened to be one of the sales clerks doing the same thing, so they struck up a conversation, during which MH BS'd herself into a part-time job. (The JCP clerk happened to be a Supervisor) I got my socks, skivvies and bras and MH got a job. The day was not a total loss.

Oh, we did have to go back to MH's and do the on-line application process which include a Reid survey and background check. That took about twenty minutes and the next day she got a call for the official interview and was hired at $1 an hour over the starting wage.
Yes, indeed. Life is mostly good except for the fact that I will probably have to go to the wedding nekkid. What a scary thought!!

A Little Trip

2008-07-15T20:35:00.000-06:00

I get lonely for family. However, my kids and grand kids live too far away (a 6 1/2 hour trip if it's non-stop) so this weekend I decided to go to Pasco (2 1/2 hr) to see MaryHell and to go to the mall for socks, undies and most importantly, to find a dress for Eric and Jenn's wedding in September.

I always stop in Washtucna, WA (about half-way) on my way for a pit stop and water or coke. I did this as usual then went on my way to complete the trip. Arriving at MaryHell's, I pulled up to the front of her house, turned off the key, unbuckled my seatbelt (yes, kids, it's finally become a habit with me) and reached over to get my purse. It wasn't there. I frantically searched the floors and back seat, to no avail. The truth is: the words out of my mouth were something to the tune of "SHIT!!" I knew I had left it at the store in Washtucna because I had to get some cash out to pay for the Sobee Energy drink I had decided sounded good and refreshing.

I gathered my suitcase and went into the house to announce my dilemma to MH and Bill. Mary was on the phone in a flash, calling the Sheriff's department in that county, who in turn called the business and then called me back to let me know it was safely in their keeping. I was relieved because not only did it contain all my credit cards and ID, it also contained the $500 shopping and gas cash I had stopped at the ATM to withdraw before I left Moscow.

MH had invited my niece and a friend over to have lunch for my visit and was in the middle of preparing a wonderful chicken salad for the event. MH, in most cases, wears the pants in the house, so she "ordered" Bill to drive the 75 miles back to Washtucna to retrieve my purse so that we could continue on with the luncheon she had planned. He happily agreed. I think he wanted an excuse not to have to listen to a bunch of women gossip and giggle for a couple of hours so I called the business number the sheriff had given me to let them know that Bill would be coming to pick up my purse. I gave the owner a description of Bill and his full name so that he would feel comfortable in handing the purse over to someone other than me. The purse came back with everything I had left in it, intact. I love honest people!!

After lunch and a good visit, Sis left to take her kids to a movie; MH, Kerry and I decided to go on a tour of homes. Kerry is having a home built so we went to see the model, which was fabulous, then on to other areas of the Tri-Cities to compare, see the trends and get decorating ideas, something we all love doing. What's standard in Idaho, is an upgrade in Washington. Even air conditioning! I don't understand that since Mary lives in Hell's kitchen as far as I'm concerned. 110 degrees and the humidity from the Columbia River make for pretty uncomfortable living conditions, but then, I am not a hot weather person to begin with. By the time we finished our "tour", it was getting late so we headed for the barn where Bill, a very good cook, had a great pork chop dinner waiting for us to enjoy. We then settled down for a good movie, The Bucket List. I loved the movie and the message it brings. And, I have found that I too, want my ashes placed in a no nonsense tin can, but not placed on the top of some high mountain in the Himalayas. A shelf in some closet, or on someones kitchen counter will do just fine. We visited and giggled for a while after the movie, then fell into bed, window wide open (it cools down considerably after dark) for the best night's sleep I've enjoyed for quite some time. Not having four dogs on your head definitely makes a difference.

Sunday would be our shopping adventure........in the meantime: zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
More tomorrow.

P.S. I don't know why my fonts are different in some paragraphs, so just consider the source.

I Held My Breath And Jumped Right In

2008-07-07T20:55:00.000-06:00

My job requires that I work five ten hour days one week and six ten hour days the next. Last week was my six day making Sunday my one day off. I'm not complaining, mind you; it's just one of the many reasons the folks who work under my management remind me........"That's why you make the BIG bucks"!

That one day holds a lot in store for me; laundry, ironing, cleaning, errands (if time allows) shopping, etc., etc., Sometimes I even let the Betty Crocker in me sneak out and actually cook a decent meal for the Fireman. Keeps him interested, 'cuz he never knows when to expect it!

This past Sunday, I started my routine by throwing a batch of whites into the washer, changing the bedding, dusting and vacuuming the bedrooms. An hour later, I had put the whites in the dryer, threw a batch of pastels into the washer and was ready to start on the bathrooms.

As I was passing my lap top, with cleaning stuff in my hands and sparkling toilets on my mind, I decided to quickly check out my favorites blogs before plunging (no pun intended) into porcelain bowls and such. Internet Explorer coughed and sputtered as usual (I can't figure out why Windows Vista and IE hate each other since they are both the children of the great Mother, Microsoft) before I was able to click on my Favorites to quick-link to the blogs.

Looking at the list under Favorites, my eye caught the site for Mozilla, creator of Firefox, an alternative to IE. I had read about this Web provider a few weeks ago, and heard good things, so I had asked Sandee, my daughter to try it out and let me know whether or not she liked it. I'm a coward, you see, when it comes to exploring new things on a computer along with the fact that I knew Sandee would be able to rescue her computer if something went wrong. I wouldn't have a clue what to do. Well, I looked at that link and said to myself (had no response from Sandee yet) "Oh, hell, why not? You only live once." Therefore I clicked that link, panicked a little, and hit the "download now" button, held my breath and jumped right in with both feet.

This took all of about three minutes and there I was with Firefox 3 as my Web browser. The problem was that all I had was a simple tool bar, and a big white page with nothing but a Google logo and search bar. My day of cleaning, etc. was a thing of the past. "Well", I told myself, "you created this monster, now you have to kill it." I went back to the Mozilla page and read the information which I should have read before I started. This is like building your own house. You get to choose the features that you can't live without. There are hundreds of options so I spent the next five hours figuring it all out, stopping for breaks once in a while to un-jumble my brain.

In the end I have iGoogle as my home page with all kinds of stuff to fill up that big white page I started with, again hundreds to choose from. There are 272 color/style choices for the toolbar header and it seems like zillions of buttons to fill those bars, each performing a different function. I can still open new windows in tabs (any color you want, I chose multi-colored tabs) The only thing I haven't figured out is how to get my Windows mail button onto the toolbar, but I can still launch it from my start up tray at the bottom of my screen.

I have to say, I LOVE IT!!!! Everything works fine. All of my settings, etc. were transferred intact and it does indeed work faster and better than IE. And I didn't make a dent in the possibilities it offers. If anyone decides to give it a try, be sure to add the Stumbleupon add-on. It takes you to places (you choose the categories) you never dreamed of, most at the speed of lightning.

Yes, indeed, my one day off was productive after all. Life is good. Amen and goodnight.

June Is Bustin' Out

2008-06-30T19:03:00.000-06:00

THE BIRTHDAY GIRL, SANDEE

June was bustin' out all over in 1967 and so was I until the very last day when I was the one burstin' with pride and love for Sandee Lynn, my third baby, who came into this old world that day. It had been three years and eleven months since Darrell was born on July 11, 1963. We were thrilled to have another baby in our home. Seems like just yesterday but the little darling is celebrating her forty-first today and it is a pleasure to know and love her.

Love you lots!! Your favorite Mommie

The Scenic Route......Home At Last??

2008-06-29T13:11:00.000-06:00

It still amazes me that five grown women, one motel room, (albeit with three queen size beds) and one bathroom survived a night together with nothing but each other for entertainment. It had been a busy week, we were tired, stressed from the events of the day, and ready for our own homes and beds. Miraculously, we made through the night with no hair pulling, weeping, or gnashing of teeth.

It took at least three hours before we all performed our morning miracles, got a rental car, loaded up our treasures and ourselves and headed toward home. After stopping for a short brunch, we were finally on the last leg; no stops from here on out we promised ourselves.

If you've ever been to Portland, OR, you know how there is no line of demarcation between all the little towns in that area. So, when we left the Gresham restaurant where we had stopped, traffic was pretty heavy in all six lanes and, since we were headed for Interstate 84 East, Sandee moved the van over to the far left lane to avoid traffic entering the freeway from the many off ramps on the right. This portion of the freeway was separated from West bound traffic only by concrete barriers, maybe four feet in height. As we settled down for the remainder of the trip, we were commenting on how good it felt to finally be our way and MaryHell was on the cell phone giving Bill an estimated time of our arrival and telling him to have (he's a great cook) some dinner ready when we got there. I was sitting on the passenger side of the back seat reading some pamphlet. What happened next seemed to be in slow motion.

Coming up to our left, traveling West in the center lane was an eighteen wheeler pulling an empty flatbed trailer; both lanes to the right of us were filled with traffic. Suddenly, in the West bound lanes and out of nowhere, came a bright blue PT Cruiser traveling at a very high rate of speed. The driver came upon that trailer very quickly, turning the wheel too late to safely pass. I heard a loud banging noise and suddenly this flash of bright blue was everywhere as it seemed to tumble toward us. The only sound I remember hearing at that moment in time was my own voice saying "Oh, My God!" It looked almost certain that the Cruiser was going to bounce over the barrier, hitting us head-on. I'm certain the lives of each of us passed before our eyes in the matter of a second or two because we all knew there was no way to avoid a collision with two lanes full of traffic on our right and a concrete barrier to our left.

The cruiser hit that barrier hard, breaking a huge piece of concrete off the top. I could see the driver flopping around like a rag doll as his car bounced backward into traffic, the chunk of concrete bouncing into the path of our rental van. The knuckles on Sandee's hands were white as she swerved very slightly to the left before the concrete hit the right front side of the van with a loud bang. We all felt the shudder of that hit, frightened to death, but Sandee hung on, keeping that vehicle under control until she found a hole in the traffic and was able to pull off the right side of the freeway about a half mile down the road and right at an exit. I firmly believe that her calmness and good driving skills had saved our lives or at least, saved us from some very serious injuries.

We all got out of the van, visibly shaken from the experience. It was only then that Sandee, with tears in her eyes, admitted that she was "scared shitless". Indeed!

It was several hours before the van and the five of us were once again loaded onto and into our second tow truck in as many days. We were taken to a shop a short distance away where, after a myriad of phone calls and paperwork, they determined that a new rim and tire would get us back on track to home. We were at that shop long enough, and were giddy enough from escaping a terrible death, that I'm certain the guys at that shop haven't forgotten "those five women from Idaho" yet. Why cry when laughing is so much more fun?

Well..........we finally made it safely to our own homes, vowing to never take the "Scenic Route" again in our travels; at least not until next time. It's kinda like having baby..........the rewards are so great, the pain is soon forgotten and you know you will most likely try again sometime.

Just remember, when the sign says "Falling Rock" it doesn't mean brown paper bags! Happy traveling!

Oh, yeah.........MaryHell found out that even though several vehicles were damaged and the Cruiser was demolished in that accident, no lives were lost that day. Life is good!

The Scenic Route......continued

2008-06-28T19:24:00.000-06:00

We headed North on the Coast highway, Bill and Michelle ahead of us, back to life as normal. After stopping in Depoe Bay for gas and one last stop to see whether we could spot any Whales, we continued on to Lincoln City where we had agreed to stop for breakfast at a new Pancake House that had recently opened. There we filled our tummies said our final good byes to Bill and Michelle and continued on toward Tillemook, OR where we stopped to tour the cheese factory. We bought some goodies and ooo'd and awed over the trinkets in the large gift shop. This was to be our last stop, except for gas, when we loaded ourselves and more "stuff" into the van and drove North to Portland before heading East to Pasco. Of course construction and traffic were heavy so, by the time we drove through Portland, we were ready for lunch. We stopped somewhere in Gresham, had our lunch, then it would be straight through to MaryHell's home.

Well, we hadn't driven far when we saw the Scenic Route sign. We all agreed, "Why not", knowing it was only about a 30 minute delay. The winding road was a narrow two lane leading us up a mountain to where we could stop at an observatory and see the beautiful river views from a completely different perspective. We stayed for a while, taking pictures, and touring the building before continuing on that very narrow road which would join with the Interstate, a few miles East. Traffic wasn't bumper to bumper, but there were plenty of other "tourists" taking in the beauty of the byway. Sandee was driving at a safe speed, while the rest of us chatted about our week and the things we had seen and done. The road narrowed as we started the downhill decent and became darker with the lushness of the forest on both sides. I could see a curve ahead, noticing what appeared to be a brown paper bag laying in the middle of our lane. I knew Sandee couldn't swerve to miss it because of the blind curve coming at us. Next thing I knew there was a loud crunching sound as we passed over the bag which was, in fact, a rock. We drove on for a couple of miles and spotted a rest stop to our right, deciding to stop to check for any damage that might have occurred. It was not pretty! Although the damage was not visible, the lake of oil flowing from under the car told us that we were in deep doo-doo.

We couldn't get any cell phone service to call for help, and even though there were at least fifteen other vehicles there, no one asked if they could help in any way. Obviously, we couldn't drive the vehicle, so what were we to do? Mary walked up and down the road trying to find a spot to get a cell signal, finally getting through to her husband after about forty minutes. I don't remember all of the details, but finally, after what seemed like the whole damn day, but was more like two hours later, along came a tow truck to our rescue. Bill had let them know there was five of us so the tow truck was equipped with a "crew cab". After he got the van onto the bed of the truck, we all climbed in, made ourselves comfortable, and headed back to Gresham.

By the time we got back to the tow yard, it was getting late in the afternoon and we had became friends with our tow truck driver. It was the weekend, and his day off, but he treated us with nothing but respect and concern. We let him know what a privilege it was for him to be in the company of five beautiful, intelligent and funny women. He agreed..........he dared not!. Truly, he was a fantastic young man. Anyhoo, after a dozen phone calls, we knew we would not be arriving in Pasco that night. We reserved a room big enough for all of us and arranged for a rental car to get us home the next day.

Realizing that we had no way to get into town and had about a ton and a half of luggage, and a ton of women, that same fabulous young man, called his boss, got another tow truck with a flatbed, unloaded Mary's van of our precious belongings and loaded them on the back of that truck and drove us to the motel. We were hungry and thirsty, so before getting to the motel, he agreed to stop at a convenience store so we could load up on beer, pop, water and snacks. We got more than a few looks of curiosity as we pulled up to the front door of that motel, five of us pouring out of that truck, bed loaded with suit cases, shopping bags, and to-die-for treasures. Donald Trump never had a better chauffeur than we had that day. If that young man never does another kindness in his life, he has earned more respect from five Idaho women than he'll ever need in this lifetime.

Damn, this is a long story but it's not over yet.............there's more to come.

Never Take The Scenic Route

2008-06-25T20:41:00.000-06:00

One of the perks that comes along with my job as a store Manager is having the privilege of using one of the vacation properties owned by my company. My very favorite, which I have used for nearly ten years, is on the Central Coast of Oregon. It was a Condo located at Otter Crest, between Depoe Bay and Newport, one of the most beautiful (in my opinion) areas on the coast. About two hours South of Portland, it is surrounded by lush forests and the beautiful Pacific Ocean. Certainly it is a tourist trap, but I love it there and love to have my family members join me to share my allotted time.

Two years ago, MaryHell, Phyliss (my sisters), Sandee, (my daughter, the chauffeur) and Karen, a lifelong family friend, joined me for the yearly jaunt. Phyliss and Karen flew in from Pocatello, ID, and Sandee drove in from Meridian, ID to meet MaryHell and me at MH's home in Pasco, WA. We all spent the night at MH's home before loading her Honda van full of enough luggage for a Summer in Europe, seated ourselves comfortably into the vehicle with Sandee at the wheel and off we went for a week of fun and relaxation.

We giggled, we gossiped, we sang, we stopped for breakfast, we stopped for fuel, snacks, and potty breaks and finally for fresh fruits and vegetables at an Oregon produce farm before finally reaching the Condo about eight hours after we started. Construction along the way had slowed us down by probably, two and a half hours so the sun was starting to set by the time we got our first glimpse of the ocean. We were tired and worn out from the long trip but charged with anticipation for the days to follow.

Michelle and Bill, my daughter and son-in-law joined us to make the troupe complete. Bill and Michelle went crabbing on some days, and to the oyster bay another, bringing home a bucket of fresh oysters that we fried up and feasted on for two days. They were incredibly delicious! The "Girls" lounged if we felt like it, or ventured out to the wharf to join the rest of the tourists, ate wonderful meals at my favorite seafood restaurants, spent money on "stuff" we couldn't live without which, I'm sure, not one of us remembers buying or what we did with it once we got it home. We Whale watched from the beaches with sand and surf blowing into our faces, gambled at the casino in Lincoln City, and shopped for hours at the Outlet Mall and antique stores. We took a Whale watching boat trip, resulting in a mass amount of sea-sickness (another story), toured the Sea Lion Caves and some light houses and went to the aquarium at Newport. There must be a zillion pictures of this trip out there somewhere in the World. Sandee and Michelle's cameras were hot all week.

In the evenings, we talked, laughed and cried about old times, cured all the troubles of the world, cooked and ate sinful amounts of food, drank margaritas and such, watched TV or movies and slept like babies after exhaustion finally set in. I must say that my son-in-law, Bill, was a pleasure to have around. What man, but a good one, would put up with six women for nearly a week, with nothing but charm, wit and personality. But then again, he and Michelle did escape on their own adventures for at least a part of each day........hmmmmmm.

We had a wonderful week together, but were ready when the day came to pack up and head for the barn. We loaded up our luggage and memories early on that last day, heading North along the Coast highway, not knowing that our real adventure was yet to come.

To be continued..................................................................

Random Thoughts

2008-06-11T19:06:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, June 10th, it SNOWED for about four hours here on the beautiful Idaho Palouse. I had to dig out a Winter coat, for heaven's sake. After work, I decided to try pulling some of the millions of weeds in my flower beds. With the ground being as wet as it is, they came out easily, but as it turned out, it was like trying to write fast enough to keep track of the gas milage on a mega-guzzler SUV. I couldn't pull fast enough to beat the little buggers from popping their ugly heads through the soil behind me...............so, I quit in frustration.
Looking through applications to fill positions at the store, I sometimes wonder what the hell happened to teaching spelling, grammer or even reading, in our schools these days. And, I sometimes wonder whether we really do have ET's among us. For example: question on the app: Have you ever been arrested for anything other than a traffic violation? (can't have a convicted embezzler, etc., handling large amounts of cash, ya know) Answer on one application: 'possible child abuse, mister miner'. (misdemeaner?) You tell me. Question: What skills do have that that you feel are related to this position? Answer: 'fore cliff'. Did he mean forklift? Here's another great one on a Work Comp log kept by the Secretary, prior to me, of a company I worked for years ago: Describe how the injury occurred. The Secretary wrote: was hit in the "growing" with a 2x4. (this company dealt with lumber products) Did she mean groin? I've often wondered. Finally, Question: Who referred you to this job? Answer: 'The sign at the entrance and my mother (deceased)' She speaks to the dead? And, from the same app: Why did you leave your last job? 'fired for incompetence'. (she was self employed) Why would you tell a potential employer that??

Sometimes I question my own belief that we are all a part of a God who experiences Him/Her/It's self through each one of us and what we create in our lives. But who am I to judge anyone, anyway? Life does make for interesting thinking, doesn't it? TaDa for now.

It Stayed in Vegas

2008-06-01T16:46:00.000-06:00

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas? There's no doubt about that! I left 'em plenty of my hard earned Idaho bucks. I'm sure they love people like me who don't know when to quit, but oh well.........I had a good time losing my shorts.

The meeting was short, sweet and informative; the food was excellent (I experienced my first taste of caviar) and it was good to see and visit with so many people I've worked with over the eighteen years I've worked for Winco.

We had a veeeery interesting speaker for the first part of our Manager's meeting. He called himself a Mentalist. And that he was! I watched him bend and twist a spoon with his mind, and the usual card number thing but the most fascinating was how he came up with the names of wives, husbands, kids, driver's license numbers, birth dates, etc from members of the audience. Every thing he came up with as 100% accurate, in every case. It was incredible. The majority of this came from just talking to these people and asking questions. A few answers came from things he had people write on a piece of paper. He randomly chose us to participate. My experience was him coming to my table and asking me to come up to the podium to participate.
He asked me why I thought he chose me and I said, "Because I'm so damn beautiful?" He said it was because I was the only person in the room who didn't look at him when he said he was coming down to get a participant. Lesson learned: don't avoid. Anyway, he asked me to think of a time of day anytime in my life that meant something special to me. It only took a few seconds to think of 10:30 AM, when Mom passed away. I remember it so well, not only because I was at her side, but because the Hospice nurse had told me and my siblings early that morning that her death would come about 10:30. She was totally accurate.

He asked whether I had a time in mind, which of course, I did. He then asked me to write it down on a piece of paper he had given me. He showed the audience that the paper was blank on both sides, handed it to me, turning his back as I wrote the time down. I then folded the paper in four, telling him I was finished. I kept the paper in my hand while he asked a few questions such as: "Was this during the day?" And, "Was this an important event in your life?" He told me to think of this time while he looked into my eyes for a few seconds. He then walked over to his table and picked up a small blackboard, which I had seen him write on before the meeting started, then put it face down on the table. I did not see what he wrote. When he picked it up, showing it to me and the audience, it had 10:30 written on it! He then asked me if it was the correct time and what the significance was to me. It was mind blowing. No one in that room could know that information, except me. I was impressed, as was everyone there. He told us that we all have that ability if we work at it and also that he wasn't allowed to gamble in the casinos! LOL

After dinner that evening, we went to a show in the Mirage Love theater. It was "The Beatle's LOVE", by Cirque du Soleil. It was a tribute to the music of the Beatles. The music, costumes, lighting, props and acrobatics were fabulous but it was the strangest thing I have ever seen in my life. I'm still shaking my head trying to figure out what it all meant. Don't get me wrong, I love fantasy, science fiction and all that stuff but this was downright weird. Guess my imagination was on hold for that one.

As for all my worrying about what to wear: I could have worn a potato sack and no one would have noticed. It was Vegas for Heaven's sake! I bought at least four new outfits and ended up taking jeans and tops for days one and three and wore a more business-like pair of slacks, shirt and jacket I had worn to another meeting last year. All I did was turn the jacket inside out after I discovered it was a two-way job and TaDa!, a new outfit. No one knew but me, nor did they care. I've got a couple of sacks of stuff going back to Macy's this week. They'll probably hate me but I really don't need more clothes that I never wear. Forever in blue jeans!! That's me.

My pocket book is much lighter and I was very tired from spending long hours in the casino, but all in all I had a wonderful get-away for a few days. Tomorrow..back to the grind.

I Am Terrified...........continued

2008-05-27T20:11:00.000-06:00

Ok, so we floated the river, the kids had a great time, we made it to solid ground and obviously the good Lord wasn't ready for me yet, no matter how certain I was that the float trip was my last day on Earth.

We were all pretty tired after that little jaunt, so we went on home, had some dinner and pretty much relaxed for the rest of the evening before hitting the sack.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt hot and feverish as I headed for the bathroom. In addition, my skin felt sore, so I knew I was probably a little sunburned. As I stumbled into the bathroom. I turned on the light, looking in the mirror to shock myself fully awake. What I saw was this monsterous looking red thing staring back at me with swollen eyes, a couple of green slits of color where there should have been irises. And since it was Summer, I was wearing only the skivvies I usually sleep in during hot weather. I'm pretty fair skinned and what I was seeing was the white, and I mean white, outline of a tank top on my chest, continuing all the way down to about five inches above my knees where my cutoffs had stopped, against the backdrop of the reddest skin I have ever seen on a human being. I wasn't sunburned, I was deep fried! That was the day I learned that an overcast sky, on a hot day in the water, does not guarantee protection from the sun.

No wonder I was hot! I touched my skin and was sure I could fry the eggs for breakfast on my upper chest if I could lay down on my back. I turned on the shower to a cool temp, hoping the water would take some of the burning out of my skin but the spray made me cringe in pain. I got out the aloe gel and asked my husband to rub the areas that I couldn't reach. The cooling effect was great for a few short minutes. As the morning wore on, I felt sicker and sicker and the pain was almost unbearable. Not being able to stand it any longer, I asked Archie to take me to the emergency room. I was very weak, feeling like I was going to pass out by the time we got there.
It was agony getting out of my clothes, but the doctor had to see what was going on with me.

He looked at my skin and told me that I had second degree burns and that the faintness was from severe dehydration. He left, bringing back a quart of Pedialyte. He told me it was nasty but that I needed to force myself to drink the whole quart right then. He was right, it was NASTY! I gagged it down and within fifteen minutes I felt a thousand percent better....except my skin. He told me to drink lots of fluids, take some aspirin for the fever and pain in my skin and to keep applying the aloe gel. I went home, got naked, and laid in my bed with nothing to cover me but air (I couldn't stand anything to touch my skin) for several days.

Now I could have born all of this with grace and dignity if it weren't for the fact that our house was on the market for sale. Archie, a realtor, had called the MLS service to tell them not to allow any showings that week. Unfortunately, not everyone got the message. We had floated the river on Saturday. On Tuesday, Archie had taken the kids fishing or something, so that I could have a day of peace and quiet. I was still laying naked and uncovered on my bed, my bedroom door shut. I was apparently dozing when I suddenly opened my eyes and stared into the faces of three strangers, two men and a woman. For what seemed an eternity, we stared at each other, speechless and wide eyed. Finally, I heard some kind of an apology and a "we'll come back another time.", followed by the slamming of the front door.

Was I embarrassed? Certainly! Did I find the incident hysterically funny, followed by a fit of uncontrolled laughter? Of course, I did

I peeled like a moulting snake for the next few weeks but we sold the house the a little over a week after I had my surprise "viewing". Those folks must have been impressed! LOL

Life is good!

I Am Terrified of:

2008-05-26T18:06:00.000-06:00

Everybody is afraid of something. I am no exception. The three most terrifying to me are water, heights and roller coasters.

Back in the seventies, after moving our family to Boise, we learned of a very popular Summer activity and decided to take our four kids and join many others who floated the Boise River on rafts or in tire tubes.

This was, and probably still is, a big deal. The city even had a little vending area at Barber Park where you could rent tubes for the ride and get some drinks and snacks if you so desired.

The day we had our first adventure on the River was warm, with overcast skies. It seemed perfect to me as I cannot take blistering hot weather. We were dressed in cutoffs and tanks, along with shoes that the water wouldn't hurt. The kids were so excited, they were all water babies at heart. Me? I was apprehensive because of my fear of water but determined to make this a great day for our family. Besides, my husband had promised to stay right by my side to protect me in case of any trouble. I knew he was a great swimmer and not afraid of anything, so I felt pretty safe in spite of myself.

We arrived at the park, rented our tubes, talked to the kids about keeping close together, then ventured to the bank of the river to get into our tubes and start our float trip. While Archie helped the two youngest kids into their tubes, (sitting with your butt in the center, legs and arms hanging over the front and back) Michelle and Darrell went into the river, got themselves situated and somehow paddled with their arms to keep themselves close as they waited for the rest of us. Archie told me what to do and that he would be right behind me with Sandee and Crisitie. So off I went into that cold water, found a spot where my tube would float and carry my weight as I situated myself into it.

Just being in that water made my heart start pounding; terror was raising it's ugly head in me and I was hopeless. As soon as I sat down in that tube, it took on a personality of it's own and soon I had floated what seemed like miles from another human being. What could I do but start screaming my head off. "Archie! I can't control this thing, I'm going to drown! Help me! Oh, my God! Hurry, hurry!" All the kids were in their tubes, looking at me like I was some kind of nut case as their Dad came running through the water toward me. My arms and legs were flailing around as I saw my life pass before my eyes.

Strangers were staring. My kids were laughing at me! How could they do this when their Mother was about to leave this life forever? Just as I was thinking that I would haunt them relentlessly for their untoward behavior, Archie reached my side to rescue me. "Jesus Ca-rist!" he said, (he rarely swore) as he leaned down, taking hold of my tube. It was only then that I noticed he was standing in water that didn't even reach his knees. I grinned at him sheepishly, apologized for my irrational behavior and off we went, him close by my side, floating freely down that river, enjoying the beauty of the land and river, feeling happy for the fun the kids were having and people watching the other adventurers. Even so, I was never so happy as when we reached solid ground again. It was one of those love/hate relationships for me.

The adventure didn't end when we reached solid ground....tomorrow I'll tell you the rest of the story, it gets better, or worse. Depends on your point of view.

A Place in My Heart......Forever Filled

2008-05-23T19:21:00.000-06:00

Six years ago today, my first Great Granddaughter made her entrance into this world and into the hearts of a large extended family. Cailin Marie is her name-a name never to be forgotten. She started life with an imperfect heart, underwent surgery and was connected to life support-all within a few hours of her birth.

I was working when I received the call announcing her birth and the news of her fight for life. I cried my eyes out, both for the joy of her birth and the heartbreak I felt for her Mom and Dad (Eric, my grandson) and for my daughter Michelle, her grandmother. Unable to be there by their sides, I kept up-to-date by telephone and by logging on to the web sight provided by the hospital for those family members, like myself, who are far away. They provided daily updates on her condition and current pictures of her, which was a wonder service.

She was beautiful and perfect on the exterior, but her little body could not endure. Though the medical team worked very hard to save her, it was not to be. Cailin returned back to her original home eleven days after her short visit to this plane.

I think of her often, imagining a delightful little "Daddy's Girl", loved enormously and unconditionally by all who would have the privilege to know her, comforted by my faith that her death was a rebirth into a realm of unimaginable love where she whole, happy and waiting patiently to greet those of us whose life she touched forever.

She was laid to rest in a beautiful place, surrounded by lovely trees and flowers, in the company of many other little angels who were needed more in Heaven than on Earth. Although I can't go there this Memorial Day to honor her life, and tell her of my love, I will be there in spirit with her, to watch the beautiful sunset that warms her and glows over her little place on Earth.

I love you, Cailin Marie. You have a place in my heart forever filled with you.

Grandma Dort

Stranger Things Have Happened

2008-05-20T21:36:00.000-06:00

Ever had a brain fart that lasted for days and days? I don't know whether it's because this old brain is so full of exciting and interesting information that it just hasn't been able to find it's way out through the crowded facts and fantasies stored there or whether I've just plain been too lazy to think. Most likely the latter.

It is 8:45 PM Pacific time and I just arrived home about 15 minutes ago from a twelve hour trip to Kennewick, WA for a meeting with my boss and a training class pertaining to Workmen's Comp and Drug and Alcohol. The first meeting confirmed rumors running rampant for several weeks and the second was a refresher course with some new information added. Both affect my job in profound ways but the trip itself reminded me of a strange thing that happened to me a couple of years ago while driving that road from the Tri Cities by myself.

The highway between Moscow and the Tri Cities (Pasco, Kennewick, Richland, WA) is a two and a half hour drive through the rolling hills of the Palouse, filled with miles and miles of dry farms growing wheat, canola, lentils, and dry peas, down into the desert flat lands of the Columbia River basin where vegetables, fruits and wine country dominate the landscape.

My trips there and back give me plenty of time to quietly talk to God and myself, to rock out to great music, or to simply drink in the wonders of Creation. On this particular trip, after a fun weekend at MaryHell's, I was a little tired and listening to soft rock as I drove into the rolling hills of the Palouse. It was this same time of year when the hills are like a huge blanket of every shade of green and brown known to mankind, along with the blossoming trees and wildflowers popping there heads up randomly along the roadsides.

The hills of the Palouse don't come close to being what I would consider a mountain to be, but if you were to try climbing some of them, you would definitely be more than a little winded before reaching the top. Farm equipment the size of small houses become dwarfed in the vastness of those rolling fields.

Hopefully, that gives you a picture of what I was seeing as I drove the two-lane highway toward Moscow. Although I was tired from the flurry of activity I'd enjoyed with MH, I am always alert when driving narrow, snakelike byways. I was driving downhill into an area where the hills on either side of the road are quite high when I noticed an airplane coming over the top of one of those hills about a mile or two ahead of me and to my left. The music on my radio was quiet and soft so I immediately noticed that couldn't hear a sound from that plane so I rolled my window down; still no sound. That was not the only unusual thing about the plane........it looked like an old B 29 Bomber from WWII except that it was less than half the size and had no marking on it whatsoever, just the dull silver of planes flown sixty years ago. My heart began to pound as I observed how low and slow it was flying. The hill to my right was higher than the plane was flying, and the distance to it was only a few hundred feet from the highway.

"Oh, my God!" I thought, "that plane is going to fly into the side of that hill." I panicked, not having anywhere to stop. I pressed my foot to the brake to slow myself way down, fearing an explosion was about to occur and I need to get my cell phone to call for help. I was terrified for the people flying that plane and started a pleading conversation with God for their end to be painless. The plane crossed over the highway in front of my car as I shook like a leaf, driving at a near standstill. I could see that there was no way a crash could be avoided, knowing in a few seconds I would hear that awful sound. Instinct made me take my eyes off the road to look. What I saw made me question my sanity. I saw nothing! No plane, no crash...........nothing.

As I sped up, the road curved to the right giving me a perfect view of the clear blue skies and the hills where that plane should be, but there was nothing. Less than a minute had passed. What did I see? I have no clue. If it was a figment of my imagination, it was as real as this computer I am typing upon this very minute. I saw it, I felt it, I did not imagine it. I sobbed for the last thirty-five miles home. To this day, every time I drive through that area, I remember and wonder what mystery of life that was all about. It haunts me because it was not the first time in my life I have seen a plane that vanished into nowhere. The first time was many years ago in Pocatello, Idaho. My sister DeWe, who was with me in the car that day, witnessed the same phenomenon. Are we both crazy? I don't think so, but one never knows.

Ever had something this strange happen in your lifetime? Let me know.

Hopefully, Spring Has Sprung

2008-05-09T20:04:00.000-06:00

My special thanks to my daughter Sandee for creating a Spring look for my blog. It so just what I was hoping for and more. The butterflies are like a "hello" from my best friend friend Suz who recently passed away. She loved butterflies and here they are, showing up on my blog header. Seeing them brought a lump to my throat and tears to my eyes as my first thought was of Suz when I saw them. Maybe, just maybe.............she whispered the idea into Sandee's ear as her way of letting me know she is in a beautiful, happy and loving place. On our last day together, she promised me she would try. Oh, how I miss her!!

Today Is Such a Special Day.....

2008-05-08T19:11:00.000-06:00

MY GAWD!! MARY HELL IS OLDER THAN DIRT!!

Happy birthday, my darling baby sister! And, I promise that I shall not tell a soul that you are two years younger than my sixty-three years. Love you! Your Sisty Ugler......dorothymae

Things are Looking Up

2008-05-08T18:49:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I did a lot of bitchin' about the clothes available to me when I posted last time. Well I found an online source, TravelSmith, thats has some decent looking, up-to-date clothes. This little tunic struck my fancy, so I ordered it. I think it is befitting a mini queen size great grandmother, don't you? The blue background is really more a Royal blue than it looks here and it has a slight baby doll look with the empire waist and criss-cross V neckline, gathered under the bust line. Fabric wise, it is a lightweight crinkle cotton. The white you see at the V and on the tiny cuffs is a soft cotton lace. You can see it close up at Travel Smith, who specialized in clothes for people who travel a lot and need easy care, wrinkle-free clothes. An undisclosed source tells me that my upcoming Manager's Meeting is being held in Vegas! WaHoo! I hope that person is correct. Most of all, I hope this tunic fits! Wish me luck...........

Whatever Happned to..........

2008-05-05T19:01:00.000-06:00

Whatever happened to American made clothing?

At the end of this month, I have a Manager's meeting to attend. The destination is a surprise but I was able to find out that it will be dressy/casual. Whatever that means! So, as the time draws near, I am looking for something new and fashionable to wear. The problem is that my sources to shop are very limited in Moscow, ID and, most importantly: I AIN'T A SIZE FOUR COLLEGE COED, FOR GAWD'S SAKE!

Have clothes buyers in this country gone completely nuts? Do they really think a woman of sixty-three with a little extra flesh on her bones will look good in some gawd awful baby doll blouse fashioned (?) from some butt ugly printed fabric reminiscent of an old hippie's drug induced dreams. And the pants? Even the size fours of the world don't look good in pair of pants with a two inch zipper revealing belly buttons and butt cleavage.

I want classic!! Beautifully tailored, sharp creased pants that are actually long enough in the crotch to go up and over my Ronald Regan stomach, (jelly belly) and legs just wide enough to make my short legs look longer and slimmer; blouses or tops with a youthful look, yet tailored to look fashionable and classy. I love color but anything designed for a "mature" woman is ruined by adding all this crayon colored embroidery that screams out old, old, old. Or, they have the nerve to make anything that might fit me out some damn knit fabric that shows every cottage cheese dimple on my butt, along with the rolls that have accumulated around my ribs and waist over the years. Yeah, I know; I could buy some Spanx under garments to smooth myself out but who on God's earth can afford to pay sixty bucks for a couple of pair of panties! (QVC)

And sizing. When did a size ten become size two? Or, in what's available in my neck of the woods, when did a size ten become a size eighteen. Even worse; why, if you buy black, you wear a fourteen, but the same item in khaki behooves you to buy a sixteen or a twelve?

When did we quit being proud of the "American Made" label with it's consistent quality and sizing standards and start settling for junk, made in some foreign country, that ends up costing more in the long run because it lasts half as long or morphs into something unrecognizable after the first wash. WOMEN OF AMERICA REBEL!!

OK! So I'm done venting. Thanks for listening and may all your shopping experiences be good ones, and come Hell or high water, I will be presentable at the Manager's meeting.

PEOPLE

2008-05-01T19:25:00.000-06:00

I wuz just thinkin' (could be dangerous)
Ain't Life simply grand?
We all came here with our own distinct brand.

Some of us are beauties,
Some of us are not,
And then there's always someone
Who wants wants what WE got?

Some of us gots brains,
Some of us gots wits,
Many of us thinks
What we gots is the shits!

We're tall or maybe short
Or we're somewhere in between.
Some of us be fat,
Some of us be lean.

Some of us be onery,
Some of us be sweet,
Some of us be sloppy,
Some of us be neat.

The differences in people
Are as numbered as the stars,
Nearly as many
As sleazy beer bars.

The good Lord, He must laugh
As He's making every one,
To Him it ain't workin'
It's just havin' fun.

Well, I am surely happy
That he made me 'n you
Cuz, the bestest people livin'
Would be way too few!

Scottish Royalty? Yeah, right!

2008-04-27T18:35:00.000-06:00

If you read my daughter, Michelle's blog, Creative Treasures, she recently posted about a December trip she and Wilt took to St Marten. During that trip they met a couple from Scotland who were quite impressed by the fact that my ancestors were of Scottish descent with Kinghorn as the family name. These folks did, in fact, live in a village, town, city, or whatever, in Scotland named Kinghorn. They told Michelle that all Scots knew that the Kinghorns are of royal blood and so were very thrilled to meet her. Bill warned them not to fawn over her too much for fear she would demand to be treated as a Queen on a daily basis.

Royalty, huh? Well..........today while I was feeling a little burst of energy, I decided to do some heavy duty house cleaning, moving every piece of furniture to vacuum up all the dust bunnies, dead spiders, partially eaten dog cookies, loose coins, etc., etc. After the vacuuming, and before I moved the furniture back into place, I got out my handy, dandy Scrubee Doo mop and washed the wood floors, followed by washing and polishing the tables and vacuuming a bag full of dog hair off the sofa. I continued on in sections throughout my living room and into my dining area and kitchen.

By the time I had finished with the kitchen and was sitting on the floor vacuuming the hair from Buddy's dog bed, my tired was hurting and I was thinking about my "royal" blood and what a "royal" pain in the butt this house cleaning crap can be. "Geesh," I thought, "The queen would never do this crap! So why am I in this contorted position on the floor, vacuuming hair from a dog bed? This eyen't right! I shud 'ave a "royal" maid tiken' care of my castle. I am, after all, of "royal" blood."

I continued with this thought as I crawled over to the cabinets to pull myself to an upright position. "Hmmm, I could hire someone to do my bidding.", I was thinking. But then reality sank it's ugly teeth into me and I realized that before I could bring a cleaning person into my home, I would have to do some more heavy duty cleaning. Someone of my "stature", couldn't allow a mere peon see my dirty palace, you understand. It would probably be spashed over every tabloid in the country...............The Kinghorn Queen is a Slob!

Not wanting to take that chance of ruining the family name, I said to myself........."God save the Queen, she needs a nap!" And that she did, for the next two hours. Royalty? Yeah, right.

Weird Things Work!

2008-04-24T19:11:00.000-06:00

On Friday morning, after the passing of my beloved friend Suz, it was time for MaryHell and me to hit the road for home, both having to get back to our jobs. Though we hated to leave our sisters, Lois and Dolores, it was time to get on with life. The morning was hectic as we packed our bags into to the car, stopped at the gas station to fill the tank, and then hit the road. On our way out of town, we decided to stop by the Nampa City cemetery to visit our Aunt Lola after calling then city for the correct section and plot number. Since several years had passed since our last visit, we were still lost, even with the information the clerk had given us. We gave up looking and found the Sexton who then directed us to her resting place. By the time we found her and paid our respects, over an hour had passed, so we were a little behind getting onto I84 and heading for Washington. I'm glad we stopped though.

I'd had a little bit of a sore throat that morning, but nothing to worry about, so I thought. by the time we arrived in Pasco, I was feeling pretty punk so I decided to stay the night and leave at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning for Moscow. On Saturday morning my throat was so sore I could not swallow even water without great difficulty. I decided I'd better go to a Quick Care and see a doctor. Mary took me to a place near her home but they were so busy that after two hours of waiting, being told it could be another two hours and my throat getting worse by the minute, we left for another place in Richland. After another hour's wait, I was finally able to see a Doctor who congratulated me for having a raging case of strep throat. He had the Nurse give me a potent shot of long-acting (six weeks) penicillin and sent me on my way. I dropped Mary back at her house and hit the road for Moscow, getting home around four that afternoon.
I went promptly to bed, miserable and waiting for the penicillin to do it's job.

I DON'T FEEL WELL.................

On Sunday, I went to work, staying away from everyone as much as possible, spending the day catching up all the "paper" work from the previous week. I could not eat or drink. Again, I went home and promptly to bed, spending a sleepless and miserable night. On Monday morning, I called-in sick, took a quick shower and headed for the Doctor again because my throat was getting worse. The doctor gave me a prescription for more antibiotic and told me to stay in bed through Thursday. It was a major feat just to swallow those two pills every morning and I could not eat a thing or barely stand to drink any fluids, which I knew I needed.

On Friday, I went back to work, feeling a little better, but still having difficulty eating or drinking. Yesterday, Wednesday, I went back to the doctor because my ear was aching any my throat still hurt more than I felt it should and I had finished my ten days of antibiotics. She checked out my throat and told me that while the strep was gone, I apparently have some kind of infection going on with my sinus cavities which is causing the irritation and swelling of my adenoids. She put me on a four week regiment of the very potent drug, Augmenton. It has helped, but the pain was still hard to take today.

This afternoon, one of my employees noticed me holding my throat, asking me, "Does your throat still hurt"? I answered, "Yes." She then asked if she could rub my hands and I said sure, why not. She took my right hand, telling me that I felt very congested as she started massaging it. After about a minute, she asked how it felt compare to my left hand and I had to tell her that it felt much more relaxed. She then did the same massage to my left hand which made me feel less tense all over. Before an hour had passed, my throat felt much, much better. It was amazing! Later, I went to her work station and thanked her for the help, telling her that if she would do this for me every day, I would soon feel like a twenty year old. I don't know what happened there, but hours later, I still feel much better and though a little soreness still remains in my throat, the ear ache is completely gone and I think I'm going to live.

Weird, but it worked for me. I will be looking farther into this with her. But just in case, I will continue with my meds to make sure the infection doesn't rear it's ugly head into a raging roar again. Life is GOOD!! Wahoo...................................................

Ms Allaneous

2008-04-22T20:28:00.000-06:00

Cristie, my baby daughter was digging through old pictures and found this one of me, circa 1984.
It was Halloween night and Suz and I were going to meet some friends at the Sunshine Saloon for their annual adult costume party, a first for me. A few days earlier, someone had asked what kind of costume I was going to wear. I had no clue, but told them it would some miscellaneous creation, which put an idea in my head to be Ms Allaneous.

My sister Phyllis, (Lois) had given me that red dress, which was floor length, made from a fluid stretchy knit fabric quite popular in those days. It was also very form fitting, cut to give a girl the image of a very curvy body. In those days, I had the tiny waist and curvy hips but lacked anything "outstanding" in the bosom department. That was easily fixed by borrowing one of my Mom's D cup bras, sewing tucks in the band to fit snugly around my chest and filling those enormous cups with undies and socks and fiberfill. I pushed those fillers under and around my own boobs until I had a cleavage to die for, stretching that knit bodice to it's max, emphasizing my tiny waist and curvy hips. I was HOT! I looked in the mirror and decided that boobs that great needed a little nipple showing, which two perfectly placed cotton balls accomplished. Suz was laughing her butt off at body I had worked so hard to create.

Since I knew the whole point of the evening was to look as ridiculous as possible, I completed the costume with a multi colored, curly clown wig, a plastic necklace to match the wig, long white gloves, finished off with every colored bracelet I could beg, borrow or steal... which was six or eight. Next came the makeup, piled on as heavy and thick as I could muster, finished off with thick black false eyelashes and a painted-on black "beauty mark". I looked garish as hell and I loved it! Last came the Ms Allaneous banner and the spiked heels. The only thing missing was a tiara, which I couldn't find. Suz wore a wonderful clown costume shown in the picture below. Neither of us looked like ourselves..................mission accomplished.

Suz and I knew the Saloon would be packed that night, so we finished with our costumes and left for Boise around 8:00 PM, earlier than we would normally make out entrance. We laughed and joked all the way to town, high on the anticipation of the fun to come. And boy, howdy, did we have fun! Neither of us were much into drinking....it was the adult conversation, dancing, and meeting new people that we always looked forward to on our girls night out.

When we arrived, the party was going full swing. And, the costumes were amazing! We always liked to sit at the bar, closest to the entrance, so that we could see and hear everything going on from the best vantage point. In fact, we were there frequently so the bartenders always saved those first two bar stools for us. We took our seats, ordering the first of maybe two drinks for the night, waiting for whatever might happen. Only a few of our crowd of friends actually knew who we were which made it easy for the two of us to be as silly and outrageous as we liked. No one came into that bar without being greeted by us.........we'd sort of became the official greeters to all of the regulars and were always surrounded by a group of people, laughing, joking or dancing our legs off to the music of a very good band.

The room was dimly lit, as most bars are, hiding our imperfections most of the time. As the evening wore on, Suz leaned over to me and, giggling, said, "Dort, don't look now, but that guy over there with the cowboy hat is lusting over your body. He can't take his eyes off that cleavage you created for yourself." "Really", I said. "I guess I'll have to pour on a little charm, wit and personality and see what happens." Nonchalantly, I turned, looked him in the eye and mouthed a "Hi" and little wave. He seemed embarrassed and turned away.

You know, how sometimes you can just "feel" that someone wants something from you. Well, I just "knew" that cowboy was dying to get me out on the dance floor for one of those slow, hold-you -close, dances, except it wasn't me he was interested in, it was my chest he was longing to feel against his. Now, though they looked soft and cuddly under that soft, silky fabric, they were not...those size D wonders. All that stuffing had given them the feel of an overfilled basketball. I knew it and Suz knew it, but..........the cowboy didn't.

The band was Rockin' and Rollin' and I was dancing a lot. Every time some guy asked, and we walked past that cowboy, I could feel his eyes following me. Finally, they slowed down to a belly rubber song and Suz said, "I'll bet he asks you to dance on this one" as she went off to dance with a friend. Sure enough! As soon as she left, there he was. "Would you like to dance?"he asked. "I would love to." I said, as he held out his hand and led me to the floor. The first few steps of the dance were modest but it didn't take him long to tighten his arm around my waist and pull me in for the "feel". The look on his face was priceless as I looked up, innocently smiling into his face, just as Suz, who was dancing next to us, burst into hysterical laughter, bending to her knees. What could I do, but follow suit. Through bursts of uncontrollable giggling, I managed to tell him I needed to sit down, trying to apologize for my outrageous behaviour. He knew he'd been caught at his game and quickly left the bar for greener pastures.

Suz and I couldn't quit laughing and other women, who apparently had encountered this guy in other hangouts, were coming up and laughing with us. We heard comments like, "It's about time someone put that jerk in his place, he thinks he such a gift to women." and "You go, girl!"
Women can be such bitches when the need arises.

That was the first and last time I ever went somewhere incognito, and let it all hang out. We had a fabulous time at that Halloween party. And, I don't regret a minute of it. Thanks, Cristie for helping to bring that memory back. I'm hearing Suz's laughter again and enjoying every minute of it.

COME ON DORT, LET'S PARTY! (SUZ)

I Love My Sisters

2008-04-21T19:59:00.000-06:00

When I called the Clone (Dewe) to tell her the sad new about my best friend Suz, she offered MaryHell and me her home as our Bed and Breakfast while there, suggesting that she call our sister Lois (Phyllis), who lives in Pocatello, to come and join us. I was so grateful to have my three living sisters there for support during this very difficult time. They made the days easier to bare in so many ways.

It had been at least three years since the four of us were all together, the last time being for the burial of our oldest sister Carol. And here we were again, for another sad occasion. Despite this, we managed to have a wonderful time together. Dolores waited on us hand and foot, cooking wonderful meals and doing laundry for us like we were someone special.

We laughed and we cried, we reminisced, poked fun at each other, instigated some mischief, we napped and watched movies and TV, discussed politics, gossiped, caught up on the lives and times of seldom seen family members, did a little shopping (we couldn't help ourselves) and sometimes just sat in silence, enjoying the company of each other without words.

It was hard to leave at the end of the week, but every minute was precious to me, being with my sisters. I'm thankful for the gift of their company that week.

I love my Sisties Ugler!!

In Loving Memory of The Best Friend I've Ever Been Blessed to Have

2008-04-19T19:11:00.000-06:00

Nearly thirty-two years ago, while living in Boise, I applied for a checking job at Buttrey Foods, who had just finished building a brand new grocery/drug store. After going through the application, testing, and interview process, I was thrilled when I received a call from Jim, the store manager, offering me a position. At last I was going to work in the retail grocery business, something I had dreamed of doing for many years. I had worked other retail jobs but this truly was an answer to my prayers.

Two weeks before the actual opening day of business, those of us who were hired started our training period. On the first day, after an orientation meeting, we were taken to the check stands where we would be trained to operate the terminals, learn all the necessary codes, how to properly bag the groceries, relate to customers, etc., etc. Each of us was to pick a partner to work and train with. As I was looking around to see who was closest and available, this skinny little, dark haired, freckle-faced, blue-eyed, gap-toothed, woman, a newcomer from California, came up to me and said, "Hi, I'm Suzanne, would you like to be my partner?" "Sure, let's go for it", I replied. We joked back and forth as our instructions came from our trainer.

Coincidentally, I knew that NCR terminal backward and forward, having used it for several years at a previous job. Therefore, it wasn't but an hour later that the trainer assigned me to be the trainer for myself and Suz. We were on our own, taking turns being the cashier and the customer for the remainder of the day. By the end that first day Suz and I had formed a bond that has lasted all these years.

Suz wasn't as enamoured with the grocery business as I was, deciding stay with that job but for a month or two. Didn't make a dent in our friendship, though. When I wasn't working, we would talk on the phone, get together for coffee, have lunch, help each other with projects,... too many things too list. We never got bored with one another, or ran out of things to talk, laugh or cry about. We were so different, yet like two peas in a pod. Every day, I grew to love her more. She became my fifth sister and I loved her as if she truly were.

As the years passed, major changes came into both of our lives; divorce, illness, kid problems, financial burdens, job losses, new jobs, new boyfriends, moving........all those things that make life both a challenge and a joy. We shared our lives to the fullest, including our families, friends, homes, meals, beds, heartbreaks, good and bad news, deaths, births, and innermost secrets. We both fell in out and out of love in almost perfect synchronization after our marriages ended. When her heart was broken, I felt her pain. When her soul soared with joy, I felt that joy with her. She did the same for me.

During the early years of our friendship, Suz made the decision to move back to California. I was very sad to see her go, but we talked often by phone, keeping up with the goings-on in each others lives. I truly missed our coffee in the mornings or after work, and the daily babble we would share. Needless to say, I was thrilled when she called one morning about 3:00 AM and asked me to find her an apartment, she was coming back!

We spent the next few years (our early forties) acting like a couple of college girls. Suz wasn't back long, when my I had an accident which broke my leg, and a "True Love", who broke my heart, all at the same time. He had insisted I stay at his house so that he could "take care" of me after I came home from the hospital. I've never been so miserable in my life! That's another story, but even though I had ignored Suz to a degree, in favor of this man, it was she whom I called from the hospital when my pain was so severe I was screaming in pain. She sat by my side the entire night, holding my hand and trying her best to make me comfortable, and it was she whom I called when the pain in my heart matched the pain in my leg, when this man, who "loved" me so much, yelled at me if I made the slightest whimper from pain when moving my body while trying to find a comfortable laying position. No questions asked, she came to his house when I called, loaded me into her car and took back to my own home, seeing to it that I was comfortable and safe. She had also just had her heart broken. We cried together and we healed together.

After a couple of months, when I was able to walk again, with the aid of crutches, it was Suz who insisted that I was not going to sit around and mourn my life away. We were going to have some fun and meet some people. That we did for the next few years. She started by dragging me, kicking and screaming, out to the Sunshine Saloon, where we met men and women our own age, forming a group of friends who loved to laugh, dance, eat Chinese, 3:00 AM breakfasts, Sunday drives, picnics, BBQ's, house parties, and more dancing. Those were some of my fondest memories of our friendship.

Those years passed quickly, and our lives changed again. I found the Fireman and Suz moved back to California with her kids and Chuck, whom she married. Again our friendship was by telephone only. After a few years, Suz called me to tell me she was moving back again and that Chuck was long gone. It just so happened that the townhouse next to mine was for sale and to make a long story short, Suz and her son Alan, bought it. Before long, we were not just best friends, we were neighbors. I was thrilled again. Many happy years were spent carrying on our friendship. Suz was not just my friend, she was the best neighbor I ever had.

The years passed, the kids had grown and moved away, and the Fireman moved in with me, after selling his home. A year later, he and I built a new home in Nampa...I was the one moving. I had also entered the management training program with Winco and was promoted to a management position. This consumed so much of my time that there was hardly any left for family and friends.

The past ten years have included way less time for my best friend than I needed and wanted. I deeply regret that. Our phone calls, while always filled with laughter and much joy of just talking with each other, became fewer and far between after I was promoted to store manager and moved to Moscow. So much, that I wasn't there when she was diagnosed with cancer three years ago, and didn't learn about it until, during a moment of longing for her, a little over a year ago, I called her, after searching the Internet for her phone number. (she too, had sold the townhouse and moved to a new home) I was devastated when she told me she had this terrible burden to bear. Here we were, so many miles apart and I wanted to hold her in my arms and share that burden with her but my responsibilities and the miles wouldn't allow that. She was so hopeful and strong about the situation that I couldn't let her hear the anguish in my heart. We talked for a very long time that night, promising to keep closer touch and me promising to make the time to see her when an opportunity to be in Boise came my way. I sobbed like a baby when we ended our call with "I love you, my friend."

That opportunity came a few months ago. We went out for breakfast and had a wonderful visit, sharing old memories and updating each other on our lives and families. She looked so healthy and full of life, it was difficult for me to accept that she was still fighting for that very life. She was starting treatment again...chemo and radiation for new tumors found in her body. She was strong beyond belief, accepting whatever might happen, with grace and dignity. She assured me that she had no regrets and was happy with the life she had lived, the wonderful family she had, who had given her so much love and support during this fight. It made me love her even more.

We talked by phone as often as possible and were looking forward to seeing each other again this month when I planned to take a week of vacation in Boise.

After not hearing from her for what seemed too long, I called her daughter, Michelle, to ask how she was doing. The news was not good. Hospice had been called in to help with the dying process. I made Michelle promise to keep me up to date if she could. I talked with Suz too, asking how she was doing. She said, "I'm just trying to hang in there until you get here in April." It broke my heart as I told her I would be there. It was only a few weeks away. Again, we ended our call with "I love you, Friend"

The weeks sped by and on April 3rd, early in the morning, I felt an urgent need to call Suz. Michelle answered the phone. I asked how things were going and was told that Suz might not make it through the night. How could this be? All, I could say was, "Michelle, tell your Mother, to wait, I will be there tomorrow." I literally could not talk at that moment, but immediately e-mailed my boss, begging him to allow me to leave early for my vacation to Boise to say good-bye to my Best Friend/Sister, explaining in a few words, the situation. I hit "send" and burst into uncontrollable tears of grief. He called me about ten minutes later, offering his condolences and told me to go.

My grief was so deep I knew that I couldn't safely drive myself, so my sister Mary, who knew Suz well, offered to drive me. Later that day, after calming myself, and giving Mary time to make arrangements, I drove the short trip her home in Pasco. Early Friday morning, we left for Boise, heading straight to Suz's home.

Mary drove, allowing me to be alone with my thoughts and my prayers to make it on time. Mary had taken a bad fall that morning, and was hurting, but she was a rock for me. As we neared the house, I mustered all the strength I could for what I knew would be a very emotional situation. I did not want my friend to see me fall apart. I phoned to let Suz's kids know that I would be there in a few minutes, fearing that they would tell me it was too late. Alan answered the phone, telling me that she was agitated, not wanting to see anyone. She wanted to be left alone to die. I told him I didn't care, she is my sister and I will not take no for an answer. I would have my last opportunity to hold her in my arms and tell how much I loved her.

I arrived, heading straight to her room. "Oh, my God", I thought, "this person lying in that bed, can't possibly be Suz!" Bending over her, I kissed her forehead, took her hand and said, "Suz, it's Dort, I'm here." She struggled to turn toward me, opened her eyes and smiled.

I told her not to try to talk, that I would be there with her for as long as she wanted. I continued to talk to her about our walk together thru the past thirty-two years. I told her how much I loved her, thanking her for allowing me to be a part of her life for all those years. She was responding as I recalled fond memories of things we had done and places we had been. I made her promise to be there to greet me when my time came and to have a cup of coffee waiting. She promised.

As time passed, she seemed to rally, asking to sit up. We propped her up on pillows continuing to visit, Suz answering with her usual smart-ass quips in that tiny little voice she was able to squeeze out. I longed to hear that great laugh of hers, but knew it wasn't possible. She was laughing with her eyes, I could see it. Soon she asked for a cup of coffee. I told Michelle I would not let it spill on her, so Michelle brought her a small amount and me a full cup. When she took a sip, she managed to say, "It wouldn't be the same without coffee." We were back at the kitchen table again, sharing conversation and drinking coffee for what we both knew was the last time. I will treasure that moment forever.

She managed a couple more sips before that few minutes of strength began to wane. We helped her lay back down then Suz and I were left alone to say goodbye. She clung to my hand as I continued to talk to her, mustering only enough strength to say a yes or no and give me a weak smile as she stared straight into my eyes. I assured her that her family was going to be fine and that it was ok for her to let go now. I testified to her of my belief in God and that He was waiting, along with family members and friends gone before her, to greet her with a love beyond anything she could imagine. It was time for her to go Home and remember who she really is.

She was getting weaker and I knew she would soon be asleep so I told her I would be back later to see her again, that she needed to rest now. She squeezed my hand, I hugged her the best I could without hurting her, kissed her cheek and told her again, for the hundredth time that I loved her. Her last words to me were "I love you Dort" It was her last conscious awareness of me and the last rally of her life. Her last few days, she was already in another place.

Suz left this world behind the following Monday, on her birthday, April 7th.

Though my heart is filled with grief and sorrow for her family and for my loss of the best friend I've ever had in this life, I celebrate having been blessed to know her, to have heard her infectious laughter, shared her sorrows, cheered for her successes and for having been granted the privilege to hold her in my arms as we said our final goodbye in this life.

I love you Suz...............and I WILL have coffee with you again.

Your Best Friend in this life and the next.........................Dort

Our Government at Work

2008-04-17T19:18:00.000-06:00

Following is a letter written by my nephew, Mark, as an answer to the letter he received from the State of Idaho which follows Mark's reply. I'm happy the State is on top of this crucial issue facing the people they represent. This kind of diligence give credence to the reason removing tax from the people's food bills is so far down on the list of important issues to resolve in this State. Please, pass this on to your family, friends and neighbors who are always asking, "What the hell do they DO in those agencies?"...................................................

Subject: State of Idaho vs. Skidmark

The year was 1992 when I tumbled down the inlet side of Redfish Lake near Stanley Idaho while on a 6 hour mountain bike ride. My fellow mountain bikers where very supportive during the initial incident and provided much needed first aid. They also helped repair my bike enough to ride the remaining two hours back to our camp site. Many checks were eventually written for professional medical care and antibiotics over the several weeks.

Once back safely to our camp site, we proceeded to BBQ all forms of meat products available while drinking lots of carbohydrates. This was necessary due to the extremely strenuous ride and because we like to drink beer and eat.

It was during the drinking portion of the event that my fellow riders began experimenting with new nick names for me related to my crash. Lots of names where proposed and discarded until the name "Skid" came up. As soon as some fool figured out that adding my name to the back of "Skid" struck them funny, the new moniker SKIDMARK was cemented. The fact that the word 'skidmark" had a double meaning related to tire tracks left on pavement was purely coincidental. See NASCAR.

My wife (bless her heart) was so enamored by the event and my new nick name she bought me personalized license plates. I have been using these plates for 15 years as a symbol of my wife's love for me.

I have been informed by the State of Idaho that after 15 years of use, my personalized license plates reading SKIDMRK have been deemed offensive. I have been notified by letter that I have until March 31st to petition the government for formal review or relinquish my license plate. According to the letter: "The plate "SKIDMRK" has a double meaning which the department has deemed to be inappropriate for display on an Idaho issued license plate." The government further clarifies it assessment of said double meaning. I won't share that with you as I was offended. I had no idea.

I apologize if I have ever offended you while following me out to the parking lot.

humbly yours,

Mark
********************************************************

Welll................no matter how I try, I can't seem to get the letter from the State to upload into this blog, therefore, I will simply type the sentence the government clarified as the "double meaning" Mark mentions above as having offended him. With all of the thought and attention that went into the letter sent by the State, it is only right that I quote the entire paragraph.

It is as follows:

"The Idaho Department of Transportation recently performed an audit of personalized license plates which have been issued to Idaho vehicles. The plate "SKIDMRK" has a double meaning which the department has deemed to be inappropriate for display on the Idaho issued license plate. The words "Skid Mark" are also considered slang terminology for fecal traces in a persons underwear."

I'm surprised Mark didn't learn this double meaning while serving in the military. Oh yeah, he has remained in the reserves for well over twenty years, ready to go defend our freedoms any time he is called up......even the freedom of the State to be ridiculous at times. Life is indeed interesting. Good Night and sleep tight!

My Tired Hurts!

2008-04-14T20:10:00.000-06:00

The past 12 days, I have been on every emotional sphere in the universe. I've cried a million heart-broken tears, been mad as hell at the crap life throws at us without warning, and, on the other hand, I've laughed until my ribs ached. At this very moment, I am high on hydrocodone pain killer and an antibiotic for strep throat/tonsillitus. No food, water, or sleep for almost three full days now. That's why my tired hurts. Hopefully this second round (the first one didn't work) of meds will cure this evil monster living in my throat and I will be back in a few days to catch everyone up on the whys and wheres of this roller coaster ride of the past two weeks. There's lots to tell..............until then, Joy to you and yours!

When I Think of This, I Laugh

2008-04-02T19:54:00.000-06:00

Ever have those moments when you're doing something (or maybe nothing) and, out of nowhere, you remember something that makes you laugh out loud?

I've had several of those thoughts lately. Don't know why, but here we go........

When we were in Junior High School, my twin sister Dolores (the Clone) was jealous of the fact that I had 36" hips and hers were only 34". (She told me this years ago) She is NOT jealous anymore!! And, my hips aren't 36 inches anymore either. LMAO

On the day of my Mom's funeral, at the dedication of her grave site, four folding type chairs, connected/welded together, were placed for me and my three sisters to sit upon during the ceremony. Along with it being a somber and sad occasion for us, it was also cloudy and rainy that day in October. Many, many people had gathered to pay their last respects, standing silently as the four of us took our places in the provided chairs next to the grave. We had only been seated for less than a minute, when the connected chairs, carrying the weight of four fluffy sisters, started to sink into the soft, wet earth beneath us. That was the fastest any of us had moved in many years prior to, or the years since. As heartbroken as we were to have to say goodbye to Mom, we all laughed at this unexpected "happening". It was one of the few light moments of the day and I know Mom was giggling with us.

During our early growing-up years, the Clone and I were as different as night and day. I couldn't get enough of fun and games, while she would spend most of her days in the house, organizing and cleaning everything she could get her hands on. When she babysat, or whatever, to earn some cash, she would save it, while I would spend my earnings as fast as I could run to the nearest store, or movie, or skating rink. The fun things! When we got to Junior High, like all other girls of that age, we wanted to wear the latest fashion in clothes, shoes, makeup, hair and shoes. THE most popular clothing item in those years was the "Little Love" sweater, made by Janzen. Everyone wanted to own one of every color available. However, that sweater was expensive. For most of us, it was closer to a dream than reality. Dolores, managing to save her money, bought at least two of them. I don't remember the exact number, but one of them was Heather gray. Somehow, I managed to be the first person to wear this valuable little piece of knitted wool. It happened to be a weekend; Dewe was not home when I adorned myself with the "Little Love" and went about my activities for the day, feeling like a million dollars. When I arrived home from my adventures, I walked into the kitchen, not even thinking of my intrusion into her personal property. She happened to be slicing a loaf of bread at the time, took one look at me and that sweater enhancing my perky little "nubbins" and immediately turned into Freddy Kruger.
Oops! I knew I was in deep doo doo as I sank to my knees, begging for mercy as that bread knife she held rose to the full height of her arm. We had experienced our moments of sibling rivalry, but I knew I had committed the unforgivable sin. I had been the first to wear her brand new sweater and she was literally going to kill me! The look of pure terror on my face must have overpowered her anger, for the next thing I knew, she was laughing hysterically at me and at herself. Whew, that was close but I learned very quickly, asking permission is the only way to go. We've never had a cross word in the fifty years since then. And, today, she would give anyone in need the shirt off her back.

Wasn't that an edifying bit of trivia? Let's hear your out-of-the-blue moments of laughter.

Good night and good laughs to all.......................................

It Really Irks Me

2008-03-31T21:15:00.000-06:00

I am the manager of a retail grocery store, which is a challenging position for any human being. I dreamed of working in a grocery store from the minute I walked into a "Supermarket" for the first time when I was about seven years old. The hustle, the bustle, all the people picking out this and that; the cashiers in their matching uniforms, the male employees in their starched white shirts and ties; the lunch counter where you could buy a sandwich and soda, the ice cream counter where you buy a four scoop "Big Joe" ice cream cone for fifteen cents; the bag boys carrying the bags of food to the cars of the shoppers; the aisles of canned and dry goods; the mounds of colorful produce; the meat cutters in their white coats and hats; the smell of fresh baked goods wafting throughout the store; the sounds of the bells as each item was rang into the ornate cash registers, all of this was fascinating to me and I wanted to be a part of it.

In the early sixties, when I was old enough get a job in a grocery store, it was almost impossible to get hired. They were some of the best jobs available, as far as pay and benefits went, and the people who were lucky enough to get hired, stayed for years. It took me until the early seventies to get my opportunity. I had worked other retail jobs, which were great, but grocery was my dream, and I was thrilled for the opportunity, which was given to me by Buttrey Foods in Boise, Idaho. I started on the bottom rung of the ladder, learning everything hands-on.

The work is not always easy, the hours are not for the nine-to-five type person, especially now when stores are open 24/7, nor is it for the thin-skinned, shy and retiring type. I love it!

What irks me is the few people in this world who treat grocery workers like they are the scum of the earth. The people who talk down to you like you were some kind of mentally challenged drop-out from the third grade.

There are approximately one-hundred and fifteen people working in my store. A high percentage of them have college degrees, are attending one of the universities to earn one, or, at least, have graduated from high school. Some are still young enough to learn yet more about life but none are dummies, by any means.

So, when some self-important jerk (male or female) with their "better than thou" attitudes, come into my store, taking pleasure (and pride, for god's sake) in demeaning my employees BECAUSE of the work they have chosen to do, it irks me.

I admit, none of us in this industry is perfect, and I do have unpleasant issues to deal with at times with my employees, but overall, they are good, honest, hard-working people who have chosen to do one of the hardest jobs in the world.....working with the public. I love them for that.

With that said, I want to say KUDOs to all the retail workers of the world who deserve the same respect and appreciation as any other profession. And to those who look down upon us.........get a life!!

This Week in Moscow

2008-03-29T19:43:00.000-06:00

This has indeed been a very long week, the one where I work six days. Every day has had some kind of personnel challenge or other. I've been "Mom", the Priest, the psychologist, the shoulder to cry on, the mean old bee-och, (hehe), and the referee.

In addition, Spring only lasted for one day. "Spring has sprung and the grass has grizz. Wonder where the sunshine is?" It is certainly not in the Great Northwest, that's for sure. Snow, ice, wind, closed roads and schools. Where the hell IS that little lamb hiding? You know, the one who is supposed to take March out. I'm certain I am not alone in longing for blue skies, warm breezes, chirping birds, and colorful flowers, eager to pop their pretty little heads through the blanket of earth which has kept them warm throughout their winter slumber.

I am actually anxious to Spring clean, to open my windows and allow the fresh air to flow through my house while I do some scrubbing and painting and, to maybe even get my hands into the musky earth outdoors. My mind is full of energy for these tasks. Whether my body follows suit, is a wait and see situation. Does Winter really make a person insane?

Meanwhile, I will think of the things that have made me happy this past week. Such as:

Getting my income tax return completed and filed.
Getting a nice refund from both Federal and State. Wahoo!
Buying fluffy new pillows for my beds,and actually finding them comfortable.
Finding a dog food that all four dogs like.
Getting a new 2ND Assistant Manager at my store who is a dream come true.
Getting a month's worth of ironing finished.
Winning enough from a scratch-off ticket to pay for a new ink cartridge.
Reading family blogs, some with new pictures of Carter, my great grandson.
Getting my "Conversations With God" books returned and learning the person I
lent them to, loved them.

Hmmm.....ain't been that bad, huh?

Amen and Hallelujah! Life is indeed good after all!

What I Did for Easter

2008-03-23T13:20:00.000-06:00

My favorites memories of Easters Past are when my kids were very young and we, like millions of others, would color and decorate the eggs. Their father and I would take them outside and hide them everywhere on the adre of ground we owned then. It was as exciting for us (the parents) to watch them scurry all over the place, looking for these little colored treasures to fill their baskets, as it was for our kids.

The kids are grown, with kids of their own, doing their own family things today. Yesterday, I was remembering these fun times, wanting to relive the coloring of the eggs an so forth, but here I am, in Moscow, ID, with no little people to do this with so I decided to do some coloring anyway.

Do you remember the Easter song whose lyrics started out with.."In my Easter bonnet, with all the frill upon it..? Well here is my new Easter bonnet, and I colored it myself. Compare it to my Profile hat which took years to create. My new hat took a couple of hours:

My New Easter Hat

2008-03-23T13:10:00.000-06:00

THIS IS THE RED BEDHEAD. CAN'T BE WASHED YET

THE HAT WITH THE GLOW OF LIGHT

The Goodies

2008-03-21T20:41:00.000-06:00

While Mary Hell bustled around the kitchen and I sat on the bar stool observing this flurry of activity, we reminisced, laughed, and gossiped as much as we could. Once in a while Betty Crocker tried to sneak out of me, offering suggestions on what might make a delightful addition to the goodies. For the most part, I kept her at bay, not wanting that monster to rear it's ugly head. hehehe. Now this was not intended to be a sit-down meal, just a "help yourself when you feel the urge to nibble" sort of thing. That said, here are the results:

This salad/dip was created from frozen mixed veggies containing mini bow tie pasta. They were steamed for a few minutes, then left to cool while Mary H. chopped fresh peppers, (orange and green), and celery. Next addition was fresh grated carrots and some thinly sliced green onions. Finally it was dressed with Dorothy something-or-other dressing. (Betty C. suggested Berstein's Cheese Fantastico would also be lucious). It then went into the refrigerator to cool and meld the flavors. It was yummy!

Next..........more chopped/sliced veggies for the Shrimp salad:

This has been a family favorite for many, many years containing fresh chopped tomatoes, celery, green onion, radish, cucumber and head lettuce. Betty sometimes adds some Romaine and baby spinach. Toss together with one can (or more, for a crowd) of whole med shrimp, the costly kind (about $4, but worth it for the flavor). Cover and put it the fridge for the flavors to meld. Just before serving, dress it with plain old mayo (NO Miracle Whip)...it needs the delicate flavor. Again, Betty C. adds a little milk to thin the mayo so it isn't as heavy on the delicate lettuce. This salad is great for a light supper, served with fresh French bread and BUTTER, of course.

A simple meat entree came next:

This dish was the easiest of all, thanks to the Schwann Company. You, know the one that delivers that fabulous ice-cream to your door. I forgave Mary H for this one because a girl needs help once in while, doncha think? They went into the crock pot, along with some gourmet beef broth from a box, (No, not Swanson)and a little extra seasoning (whatever trips your trigger) and then simmered on low until hot, bubbly, and juicy. It was my first time to try these and I must say, they were delicious. I shall contact the Schwann man in my area.

And, of course, the bread:

These beauties took about ten minutes to make. To a simple baking powder biscuit dough, Mary H, added about a cup-and-a-half of grated Parmesan and Romano cheese and about a tablespoon of dried Italian seasoning. A little milk was added to these dry ingredients to form a soft dough, which was kneaded for a short minute, them rolled out to an oval about 1/8 of an inch thick. She then sliced the dough, diagonally, about 3/4 in wide. Each of these strips was given the spiral twist you see in the picture. About a half pound of butter was melted onto a cookie sheet, after which each bread stick was rolled in the butter and placed on the same sheet. Into the oven for about ten minutes at, I'm guessing, 375 degrees, or until golden brown. As you can see, she almost forgot the second batch, but they were delicious!

Great food, perfect for any informal get together. As an added note, there were crackers and chips, cheese, etc. for snacking. One creation, I particulary enjoyed was made using Lay's Scoops white corn chips. (looks like micro mini taco salad bowls) It was a spoonful of the veggie/pasta salad, put into the Scoop, topped with an Italian meat ball. Cold, warm, and yummy all at once. The food was enjoyed by all. You will see some of those folks next time. Have a wonderful Easter everyone!

While the Goodies Were Brewing.............

2008-03-20T23:06:00.000-06:00

While Mary H was getting the groceries together for the goodies, I was still sitting on my butt on the barstool, looking at several of the myriad of catalogs she gets in the mail with one eye, and watching her work with the other. Work fascinates me, you know.....I could watch it all day. I did get up for a coke or to wander once in a while. On one such mini trip, I decided to try to take a picture of a picture Mary has on her wall. It is of my Mom and her sister, Aunt Pat, taken circa 1923 or 1924. It has some glare from the glass but I love this picture. Mary has promised to have a copy made for me:

I had just sat down again, when Mary Hell's daughter, Sis and her son, Jared, came in to pick Bill up for a basketball game her other son, Levi was playing. Sis's B-Day is two days after mine so the goodies under construction were for her too. She's too cute to have a son taller than her and he's only 13! Last year when I saw him he was about eight inches shorter. Handsome couple, aren't they?

I promise tomorrow, I will reveal the finished products of Chef Mary Hell. Amen and Good Night!

Back to the Visit

2008-03-19T21:34:00.000-06:00

I had cut Mary H's hair and Bill had arrived from Winco. Now it was time for the great Chef to put it all together. First thing was to cook the filling for the German chocolate cake. Pecans, coconut, lots of butter, cream and sugar cooked to perfection, then a generous portion spread between the layers and onto the top. Yummy!!

Next:

Butter, powdered sugar, cocoa, vanilla (the real stuff) and a little cream went into the Kitchen Aid mixer and blended to just the right thickness and texture to suit Mary Hell. She is in real life, (if there is such a thing,) an award winning Pastry Chef, very fussy about the quality of ingredients used in her baking.

Then she got out a pastry tube, applied the perfect tip, filled it with the icing, pressing out all the air and went to work:

And worked some more:

I swear, I only stuck my finger in the icing bowl three or four times and no, I didn't lick the bowl.
Mary H's hands work quickly, guiding that pastry tube up and down and around that cake, never wavering in her duty. In about five minutes time the creation was complete, patiently waiting for the minute I would do the honorable thing, though difficult, and fill that last space in my tummy with this disgusting filth. Life is hard, I tell ya! But before that, I would have to indulge in some of the goodies I will show you next time. With that, may I present you with the final result:

TEN MILLION CALORIES WAITING TO JOIN MY HIPS!!

Michelle Susan-My Firstborn

2008-03-18T19:37:00.000-06:00

It's hard to believe that forty-six years ago, while still a baby myself, I gave birth to a beautiful, blue eyed, blond haired little girl. I love her as my daughter, I love her as my friend, and I love her for the beautiful, talented woman she is. What else can I say.........I am damn proud of her!

Happy Birthday, ya old fart!!

The Visit Continues

2008-03-16T22:08:00.000-06:00

WHERE'D YOU GET THAT HAT!!??

Whenever I travel, I always have my hair cutting scissors with me just in case I need to snip a wild hair when I'm blow drying mine every morning. When we were kids and too poor to pay attention, I started cutting my own hair and and still do to this day. Well, as you can see from the picture above, Mary H went to a so called hairdresser who claimed she knew what she was doing. So, after our hug and hellos, Mary H begged me to trim her hair. Poor thing, before the terrible haircut, that same "professional" had given her a perm that had burned some of her hair clear off. I felt like Edward Scissorhands as I snipped and shaped that head of hair into something resembling a real "do". Mary H was thrilled with the results, claiming it was the best haircut she'd had in years. Once she dried and combed it, I must say, it did look pretty darn good. It made me happy to make her happy.

WINCO FOODS PROVIDES THE GOODIES

After we finished playing Beauty Shop, and Mary H had dressed and created her new "do", Bill, my brother-in-law, came in the door with arms full of groceries. It was time for Chef Mary to put her culinary skills to work. I made a half-assed offer to help but, to my utter relief, the chef insisted she had it all under control. Therefore, I plopped my butt onto a barstool and watched the creation begin. Besides, it was my birthday and as I've stated before............I'm done being Betty Crocker! Next time, you'll see the groceries become the goodies we were later to consume.

Gettin' the story straight.

2008-03-15T21:29:00.000-06:00

Roll on down to I'm Back From the Land of OZ to start from the beginning. It might make more sense to you, if you do. I haven't figured out how to change the order of these blogs yet, genious that I happen to be.

IGNORE THIS POST. MY DARLING DAUGHTER SANDEE LED ME TO THE LIGHT. ALL IS IN THE ORDER IT SHOULD BE.

I'm Back from the land of OZ

2008-03-15T21:08:00.001-06:00

Actually, I came home on Tuesday afternoon, but had to catch up on: 1. my beauty sleep, 2. my laundry (thrilling) 3. Go to Fish and Game for a license to kill all the dust bunnies that invaded while I was gone, 4. catch up on my beauty sleep, 5. Go back to work and play catch-up some more. So here it is, Saturday night already and I'm ready to report my mini trip.

I left home around eight Saturday morning, in a rain storm. The 2 -1/2 hour trip was uneventful and it is not a pretty drive from Moscow to Pasco, so I'll leave out the beautiful sites I passed along the way..............there are none.

2008-03-15T20:52:00.001-06:00

By the time I arrived at Mary Hell's front door, the sky was blue with a gentle breeze blowing. I was happy to be there. WaHoo!!!

2008-03-15T20:47:00.003-06:00

Gerty, in the front, and Rosie, MH's babies were the first to greet me at the door. Couldn't find anyone else. The house smelled wonderful as I walked through the door, telling me that my baby sister had been slaving over the hot stove.

2008-03-15T20:39:00.000-06:00

Made from scratch German Chocolate cake, still warm from the oven, was cooling on the counter. MH was nowhere in site so I walked out the patio door to the back yard....she wasn't there either. I called out her name, but no answer came to me. So...I went to the garage, thinking she might be out there gathering up one of her millions of cooking pans but when I opened the door, off the laundry room, I was greeted with a wall of "stuff". That full garage was FULL to the ceiling, I swear. I'd have to have a month-long garage sale before I'd ever find her there, so I slammed that door before any of that "stuff" escaped into the house, heading for the Master suite to look. As I walked down the hall, I could hear her in the bathroom. Just as I started to knock on the door, she opened it. There she stood, stark-assed naked, dripping wet and no teeth in her mouth. She screamed, I screamed and ran out the door. I tell ya, it was a scary sight indeed! Really, I went to my car to get my suitcase and to let MH get dressed, which she did in a hurry, into her favorite old robe.

There She is..........Miscellaneous

2008-03-15T20:23:00.000-06:00

As I came back through the front door, there she was, waiting to properly greet me, no teeth and all. We embraced each other with big hugs and fits of laughter as we spoke of the vision of beauty she was at our earlier encounter. It was the beginning of good times to come..........

It's the last day

2008-03-07T18:54:00.000-07:00

In a few short hours, at midnight, my sixty-second year will come to a close and I will begin my sixty-third year of living. So far, the trip has been fairly good. I've had a few bumps along the way but mostly, it's been a pretty smooth ride.

I have had a broken heart (more than once), broken bones, (more than once), broken dreams: married and divorced after twenty years, married and divorced again, after a minute. (yes, I said a minute): experienced the deaths of both parents, a brother, a sister, my first great-granddaughter, grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, good friends, in-laws and outlaws: lost two jobs, I loved, due to "downsizing": been broke ($0), been broken, known disappointment and been discouraged at times, all of this adding to the tapestry of my life.

Better yet, I was raised, with my seven brothers and sisters, by a very loving, hard-working, and intelligent mother, grew up with lots of friends and fun, was born in Idaho, USA, (what could be better than that), attended great schools with great teachers, have never been unable to find a good job, have four great kids, six wonderful grand kids, sons-in-law who are awesome, a fabulous little great-grandson, an interesting life partner, a dream job, an almost new vehicle, a very comfortable home, money in the bank, my independence and free will, health insurance, a good retirement fund, my brain still functions with some clarity, and finally I'm still alive and kickin', thanks to pretty good health. What more could a girl ask for, except maybe another twenty or more years to explore life and a diet that works.

Tomorrow is my birthday, and to make it even better, I have the next five days off! What am I going to do, you ask. Well, I've had this great urge to enjoy some hysterical laughter, maybe a little mischief, and some fabulous food. Therefore, I am driving to Pasco, WA to see my sister, MaryHell, who will provide all of the above. Her daughter, Sis, is having a birthday on the 10Th, so MaryHell is creating a party for both of us. My niece, Karen, whom I haven't seen for nearly three years, will be there too. Let me tell ya, she is a kick in the pants, so it will definitely be a few days of merriment for all. I plan to take my camera along, so maybe when I'm back, I'll have some pictures and stories to share, That is, if all goes well and the river don't rise. Until next week............................

Boy, was I embarrassed!

2008-03-05T19:08:00.000-07:00

Ever had one of those excruciatingly embarrassing moments? I had a DOOZY today.

As I have stated previously, I know just enough about computing to be slightly dangerous. Keep this in mind as I continue with this confession

Near the end of the day, I was in my office preparing to type a document in Word. I set my font style, etc, then began entering text. There appeared to be a problem when, after each word I typed, a dot would appear. "What the heck is that?", I thought as I was pushing every button I could see, trying to make them go away. I deleted the words, tried again with the same result. Hmmm. OK, I thought, I'll just exit without saving, then try in a new page. Didn't work.

I decided that before I blew the thing up, I would call one of my college students up to my office to help, knowing they were raised on computers. I erased the text as I was talking to Wayne, who said he would be up shortly. It occurred to me I should have something to show him when he arrived , so I started typing again.

Bear with me as I regress a little. When I was in Junior High, I enrolled in Typing I, which I later hated because it was sooooo boring. One of our practice exercises was to repeatedly type a particular, required sentence. The purpose of this particular sentence was to force us to use all fingers, on both hands, and the correct keys for each finger. In addition, we would hopefully, learn to type by feel, rather than looking at the keys. OK, back to today's typing experience.

For some unknown reason, my fingers remembered that sentence. I had typed a few words when the Buckman, my Assistant, came into my office, walking up behind my chair to ask a question. I quit typing, turning to face him. He started saying something when he suddenly stopped, a devilish grin appearing on his face, and said, "WHAT the hell are you writing about?" Puzzled, I turned back to my screen to see what he was seeing.

Now is the time for all good men to come, it read.

"Oh, my gawd!", I thought, as I spoke the remaining words of the sentence to him and, feeling the hot flushing of my cheeks. He waved his hand at me with an "I can't deal with this right now." motion. He left in a hurry, trying to hide his laughter, holding his mouth with his hand.

With lightning speed, I completed the sentence...to the aid of his countrymen... just as Wayne walked into the office

Wayne found the problem, fixed it, then showed me the whys and wheres. At least I did learn something new about the computer.

I am certain, that before the day ends tomorrow, somewhere in those secret places of the store where the "boys" meet to talk their Man Talk, my embarrassing moment will be the topic of discussion and creator of much laughter. However, I will hold my head high, pretending nothing happened, when each one I meet throughout the day, will undoubtedly give me that devilish, raised eyebrow look as they greet me.

Wish I could find a blusher of the same color my cheeks wore today. It was sooo natural looking. Ain't life grand.............................................................

My Big Brother

2008-03-03T19:35:00.000-07:00

While rumaging through some old papers, I ran across the 2001 newspaper clipping of my brother Bob's obituary. It brought back many years of memories of his life to me. Stories too numerous to tell so I will post here, some of those memories.

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

He was an unmerciful tease
He was loving and kind

He was handsome and charming

He was a gentleman to everyone

He loved every family member unconditionally

He was the first and last person who ever spanked my butt, and I deserved it

He gave me twenty bucks for getting straight "A's" on one of my report cards. It was like getting a million dollars in 1957

He was "Uncle Bob" to every little kid he met

He loved kids!

Women loved him-a "there's something about him" type of guy

He loved and honored his Mother until the day he died

He was generous to a fault

He bought me the first "restaurant" meal of my life, when I was ten

He believed in the rights of the "working" man and spent his adult life working to improve them

He preached, to his younger siblings, the value of an honest days work

He was a Father figure in my life

He was the first one there the day I broke my leg

He was at the hospital when each of my babies were born

He let me take his precious 55 Caddie cruzin' when I was in High School

He owned and drove a Harley in his youth

He loved to dance, especially with my Mom

He served as an Idaho State Senator

He attended the Harvard School of Labor Relations

He served as director of the Idaho State Department of Labor and Industrial Services

He served as President of the AFL-CIO for the State of Idaho

He was director of the International Union of the Operating Engineers, serving 11 Western states

He served as a consultant in the Idaho, Utah and Montana Legislatures

He loved to fish, hunt and camp with his family

He was happiest when he was at our large family gatherings

He loved to build things, always having a project going

He had a great sense of humor and loved telling funny stories

He had no patience for laziness

He spoiled his wife, kids, and grandkids

He would give anyone in need the shirt off his back

He saved my ass when I needed it most-I didn't ask, he just "knew" I needed help

He underwent open heart surgery at least three times, the last with a zero chance of survival. He survived for another twelve years. The Heart Specialist in Salt Lake called him the "Miracle Man"

He died too soon at the age of 67

His family and friends still love him and he is sorely missed

Bobby, you were the best brother a girl could have! I'll see you at the old fishin' hole..........someday.

Till I Kissed Ya

2008-03-01T20:26:00.000-07:00

ME, SOMETIME DURING JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

Today, while driving home from work, 'Till I Kissed Ya' by the Everly Brothers was playing on the Oldies radio station. Hearing it reminded me of my first experience with "real" kissing, or at least what seemed real when a girl was in seventh grade.

My Junior High school years were spent at Franklin Junior High in Pocatello, ID, one of four in the City. I had some interesting adventures while attending that school, one being introduced to a whole bunch of new kids who had spent their grade-school years in different schools than I had. Most of us were struggling with the changes from being little kids to becoming full-blown obnoxious teenagers. The girls were experimenting with make-up, hair color, and the latest styles in boy-attracting clothes. Our shapes and sizes covered a myriad of different degrees of development, some already wearing bras of various and sundry sizes, while others were spending their nights praying for those little buds on their chests to come forth and blossom and..........for some dream boat of a boy to notice.

The boys.............they struggled with their changing voices, prayed for the peach fuzz on their faces to change to real, scratch-your-face whiskers saturated in girl attracting Old Spice after-save. Other than that, they never grew up, as is common with the male species.

Well, after a couple of months of getting acquainted and establishing a group of special friends, both boys and girls, we started our three years of social activities at good old Franklin. One of the "Crowd", (as we called ourselves), Carol, was from one of the city's wealthy families. Late in the Fall of that year, Carol's parents agreed to allow her to have a girl/boy party at their home, a beautiful two story Colonial in a higher-end neighborhood of town. Of course our group was super hyped at the prospect of this party, the planning of which went on for about three weeks. No one had a "date" but we all had our hopes.

That Friday night finally came with each of us spending every minute. after school that day, getting beautiful for the 7:00 o'clock event. We primped, we giggled, we changed clothes, we primped some more, giggled some more, changed clothes again and again until we became what we considered an image of perfection. It was exhausting, I tell ya. Then we were off, driven by my brother Bob, to the place where new adventures would begin. It was a first time event for every person invited.

The house was gorgeous! It was large, decorated in the latest fashion and furnished to perfection. We were greeted at the door by the Maid who took our coats and showed us to the "Rec" room in the basement, another awesome sight for most of us who came from poor working families. Music was playing on the stereo, the lights were low, and a large table was laden with sandwiches, snacks, desserts and drinks, ready for our taking.

After all of the invited guests had arrived, there was a short period of awkwardness. Not having done this before, we weren't sure what to do, especially with the Maid hangin' around. She became bored with us quickly though, excusing herself to the upper living quarters, inviting us to have some fun and make ourselves at home. OK!

Soon we were singing along with the music, chatting, and some of us stumbling over our own feet, or the feet of some poor boy as we attempted to dance, again a first for most of us. This brought on laughter, wise cracks and teasing but we were having fun and getting more and more comfortable at our first boy/girl party.

It wasn't long before someone suggested we play "Spin the Bottle" and we all knew what that meant. Being rather bold and an adventure seeking person, I suggested we skip the little kids game, pick a partner and just start kissing. Surprizingly, I didn't have to say it twice, the partnerships had apparently been formed sometime during the two hours of dancing. I hadn't noticed because I was too busy chatting, snacking and trying to dance, at least once, with every boy there, whether they wanted to or not. I was having a ball but ended up without a partner.

So did Gordy H. We were good friends and weren't in the least bit interested in each other as a couple, but.........there we were, with no choice but each other. Other than a peck on the cheek from Eddie Dibble on the last day of sixth grade, my lips had never touched those of the opposite sex. To make matters worse, everyone else was waiting for me to be the first, or to put my money where my mouth was, no pun intended.

I gave Gordy a "Help Me!" look, he said "OK, let's do it." , took me in his arms and planted a quick, dry kiss on my pinched, tight mouth. It was awful! Everyone was tittering behind the hands which covered their mouths and I was beet-red and humiliated. However, I'm not a quitter, so I said, "Gordy, we're going to do this 'til we get it right!"

Get it right, we did. We even won the contest for the longest kiss that night....fifteen minutes!
We practiced until the kissing was perfect, our warm, soft lips embracing the other's tenderly. Gordy was my friend, and I his. We never kissed each other again after that delightful night.

Since then I've tasted some pretty good lips and some pretty damn bad ones, most of which are long forgotten memories, but Gordy's sweet lips will have a place in my heart forever because they were the first I ever tasted.

Gordy loved the mouth thing, he grew up to become a Dentist. Life is good...............

My Credit Card Was Gettin' Rusty

2008-02-27T23:12:00.000-07:00

Today I indulged myself with my rarely used credit card. I was going to lunch, which I usually spend outside in my car, when the little devil on my shoulder said to me, "Buy something fun!" Well, my car started right up and headed for Office Depot, a two minute drive, then my body walked right into that evil place and led me right to an HP scanner and then to a "My Book" portable hard drive. My Visa jumped right out of my purse and before I knew what had happened, I was back to work. All of this and only 30 minutes had passed. I'm telling you, the devil made me do it!

Since I arrived home from work, I've been unpacking, unplugging, replugging, downloading, installing, uploading, reading, re-reading, trying this and trying that, saving, cropping (?), deleting, re-cropping, saving, deleting, saving again, wondering, "What the hell did I get into?" and finally, getting as far as the three photos above. It has been a blast and I've learned something new..............Yeah!!

Oh yes, the photos are of Jessica, my beautiful little Grand Daughter, who hated having her pictures taken. These were when she was three in 2001. The other is of Mom in her later years. (Probably me in another ten, if I'm lucky)

All this fun for under Two Hundred bucks! What more could a girl ask for?

The Christening

2008-02-25T20:40:00.000-07:00

This is my brother, Bill (William Lowell, to be exact) circa 1955. He was 15/16 years old....yes, I said fifteen or sixteen. Now you may think that's a little young to be an enlisted man in the United States Army Paratroopers and you would be correct, except for one thing. This young man is Bill, who has always been a "try something new" person for as long as I can remember.

By the time he was fifteen, he'd had all the farm life he could stand. He was done milking cows, repairing equipment, (since he was old enough to walk), hoeing beets, planting potatoes, slopping hogs and all the other chores required by a large family to keep a small farm running. It was a hard life and Bill was ready to head-out to see the world. School was not his cup of tea, although his mind is like a trap, capturing more knowledge and understanding of more things than anyone I've ever known. He is a very interesting man; also very determined, which is why he somehow managed to change every record about himself that ever existed, to make him a year older than he actually happens to be, which in turn got him into the US Army. That, and a lot of pleading and good reasoning to persuade my Mom, who finally gave in and signed the consent papers. And, as a note of interest...........He is, to this day, legally one year older than his twin sister, Lois. (Wilma Lois, to be exact, Phyliss for fun).

Today's blog, however, is not about Bill's Army career, it is about a time a few years earlier. It is, in fact, about the year we moved from the farm into Pocatello, after the death of our father. The reason for the move is another story for another time but I will say this much; the move came about quickly and without much notice.

Having been raised on the farm, where life was, by today's standards, very backward and unsophisticated, we kids were a very, very long way from being worldly. Mom cooked on an ancient stove, water was hauled from a pump and heated on that same stove for cooking, cleaning, and bathing. As I've mentioned before, this farmhouse was three rooms and a path and as plain as an unsalted soda cracker.

Well, when the day arrived for the move to be made, Bill was in the boondocks somewhere in the hills, tending sheep for someone, living in what was basically a covered wagon. He was, at best, thirteen years old and since he had no way of communicating with us on a regular basis, he had no idea about the move that was about to happen.

I don't recall the packing and actual move, but I do remember seeing that "mansion" in the city for the first time. It was huge (about 800 sf) with real bedrooms, a real kitchen with cabinets and counter tops, and a double sink for washing dishes, and HOT and cold water coming out of this fancy lookin' contraption connected to this marvelous sink. And, for Mom, there was an electric stove to cook on. It had a soup pan (Mom said it was a deep well cooker) built right into it where she could cook her fabulous soups, stews and home made chicken and noodles. (Our favorite) Then there was the electric oven, where she could bake her bread, rolls, biscuits, cakes, pies, and cookies and roasts. It was almost more than a seven year old farm kid could ever dream of living with. The youngest of us thought, for sure, we'd died and went to heaven.

Back to Bill, or Billy as we called him then. It so happened, a few days after our big move, Bill had finished up his sheep herding for the year and came home to the farm, only to find that he had been abandoned! The whole fam damily and all of our belongings were gone. Bill never got too exited about trivial things like this so he just found a neighbor, who just happened to have all the information he needed to find us. Once he had that information, he ventured into Pocatello to the new homestead. We, of course, welcomed him with open arms, happy to have him back in our midst.

Bill, like the rest of us, was quite happy with our new digs, and started exploring the new possibilities of this place. Being a twelve or thirteen year old man of the world, he wasn't nearly as impressed with the running water, electric appliances, indoor bathroom and such. He had, after all, learned about these things at school and during his limited (at that time) travels. However, there was one item that was new to him. Like every other object he ever ran across in his life, he had to figure out what it was and how it worked.

He looked this simple object over carefully, studying it's construction, what purpose it might serve and, most importantly, how it worked. It just so happened he was in the dining room during this study, a room that was wall-papered in a Cabbage Rose patterned paper, very fashionable in those days.

Perhaps if Mom hadn't been out on an errand at the time, his revelation may have ended a little differently, but fate was not on his side that day. It was easy to see the light of realization come on in his eyes about that object's purpose and his intent to give 'er a try. We watched in wonder as he changed the way he held that object, into the same position a soldier would carry a bayoneted rifle as he lunged toward the enemy. Bill gave it everything he had as he aimed for his target, a Cabbage Rose on the wall. Holding on for dear life, his thrust with the object hit the wall with a loud bang, Bill pulling back immediately. Success.....to a degree. Those of us watching this, gasped in horror as the Cabbage Rose refused to die, clinging with all it's might to that toilet plunger, and bringing a few it's neighbors with it for support.

The new house had been christened! Bill got a few choice words from Mom and a lesson on the proper use of the aforementioned toilet plunger, that day's object of his never-ending curiosity.

Life on 8Th St went on and the Cabbage Rose paper came off. Life was good.....an adventure indeed, in the early fifties..............I love my brother Bill!

Remember My New Nose?

2008-02-22T22:06:00.000-07:00

Sandee just sent this old picture of me. This is my "new" nose shortly after the splint I'd been wearing for a couple of months was removed. Still somewhat swollen and the lumps are really nice, huh? Looks like my cheek survived all right though. This must have been at the same time I tried to dye my blonde hair, black, and I came out lookin' like a gray mouse. Damn sakes, a'mighty! I have a chin and neck too! I'd almost forgotten.

Pocatello, Idaho sure 'nuff does produce bee-u-tee-if-amous women, doncha think?

I Cried.......The Final Chapter

2008-02-22T19:13:00.000-07:00

My Mom, Beth, (pictured above) was sitting in her comfortable glider rocker, her feet up on the gliding foot stool; I sat on the edge of her neatly made bed, listening intently as she quietly told me of her last day of abuse from my father.

Mom was in the basement of the old farm house doing the family laundry that day. MaryHell, Dolores and I were there with her, a fact that I absolutely do not recall, although my clone, Dewe recalls it vividly. This part of the story was related to me by her, Mom didn't include it for reasons I will never know. According to Dewe, Mom was humming as she put the clothes through the wringer of the washer, while the three of us played in the background. Dad came down into the basement, apparently in a bad mood, and asked my Mom what the hell she was so happy about, striking her with his fist. He then proceeded the beat her nearly to death. Dolores remembers crying in fear and horror as this beating took place. MaryHell (who was four) and I blocked it from our minds. I guess it was too painful for us to see.

Mom began, that day in her room, by telling me she knew her time was short and she was so afraid, not of dying, but of having to see him again in the afterlife. She went on to tell me that the morning after the last beating, she woke up in severe pain, which engulfed her entire body and soul. He had punched her body and kicked her legs severely, leaving her bruised from her neck down. Both of her breasts were as black as night, bruises on her arms and legs as big a basketballs. This incident was the last straw. She knew she had to get out of there before he killed her.

It was planting time, Dad was out in the field, so she told one of the older kids to take the four youngest of us to a neighbors house for safe keeping.....she was leaving and would let him know, in a few days, where she would be. Her next words to me were:

"I didn't know what I was going to do or where I was going, but I stole the twenty-six dollar milk check we had received the day before, left the house with just the clothes on my back, and started walking to the highway, which was a mile from the house. I hurt so badly and was so sore, I didn't know whether I could make it, but I did. Once at the highway, I caught a ride into Pocatello, ending up at the Montgomery Ward store. They had a woman's lounge there, where I could go in and lay down to rest. As I lay there, I was scared to death, thinking of you kids, and of how I didn't have any kind of skills, except being a farmer's wife, wondering how in the world I was going to get a job that would support us. I wanted to get you kids away from there as soon as possible. I couldn't ask my mother for help because she had no sympathy for the life I'd chosen. She had always said, in times of past trouble, "you made your bed, you lie in it!"

"After I had rested for a while and a million thoughts went through my mind, I decided I would buy a bus ticket to Salt Lake City, where I felt it would be easier to find some kind of job. I decided I could stay at the YWCA for a while until I got enough money together to get a place to live and send for you kids. When I arrived in Salt Lake, I simply didn't know where to start and knew I couldn't do it alone so I took the last of the milk check money and bought a ticket to Los Angeles where my Aunt Ethyl lived. I knew in my heart she would help me any way she could. Upon arriving in the bus terminal in LA, I was exhausted and had only a few dimes left of the money I had. I went to the phone booth to call Ethyl and was surprised to see that the phones had rotary dials on them, something I had never seen before. I didn't know how to use that kind of phone, but some nice fellow, who must have seen the confusion on my face, helped me make that call."

"While waiting for Aunt Ethyl, I went into the Ladies room and tried to wash myself the best I could, after my two days of travel. She picked me up and while we were driving to her home, I told her what had happened and how I didn't have an idea of what I was going to do. I felt so alone and afraid, but she assured me that I could stay with her as long as I needed and that she would help me find work. She took me to a thrift store and bought me some clothes and to the Five and Dime store for underwear, since I had nothing with me. I felt safe and loved with her. When we got to her house, I sat down and wrote a letter to Bob, (my oldest brother) to let him know where I was and that I was safe, ask him to watch out for the other kids, and to tell him I would send for them as soon as I possibly could."

After about a week at Aunt Ethyl's, she received a phone call, with the news that Dad was dead. He had taken his rifle out into a field, somewhere on the Fort Hall Reservation and away from people, ending his life with a single shot into his temple. Her life with him was over, but those memories of hurt and pain remained, kept to herself, for the rest of her life until she shared them with me that day in early September, 1994. She passed away on September 30, 1994.

As she was telling me this story, I moved from the bed, sat down on the floor next to her and held her hand while looking up into her sad eyes. I felt her pain that day, wanting only to comfort her and assure her that she had no need to fear, for God would never force her to be with him again, He loved her too much. We sat in silence for a long time, still holding hands. She drifted off to sleep, I got up, covered her with a small blanket and quietly left the room to be alone with this new knowledge. My love and respect for her grew to new heights that day.

The letter to my Mom that I found a few days ago, dated June 1, 1951, was from my father, who died on June 3, 1951. Logic tells me that she did not receive it until after his death. In it, he is apologetic, promising to be a decent man from now on, begging her to forgive him and to come home to him and us kids, who needed her so much, and finally asking if they couldn't try, one more time, to love each other as they had in the beginning.

I cried.............and I wonder: why, in those years, was there no help for mentally ill people? (I believe, through information gained in my lifetime, that my father was Manic/Depressive) Why do I feel this anger toward him and at the same time feel a deep love for him and compassion for the pain he must have felt in his soul? I miss my mother greatly and I miss not having had a father in my life. Some day I will understand, when I know my questions WILL be answered, and I will cry no more.

I Cried.........Part Two

2008-02-20T19:13:00.000-07:00

I need to regress in order to continue. My memories of my Father are very few, but vivid. Most were pleasant enough, but one in particular, in my fourth year of life, was very disturbing. It was during a cold time of the year when the pot-bellied, wood-burning stove, located in our very tiny living room, was burning full flame to keep us warm. Those who were in the room that night (it was dark outside) are vague to me, except for my Mother and Dad. Dad was yelling at Mom very angrily; I somehow knew she was frightened, which was scaring me, for her. The anger and verbal abuse to her had escalated when he reached for the iron poker, which was used to stoke the fire in the stove.

He hit her with that poker, over and over and over again. I have blanked out what happened next, only remembering today, his loud screaming and her cries of pain.

I know now, from being told by my older siblngs, later in life, that this kind of abuse to my Mom and older brothers had been a common occurance for years. I do not remember seeing it again (after that awful night) before Dad's death, although it did continue. My Mom took her last beating from him in May of 1951.

During my growing-up years, he was rarely mentioned, for any reason, but I just "knew" that my mother did not remember him with fondness. She chose not to say anything, rather than fill the heads of her children, at least the four youngest of us, with bitter, hateful, memories of him. I can't speak for my siblings, but I chose to keep the good memories of him in my mind.

Mom was a wonderful mother. She chose, instead of being a "Poor Me", to give her children the very best life a poor, widowed mother of eight could possibly give. Material "things" were lean, but there was never any doubt of her love and caring. She taught us, by her example, to work for what we wanted, share the little we had with those who had less, and accept the hard knocks in life with grace. We always knew we would have a home to shelter us, food to fill our bellies, clothes to cover our bodies and a mother who loved us unconditionally. And, although she was good at giving us a piece of her mind, when we deserved it, she never, ever raised a hand to us. We were family, together in everything, which was her greatest desire in life.

In my adult years, I admit a longing to know more about her life with my Dad, but out of respect for her, I didn't broach the subject. That longing was fulfilled, unexpectedly, by my mother, a few weeks before her death in 1994. She was living with my baby sister, MaryHell in Pocatello at that time. I knew that her life was nearing it's end and had traveled from Boise to spend some time with her for a few days. We had been having a wonderful visit, filled with laughter and fun as we talked of family, friends and good times, long past.

On my last day there, Mom asked me to come into her room so that we could have a private chat. It was during that chat that I learned of a day in her life that lead to the letter I found among the "stuff" in my basement a few days ago. She did not tell me about that letter during that chat, but what she did say was difficult to hear, but a loving act on her part because she knew, as mother's do, that I needed to hear those words.

To be continued.................

I Cried and I Wondered......

2008-02-19T20:48:00.000-07:00

Last week, the Fireman decided it was time to go through some old papers stored in boxes under the stairway in our walk-out basement. There were old checks, receipts, junk mail (I don't know why!) and other "stuff" that we have not looked at, or obviously needed, for years. Some of it was from as far back as the 70's. The paper shredder was red hot for days as he sorted and examined each paper in those boxes.

Of course I had admonished him not to shred anything like pictures, cards, drawings by kids; you know, the important stuff. He actually listened to me, something as rare as the Hope diamond!

Sandee, my middle daughter, has been here visiting and working for the past week. She always dens up in the basement where she has her own private bedroom, bath, and a comfortable family room where she can work on her computer while watching whatever she chooses on the television or sleep the day away if she feels like it. Poor thing was living in what I was later to find.

I rarely go down there except to do laundry, but a couple of days ago, I gutted-up and went on into the living area. Last time I was in there, if was clean, neat and everthing was in it's place; this time it looked like someone had set a bomb off down there.

The Fireman had not only taken the boxes out of storage, he had emptied half the damn storage room. The counters on the wet bar were covered, the small dining table was covered, the end tables and coffee tables were covered with this and that....stuff I didn't even remember owning. Along with all this mess were the empty boxes from the paper shredding and stacks of the precious stuff I'd asked him not to destroy before I could sort through it. I knew he was finished with his rare burst of ambition and I was left to clean up the disaster area. Been doin' it for years. I looked around wondering where to start and asking myself why I let him near that room. I heaved a great sigh and started to dig in, putting things I couldn't bare to part with back into the boxes. It had only been a minute or two when I picked up what appeared to be an old, hand written letter. I opened it. The first thing I read was; June 1, 1951. Pocatello, Idaho.

Dear Beth, it began................................I read the letter, words on both sides, written on what appeared to be ruled paper from a school tablet. After finishing, I held it close to my heart and cried fifty-seven years worth of pent-up tears and wondered, why?

To be continued..................................................

Sarabeth Turns Thirteen

2008-02-16T19:09:00.000-07:00

Today on Krinkle's Place, my daughter posted about her oldest daughter, Sarabeth, who had her thirteenth birthday on February 7th. Let me tell about the day of her birth from my viewpoint.

Cristie had a very difficult pregnancy with Sarabeth, her firstborn. As she stated, in her blog, Cristie had lost most of her amniotic fluid at about six months gestation. She and my Son-in-law were living in the mountains North of Boise, well over an hour's drive to St Luke's hospital where the baby would be delivered into this world.

Soon Cristie's condition became serious enough that she needed to be in bed and have a nurse visit regularly to moniter both her and the baby. We decided the best thing to do was for her and Don to stay at my house in Meridian so that she would have quick access to medical help in an emergency and to make it easier for the visiting Nurse.

On the day of delivery by C section, Cristie's siblings were with me and my sister, MaryHell came to town to be there with me at the hospital while waiting for the birth. Don's parents were there as well. While we knew it would not be an easy delivery, we were not prepared for the time that actually passed as we anxiously waited for news. We all became more and more concerned with each passing minute, knowing that too much time has elapsed and we had no clue what was going on.

When Don came out of the operating room, with a look of great distress on his face as he walked along side the gurney where Cristie lay, and, with no baby accompanying them, our hearts and minds started racing with concern.

As soon as Cristie was settled into her room, Don came out and broke the news to us of a little baby girl, riddled with severe problems. Our hearts were broken for our kids who were so thrilled with this pregnancy, wanting this baby with their whole hearts. Cristie was pretty sedated when Mary and I finally got into her room to see her, trying not to show how upset and concerned we actually felt. We didn't want to upset her more at this point.

It was almost an hour before we were allowed to go to the Unit to see the baby. Up until minutes before, we didn't even know whether she was going to live. Seeing her for the first time was shocking and heartbreaking all at once. She was so tiny, and deformed. She was black and blue from the tips of her toes to the top of her head, which was as flat as a wall on one side and extremely elongated from front to back. Her little body, which had literally been shrink-wrapped for nearly three months was dented and dimpled from the pressure; one of her feet was clubbed, her shoulders pushed up toward her head so far that it appeared she was born with no neck. She was grotesque to see and we loved her instantly; we sobbed with great shudders of sorrow for her and her parents.

A while later, after composing ourselves, Mary and I went back to see Cristie. She was more alert by now and able to talk. We talked about the delivery and the difficulties involved. Don told us how a Nurse had to literally stride atop of Cristie, pushing with all his might to help get Sarabeth out and into this world and of how it took ten minutes to get her breathing. Read Cristie's blog for details.

Upon hearing all of this distressful information, it was so very, very hard to keep my emotions and hurt inside for my baby daughter, I could hardly speak. Mary then said, "Well, Cristie, what do you think of your baby girl?" The sweetest words I've ever heard came out of her mouth when she replied, "I think she's the most beautiful baby I've ever seen!" At that moment, I knew in my heart, that Cristie was born to be a Mom, no matter what. I love that quality in her.

Over the next month, Sarabeth did indeed, blossom like a rose. Every dire prediction made by the experts in the Neo-Natal unit were proven wrong by that little girl with a gigantic spirit and will to live, learn and be happy.

She has definitely had physical trials and tribulations in her thirteen years, but nothing has ever stopped that girl. She is intelligent (sometimes it's scary), witty, onery, loving, friendly, sometimes an air-head, creative, a drama queen at times........an all around normal kid.

I love her dearly and am so proud of the way she has taken on life, never looking back at the hard parts but always looking forward to what is to come...........................

Uniquely Me.......don' cha think?

2008-02-14T20:14:00.000-07:00

Well, wadda ya think? It is definately bee-u-tee-if-amous, my blog page, that is. I love it! And the credit goes to....Michelle for the header, as I mentioned yesterday, and to Sandee Lynn, my middle daughter for the colors, fonts, texture, stretching out (easier reading, I think) and mostly for her patience with her mother during the process. Poor girl drove ( 6 1/2 hours) up to Moscow to help me out at the store for a week (she works for the same company, only in Boise)and barely got her butt sat down at my dining room table when she started slaving on this creation. Her fingers were flying as fast as my mind was changing, and that was fast! Click, click, edit, edit, paste, copy, edit, click.......wow! I didn't have a clue what she was doin' but the result (after hours of the above computing) is SWEEEEET!!

All three of my girls must have been pretty damn charming, when the good Lord was handing out talent, cuz they all have plenty. Me..I must have had my head where the sun don't shine when my turn in line came up. But please tell me BS counts, cuz somebody told me I'm full of it. Oh well..............

Happy Valentines Day to all of you biotches out there who got flowers, chocolate and dinner out!

Almost There

2008-02-13T23:11:00.000-07:00

Weeeellll, wadda ya think so far? This is 6 plus decades of genious struggling to crawl out through all my brain dung. I'm so proud of me I can hardly stand my own pleasure......Ok, Ok! I confess! I'm merely the queen bee, buzzing out orders for the colors n' stuff and... first off, my first-born created the header. The bizee bee doin' the actual work (ugh, I'm alergic) will be revealed when I get all the honey I demand........hehehehehe. Life is sweet at my hive.

ttfn.......dorothymae

Don't Puke Yet

2008-02-12T22:55:00.000-07:00

This blog is undergoing a bee-u-tee-if- amous extreme makeover. Please be patient for a day or a hundred. The creative juices have dried up for the night. TTFN..................................

Fishin'

2008-02-11T20:17:00.000-07:00

Today my daughter Michelle, Creative Treasures , posted a blog with a picture of Wilt, her husband, holding some fish he caught on the Snake River in Hell's Canyon. This brought me back to the time when she first started fishing, which was when she was old enough to stand alone and hold a pole.

Her father was a fishing nut. He fished Summer, Spring, Winter or Fall, it didn't matter. He knew every good fishing spot in the State of Idaho whether it was a creek, a river, lake or reserviour. He'd go before work, after work, on his days off and any other time he had an hour or two. He took the kids with him every time they were available, except when they were in school. He was very patient with them, teaching them to bait their own lines by the time they were three years old. They learned to love fishing almost as much as he and were almost as good at it. It was always so much fun to watch them bait their line, cast it into the water, and reel in their own fish. They learned at a very young age, to gut them too, which seemed to be no problem for any of them.

Needless to say, we had a lot of fish at our house; Trout, Crappie, Blue Gill, Salmon....to name a few. I baked it, fried it, broiled it, chowdered it, and loafed it. Those we couldn't use immediately were frozen or canned. My kids grew up with a whole damn lot of Omega 3 in their diets. So, I thought I'd share my way of frying up Trout filets, my family's favorite.

My husband and kids (I caught my fair share too) always brought home nice sized trout, natives caught at his most secret spots, were so good with deep red meat and wonderful flavor, this provided by the bugs and whatever else they ate in the water. They were never given any man made "fish food".

First off, I would filet the Trout, then, using a pair of tweezers, would pull out all the bones I could find so the kids wouldn't choke on them. I would scrape off the scales and leave the skin on because it added so much to the flavor. Next the filets went into a bath of undiluted canned milk after which I would salt and pepper them. Then they were dipped in very fine saltine cracker crumbs which I made fresh each time I fried fish. Added a little more salt and good shake of pepper. No other spices. If I had some, I would use bacon grease, if not, Crisco heated in a large skillet. I would drop a few cracker crumbs into the hot grease to see if it sizzled before adding the fish. Set the burner to about medium because you want it hot but not so hot it burned. Fry till golden brown then turn and do the same on the other side. Timing depends on the size of the filet, but not too long; just till the meat is flaky. Very rich, very fattening, but oh soooooooooooo good. The kids (Mom and Dad too) loved it! We always had fresh or frozen veggies (from our garden) a salad and homemade bread or biscuits to go along.

Glory be! I really was Betty Crocker for a goodly portion of my life. I'd almost forgotten.

Happy cooking..........................................

A Salute to The Students

2008-02-10T11:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, Saturday, I was about the laziest I could possibly be, doin' almost nothin' the whole damn day. My cooking consisted of two PBJ's and an orange. Oh yeah, there was also the three cheese sticks, which I always share with my four, furry, spoiled rotten "children". Dust bunnies, laundry, bathroom sinks & johns, all that good stuff were ignored. My motto for the day was "F**** housework, my tired hurts!"

This morning, I woke up with a little more ambition, or at least good intentions. Therefore, I immediately spent an hour reading the newspaper. When finished, I made the comment, "Well, I guess I'll go stick myself to the handle of the vacuum and do something useful." It just so happened, I passed my laptop on the way, deciding to do a quick check of my e-mail. To my surprise, I had a comment on one of my blog posts, from a College student! That delighted me since I have made no attempt to hide the fact that I am of the "Old Geezer" generation. He stated that I would see him in the store, he would be one of the college boys at the Deli.

Soooooooo...forget the vacuum, I'm blogging a salute to the Students who make a huge contribution to the lifeblood of my business. Students work for me and students buy from my store. I appreciate those facts of life. Whether they are Freshmen, out on their own for the first time, or the more worldly Graduate students, some married with children, they are a welcome part in the life of a Grocery store Manager and staff.

In the nearly four years I have been here in Moscow, I have learned the trends of these students. Beer, Beer, Beer, Everyone loves it! Everyone loves it! (the old song..'More, More, More', I think). August is definately "party time" at it's best. Then, as the term wears on, more food is added (note, I said "added") to the list of "must have's". I have also noticed another trend with the students: they are becoming more and more health conscious.

When the need arises, I will be in a check stand, ringing-up the purchases of these students and have discovered that there is life after ramen noodles. These young folks actually cook healthy meals! Along with the quick and easy frozen pizza and mac and cheese, is fresh meats and fish, fruits and vegetables, eggs and dairy products. This is not a gender thing. These young men and women all give a damn about their health. Kudo's!!

Now I don't know whether it's the fact that I could be a Grandmother to any one of them, but they are also respectful to me and to my staff. Yes, there are some who have that streak of rebellion; the few who risk their scholarships and such, by thinking they can outsmart our loss prevention team, trying to get away with shoplifting or malicious destruction of property, (football on aisle 5 ain't cool) or by causing a scene at the check stand because they are asked for ID, but they are a very small minority of the students we serve. In turn, the students have my respect and admiration for listening to the parents or guardians who raised them to be honest, decent, young adults who are building their own paths in life.

We are a minute part of a college student's life, but it is a part which is important to me as a store Manager, and to the staff who makes the machine run so smoothly. Having said that, it is my pleasure to give this "Salute" to all of the students of the University of Idaho and Washington State University who live, work, and study on the Palouse. You are Kickin'!!!!

In addition, thanks for making it possible for me to live in the style to which I've become accustomed.

A Trying Day at Work

2008-02-09T19:48:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning just before I was ready to leave for work, the phone rang. It was Sherry, my secretary, telling me that there was a little problem with the roof of our building. It was sagging a little from the weight of the snow and employees were frightened of the possibility of it coming down. A decision had to be made on whether or not to evacuate and close the store.

I told her to give me five minutes and I would be there to assess the situation. We have had record amounts of heavy, wet snow so I was aware of possible problems with the roofs in the area. In fact, there had been men from my staff and men from the staff of the mall where we are located, on that roof every day for the past week, shoveling snow and freeing up frozen drains. We are located on the East end of the Mall; the winds blow from the West. Along with the large amounts of snow we were receiving, there were strong winds (up to 45 mph) blowing the snow from the rest of the Mall to our roof where it settled.

When I got to the store, I could see the fright and concern in the eyes of my staff, I could also see the physical evidence of what could turn into a very serious problem. Following emergency protocol specified by my company, I immediatley phoned my VP to report this and to ask for permission to close the business. At the same time, I was thinking of calling the Fire Dept to come in and check it out for me. Someone else was thinking the same thing and made that call instead.

In a few minutes , the Fire Chief, his crew and the City Building Inspector were there, doing their job. Meanwhile, our Company Engineer from Boise was on the phone arranging for a Construction Engineer from the University of Idaho to come assess the roof and the Maintenance Manager of the Mall had called in people from the company that had built the roof. All of this was happening very quickly. Within 30minutes, the Fire Chief and City Engineer had made the decision for us, that we should evacuate and close until the Engineer could make an assessment of the situation. That was about 8:30 am. I was relieved to have my people and customers safely out of the building.

No one, not even me or my Assistant were allowed inside until it was declared safe. Even though I knew this was a big finacial loss, I was still convinced it was the only prudent thing to do. I also knew that as "The Captain of the Ship", I would not leave the property until I was certain all was well.

As it turned out, Rob and I were finally allowed to go back in around 10:30 am, to call some men in to help the Construction company shovel snow off the roof, which would take some of the weight and pressure off. This was in accordance with the recommendations of the Engineer. A plan of action was made and by 1:00 pm there were twenty-five men up there. It was about 30 degrees outside and the winds were strong, making it very, very cold.

Those men worked for nearly nine hours, shoveling snow onto tarps and dragging it to the back edge of the building, dumping it to the ground where a backhoe was also digging and hauling it away from the truck ramps and compactors which were being buried, some piles as high as the roof. That was a huge amount of wet snow to deal with.

I was there for fourteen hours that day, answering endless phone calls, arranging food and drink, and worrying about the safety of those men on the roof, especially after it turned dark, which is early in Moscow. My V.P. arrived about 6:00 PM, after driving through terrible conditions, from Seattle, put on this work clothes and was up there shoveling along side everyone else. At around 8:00 pm the Engineer and City Building Inspector came back, reassessed the building and declared it safe to reopen, which we did at 8:25 pm. (we are a 24 hour store) I cashiered, while Rob called people in to work. By 9:30 we had all the help we needed and I was able to go home.

Although I had not done any of the physical work (Rob wouldn't let me go up on the roof), when I got home, my shoulders ached like I had been up there with them all those hours. Tension, I suppose. Friday was business as usual even though I was still getting lots of phone calls from curios people wanting to know about our caved-in roof, deaths that had supposedly occured, many injured people, etc., etc.........the normal rumors that start in these kind of circumstances. I assured them all that we had closed as a safety precaution for our customers and employees and to take care of a "potential problem" before it became a tragedy. Everyone who called was living this nightmare winter and understood what could have happened and thanked us for making such a wise decision.

I thank God for keeping my men safe from harm and most of all, I thank those men for working their butts off in that cold wind with not one utterance of complaint. In my eyes, they are Rockstars! Life is Good!!!

Sometimes ya Win, Sometimes ya lose....

2008-02-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

Saturday before Superbowl is the busiest day of the entire year at my store. With the weather being the worst in many years here on the Palouse, many surrounding communities, even parts of Moscow/Pullman, were snowed-in. School was closed all week; even the U's (first time since the winter of 68-69)as I mentioned in an earlier post. Therefore business was way down until Friday afternoon and Super Bowl Saturday, when, I swear, every human being within a 50 mile radius came grocery shopping.

Thank goodness all of my staff showed up, so we were sittin' purdy for help. I had paid someone to come clear out my driveway on Friday, so even I got to drive my own car. (nothin' worse than being unable to get out)

Well.........on Saturday the "boys" at the store hadn't filled their "game" card, which they try to hide from me when they're betting on the games. You know....what I don't know won't hurt. Hahaha! The Buckman comes into my office, hem-hawing around, and finally asks if I would like to get in on the card. "What card?", I innocently ask. "The Super Bowl card." he says, telling me "they" (now who might "they" be?) needed to finish filling the card. I tell him no, (a girl has to play hard-to-get, ya know) which leads to a teeny bit of begging and groveling on his part. Being the soft-hearted sweetheart that I am, I finally ask how much ($2 bucks a square) and agree to buy one. "Oh, come on," he says, "you can afford more than one!" I pull the $6 bucks I have out of my pocket and say, "This is all I have, you pick three squares for me." He takes my money and runs. Later, they drew the numbers and gave each of us "investors" a copy of the card. I asked what the numbers meant; it was explained to me; I put the paper in my pocket and went about my business for the remainder of the day knowing I was a mere contributor to their fun.

Sunday.. game day. Didn't watch the game, don't understand a thing about football. Sometime that evening I saw, on my internet homepage news, that the Giants had won........no score listed. I was on my way to post a blog and didn't really care.

Monday morning while getting ready for work and listening to the morning news, I hear the score, 17-14. Hmmmm, "I'm pretty sure I have a 7 and 4 on my card.", I thought, but the card was in my apron pocket at the store so I wasn't positive. When I got to work, I checked it out and, sure 'nuff, I had won the fourth quarter! I was $80 bucks richer, less the six bucks I'd been coerced out of by the Buckman.

The "boys" know I'm not a football freak, so it was tough for them to hand over the cash. I gloated while accepting it. ( couldn't help myself) The Buckman always wins, so I can hardly wait to see him Tuesday morning (he was off today) to thank him for picking such good squares for me. LMAO!!!!

That'll teach 'em for thinkin' they're pullin' the wool over this old broad's eyes !
Momma always knows.............sometimes ya win and sometimes ya lose.