Advice from Heaven "Follow Your Heart but Take Your Brain With You"

The title of my blog today is a quote from this morning's play time on the computer. I take most of the silly 'quizzes' offered on Facebook.  The quizzes are  funny and the answers  either hit close to home or  they make me laugh or snort a 'not me buddy. . wrong woman.'  Most of the answers I get I delete.  However, today's quiz summed up Monday to a T and my life in general. That fact was located on the 'Ah Ha' side of life.

Monday Tommy and I drove to Hermann to buy tires for Tommy's truck.  It was a beautiful day and I wanted to take photos of the Fall foliage and of the little village like town of Hermann. As soon as we arrived at the station, I got out of the truck, grabbed my camera and my suitcase of a purse and took off to photograph life in another town.

Hermann is a small German community on the Missouri river. People built their homes in layers on the rolling hills that surround the river. 

  
I started walking and soon came to a rock wall trying to keep one third of Hermann at bay. Houses are stacked one on top of the other in a hodge podge manner. The road twists and turns among the houses appearing and disappearing at will. Nearly every home has a flower garden and an empty upstairs. 

Their lifestyle is a different life  than the one I live. My mind was filled with the 'something shiny syndrome' and I was off in my own little world. I walked up and down streets snapping photos.  It was around eight a.m. and people were still inside their homes getting ready for the day.  A light would click off, a door slam and a car cranking was the background music for the first hour of the morning.

This photo doesn't do justice to the landscape. Behind the church, climbing the hill is another row of houses up higher with a street or a yard to share. Comparing it to a jig saw puzzle is not the right description, although at the time that was vibe I received.  While I was delighted by the scenery I knew I would last living in Hermann a month or two at the most. I am used to a country lifestyle. It suits me now. For years it was bright lights and big cities. ..not any more.  I turned the corner and was on a side street downtown. Shabby chic was the way I would describe that area...run down could be another observation.  

  I walked this street for about forty minutes. I took photos of a place that in another life I would have loved to have owned. It would have been a bar and grill on the ground floor with pool tables and a place for a band and room to dance.  We would have lived 
upstairs.

The vacant red brick building with the white patio upstairs was my fantasy place for the bar and grill. 

                                                    

There were already two bars at the other end of the street. I would have loved a peek inside this building so I could  redecorate the place in my mind. However, about the time I tried to peek in the windows a little man walks up to me and says, "Mam, did you leave your purse on a wall at the other end of the block?"  There was only one four letter word that fit this situation and  I bit my tongue to keep from saying it. The little man who found my purse was very concerned about me. He was a kind looking older gentleman with watery blue eyes. He was unshaven and almost dirty. I am almost positive he was a frequent visitor at the bars down the street from my imaginary bar. He probably would have been a customer of mine.

He told me he found my purse and took it up to the service station and asked if anyone knew anything about it. My husband said, "That's my wife's purse!!  Wasn't she there?"  Another four letter word entered my mind because I knew Tommy would be furious.  I walked as fast as my knees would let me to the station where the truck and Tommy were waiting. I was right he was mad. . . extremely mad. I took the purse and put it in the truck. He wanted to know how I could walk off and leave my purse for almost an hour and not miss it. Hmmm I did too.  That purse never entered my mind. I was lost in a visual story about life in another time. My 'something shiny' was in overdrive and I was enjoying my adventure.

Tommy doesn't understand my mind set, and truthfully I do not understand the way his mind works.  He is a fun, logical person.  He stays in the present and seldom roams off the reservation.  

After knowing each other since we were in 7th grade,  you would think we would have accepted our mindsets. We haven't and I don't think we ever will. The other day he asked me what I was thinking about. I said, "the Kennedy assassination".  I asked him the same question and he said 'how to fix the lawn mower.'

He is one child out of eleven. I am an only child. He had people to talk to all the time. I created my world in my imagination. I still do. It is one of the reasons I write.  My mind is a very busy place on any given day.

"Follow your heart but take your brain (and your purse) with you." I guess for a little while this will be my new 'life quote'. There is a lot to be said for this tidbit of advice. I might as well try and make the most of it. Much love to all..

                                       
                                                   

One of my Big Ideas that Didn't Pan Out...

    For someone who never made a lot of money, I had my share of adventurous ideas on ways to make money. The ideas didn't pan out but I must say the attempt to try was needed and priceless.  I have not once regretted any of my bright ideas. I was lucky that Tommy was making a good living for us and he never objected or discouraged me when I tried something new. He laughed a lot but he never objected.

   I was twenty when we got married and forty when I finally found my 'retirement job' working at a large mental hospital for the criminally insane.  That gave me twenty years to try life my way.  Since I was a little girl I wanted to be an artist and a writer. I was a dreamer, still am. My mind was full of 'bright ideas' that often cost me more than a profit. Let me rephrase that. I never cleared a dime on my creations but I had a wonderful time trying.

   I worked at a shoe factory off and on for five years when we needed extra money.  It was the wrong job for me. I hate factory work...loved the people; hated the job.  Standing in one spot all day long; doing the same thing over and over is pure torture for a person like me. My off and on career there was less than stellar.  I was fired once, and walked out three times. The longest I stayed employed there was 15 months. Tommy was laid off and I had to work. We needed the insurance.  When we got back on our feet and he was hired as a corrections officer, I quit again.  In fact, I stuck my head in the office door and told them "Do not, under any circumstances, hire me again."  They laughed and said, "We will see you in about six months."  Wrong!!!  I never went back. 

   A couple of days after I quit,  Tommy came home from work. I was waiting with coffee and my new plan. I wanted to do portraits in pastels. I fiddled with art off and on since I was a kid and after we married I continued,  but I wasn't serious about it.  We began our family and I really didn't have time to paint.  I was happy and this was fine with me. This time I was serious. I wanted to give my dream a try. Tommy listened and was supportive. He told me to give it a shot.  He always preferred having me home. The next day after the girls left for school and Tommy went to work I turned our dining room into my art room.  I had a huge picture window that faced north.  Two small round wooden wire holders Tommy bought home from the phone company soon became end tables. I painted them and put a plastic table cloth over the tops. I had a place for pastels, paints, photos, lamps and a thousand other pieces of 'stuff' I needed to help me work. I had my tackle box from college where I kept all my art supplies when I was an art major.  It was a little worse for the wear but it was filled with memories from another life. I still have it--somewhere.  I assembled my easel. Soon I was ready to start to work.  I have always loved the angled faces of Native Americans. I don't know how many portraits of Indians I did and gave them all away. If someone said, "Oh I love that!!" I gave it to them.  My work was a long way from being ready to sell. I was satisfied with the fact they liked what I had created. And they took it home with them AND put it up in their homes. It never did take much to make me happy.

   One thing led to another.  I did a photo of Lisa her freshman year of high school. My favorite was of Willie Nelson. Tommy hates to hear him sing. That portrait has a long on going story in our home.  I think it is the best portrait I ever did. Tommy calls him that ole SOB. I have hung him all over the house in every room except the bathroom and our bedroom. The two places Tommy could not stand to look at him. Besides, who wants a photo of Willie Nelson hanging in the bathroom?  Right now Willie has a permanent home in my sun room.

   I packed away all my sketches and trial runs over the years, when I went to work for the state, I had weird hours, kids in school who wanted to talk to me when I came home. The time for art was suspended indefinitely.  Last Tuesday I found my old art work from 1985-1989.  Most of the other pieces were given away to friends. I kept a few to remember a good time in my life. Below are a few of those old memories. They are a little worn and faded in places but are still good memories to me.  I will forever be a work in progress, no matter what I do.

  Lisa's photo aged her more than I wanted.  Once again much to learn.

Nancy Ballard's graduation photo. It is a pencil sketch. I never did get the pastel started.

A hero from a book I read.  I have no clue the name of the book, but I sure do remember the hero.

Some old cowboy who had seen better days. The picture has too.
                 

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Girl in a mirror. These photos have no value at all. I see a million mistakes and yet they are priceless to me. They are from a time when I was in my 30's and was the artist I wanted to be. I remember I was always dressed in jeans, a denim shirt and was barefoot with paint on my clothes and chalk on my skin.  I had candles lit, a room full of plants and Lisa's jam box playing songs I loved. Those are good memories.  I am glad the pictures made it through the years. How they survived I will never know. I will take better care of them now.  I started painting when I retired. Now I have a fascination with French and Italian homes and streets.  Adobe, archways Mexican pots of flowers and broken steps are what catch my eye. I also have a jealous lover who wants my time and I am inclined to see he gets more than his fair share---and that is writing. Life has been good to me.

Sandy's Burial...

      When I sat down to write today, I thought I was writing a eulogy for Sandy.  No words came. I had said it all yesterday in a short paragraph.  Sandy had been with us for fifteen years. We loved her and she loved us back. She became sick and died in my arms...right where she should have been. Her death broke my heart.  Her burial broke my back.

     Tommy and I have decided that we are going to be cremated when we die. Funerals cost too much.  The survivor will need the insurance money to continue to live as we do now...without worries.  It sounds good.  Makes sense to most people and has even become popular in some circles. The only problem is I hate the idea of burning up anyone I love.  It seems barbaric and I for one can not do it.  Tommy has no problem with the idea.  Yesterday he asked me if I wanted him to call the vet and make arrangements for Sandy's cremation or did I want to bury her in the garden.  Of course I picked the garden.  I would make the same decision again today.  However, little did I know how hard physically digging a four foot grave for Sandy's remains would be.

    The only thing about me that feels 67 years old is my knees and today my back and ribs.  Usually I am fine. I don't feel or think any different than I did when I was 40. Tommy feels the same way. He has had a rough year and is finally healing.  Much better than I hoped for. He still has pain in his left arm but it is down to a 2 or 3 level.  He can function and live with that. We both think it will be gone by October.

    However, if you put the two of us together you have one whole person with bad knees and an iffy lower back, a left arm that hurts so bad it has been known to make an ex Marine cry.  And this person has to dig a four foot hole.  It took a long time to get that hole dug. We started with shovels, then we turned to a pick ax.  From the ax we drug in the tiller. That helped a lot. Until I looked up and saw how the tiller was jerking Tommy's arms. He refused to quit using it because at last we were making some progress. 

    The shady spot I picked out is nice. It is under a tall tree with roots that go all the way to China.  We dug, scooped, pulled until the hole was deep enough. My knees had left the premises about two hours earlier. To get out of the hole, I had to grab the tree and pull. 

    Finally Sandy was laid to rest. She was covered in her favorite blanket.  We thanked God for allowing us to raise Sandy. We thanked him for a lot of memories. Then we gathered up all the shovels, pick axes, and other tools that I don't even know what they were for.  But I do know one thing, they were not for digging dirt.

    We waddled to the house, took a shower and then a 3 hour nap.  When we woke up Tommy asked me if I wanted to go to Portland to eat.  I did. The fish and beer was delicious. We talked and talked then talked some more.  Once again the subject matter was cremation. It is in our will that we will be cremated. I am sure if I go first, he will cremate me...probably have a wiener roast:) I will not bet on cremation for Tommy. I have loved that body 46 years. However I know one thing for sure, I am not digging the grave!! Men!!! Can't do anything with them and don't want to live without them.  The way it stands we are being cremated...unless Tommy goes first...to be continued hopefully at much later date.



    

First Bullet Hole I Have Seen in Awhile...

   It is a well known fact, I enjoy meeting unusual people. Why?? Because they seldom let me down. If I wait long enough a story is just a smile away.

 Airports, elevators, hospitals, parks, bars, restaurants,Walmart, church, airplanes, the library, Alaska, the beach, auctions and even the Army Surplus stores are a few places I have walked  away with a stranger 's life story or some horrific event in their lives they can't forget. A few have even shared  photos of their adventure.  We seldom if ever exchange names. I think that is odd, however probably a good idea in the long run.
    
 Tommy and I were out and about today. He needed to go to Harbor Freight and get a couple of tools that were on sale.  I wanted to go to the Army Surplus store and check out mosquito netting and a few other items for camping or for when the SHTF..whichever comes first. It was there I met my 'character' for the day. 

   As I tried to open the boarded up door, a young man was walking out. He was short, wore grey baggy shorts and a t- shirt. He had both ears pierced with black circles that will leave his ears eventually with holes the size of nickles...I guess.  We bumped into each other. He was looking over his shoulder talking to the man running the store  and I was on a mission to get some camping supplies.  After we  said our 'excuse me's'; the cashier said, "l will have that door fixed tomorrow. We were robbed earlier this week." BINGO!!  That was all I needed. I knew a story was brewing close to the surface in the room.  I asked about the robbery. The young man came back in to talk and the cashier began to retell the story. It was a simple story. The robbers knocked out the glass in the door and walked in--took what they wanted and left.  That was it. I was semi disappointed until the young man began talking. A couple of months ago he was shot in the knee, a few blocks from where the surplus store is located.  Evidently,  the street his girlfriend lives on is in a dangerous area of Columbia. Someone is shot over there weekly, sometimes daily. The area of the store could be considered 'shaking grounds' as far as being in a safe neighborhood also.

   I told the young man he was lucky to be alive, and have full use of his knee. That opened the door to his story.  He began talking by reveling how he used to be into drugs but now he has a daughter and he was through with all that mess.  I congratulated him for making a good life choice. He smiled. I turned and began walking to where the hunting knives are located. He followed me and asked if I wanted to see his knee. I said , "Well, sure . . . I guess".  Before I knew it he jerked up his shorts and sure enough there was a bullet hole. Now healed it looked like a round bruise, combined closely with a long jagged scar. I told him it healed nicely and then he offered to show me how it looked before he was healed. Bam!!! He snapped open his cellphone and there in living color is his bloody knee just moments after being shot. It looked nasty for sure. I asked  who shot him?  I probably shouldn't have asked that question, because the answer I got was a blank stare. It just popped out before I could stop it. I laughed and said, "Never mind, I don't know anyone in Columbia. Sorry I asked." He gave a curt nod and started to walk off.  Then he turned around and wanted to know why I was looking at 8 inch knives.  I laughed again and said without thinking,  "To keep from getting shot in the knee!"  Not everyone gets my sense of humor. . . I keep forgetting that.   He said, "Jesus Lady. . ."   looked at me like I had just grown a third eye and made his way to the door. . . Never bring a knife to a gun fight little boy - - - everyone knows that:) Kids!!!  I need the knife for fishing. One side of the blade is a fish scalier.

   Tommy and the cashier were knee deep in war stories,  when I walked over to join them. I like to listen to men talk, so I kept quiet while my husband and a stranger tried to settle the world's problems. They didn't have any luck with that one.

   It was a good day in my corner of the world. We laughed a lot. Had several serious conversations and ate another couple's platter at Long John Silver's. It was close to what we ordered...not worth the trouble to get a reorder and both were the same price.  

   Getting out of house was good,  coming home was even better.
  

Shasta Daisies and War...

   It is Saturday morning in my corner of the world.  It is a cool morning for the end of July. I wanted to go outside, enjoy nature and clear my mind of the news of the world.  I did for a few minutes but the last two weeks of non stop news about Hillary and Trump kept creeping into my thoughts at odd moments.  While I was deadheading my petunias and daisies, more random thoughts entered my mind. One of those thoughts repeated something I had read several days ago,  'if you were born in 1949, like I was, then for almost 44% of your life the United States has been in a war somewhere.' I know my teenage and early adult life revolved around the Vietnam War. Dinner was eaten in silence as the t.v. reported another day, in another part of the world, where young people my age died. 

   It seemed remote until my senior year. It was a common known fact young men graduating high school usually either went to college or Vietnam.The draft was still in effect. I remember in Speech class we had to give a short speech on how we pictured our future. I think it was Ronnie Poole who said, "I am pretty sure I will spend my summer in beautiful downtown Saigon."  We all laughed at the joke. In fact, we often quoted him at odd times when we talked about the war. That line stuck in my head. We were eighteen, young and invincible.  A couple of years later I married a Marine. It really struck home then. Things turned out good for Tommy and me.  All of our friends and family made it home safely from Vietnam.  I am sure they were changed. The changes didn't show from the outside at that time.

   As I pulled weeds out of my zinnia bed, I thought about a novel I read a few weeks ago. It was about  the history of the world at war. Since the beginning of time, this world has been at war somewhere with someone.  There was no twenty four hour news channels to report what was going on back then. Lack of knowledge did not stop the chaos.  People created war to get what they wanted. They still do.  At times other people or countries picked a side and joined in the fight. They still do. The right side did not always win. It still doesn't.  And the world is still hanging on.

  While outside, I dug up a new patch of ground. I didn't really need anything else planted I wanted to dig up fresh dirt and take a smell of the land. I wondered how many other people had lived where I live now. I have records but lots of people lived before those records were recorded. The dirt smelled good. It has too much clay to be fruitful on its own. We mix it with this and that to enrich the earth. I looked up at our woods and realize once again, I didn't plant any of those trees or wild flowers and they are beautiful. They made it through Indian raids, the Civil War and so far they have made it through my era of time. The soil worked fine for them.

  Down the road about fifteen miles or so is a nuclear power plant. Tommy worked there enabling us to buy our home. When we bought it, the danger of a power plant never enter our minds.  We still don't dwell on it.  If it wasn't that it would be something else. The world isn't any safer than it was thousands of years ago. However, we have the ability to destroy our world...literally. It wouldn't take long either. Push a button, retaliate and push another button. . .keep on until no one is left standing. I hope that doesn't happen. I hope the grape vines we started will be producing grapes for our grandchildren. I hope the wild blackberries will be used to fill tummies with Nonnie's recipe for blackberry cobbler. I hope the small trees in our forest grow huge and tall.  

   I hope. . .

   

One of Those Things in Life I Wish I Could do Over...

   Every now and then I get caught up in something I know nothing about.  I often fly by the seat of my pants and if an idea sounds good to me, I am off and running looking for a new adventure. This is the story of how I entered Lisa in a beauty contest at the age of six without knowing one single thing about beauty pageants for children or anyone else for that matter.

   I was having my morning coffee with one of my best friends Janice.  She was all excited about this event that would happen in Union City in a few weeks. It was a children's beauty pageant. The winner would receive an award and move on to the next beauty pageant in Memphis, Tennessee.  It would go from there to another pageant until someone won $10,000. She said, "Let's enter our girls!!  It will be fun and it doesn't cost much money...just an entry fee.  We can get them pretty sundresses, fancy sandals, fix their hair and apply a little make up.  It will be just like playing dress up!!" We asked the girls what they wanted to do and of course they were excited and couldn't wait to put on make up.

    I called Mama to tell her the news and she was not excited at all.  Mama and Mamamae were at my home in Tenn. in about an hour. First Mama explained I had never been to a beauty contest for kids and I really didn't know what I was getting into.  I told my family all that I knew about the contest and that Lisa was excited and wanted to do it. I can hear Mama now saying,  "It costs a small fortune to be in beauty pageants.  There is a lot of competition and mother's get furious with judges, the audience and the little girls. Most of the time the little girls do not have fun. Don't make Lisa do this." I remember telling Mama that this time it was just for fun. Lisa's beautiful and it will be like playing dressing up.  She won't care if she wins or not she is six.  We know she is beautiful. Let her have the experience.  She will feel like a princess.  

   Reluctantly, Mama and Mamamae dropped the subject but "the look" remained through out their visit. 

   The next day, Lisa and I go to K Mart and buy her a pretty sundress, a pair of sandals that had a wedge heel, ribbons for her hair and a little stand out slip to make her dress fuller.  She looked like a little doll.  We ordered her a wrist corsage of red carnations and she was ready for Saturday night  and the contest.  Throughout the week she practiced walking in her shoes, turning around, and smiling. She did fine.

   Mama, Mamamae, Janice and her family, Lisa, Tami and I drove to the high school at the same time. As soon as we turned into the parking lot I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. It was packed. My silent introvert jumped up and down in my throat and said, "Oh Hell no !! You are not going in there!!!  Are you crazy???  Look at all those rich people...dummy!!"  I literally thought I would pass out...but I didn't and we made it inside the school.  There were forty million little girls dressed in forty million dollar dresses or should I say gowns. Even though the dresses they wore were short...they were created in the image of gowns.  I looked at Mama and she knew how I felt.  She hugged me and said, "Lisa is beautiful, she fits right in."  God bless her, if she had said "I told you so!!"  I would have busted out crying. However, Mama would never say anything like that.

  I looked for Lisa and she was playing with some little girls and having a good time.  She was enjoying the pretty dresses and acting like a little princess.  She did much better than her mother who really wanted to puke...anywhere would have been fine. Her mother also wanted a drink of water and a Xanax.  Neither of which she got.

  They called the little girls backstage. Lined them up and the first round began.  One child was just as pretty as the next. I was glad I wasn't a judge. Lisa made it through that round and was smiling from ear to ear.  She even waved to us from the stage.  The second round went fine and she was still in the competition. However, others had been cut and there were some mad Mama's in the audience.  I have been to wrestling matches where the language was better.  Lisa was taken out in the third round.  She came back to where we were sitting. I really don't think she was supposed to but she did and I was glad.  She whispered in my ear,"Can we go home? I want a bowl of cereal."  That was the last thing I was expecting to hear. So I told Mama what was going on and we left.

   The ride to our home was quiet. We played the radio and I complemented her on what a wonderful job she did. I told her I had made pictures to show Tommy when he got home. She smiled and that was all.  After we got in the house and changed clothes, I fixed the cereal.  Lisa was still quiet. Finally I asked her if she wanted anything else and she said the oddest thing.  "Mama do you have the crown I wore when I was Valentine Queen?"  I did and I even knew where it was--miracles of miracles. She put the crown on and finished her cereal. We began to laugh and talk once again. Soon she was sleepy.  She put her p.j.'s on and climbed in bed. I gave her a good night kiss and noticed  she was sleeping with her crown on. For the millionth time, in her short life, she stole my heart all over again. 

                                           

   

      

   

'Pay It Forward' Put Into Action...

  When I walked to the mailbox today I received a surprise package from Trinidad and Tobago. My long time friend, Nalini Mohammed sent me a 'Pay It Forward' present for my new granddaughter.  I was beyond delighted and very thankful.  

   Several months ago Nalini asked ten or fifteen people on Facebook, from around the world, if we wanted to help make someone's day a little brighter. We agreed and were anxious to begin.  Our mission is to send a surprise package to a friend somewhere in the world, or if possible to do something nice for someone in person.  Something to make their day better and make peace for a minute tangible. " Pay It Forward" is a wonderful idea.  We can all use some mental sunshine on any given day. The idea keeps going as each person passes on their offer of friendship.

  My surprise was a perfect selection for me.  It is a book, about the size of a letter. On the front of the book where an address would be says:

    Inside the book are envelope like letters with a theme at the top of the page for the subject to be written about.  At the bottom of the page  is  the date it was written and the date it is to be opened. Here are some of the subjects to be written about. 

 1. It may surprise you to learn that I was young...
2. One positive change in the world have witnessed is...
3. When your parents were young...
4. The best advice anyone ever gave me...
5.  I am curious to see how you...
6.  What I want you to know about me...
 7.  My wishes for you...

    There are other quotes just as thought provoking and ideas I want to share with Rowan. She is three months old and has so much to learn.  I am also ordering two more for Logan and Jacy.  I have so much love and lessons I learned the hard way. I would like to share with all my children and grandchildren.

    Thank you again Nalini for giving me a perfect gift and making my day delightful. I have my friend and a gift in mind to send to her. I hope she will like her, 'Pay it Forward', as much as I did receiving mine.  I am going to do this more often because receiving and giving me make me feel wonderful. I know a lot of people who could use a smile, a laugh or an Ahhhh that is just what I needed today. Much love to all...for starters.