Elvis and I Put Up Our Christmas Tree. . .

  It is that time of year when Elvis, Martina and I put up our Christmas tree.  Tommy doesn't want any part of decorating the tree. I understand and that is alright by me. I put on my favorite CD's, make fudge and think of all the Christmas' past. There is a memory for every thing on our tree.

   Tommy bought me this tree last year. Without a decoration on it, it is beautiful.  In fact last year I didn't decorate it. Tommy was sick with the shingles and there was no Christmas spirit.  Instead we enjoyed the beauty of the tree itself. However when 2016 rolled around, after two days I decided I wanted our story displayed on the tree again. Every ornament on our tree is a memory of some part of our life.  

    We have three decorations from our Christmas wedding that are always close to the top. Actually, every year the angel goes on first then our wedding decorations are randomly added next.  

    Beneath the wedding bells and Christmas balls, is Tami's first baby bottle.



                            The little red Christmas stocking to the left is 45 years old and was the only new ornament on our first Christmas tree. We were living in Yuma, Arizona while Tommy finished his last two years in the Marine Corps. We were pregnant and so broke.  We bought a small artificial tree about two feet tall and sat it on top of our black and white television.  We also bought a Christmas boot for our baby. We thought it was the prettiest tree we had ever seen. The bassinet was located by the t.v. and was filled with baby gifts from Mama and Daddy and family back home.  We were excited and extremely nervous. Lisa was due on Jan. 4th and I had no idea what to do with a newborn baby; but that is another story.

    As we move down the tree we find
Lisa's Christmas Santa that was added when she was almost two. We were living in Marietta, Georgia and she had a kidney infection with 105 degree fever.  We were terrified. The doctors performed a small bladder surgery and she was fine in a few days. We purchased this Santa Clause as soon as she came out of surgery.




   When Melodi was small she added a dragon to the tree. It always goes close to the top as if it wanted to eat a chunk out of the tree.

 This is Jacy's first ballerina shoes. She was about three when she took classes for awhile.  She was such a little doll.

      Logan's baby bottle is added. Now all we need is something for Rowan, Lacey and Lisle and we are all there somewhere on the tree. The rest of the tree is decorated with souvenirs from all our adventures. We have moose and wolves from Alaska. Starfish we found in Florida, and 40 million memories that would take to long to describe. Mama is there and I have a Christmas bell from Mamamae and Granddaddy's tree. It is priceless to me. In fact it is probably older than I am.

   While the tree is full, we still have a lot of places to go and things to do on our bucket list. Have a Happy Thanksgiving and a wonderful Christmas. Much love to all. . .

One Tomato, Two Tomato, Three Tomato, Four. . .

       Transplanting volunteer cherry tomato plants never entered my mind when I woke up this morning.  Seven hours later that is exactly what I was doing.

      Tommy and I worked long and hard yesterday. Today was to be a laid back sort of Sunday.  That is pretty close to what we had. The things we did were small chores we wanted to check off our 'to do list' before I have knee surgery in December.


   We built a hand railing for the steps in the laundry room. That took about an hour. While in there I did several loads of laundry. Tommy was outside piddling in the garage, when he yelled for me to make a pot of coffee and come outside.  He wanted a fire in the fire pit and some company.  We stayed out there all afternoon. Conservation was sparse. Both of us were lost in watching the fire and our own thoughts. The coffee was good and the sky was perfect for cloud watching.   
                                         

                       
         
         This was my favorite cloud of the day. It morphed back and forth between a dragon and a mermaid with hair three miles long.

      While I was thinking about dragons and mermaids, Tommy spotted volunteer cherry tomato plants growing all over the back yard. They erupted everywhere a rotten or split tomato had been thrown. I couldn't believe it. Some of the plants had blooms on them and one plant had two cherry tomatoes that will be eaten soon.  

          I am not a high maintenance kind of person. It never did take much to make me happy; finding these little tomato plants all over the back yard did just that. . . they made me happy.  I dug up three plants and re-potted them so I could watch them grow and perhaps enjoy some red cherry tomatoes later this winter. Right now they are living in the bedroom window of Logan's room.  I checked on them first thing this morning and they seem to like their new surroundings. It was a good day in my neck of the woods.  It took my mind off the election for about four hours. That was time well spent. I needed a break from the three ring circus we call politics.

                                     

  
                                       

   

The Road Less Traveled....The Election of 2016

 
    The photo above was taken the other day while we were on a road trip in search of the prettiest tree in our part of the state. We took photos of trees from one end of our county to the other. As we made a right turn on this road, I got out of the car and had a 'Robert Frost Moment'. A line from his poem,  "The Road Not Taken", slammed into my mind.  The last verse,

                                "I shall be telling this with a sigh
                                 Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
                                 I took the one less traveled by,
                                 And that has made all the difference.

   As I stood in the middle of the road, all I could think about was the comparison of this line of poetry and our nasty, foul election of 2016.  I am sure Robert Frost would turn over in his grave at that thought.  However, folks that is exactly where I was and where I am; six days away from the election. I am still at a crossroads concerning our Presidential candidates. I know who I am voting for unless something else happens between now and next Tuesday causing me not to vote at all.  Am I happy about my decision?  NO I AM NOT!!  It is the best decision I can make out of this mess we have to choose from. I honestly think one candidate could possibly go to prison, the other one could be assassinated.  How did we ever reach such a devilish place?  Why would these thoughts ever come to mind in a normal election?

   I have a hypothetical theory on this matter. While most of us in the United States were being good citizens, working, raising families and voting when it was election time. We did not dig deep enough into what went on in Washington D.C.  Years ago we believed men and women sent to Congress, the White House and State positions had America's best interest at heart, even if we disagreed with some of their positions. However, we did not have the twenty four hour news coverage then that we do now. Most of us did not know how corrupt things were getting.  We should have instead we let things slide. Unknowingly, we allowed lobbyists to gain power to buy and sell our elected leaders and their vote.  Elected leaders became career politicians. Follow the money was what we overlooked  until it was too late. Lobbyists are embedded now. We took the elected officials at their word.  In the process they sold out our country to any and everyone around the world who could afford a piece of us. And now we are reaping the rewards of crooked politicians for the past sixty years or more.

   What is so discouraging to me as an American, I really do not think our country can be fixed.  And I love my country. I love the one I thought existed. I love the one that exists now. I am angry at us for letting America down. I love the Americans after 9-11. We were united for weeks following the attack on our country.  I love the United States I believed in as a little girl.  When good and bad, right and wrong were easier to identify. Now we live in a gray era. There are seven sides to every question. Political Correctness is an insane idea.  Truth has become rubberized. It can be stretched in any and every direction until it looses its shape and tears apart. We often forget what the truth was about. 

   When I was a little girl, I went to church all the time. I remember getting scared every time the minister preached from the book of Revelations. I always wanted to know why the United States wasn't mentioned. Now I think it is because by the time Revelations is fulfilled the United States as we know it, will not exist. That thought scares me and makes me sick but I believe it.  With all my heart I hope I am wrong. I am wrong a lot... I hope I am this time too.

   Perhaps, if we as American citizens had paid more attention to what was going on in Washington D.C. things would not be in this mess. Perhaps if we had demanded more of our elected leaders to follow the constitution, or decided that it is a terrible idea to have a Supreme Court Justice sit on the bench for life. Perhaps the President's right to use his pen and write Executive Orders should be taken away. Perhaps American's should have taken to the streets all across the United States when Benghazi happened and when the Iran deal was made. Perhaps we should have stayed in those streets until the right thing was done.  Perhaps if we had taken a different road we would not be in the mess we are today. Perhaps, but we will never know for sure because we didn't take the road less traveled. Instead we played a loosing game called, 'Follow the Leader.'

   God bless and protect our military. Sooner or later they will have to pay for all the 'pay to play' crap, and the poor decisions made by men and women who knew better but did not care. And that my friends is a crying shame.

   

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.