Goodness

You can't just say I love you

2011-09-27T17:02:00.000-06:00

You have to live I love you.

There are a lot of firsts

2011-09-20T12:55:00.002-06:00

After someone you love passes away. If you think about it, every day there after is a first if it was a parent. As I said in an earlier post, my mom passed away on June 1st. Making that day the first in my life that I didn't have her in my life.

Today is my birthday. My first birthday without a Mom. The saddest birthday I have ever had.

My mom had been told not to have children, because of an accident she had had when she was younger. Doctors told her having children could endanger her life. She sacrificed, and had five.

I may sound selfish, I'm glad she blessed me with life. So, maybe I should wipe away my tears, and thank Mom for the gifts she has given me today. The gift of her never ending memory. The gift of her undying love. The gift of her strength. Thanks Mom, for all of the wonderful years you gave me, and for all of the wonderful gifts.

He ain't the Good Humor man

2011-08-02T16:53:00.005-06:00

He's the Cool Dude!

You betcha I'd buy his treats and sweets if he came to my neighborhood.

I believe in the power of prayer, and the innocence of children.

2011-07-23T21:21:00.003-06:00

"A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men." Martin Fraquhar Tupper

The picture in this post is of six month old Jaxson. Little Jaxson has been diagnosed with stage IV Neuroblastoma. Please pray for baby Jaxson.

I choose to believe she waited

2011-07-11T21:38:00.004-06:00

Life can change in a blink, in a sigh, or a kiss goodbye.

On June 1st, my dad and brother visited my mom in the nursing home. It was a good visit, because my dad would be allowed to kiss my mom before he left. In the days prior, my mom had a very high fever, from an upper respiratory infection. Kisses were not allowed, because masks were mandatory for visitors. A way to stop the spread of infection.

On that day, June 1st, before he left, my dad kissed my mom once on each cheek, and told her he loved her. He said she looked comfortable, and soft. When my dad and brother arrived home five minutes later, they received a call from the nursing home telling them my mom had passed away.

Haven't you heard stories of a person at death's door waiting for a loved one to be there before they go? Or, waiting until they are sure a loved one will be okay with their passing? Or, waiting until the love of their life kisses them goodbye? I have.

Years ago,

2010-11-15T17:45:00.001-07:00

when my nieces and nephews started dating, I gave them specific instructions that they were to find out if the person they were dating had a single uncle. Ya know, for their ol' aunt. Then as I got older, I changed it from Uncle to Dad. Now, sad to say, I have changed it again...this time to Grandfather! Mind you my nieces and nephews range in age from 17 to 39, (this is not counting Grand nieces and nephews). Before long it could be Great Grandfather!! :(

"I'm getting married!!!"

That's what my youngest niece's Facebook status read yesterday. Very cool! You betcha I clicked "Like" on that one.

I remember the day, 23 1/2 years ago, when my niece was born. I remember the times her folks would have me babysit her, and it was more like she was the one doing the babysitting. She was a cool baby.

Before she started school, we would do things together. Ice Capades, the circus, movies. I took her on her first train ride, from one Chicago suburb to another. When we reached our destination we went to a movie. I can still see her face filled with wonder as the train chugged down the tracks. She thought that was the best thing. So, did I.

When she started going to school, our fun times happened less and less. Until I moved to Wisconsin, because she spent her summers there. One time we took a road trip to the International Wolf Center, in Ely, MN. It was a good time of camping, laughing and enjoying nature. Then she started working, and became too old to come to Wisconsin for the summer. We saw each other less, and less. She moved to Georgia. I moved to Montana. Life happened.

Now she has met a wonderful man, fallen in love and is getting married! Very cool! You betcha I asked her if her fiance's grandfather was single!

I found a treasure

2010-10-17T17:24:00.003-06:00

I try to talk to my mom once a week, that's how it has always been throughout the years. In times of troubles we would talk more than once a week, and our conversations would last for a while. Now our conversations are short, a few minutes at best. I ask a question, and most times I can understand her answer. Sometimes she rambles on, and I try to understand where she is rambling to. I cherish those few minutes a week.

I am a keeper of things. No, no, you'll never see me on an episode of "Hoarders". I keep things that are special to me. Things others might have thrown away long ago. Things that have touched me.

The other day I was going through a box of old postcards and pictures and such. I came across a pink envelope with my mom's handwriting on it. The postmark was September 10, 1992. It was too early to be a birthday card (yep, I save them sometimes too). I opened the envelope to find a card my mom had sent me that read "A little note to cheer you!" I opened the card to find a piece of paper. On the paper, a note written by my mom, said:

"Dear Boni, If you ever need cheering up-just dig out this little card. Love you, Mom"

Now, I don't remember what was going on in my life when that card was sent. Seems to me the card did the trick, because I kept it. And, I'm sure over the years I have found it in the box of old postcards and pictures and such. I'm sure I opened it and smiled, even if I didn't need cheering up.

Finding the card when I did made me cry. It was a funny kind of crying. Not a full out sob, like I am doing as I write this. No, it was a cry mixed with laughter, mixed with memories, mixed with sadness, mixed with happiness, mixed with joy. Yes, the joy in finding a treasure that I will keep forever in a box of old postcards and pictures and such. Thanks Mom! I love you too.

What I've learned in the past few weeks...

2010-10-16T13:44:00.001-06:00

....about some parts of life (but not all, well maybe).

It's all bullshit! And what isn't bullshit is a joke!

I might expound on these statements another time, who knows.

and he prays

2010-08-07T19:55:00.003-06:00

To say my dad is distraught over my mom being in the nursing home would be an understatement. Not just from the loneliness of being away from the woman he has been married to for almost 65 years, and has loved for over 68 years, but from everything going on in regards to her care.

At 85 years old, my dad has lost control of his life, and his wife. Power of Attorney regarding my mom's health has been taken over by one of their grandchildren. Who in turn "pushed" to have my mom deemed medically incompetent. Since doing so, my father has been told he could be arrested if he took his wife of almost 65 years, and the love of his life for over 68 years, out of the nursing home. No going to church. No going out to celebrate birthdays. No going for drives on beautiful, sunny days. No going home.

They are both very lonely. A kind of loneliness that I don't think another person can comprehend, unless they have been in love like my parents are. A love that has inner-twined their very beings with one another.

So, my dad goes up to the nursing home two, sometimes three times a day. He says sometimes he sits for hours and watches her sleep. (Not understanding how he cannot control what is going on with his wife. Oft times not being told what is going on with her care.) And he prays. One time, he said, he prayed for hours that his wife of almost 65 years, and the love of his life for over 68 years, would die. It would be easier, easier than reliving the loneliness she feels when he gets up to leave, and the loneliness he feels as he walks down the hall without her, unable to take her home.

He's not buying it anymore

2010-08-03T13:47:00.005-06:00

For months, I have been selling Boo Duh on the wonders of dogs. Any time he did a "cat" thing, I would tell him that a dog wouldn't do such a thing. He knows my motto is, "Dogs rule, cats drool". And in his cat like way, anything I said about dogs, didn't bother him. He remained aloof. Don't get me wrong, Boo Duh fetches, retrieves and catches better than most dogs I have known. (As I said in an earlier post, I am a dog person.)

Recently, one of the bakers at work was in a really bad motorcycle accident. No helmet, head bouncing on the pavement kind of bad. For the time being, that left his dog, Marcia, an orphan. I volunteered to take Marcia in, until her "Dad" gets better.

I was worried about bringing Marcia home. Worried about Boo Duh's reaction. Doesn't matter how many times I tell Boo Duh this is my house, and I am allowing him to stay. I know by the silly smirk on his face that it's not true. It's the other way around.

I'm glad to say, my worrying was for naught! Boo Duh has been very patient with Marcia. He's been a real cool cat! Sometimes, he touches her to see if she is real. A couple of times, he tried to get her to play. That just scared the crap out of her, literally. I've even tried to get Marcia to play, but it's not happening. Maybe she is upset over being separated from her dad. Being in a different environment, a new place. Marcia is a Yorkie. A little one at that, I am told. She's not an obnoxious yippie-yappie kind of dog. Not at all, she is pretty laid back. Maybe that is why her full name is Marcia Mellow.

There have been times since Marcia got here, that I see Boo Duh standing above her, seemingly ready to pounce. Most of the time though, he looks at me as if to ask, "Really, what the hell is it?" Or, "This is a dog? What's so great?" I know from his look, that he's not buying what I'm selling anymore!

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

2010-07-05T21:28:00.002-06:00

Find out what it means to me.

In the olden days, when I was a young'un, I was taught to respect my elders, respect my country, respect the flag, respect life and living things, respect other people's belongings, respect other people's privacy, and the list goes on and on. I was also taught respect was earned.

I have come to believe that there is a certain amount of respect afforded to people, because of the position they hold. I have worked for many people that while I did not respect the person, I respected the position they held. I believe some respect is inherent, kind of a birth right so to speak.

A coupe of weeks ago, I received a letter that was written to, "To Whom it May Concern". The letter was in business form, its message very matter of fact. The letter was regarding my mom. No, it wasn't from her doctor(s), or from the nursing home, or anyone in authority over her care. Nope, not at all. It was from a family member. Not an immediate family member, but a family member none-the-less.

My mother is Helen. I am proud to be her daughter. I am not "To Whom it May Concern". Nope, never have been. I am Boni, the youngest daughter of Helen and J.W. I love my parents very much, and would give my life for them. I would give my everything to and for them.

When I read the letter a couple of weeks ago, I was very angry. Not angry at the contents. No, I was already aware of the information in the letter. I was angry at the lack of respect given to me, and my brothers and sisters. The respect I feel should have been given to us, as Helen's children.

An ego trip? Hmm, no, I don't think so. You see, although I don't get along with the author of the letter, I do respect that she is a member of the family.

A collective whimper

2010-06-22T00:34:00.002-06:00

This coming Wednesday, June 23, 2010, at 4:00PM, a sound will be heard around the world. It will be an eerie, haunting sound that has never been heard before, and will never be heard again. It will be the sound of the collective whimper of the men of Kalispell, MT. Why will they be whimpering? What will be the cause of the eerie, haunting sound? It's Jeano's last day in the bakery. A sad day indeed.

Okay, okay, so maybe it won't be heard around the world. Maybe just in the bakery, if the mixers aren't going full blast. But, the men will whimper. Seems like all the men love to see Jeano in the bakery. She starts their day with a smile, as she hands them their maple bar, glazed twist or sticky bun. What's not to love? She's a sweetheart to be sure.

Jeano is moving back to her hometown of Libby, MT. She wants to be close to her family, and her boyfriend. Who can blame her really. So, while the men of Kalispell whimper, I have a feeling the men of Libby will be smiling and collectively sighing as they say, "Jeano's back!"

They named her Helen.

2010-05-02T19:47:00.002-06:00

While on my trip back to Wisconsin, my dad told the story of how my mom got her name. I had never heard the story before, and was in awe as I listened.

Part of the story told of a land war between the Dietz family and a logging company, in Winter, WI. The Dietz family owned farm land, with a creek running through it. A logging company bought the adjacent land, and dammed the creek. The dam caused the Dietz farm to flood, and the "war" began. As the story goes, the Dietz family was armed, and the logging company brought up mobsters from Chicago to do their fighting.

The land war came to an end after one of the mobsters from Chicago was shot in a gun battle, by one of the Dietz group. My dad said old man Dietz died in Waupan Prison, because he took the blame for the killing.

My grandfather, Albert, was a young man at the time. In the dark of night, he would crawl in on his belly, to take food and supplies to the Dietz family. There he met the Dietz's daughter, Helen. According to the story, Grandpa had a huge crush on Helen Dietz.

After a time, Albert met and fell in love with my grandmother, Eunice. Together they had eight children. The eldest was a daughter, they named her Helen.

The trip back.

2010-03-24T18:31:00.003-06:00

When I called my mom for her birthday, I asked her if she wanted me to come home. She told me it was up to me. I told her I knew she was tired, and asked her again if she wanted me to come home. She said, "Why don't you then." That was all I needed to hear. The next day I packed a few things, BooDuh and headed to Wisconsin.

I had a wonderful visit with my mom, and dad. Seeing Mom in the nursing home, very thin and frail was not easy at first. It reminded me of the times before when she had been in the hospital and I would feed her. Although those times, she was still strong. Mom's mind is sharp, but she didn't engage in conversation. She would answer a question if asked, and then lay there silently in her body. Her tiredness very visible.

In the weeks since I came home to Montana, Mom has gotten stronger. I have had some really wonderful conversations with her on the phone. Conversations that would lead you to believe she is going to live forever and a lifetime. I have been told she sleeps a lot, and that reminds me she is tired. Yes, tired, but not yet ready to let go and sleep the eternal sleep that is everyone's destiny.

I had thought of titling this post "The trip back home", but Wisconsin didn't feel like home to me anymore. It felt like a place I had been before, familiar, but not home. Everything was the same as it was when I lived there. Everything that is except me. I had changed. Grown perhaps?

She's tired.

2010-02-20T20:21:00.002-07:00

My mom is an amazingly strong woman. I have often shaken my head in wonderment at her strength. When facing difficult times she has always put one foot in front of the other and kept going, as if she knew nothing else. Giving up for Mom has never been an option. No one person, or thing in my life has been stronger.

Our relationship has not always been a good one. I believe that to be a natural part of life, at least for me. Although, when I moved to Montana, our relationship changed. The words "I love you" were said often. And meant, from the heart.

Mom has been in and out of a nursing home and hospitals lately. She had fallen and hit her head. While in the hospital they found a cerebral hemorrhage, and that she had a minor stroke. I tell myself these are things a strong person can overcome.

The reality, painful reality, is that Mom says she is tired. Tired physically, mentally and spiritually. And I know that when a person is tired there is no magic pill, no surgery, nothing medical science can do. There is only a short time left.

Cougar

2010-01-23T12:17:00.004-07:00

As defined in the Urban Dictionary, coo-gher, an older woman who's primary interest lies in bedding younger men.

A few months ago I adopted a male kitten from the Spay and Neuter task force. After much mental debate I named him BooDuh. He seems to like the name, because when I ask, "Where's BooDuh?", his head pops up. BooDuh started out his life abandoned with his litter mates, living under a mobile home. He is part Manx, called a Longie, because he has a tail. His brother and sister did not have tails at all.

I am NOT a cat person. I thought I could become a cat person, but ah nope, not. I like BooDuh as a living being. He's funny as heck, smart as a whip and cute as a babies behind. But, he has not convinced me cats are the way to go. To that end I will forever be a dog person. (I didn't get a dog because the place I live is too small for a dog.) That is not to say I will get rid of BooDuh. Nope, I've grown attached to the little guy. I've told him we will grow old together, he with no claws and teeth, and me with many scars.

Even though BooDuh is the first cat I have ever had, (if you have read previous posts about Patch I should tell you he was a feral, barn cat, not an indoor, or tame cat). I did have my own idea about cats. I believe cats are to be kept indoors. I don't want to be gifted with a dead bird, or other outside critter he might want to bring in. I also know there are a lot of coyotes and dogs running around that would love to have a BooDuh snack. I used to think it was wrong to de-claw cats. I have a few too many bloody moments and scars to feel that way anymore.

The concept of BooDuh being an indoor cat seems to be a hard one for him to grasp. He goes to the door and meows. This is how the conversation goes...

BooDuh, "I want out."
Me, "Nope."
BooDuh, "Why?"
Me, "Because you are an indoor cat."
BooDuh, "What idiot thought up that idea?"
Me, "I'm not an idiot, get away from the door!"

I told you he was smart.

My neighbor has an older, female cat named Precious. Precious is allowed to roam the neighborhood. Poor BooDuh has to sit in the window and watch her, sigh. The other day Precious came in the yard, and jumped up on my picnic table. As she sat there, BooDuh jumped up on the back of a chair and looked out at her. It was a cute, Kodak moment. I took a picture. Then I warned BooDuh about Precious. I told him she is an older, female cat, and he is just too little a boy to be around a cougar.

The end of an era?

2010-01-18T17:55:00.002-07:00

Have you driven on US Highway 2, out of Kalispell lately, and seen a white SUV stopped along the side of the road? It was me. Did you look in your rear view mirror and notice the white SUV pull back out on the road, only to move a short distance and pull off again? Yep, it was still me. I have been having car trouble. Serious stuff anyplace, for sure. Just think, I live at the top of a 6% grade:0(

Back in 1994, I bought a brand spankin' new Honda Passport. It was a must, because my Siberian husky, Bandit, was too big for my Honda Civic 4 door. You should have seen his face when I brought it home. He looked at me, and looked at the truck and looked me, as if to ask, "Wow, is that for me to ride in?" It was. Ride in it we did, on long road trips, short road trips, and all over the country road trips, (it got me the 1500 miles to Montana).

Our favorite going down the highway game was fetch. No, I didn't throw the ball out the window and make him catch up to me. I would throw the ball to the very back, and Bandit would jump over the seat backs to get the ball. Then, he would drop it on the driver's seat for another round. (Dangerous you might think! Maybe, but I didn't have to watch where I threw the ball, so I kept my eyes on the road.) The truck has a bench seat, and on our trips Bandit would put his head on my lap and fall asleep. Or, he would stand on the back seat, resting his front legs on the back of the driver's seat, and watch where we were going. Ah, the memories.

I took my truck to a mechanic. Seems it's not firing on all cylinders. I have days like that. Anyway, it would cost more to fix, than the truck is worth. So, I am going to have to give it up, and get something "new to me". I know that doesn't seem like a big deal, it isn't really.

I just feel sentimental about my truck, because it is the last physical thing I had with Bandit, a keepsake of sorts. I look on the bright side, with tears in my eyes, I do have the memories. Good memories, that will stay nestled in my heart forever.

Sexy sells APPLES??!!!!?

2009-10-27T11:02:00.006-06:00

I took these pictures in a local grocery store. They were on a huge box of, well pumpkins, but they were to advertise the "3-Apple A Day" plan.

What the image of the green apple core says to me is...if I eat three green apples a day, I will look like the female apple core. You see the perky bosoms? The toned abs? The small waist, going into a curvaceous bottom? Sexy. Sign me up for a bag-a-day!

Then, I would like to meet a man that eats three red apples a day, because he would have bodacious pecs, six pack abs, and my-oh-my look at his obliques. You betcha, sexy.

What about children and old folks that decide to eat three apples a day? What a toned, in shape, sexy world we would have. Really though, I am baffled by the use of these images to sell apples. Aren't apples selling enough on their own, without the sexy cores? Come on!! Apples used to be a family fruit!

There seems to be confusion

2009-10-19T11:31:00.004-06:00

among the deciduous trees
on whether or not to shed their leaves

There are freeze dried leaves
hanging in limbo
waiting, for a strong wind to blow

Yes, there seems to be confusion
among the deciduous trees
on whether or not to shed their leaves

Ahhh,

2009-09-21T22:04:00.006-06:00

I am smiling right now. I know you can't see my smile, but imagine if you can a smile so wide that if I were wearing lipstick.. I'd have some on my earlobes. To say I am happy in my new place, would be an understatement. I am living in a place I love, nestled in the mountainous bosom of Mother Earth. I see the sun rise over the mountains in the morning, and the glow of the sunset make those same mountains look as if they are on fire in the evening. Ahh, home sweet home.

I'm movin' on

2009-08-30T21:53:00.007-06:00

This will be a big week for me. I am moving. It's time. I am sure I am not unlike others in that even when I am not in ideal circumstances, I get too comfortable. I got too comfortable at Gerald's. I have gotten to comfortable living in an apartment owned by his friends. I don't like that. I am ready to get comfortable in a little place of my own.

When I moved to Montana, I only brought what would fit in my Honda Passport. I haven't acquired much more than that, so, moving will not take long. Today, when I was packing the few boxes I have to pack the Rascal Flatts song "I'm Movin' On" played in my head. It is a good song for me at this moment in life.

In my new place, it will be a bit before I have internet access. I won't even have television right a way. I wonder if "The Price Is Right" will go on without me watching?! Hmmm. At any rate, it's time for this little chick-a-dee to spread her wings and fly, I'm movin' on.

White crosses

2009-08-12T19:17:00.003-06:00

stand as lonely reminders along the roads of Montana. There is one on the lawn by the county courthouse, one with the initials "JMK" by some mailboxes I pass going into Kalispell, one along the road near a steep embankment, where an elderly woman lost control of her car, went down the embankment and was found several days later by a woman walking her dog. There are places with several white crosses on a single pole. Today, I saw one that had "Luke" written on it. Some have fresh, plastic flowers, others have sun faded plastic flowers, most have no flowers at all.

They are stark, subtle, silent memorials to people whose lives were lost in traffic accidents. Lately, I have been seeing white crosses along the road, where they didn't used to be.

The White Cross program in Montana is not a government program. No, instead it is a program sponsored by the Montana American Legion. The local legion posts erect and maintain these sobering reminders to drive safe, be careful, life is fragile.

Elvis has indeed,

2009-07-17T21:33:00.002-06:00

Left the building.

I found out this week, from one of my co-workers, that the "Elvis" I mentioned a few posts ago has passed away. He was the man that liked cherry napoleons.

I read his obituary on the funeral home's website. He studied music with the Milwaukee Philharmonic. He was said to have had a wonderful baritone voice, and delighted friends and family by entertaining them with song. Seems he'll be best known for his crooning and Elvis style of singing. I wasn't kidding when I said in the earlier post that he spoke in an, "Elvis sounding voice."

May he rest in peace. The next time the bakery makes cherry napoleons, I'll buy one and raise a fork to him.

Why, oh why, do spiders like bath tubs!?

2009-06-29T09:34:00.004-06:00

As far back as I can remember, seeing a spider in a bath tub has given me the creeps. I remember spending summers in northern Wisconsin as a little girl, there was always more than one spider in my grandparent's bath tub. I must have been a pretty stinky kid, because I didn't want to get in the tub.

The other day I found the pictured spider in my bath tub. I asked him to leave, he couldn't. He was having a hard time navigating the steep sides of my wonderfully, deep whirlpool tub. I decided killing the spider was out of the question. Surely, anything as big as he was could fight back! So, I took a cup and a piece of paper, caught him and then released him outside. As he crawled away, he seemed very happy to be free. I think I even detected a skip in his eight legged step.

I researched online about why spiders like bath tubs. I didn't find the answer. Some sites said they come down from the ceiling, into the tub, attracted by the light color. If that's the case, then I'm glad they don't like dark colored bedding. Other sites say spiders come up through the drain. I don't know about that, I'm not so sure they can swim through the water in the bend of the pipe. Needless to say, I still don't know why spiders like bath tubs. I do know I want them to stop liking mine.

Michael Jackson Dies

2009-06-25T17:09:00.013-06:00

So, the headlines read.

I don't mean this post to be a tribute to Michael Jackson really, at least I don't think I do. I was a fan of Michael Jackson for years, although the last album of his that I bought was "Thriller".

I remember one family vacation, we went up to see the Grand-folks in Northern Wisconsin. We stopped at a Holiday Gas station. Seemed like this gas station sold everything, except the kitchen sink. They even had a rack of albums (I know, I'm dating myself here). One of the albums they had for sale was the Jackson 5 "ABC". I must have saved up money from chores, because I had enough money to buy the album. ABC was the first album I ever bought, it was special.

I wanted to see the Jackson 5 in concert, so my older brother took me to buy tickets, one for me and one for my bestest friend Becka. I didn't understand seating, so it was a good thing my brother was there. We had a choice between mezzanine and second row center stage. At my brother's urging, I bought the second row center stage tickets. One wall in my bedroom had cork on it, and the tickets hung there until the night of the concert. Electricity was in the air. Becka and I were the only two little white girls in a sea of blacks. Seemed like we were the only two dancing and whoopin' it up too. It was a good time.

Seems to me, and this only my opinion, Michael Jackson's life got kind of twisted. Bent from reality, or maybe just my idea of reality. To be honest, I wouldn't have wanted to live his life. I shake my head in wonderment when I look at recent pictures of Michael Jackson. Seems to me he lived a sad kind of life in his Neverland. And, seems to me, again only my opinion, Michael's life became a kind of freak show, played out in front of the world. Now the show is over.

I am saddened by the news of Michael Jackson's death, though not enough to shed a tear. He was a very, very talented man. May he rest in peace.

(I have lost touch with Becka, since I stood up in her wedding many, many years ago. I saw her for a short time about 10 years ago. I wonder if, as she hears of Michael's death, she is remembering the night we went to see the Jackson Five, the only two little white girls....)

I know you'll find this hard to believe, but...

2009-06-23T16:51:00.004-06:00

...I had a conversation with Elvis today. No, no, no, now don't go thinkin' I'm 10-96. First let me tell you what happened. I was putting cream puffs in one of the coolers at the bakery today, and there he was. Okay, so maybe it wasn't the Elvis, Elvis, (last I heard he was working in a Burger King in Michigan or somewhere). But, it was one of our semi-regular customers that wears his hair like Elvis and wears glasses like Elvis used to wear. I kid you not.

I asked him if he would be interested in a cream puff. In an Elvis sounding voice he said, "No, I'm not supposed to have any of it." No kidding, I picked up a hint of Elvis sound in his voice. I asked him what he liked. He told me cherry Napoleons. Our bakery makes some awesome Napoleon pastries. He said he likes the ones with the cherries on the whip cream. I told him that a couple of weeks ago we made some with mocha flavored whip cream. He said he wasn't into mocha, just cherries. I told him he could order one, that I was sure they would make one for him (he looks like the "King" after all). His Priscilla walked up, and he ended the conversation. Maybe next time he comes back, we'll have Napoleons with cherries in them.

I watched as Elvis, er I mean he left the building.

I am a proud member of the WAMF Band unofficial fan club

2009-06-22T19:12:00.007-06:00

All of the members of the unofficial WAMF Band fan club,
Cindy, me, Trish in the back
Max and Nancy in front

What is the WAMF Band you may be asking? Only the best blues band from Madison, Wisconsin that's who. WAMF Band is the Westside Andy/Mel Ford Band. My friends and I would travel for hours to see the boys play. The band would travel hours to be seen by us, (and the folks from our neck-o-Wisconsin). The above picture was taken on our last trip to see the band together, a year ago. To say it was a blast would be an understatement. We danced until the cows came home for sure. Oh the fun and laughter that night.

I haven't been to see any live blues music here in Montana. I think mostly because I would compare them to Andy and Mel and be disappointed, who knows really. I do know that for playing the blues, these guys give me happy feet.

blurrrrry

2009-06-20T21:54:00.005-06:00

When I first moved to Montana, and then started my bakery job, I used to see people and think, 'Hey that person looks like so-and-so in Wisconsin.' It would happen time and again.

There was one time a woman walked up to the counter, and I thought it was my mom. I had tears in my eyes when I took her order. Another time, I did a double take because there was a man that on first glance I thought was my dad, to the point of walking the same way. Of course neither of these people were my mom and dad, because Mom and Dad are in Wisconsin.

I've noticed lately, that the faces have become blurry. Now when I see someone, I wonder if they look like someone from back in Wisconsin, or if I remember their face from here in Montana. The old faces I knew seem to have become less familiar than the new faces I am becoming familiar with now.

The Birds

2009-06-16T12:34:00.003-06:00

Who doesn't remember the Hitchcock thriller "The Birds"? Where the rich socialite, Melanie, is attacked by birds in a small California coastal town while delivering a pair of love birds as a practical joke?

Well, I had my own "birds" encounter today. No, not in a small California coastal town. I was in my little corner of Montana. Oh, and there were no lovebirds either. And, I'm glad to say there was no blood shed. There I was walking along a paved trail, admiring the mountains, when I saw a snake. I stopped to take a picture of the snake, when it slithered into the tall grass along the trail. A dark brown bird landed on the branch of a bush nearby. I told the bird he had scared the snake away, and continued walking.

I turned around, because I had decided to walk a different way to get back home. Only to find the initial bird, had been joined by a second bird. Along the trail there is a barbed wire fence. As I walked, the birds played leap frog over each other to get to the next fence post I would be walking by. Here is where it all got kind of creepy and Hitchcockian. The birds started to squawk. I looked straight above my head, to find a third bird hovering over me. I walked faster, the bird hovered faster. I stopped, the bird stopped. So, there I was a bird hovering over me, and two birds playing leap frog on the fence post, ahhhhhh! Who me panic? I was worried about the hovering bird diving at my head, and getting tangled in my nest of blond hair!

I tried to tell the birds I wasn't there to get their babies. I told them they had to worry more about the snake than me. I tried to reason with them. Woe, wait, listen to me, I tried to reason with three birds. Okay, so maybe, I was having more of a "Smile, you're on Candid Camera" moment! It wasn't until I crossed the road that I turned to look for the hidden camera.

I guess that's just not manly

2009-06-14T17:04:00.005-06:00

I have been doing my own research study of late, about whether sprinkles on donuts are manly, or not.

As I said in a previous post, I work in a bakery. Most days, our donut fryer will sprink-le-tize some of the donuts as she makes them. Then when a customer asks for a certain type of donut, if there is one with sprinkles, I'll ask if they want with sprinkles, or without. We sell lots of donuts to rough and rugged cowboy types (this is Montana after all), not so rough and rugged types, women and children.

I estimate, based on the data I have compiled, that not one of the rough and rugged cowboy types has bought a donut with sprinkles on it. As a matter of fact, I get a very emphatic no! each time I ask. There have even been a couple occasions where I have stepped back away from the donut case, for fear of being punched in the nose!

Not the same with the not so rough and rugged types, some of them say yes to sprinkles on their donuts. As do some women, and children. As a matter of fact, my research shows the number one consumer of the sprink-le-tized donut are children. I'm not sure why. Maybe, it's because they don't worry about how they look while they enjoy those little bits of colored goodness on their donuts!

What does this mean? What do I conclude from my informal research on the donut eating habits of the rough and rugged cowboy types? Donuts with sprinkles on them, it seems, are just not manly after all.

The hunt is on

2009-06-13T20:16:00.008-06:00

For the tasty, delectable fungus known as the morel mushroom. Oh be still my heart, as my eyes roll back in my head from the memory of these delicious shrooms in a kettle of mushroom asparagus soup! Ahhh, oh so good. Or, you can enjoy them fried or stuffed, nummy

Before I moved to Montana the only mushroom I had eaten and enjoyed was the shiitake. I have a good friend in Wisconsin, Trish, that grows gourmet shiitakes, she sells nationwide. As a going away gift, Trish gave me a shiitake log of my own. According to Trish in the right conditions, the log will grow mushrooms for five or six years. It is dry in my corner of Montana, and to date I only harvested shrooms from my log while I was driving to Montana on my move here.

The other day, friends and I went to the higher elevations to begin the hunt for morels. There was still snow in the area we went to. An area I had hunted morels in when I first moved here last year. At that time, some of the slopes I had been on were so steep, you only had to reach out to pick the mushroom, instead of bending over. While that may sound like a back saver, I had started to compare myself to a mountain goat.

Back to the other day's hunt. I am disappointed to report we did not see a single morel. We did see a huge black bear, two cow elk, several white tail deer, and an abundance of other varieties of mushrooms, but I don't know how edible or poisonous they were. Hopefully the higher elevations will get some rain, and the next time we go, we'll come home with buckets full of those tasty, tasty morels. I'll keep you posted, and post a picture of my bounty on here.

There was this one time

2009-06-08T15:35:00.009-06:00

OMG!! I was so embarrassed!

Maybe more so because we had company at the time. I don't remember who the company was, I don't think I had ever met them before that day. We lived in Michigan. I remember it like it was yester-year.

There I was 12 years old, or was I 13? Anyway, I was laying on the living room floor watching American Bandstand. Yep, Dick Clark, Rate-A-Record, the Spotlight Dance, coolness. It was summer, I remember it was August. Hot outside, air conditioning on inside. After the special guest got done (lip) singing his song, he walked over to Dick Clark for a little chat. I remember being very into his singing. I had one of his albums. So, I must have "dug" him, right? You betcha, I must have, because my glasses steamed up! I sat up, not believing what my eyes couldn't see! Was the singer so hot that he made my glasses steam up?! You betcha.

What made me remember this today? I saw him on television. No, not on an American Bandstand rerun. On a game show he was hosting. Who is he? You're dying to find out? I am embarrassed to say, to admit, it was Donny Osmond. Yes, the same Donny Osmond that was part of the Osmond Brothers. Part of Donny and Marie. Joseph in "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" from 1993 to 1997. Wikipedia describes Donny as a former teen idol. Was he? You betcha, he was. Dreamy sigh!

Did my glasses steam up today? I am embarrassed to say, to admit...

Turn around and you're a young man...

2009-05-31T11:22:00.005-06:00

Tis the season, and recently in the mail I got a graduation announcement. The inside envelope was addressed to "Godmother Aunt Boni", which made it extra special to me. My baby brudder's oldest son is graduating from high school. I found myself wondering how this could be. It seems like such a short time ago I held him, while he was dressed in a little white tuxedo, at his parent's wedding.

Enclosed in the envelope, along with an invitation to his graduation party, were four pictures of my nephew. I pick them up frequently and look at them in amazement. When did he become a man? I've only been in Montana for 11 months, when did this phenomenon happen? He wasn't a man when I moved away, he was just a boy.

The song "Turn Around" came to mind, and I have been singing it ever since. I know the lyrics speak of a young girl becoming a woman, and then a mother. But, with a few substitutions, they are appropriate to my feeling towards my nephew. Seems each time he, or I, turned around he was two, then four, then a young man.

My nephew chose to graduate a year early. And through some, perhaps innocent-enough-at-the-time choices, he chose to become a man early too. My nephew has had a "big" year, for this year at the young age of 17, he became a father. The mother, a young girl/woman, is only 16. Their baby, a girl, by all generations of Grandparent's accounts is a bundle of joy. I have seen pictures of her, she is a beautiful baby. Spittin' image of my nephew, except with dark hair and eyes.

Soon my nephew will be moving to Minnesota, where his girlfriend and their daughter live. He will be getting a job, and.... Do 17 year olds plan that far in advance for their future? I shrug and say, "I don't know." I can only hope they have their eyes wide open for what the world will present to them, and long enough legs to jump the hurdles. No need to comment on the challenges they will face, I have thought of them all already. I hope they have too.

Turn around and you're a young man with a babe of your own.

Ripped from the headlines!

2009-05-18T16:59:00.011-06:00

"Seasonal Yellowstone employees fired for abusing park's natural features"

At times, I don't pretend to understand human nature. I don't pretend to understand what made these men think it would be okay to pee in Old Faithful. I have been to Yellowstone NP several times in my life. Never once did I think old Faithful was a toilet. Never once did I feel it would be okay to be disrespectful of Mother Nature that way. All I can do is shake my head and wonder.

If you haven't read the story behind the headline, here is a link http://www.oregonlive.com/environment/index.ssf/2009/05/seasonal_yellowstone_employes.html

There was this one guy

2009-05-17T18:39:00.004-06:00

I have mentioned on my blog before about my time on eHarmony. Today I want to talk a bit about one of my (too many) eHarmony matches.

He was from an eastern state, some 900 plus miles away. He was the one that initiated contact with me, by sending the first round of questions for me to answer. I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but all of my eHarmony matches were starting to look the same, no matter what their name was or where they were from. To me they looked like the same guy, wearing a different shirt. Not him, he was bald and had dark brown, almost black, eyes. That was refreshing, someone that didn't look like anyone else.

I'm not sure how familiar you are with the eHarmony process, so I'll give a little background. People are matched based on the 29 dimensions of their personality. That is determined by a long questionaire filled out at the time you first become a "member". Of course, everyone that answers the questions is honest (hold on, I coughed so hard I have water coming out of my nose). Okay, all better. Once you are matched with someone, eHarmony notifies you of the match. Either person can initiate contact, by sending the first round of questions. These are closed end, multiple choice questions. Next, there is the list of "must haves and can't stands". Those are things the other person is looking for in a "mate". Things they must have in a person, and things they can't stand! Then another round of questions, this time in open form, where you write essay answers. After that, if you make it to "open communication", Dr. Warren (the founder of eHarmony), sends you a warning to be careful, blah, blah blah. Open communication means e-mailing each other through eHarmony. Or, you can "fast track", which means you get the warning and start to communicating without the other stuff.

Anyway, back to him. He must have liked my answers, because we made it past Dr. Warren's warning to open communication. I liked his answers too, he seemed like a nice enough guy. After a few e-mails, I asked him if he wanted to communicate outside of the confines of eHarmony. He "suggested" that I do a Yahoo! search of his name, and decide if we would continue to communicate. I have to tell you, that was a first. I was curious. I knew our relationship wouldn't go any further, because I had no desire to move to the state he lived in. I always wanted to "go west young woman", to the mountains and the big sky. Like I said, he seemed like a nice guy. Intelligent, multiple degrees, no children, didn't want children, we had some things in common.

So, I Yahoo!ed him. When his name came up, I felt the blood drain from my heart, literally. I mean for more than a beat, there was NO blood in my heart. He had spent most of his life in prison, for killing three people when he was 19. Not an oh oops, I accidentally killed these people. No, he had, according to all of the articles I read, and I read every article I found, tied up, tortured and killed two people. A husband and wife. In cold blood. Shot at point blank range, in the head and face. The third person was killed when he came to investigate the "noises" he heard from the others being killed.

I found and read the original newspaper article from the night of the murders. I also found his mug shot picture. He and an accomplice broke into a home, with the intent of stealing. When the husband and wife woke up to investigate the noise, he tied them up. He beat them until they told him where they kept their stamp and coin collection. Then he shot them, point blank, in the head and face.

Shocked? I was too. Angry? Yep, me too. Wondering what he was doing on eHarmony? Another yep, me too. Did I stop communicating with he? Nope. I was curious. I have written in other posts about my law enforcement background. I was curious if there was such a thing as rehabilitation for someone that commits multiple murders. I was curious what made he tick.

So, he and I continued to communicate. He told me how he was down on his luck since getting out of prison. How he didn't have a car. How he didn't have a job. How he had to walk to see his parole officer. I told him how I had spent many years working for police departments, to deter him from asking me for money, or help, or whatever.

He would answer any question. I asked a lot of questions. At one point, he gave me his phone number. He told me to call anytime I felt like talking. That was not unusual really, a lot of my matches gave me their phone numbers once we got to open communication. I will be honest with you, e-mailing a person that had killed was not so bad. I could handle that. I had taken all the steps to protect my identity. I wasn't worried about that. I felt safe he was not going to break his parole to track me down in Wisconsin. BUT, calling someone that had murdered people and hearing their voice was something I could not do. Nope, I wasn't that curious.

Besides, there were things about him that irked me. He had told me he volunteered at a church. One of his supporters was a priest. His multiple degrees were in theology and religion. He "bragged" about having slept with three married women since he left prison. Said that was the only way for him to go, because he wasn't ready for a relationship. He encouraged me to come visit him. Wow! Here's me thinking, 'Oh sure, I'm going to go all the way to where he lives for a nooner, I don't think so!!'

Things irked me about his crime too. It wasn't enough that he had tortured and killed the poor husband and wife for their coin and stamp collection, he left some of the proceeds by their bodies!! He didn't even take it all!! When he was caught a few blocks away, he fought with police! He was sentenced to 25 years to life, and thought he should get out after 25 years, because the judge didn't say he would have life (a technicality?).

Did I write to eHarmony about him? No, I didn't. Why? Because, he had been honest. He didn't try to hide his past. He left the decision to communicate with him further up to me. Apparently tho, one of his other matches did write to eHarmony, because eHarmony sent me an e-mail advising me not to have contact with him. Then his profile was deleted from eHarmony. I stopped writing to him because I was no longer curious.

"When..

2009-05-13T19:29:00.004-06:00

..did I stop being wonderful?" she asked softly. She must not have noticed I was sitting on the park bench. I know she was not asking me the question, really.

I studied her sadness. She was an attractive woman in her 50's. Her hair, gray at the roots, hung in a messy halo around her head. She stared with eyes darkened by the shadowy places her soul must have taken her. "Friends used to tell me I was wonderful," she continued, a frown on her wax lips, "now there are no friends." She turned and looked through me. "Does that mean I am not wonderful anymore?" she asked. Again, not really asking me. There was an awkwardness that is usually felt when a stranger bares themselves. You don't know what to say, so you say nothing. I watched, in stunned silence, as she walked away.

I have been thinking about this one sided conversation for a while. The woman seemed as tho she had not become un-wonderful. No, instead she seemed to have temporarily lost her wonderfulness. It was as tho when she stared, she were searching for it. Playing hide and seek with the wonderful parts of her. The parts hiding behind her shadowy soul.

I wondered too if a person is only wonderful because other people say they are. Or, are they wonderful just because they are. Know what I mean? Do you have to hear you are wonderful, to be wonderful? I'm thinking not.

If I see this woman again, per chance, sitting on the park bench, I am going to tell her she is wonderful. As wonderful as she ever was.

mymy

2009-05-12T17:42:00.002-06:00

then when he met her
his first thought was my my
seeing into the electric magic

from her many flavors of passion
the scent of the flavor of pleasure
bringing a neverending connecting

the shape of her voice teasing into laughter
like a circling of spirits whispering his name
a softness of colors opening some dreaming

holding and belonging are more than wants
like rocking the cradle that stopped rocking
the reassurance of being more than we are

from the many flavors of passion
pleasure is a blessing blessing blessed
this gift of life is about more than pain

the flavor of feelings feeling safe feeling
dimensioning realities of being apparent
safe in being seen being seen being seen

unhungering the elusive hungers
as simple as a holding of hands
or good thoughts thinking good

she turns his world around
sweeting him with her flavors
in the blessing blessing blessed
he calls her mymy

John Trudell

Scars, marks and tattoos

2009-05-05T20:34:00.008-06:00

Okay, I know what you are thinking, here she goes with the police lingo again. While we did have to enter scars, marks and tattoos as descriptors when entering wanted or missing people, or unidentified bodies, I'm not talking about that now. Instead I am talking about well, scars, marks and tattoos.

I have acquired many scars in my life time. You know the usual scraped knee, doink in the head, cut chin from falling up the stairs. The biggest are on my belly from a hysterectomy 11 years ago. The marks of course would be freckles and birthmarks, or an occasional bruise. Same as anyone else for sure.

Barb has a rose tattooed on her breast. Many years ago, my baby brudder had his children's faces tattooed on his chest, over his heart. His daughter doesn't look good with a beard. My dad got a tattoo on his forearm when he was in the Navy during WWII, (he now regrets it). A friend of mine that is a sheriff's deputy has a gun tattooed on her ankle. I knew a woman with multiple tattoos, on her upper arms, forearms and chest. She was a biker chick, with her own Harley. Cool. One time I saw a picture of a woman, that was a breast cancer survivor, with the tattoo of a vine on her mastectomy scar. It was beautiful.

I have always wanted to get a "tat". Years ago, I designed one for myself. I just can't figure out where to put it on my body that I can look at it too. I don't like the idea of having a tattoo on my forearm, that seems to masculine for me. The tattoo I designed is not big or garish, but rather simple in its beauty. A heart shaped Earth centered on a medicine wheel, the colors of the four directions. A symbol of my Spiritual path, that like my Spiritual beliefs will not fade.

I know, I know, tattoos mark you forever. Will I still want it when I am in my 100's? How will it look when I am dressed up? How will it look when I start to sag (more)? There are a lot of pros and cons. Believe me a lot of time will be spent making the final decision. Once I figure out where to put my "tat", I will post a picture here on my blog.

Kids can be so darn mean!

2009-05-03T22:43:00.004-06:00

I don't know what it is about a funny sounding last name, that makes kids want to make fun of it. My last name is such a name. Let me tell you at times school was brutal! Most of the time the kids would use the word "stinker" when making fun. Stinker this, and stinker that. I guess kids will be kids, and after a while I got used to it.

That was until one horrifying Halloween. I remember I was in elementary school. Mom was a room mother, and had brought cupcakes for the class party. She also brought our costumes to change into. I had no idea what we were going to be, not a clue. Imagine, if you can, how I felt when Mom pulled out a homemade skunk costume for me to put on! Yep, you guessed it black tights, a black leotard with white cotton batting down the back and a tail made of black cloth, white cotton batting and wire. Oh yes, wire to make the tail curl up my back. It had to look realistic, right? It did not comfort me that Mom wore a skunk costume too, not that day it didn't.

Stinker! Skunk! Oh what would the kids say then? I was mortified! I wanted to run. I wanted to burrow! I wanted to hide! "How," I asked myself, "how could Mom do this to me?" A skunk! I don't want to be a skunk! I don't want to be a stinker! Ahhhhhhh! Sure, sure, laugh if you will. Go ahead. Even I can laugh about that dreadful Halloween now.

My last name is German (I suppose that is because I am German), and the English translation is simple and pretty. As Mom always said, "Anyone can be a Smith or Jones, but it takes someone special to be a stinker."

I'm smiling, because we are sisters

2009-04-29T22:54:00.004-06:00

Barb, me, Betty photo taken on our home planet!

I'm laughing my dupa off, because they can't do anything about it!

What's become of the English language?

2009-04-21T10:26:00.003-06:00

I don't profess to be the best writer or speaker of the English language, nope not me. Lately tho, I find myself wondering what the heck some people are saying. I don't think it is my age that makes it harder for me to understand what is being written in this age of technology. I'm too young for that!

Years ago, when I worked for police departments as a dispatcher we used 10 codes. 10-44 meant an officer was asking for lunch. 10-50PI meant a car accident with injuries. 10-99 meant a person was wanted or a car was stolen. My all time favorite was 10-96 which meant mental case. I always liked to try to speak English as much as I could, and not use the 10 codes. For example instead of saying 10-4, which meant okay, I would just say okay. Seemed simple enough to me.

Now days, Barb, Betty and I meet on a game site to play games with and against each other. This way, if one of us gets upset the others don't have to worry about us taking our toys and leaving. There's no throwing fits, or threatening to tell Mommy. It has been a great way to be together across the miles.

On this game site there is a "chat" feature, not unlike Yahoo! Instant Messenger, or text messaging on a cell phone. Sometimes I join these "chats", to let everyone know the weather in my corner of Montana, or to talk about family, or to tease Betty and Barb. You know, just to be part of the community. I like to write full words when I chat. None of this yqw (you're quite welcome), or tyvm (thank you very much). If I want to tell someone thank you, I do by writing it out. There are exceptions, such as lol, or lmao, I will use those.

There have been many times I scratch my head in wonderment at what is being written. I just can't figure out what the string of letters means. In those instances I don't say much at all. I could be giving away the farm or something. I've said yes to many a thing I should have said no to, because I didn't hear a person right in the first place. Who hasn't? Recently, I found an alphabetized list of what the string of letters mean, eight pages worth! I think I am going to stick to writing my words out. I'd hate to make someone angry at me, because I read ns to mean no sh**, instead of what it does mean "nice score".

So, afaic I wstwmwo, or I might become 10-96! Kwim?

What an awesome responsibility

2009-04-19T15:31:00.007-06:00

We have to the children in our lives.

I had decided in my teens, that if I didn't have children by the time I was 25, I was not going to have children. I can understand, to some degree, why this upset people. One man I worked with told me my choice could be keeping the world from knowing the next Albert Einstein, or the person to discover a cure for some dreaded disease. He wondered how I could make that decision.

For me it was an easy choice. A selfish choice perhaps. One reason was because I didn't want the responsibility of my child looking up at me, to be told everything would be okay, then having everything not be okay. I know, I know, disappointments are a part of life. Do they have to start at a young age?

Another reason is that I never felt I was "mother" material. The motherly instinct stuff always seemed to be missing from me. I know to wipe a child's nose, and such. I guess I just never aspired to be a mom. I was always okay with my decision.

The other day, I heard a father say to his crying child, "You want to cry? I don't care, I'll give you a reason to cry." Wow! I wondered how often the little boy heard that. How sad. Then I hoped the little boy is shown enough love from the rest of the family, to offset the negative energy he gets from his father. How many years of therapy will that child go through when he is an adult? Even more importantly, how will he be with his own children?

Children should be innocent. They should laugh and play, and be. We as parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, care givers, or whatever authority figure we are, have a responsibility to the children in our lives. To teach them right from wrong, teach them to tie their shoes, teach them the A-B-C's and 1-2-3's, etc. We are to protect them, not hurt them. They are little souls, little people, that will grow up to be big people who have learned and watched and lived what we have taught them. They need us to love them unconditionally and fully.

I can do it, can you?

Yet another wonders of technology story

2009-04-13T23:12:00.004-06:00

Since I moved to Montana, every once in a while, I type my nephew Cole's name into Yahoo! to check on his wrestling progress, (it's not that I don't hear from the folks back home how he is doing, I just like seeing his name on the 'net). Imagine my surprise, the other day, when I clicked on a search result and watched a video of Cole wrestling! I beamed with pride! If anyone would have been here with me, they would have heard me squeal with glee! For on my monitor was my Cole-e!

Cole and his brother, Dallas, are natural athletes. Since they were small, I have marveled at their athletic prowess. Cole also plays football, both offense and defense. For the longest time he wanted to grow up to be a Green Bay Packer. Of course, that would have come after he played football for the UW Madison Badgers.

Last I heard, Cole has a new sports dream, of being on the 2012 Olympic wrestling team. Wow is right! I believe Cole is well on his way. I know I will be there to cheer him on. Go Cole!!

Pardon me

2009-04-13T18:55:00.006-06:00

If I slurrr my words during this post. It's the smell of the daffodils-in-a-glass that is soooo intoxicating!

When I lived in Wisconsin, and something happened to my folks, I was the one that called family members to deliver the "news". I always went in birth order, oldest to youngest. That system just seemed right to me. I always wondered what it would be like to be on the other end of the call. You know, to be the one hearing the "news".

When I moved to Montana I wondered who would take over the helm of making those sometimes dreadful calls. I knocked wood, because I hadn't received such a call to find out. Well until Easter Sunday, when Betty called. Turns out Mom was in the hospital, because she had gotten light headed. The hospital staff did tests, and Mom was admitted for an over night stay. The doctor recommended Mom check into some type of "assisted living".

I talked to both Mom and Dad at length. Mom says that as long as Dad is there to take care of her, she is not going to check into assisted living. Dad says he will not let her do anything, he will take care of her. How lucky a man and a woman to have a love like that.

And it's the intoxicating smell of the daffodils-in-a-glass, that will for now keep me from thinking of the next phone call with "news".

What do you mean I'm cranky?

2009-04-13T13:10:00.009-06:00

If ever there were a man

2009-04-11T10:33:00.004-06:00

That could knock me down and drag me away by my hair, while he yells obscenities... that man would be Billy Idol!

Oh how my heart melts when I look at his spiked blond hair, and the sneer on his lips! Pardon me while I compose myself.

I've been a fan for some 20 plus years. I saw Billy Idol in concert twice. The first time, after the show, he walked out on the ledge of the building naked to tell the fans goodbye (yeah, right). The second time was in a bigger arena, outdoors. I was all punked out, wearing my sleeveless, torn Billy Idol t-shirt. Ahhh, the memory.

I can't explain what it is about Billy that makes me swoon. Maybe it is because of his "bad boy" image. You know, the kind of guy your momma warns you about. Or, is it the tight leather pants? The six pack abs? The penetrating look in his eyes (when he doesn't look wasted)? I can't say for sure. Even in his 50's, he's just sooo....

To think too much about what makes Billy Idol my magic man would take the mystery out of it. And I am just a silly school girl, with a silly school girl crush, that doesn't want the mystery debunked.

Rows and flows of angel hair

2009-04-09T22:54:00.007-06:00

Where I work out, besides having lots of eye candy, they have boxes you plug your own earphones into, to hear different kinds of music, or to listen to one of four televisions hanging on the wall. "Both Sides Now" by Judy Collins was one of the songs that played.

At work when I listen to some of the older songs on the Muzak, I wonder how they ever became "hits". You know, songs like "Take A Letter Maria", about a man having his secretary take a letter to send to his wife saying he is leaving. Then asking the secretary for a date. Or, "Band Of Gold", where a woman waits in a a lonely room on her honeymoon, for her man to return. What was/is their appeal?

To me, "Both Sides Now" is a timeless song. A song that can relate to at anytime of your life. It's life's illusions, I recall, I really don't know life at all.

A woman's poem

2009-04-08T16:05:00.003-06:00

Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's rich and self-employed,
And when I spend, won't be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a king to make me queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other.
And relish visits with my mother.

My dad is a funny man

2009-04-07T17:07:00.005-06:00

I don't mean in an odd way. I believe he is where I get my love of laughter, and laughing.

Dad has been a member of the Masonic Lodge for well over 50 years. Being a Mason is a passion of his. Dad is also a member of Eastern Star, and was an "Uncle" to the girls in Jobs Daughters.

Dad was an over the road truck driver until our baby brudder was born, then he went into management. He also drove Greyhound bus for sometime, well before I was born. Dad loves to tell the story of how he drove the team bus for the Green Bay Packers. After the first year, the team requested Dad be their driver.

If Dad had his way, all five of his children would live at home. I think that comes from his not being home but on weekends for the four oldest. Earning a living and making good for his family, meant being away during the week. Home only on weekends. He would give of himself for all of us, and that is an awesome kind of love to experience.

Dad loves Mom like nothing he has ever loved in his life. Still to this day, he says he never believed he could love anyone as much as he loves Mom. I truly believe that if Mom passes away before Dad, that he won't be far behind. Not because of frail health, but from a broken heart.

My mom is an ass kicker

2009-04-03T23:32:00.004-06:00

I'm not talking about the "you're momma wears Army boots" kind either!

Several years ago Mom fell and broke her back. Her bones in her spine were too brittle to do surgery, so she spent many weeks in a rigid plastic brace. Barb came up from Florida to help with Mom's care. It was during that time Barb discovered lumps in the armpit area under Mom's left arm.

The clinic system in the neighboring town was using rent-a-doctors. The one that told Mom she had cancer was leaving the next day to go back to Florida. The doctor told us Mom had breast cancer, and showed us an x-ray with several white dots on it. The doctor said she would make arrangements for Mom to see an oncologist at a clinic about a 40 mile drive away, then she would be back to answer questions. The doctor never came back!

Mom had a wonderful oncologist. A young German doctor, that was tall and thin. When Mom walked next to him, she looked like a little girl. The correct diagnosis was very advanced lung cancer. The tumor was inoperable in Mom's right lung, and the cancer had spread to the lymph nodes on her left side, including those in her neck. That meant a chance the cancer had spread to her brain. After several tests and surgery to remove the cancerous lymph nodes, it was determined Mom's cancer had not spread to her brain or other vital organs. Finally a sort of sigh of relief.

During the consultations with the oncologist, he talked to Mom about what kind of treatments she would undergo. Mom agreed to chemo, and told the doctor she was going to "kick cancer's ass." She did too!

Three years later, Mom was diagnosed with breast cancer in her left breast. Doctors made it clear that this was a new cancer, not the lung cancer coming back. Again, Mom was determined to win the battle. Only this time, she would have to fight along side a new oncologist (the German doctor had moved on).

Mom was told she had to have chemo (again), because they didn't have a way of knowing if the breast cancer had spread. You see, because they had removed the lymph nodes when she had lung cancer, they had no nodes to test.

If I wondered the first time Mom went through chemo, I wondered it even more the second time....how does someone make the decision to poison themselves? That what chemo is. I watched in awe as the nurse put a chemical into Mom's veins that was so caustic if it touched human skin it would cause severe burns. Again I wondered, how does someone make that decision.

At one point, Mom got so sick from the chemo that she was hospitalized. The next time we went to the oncologist, while we waited for the doctor to come into the room, I told her that if she didn't want to take the treatments, she didn't have to. It was her call. Mom's answer was to the point, "Why would I stop, I've come this far?" For a second time, Mom kicked cancer's ass!

Both of my folks have amazing attitudes when it comes to fighting diseases like cancer. They take it in stride, almost as if they don't know anything but to put one foot in front of the other. What amazing parents to have.

A never ending love story

2009-04-02T22:07:00.007-06:00

Through the wonders of the Internet, tonight I talked with the events coordinator at Truman's Little White House in Key West, Florida. During our conversation, he suggested that someone video tape my parents telling stories of the olden days. Of their youth. Of their time together.

My parents met when my mom was 15 1/2 and dad was 17. Mom had been out with a friend of hers, that was my dad's cousin, Vi. My dad's oldest brother was with the group. My dad went to find them. If I remember correctly, drinking was involved. Dad gave Mom a ride home. He said he kissed her goodnight, and watched her stagger to the door. He was in love.

When Dad got home that night, he told his mother he had met the girl he was going to marry. Grandma asked who the girl was, and when Dad told her Mom's name her reaction was, "The Hell you are!" Seems years earlier Grandpa had been a witness at a wedding, where the bride was very pregnant. The couple getting married had the same last name as Mom. Grandma thought that very pregnant bride was Mom's mother.

Only after Grandma interrogated Mom about her lineage were Mom and Dad allowed to go on their first date, partridge hunting. Grandma's mind was eased, because Grandpa had been witness to one of Mom's aunt and uncle's weddings. The unborn child in attendance was Mom's cousin. Grandma loved Mom too.

After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Dad lied his age to join the Navy. He was stationed in Hawaii, as a mechanic. He has told me he wrote letters to Mom everyday, as a way of being able to talk to her. Mom was still in high school, and she proudly wore Dad's pin in her school picture. It was in one of those many letters that Dad says he proposed to Mom, then eagerly awaited her answer. He knew she would have to talk to her father first.

On September 1st, 1945, my parents were married. Dad wore his Navy uniform, and because of silk rationing, Mom wore a gray flannel suit. The older brother Mom had been with the night my folks met was the best man, and one of Mom's good friends was maid of honor. Dad didn't get discharged from the Navy right away. Mom has reminisced about taking the bus to California, to live with her new husband.

Over a span of 18 years, Mom and Dad had 5 children. When my youngest brother was born, during the Viet Nam war, my oldest brother was in the Navy, on an aircraft carrier. I can still remember him coming home to a baby brudder.

My brothers and sisters have given Mom and Dad 11 grandchildren. Some of those grandchildren, to date, have given Mom and Dad seven great-grandchildren. The tribe, I'm sure, will continue to grow. The oldest great-grandchild is a young woman of 16, the youngest a little over a month old.

Mom and Dad's story is not a unique one, it was repeated thousands of times by their generation. What awes me still is their never ending love for each other. Dad still gets tears in his eyes when he talks of his love for Mom. And she, when the lights are out and no one else can hear, will tell him how much she loves him.

I've always had

2009-04-01T16:40:00.006-06:00

an irrational fear of thin lips. Not on any one else, but on me. I believe most people have an irrational fear of something, so it's not unusual, right?

My parents used to have full lips. Over the years of raising five kids, and many challenges, their lips have become thin and drawn....tight. I believe that is where my fear comes from. I don't want that to happen to me.

Lately, on the internet there is a bombardment of ads for lip plumpers, volumizers, enchancers, glosses, etc. Many celebrities are getting their lips "plumped". Perhaps they have the same irrational fear I have. They have inspired me to do something, to make sure my irrational fear does not come true. So, I checked my savings, counted my piggy bank and saw how much I had in my checking account. You know, kind of pooled my resources, to get the best that I could afford.

Somedays you're the windshield...

2009-03-30T23:57:00.001-06:00

....some days you're the bug.

Eye candy

2009-03-29T22:35:00.006-06:00

I joined a health and fitness club a couple of weeks ago. I hadn't seriously worked out since I moved to Montana. That is quite a change from the 1 1/2 hours four times a week I used to do. I love to work out. My main focus has always been resistance training, with aerobics being second. I do two days of upper body and two days of lower body, followed by aerobics, and one day of just aerobics. Gives my muscles time to rest and repair themselves. To date, the routine has not made me a muscle bound babe.

The "club" I joined has some serious equipment for muscle work. Ladies, let me tell you some of the muscle bound cowboys I have seen! Goodness!! The other day after a good lower body work out, I got on a Tread Climber for my aerobics. I'd like to think it was how tired my legs were that made my knees buckle, but that would be a fib. It had to be the hunk of an Adonis that walked by at just that moment.

When I was on eHarmony, it seemed every match I communicated with asked me what I found physically attractive in a man. I guess number one would be a pulse! Nah, that's not it. I always gave the same answer, "When I look at a man I look at his hands, hair and teeth first. If they look good, then I'll look at the rest of the person. Of course, he could have strong muscular hands, nice thick hair (or, lately even a shaved head is appealing) and nice teeth, but if he has a bad personality then none of what I am looking at is attractive. The entire package is part of the attraction, not just the physical." Then I would add that it doesn't hurt if he looks good walking away in a pair of Levi's.

Really though, I am not into eye candy. I'm more into substance. A good sense of humor, intelligence, common sense, honesty, being true to oneself so you can be true to others, and being down to earth are among the things I look for.

Although I am not ready to jump yet, I always like to look. Like I said it doesn't hurt if he looks good walking away in a pair of Levi's, dreamy sigh!

Granny's kisses must be magic

2009-03-27T12:56:00.007-06:00

Every day through the wonders of technology, I visit with my sisters. We video chat at some point in the day. This week on two occasions Barb has been watching her grandchildren. Their reaction to the webcam is funny, and Barb's reaction to them is even funnier.

The other day the oldest, four year old Cody, cut his hand on a window. It was Granny's love and kisses that made those cuts all better. Then there is Logan, who comes to Granny crying his little heart out, over some hurt that you would think can't be fixed with Granny's love. Several Granny kisses later, and there are no signs of injury, and he is back playing. The same is true with Barb's little Princess Savannah. Granny kisses and a song help Savannah fall to sleep. I watched the magic repeatedly!

This morning while Barb and I were visiting, Logan came crying into the room. He was so in need of Granny kisses to make the owwie all better. This time however, there were no magic kisses to be delivered from Granny's lips. For you see, Logan had hurt his dupa, and Granny said she had to draw the line somewhere......she isn't going to kiss anybody's butt!

Then I saw his face

2009-03-26T23:16:00.005-06:00

I thought love was only true in fairy tales
Meant for someone else but not for me.
Love was out to get me
that's the way it seemed.
Disappointment haunted all my dreams.

Then I saw his face..........
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaahhhh

There was something in his shy smile, and twinkle in his smiling eyes. I felt I knew him. His name was Gerald.

The more I got to know Gerald, the more I felt he was Milton. I can't explain it really. I told Gerald about the Milton Quest. I told him I believed he was Milton. Gerald told me he was Milton. He signed his love notes "Milton". I was happy to have finally found him, and the quest would be over. The quest I had invested so many years in, was finally over.

So, I ask again, what to do when the quest ends?

The quest to find the crystal

2009-03-26T23:02:00.003-06:00

I met with Steve in Big Springs. There was no chemistry there. When he walked into the room all I saw was Yertl the Turtle without his shell on. He was an old acting man of 51, with eyes that didn't look at me when we talked. From our hours of conversation, I knew he was not Milton after all.

I continued my journey to Colorado, to get the Milton Quest crystal. In the back of my mind I wondered if the crystal would still be on the rock shelf I had left in on so many years before. I have to tell you, Pikes Peak Highway, near the top above the tree line, scares the crap out of me. But, I braved the drive anyway.

When I got to mile marker 17, I found they had done roadwork over the years. The rock shelves I remembered were no longer there. No rock shelves meant no crystal. It was gone. Maybe somewhere at the bottom of the bottomless pit.

That did not, however, mean the quest was over.....not at all.

Say what?

2009-03-24T18:07:00.006-06:00

Words are very powerful, wouldn't you agree? Whether they be spoken, written, gestured, acted out, whispered, or not said at all. Even a brilliant mind could be silenced by hearing it were stupid enough times, and an angelic voice silenced by criticism.

I'm sorry, is a bouquet of words. I hate you, a million daggers.

We, each of us, are responsible for our words. I wonder if we know how powerful they can be to a small child looking for acceptance, a lover looking for affirmation or an elderly person awaiting permission to say a final goodbye.

The other day I was told, "Nobody likes you." The person telling me this was a friend(?). At the time the words stung me. They came from out of the blue. From nowhere my rational mind can think of. I felt like I was back on the playground in elementary school. That's kid's stuff.

The words still sting me, but not as bad. I know they are not true. But, they have been uttered, and cannot be taken back. I know that person does not speak for the every bodies and somebodies that are out there. She can only speak, it seems, for the nobodies.

Why, you may be asking, didn't I turn around?

2009-03-22T11:23:00.006-06:00

Maybe, I was afraid of who I might see. That was my main reason at the time. I didn't know Milton then. We hadn't met yet. So turning around I wouldn't have recognized him. Of course it would not have been a person standing there, but the essence of the man. The spirit of the man. I knew the quest would continue.

And continue it did. I went to other psychics, (not only for guidance on the quest). Some said I would probably have to move to the Springs area, because that was where the crystal was. Believe me, I toyed with the idea, for many years. I also looked into moving to the Pagosa Springs area.

Over the years I would feel Milton's presence. I was sure I would know him when I met him, there would be a spark. I dated, fell in love, fell out of love, all the things that go with love. Always open to who Milton could be. Always wondering if he would walk in the door, or be right around the corner. Not a love at first sight kind of thing, but a place of knowing kind of thing.

Going on eHarmony was part of the quest. That led to a trip back to Colorado, to retrieve the crystal. Along the way I stopped in Big Springs, Nebraska. To meet a Milton potential.

Let's see....

2009-03-20T01:11:00.008-06:00

...where was I? Oh, yeah, the Quest.

One year Bandit and I took a road trip to Colorado. We ended up in the Springs area. I had been there years earlier. I lliked the area. Besides, Josephine had seen Milton standing on a rock, and Colorado had the Rocky Mountains. It was worth a try.

That was the first time I drove to the top of Pikes Peak. If I ever go back up there, I want to be a passenger! Yikes! Let's just say it wasn't a good time for Bandit to want play fetch! On the way back down from the top of Pikes Peak, I stopped at mile marker 17, also known as the "Bottomless Pit" area. I'm not sure why I thought that was the place to stop, but it was a pretty part of the highway. I did a short beseechment ceremony, and left the Milton Quest crystal there.

Bandit and I were camped at the bottom of the "Peak", we could see it from our campsite. That night, I did a ceremony asking for help, on my quest, from the four directions, Creator, Mother Earth, my guardian angels, etc. That was the first time I felt Milton standing behind me.

I didn't turn to look.

Do you see what I see?

2009-03-19T11:23:00.004-06:00

This is a picture of the undersea volcano, that is erupting off of the coast of Tonga. I see something in this picture that may be a symbol of Mother Earth's fury. Do you see it too?

What to do when the quest ends?

2009-03-18T21:41:00.000-06:00

Many years ago, I went to a psychic. Among the things he told me were the initials of my "happily ever after man". M.B. or B.M. Said he couldn't get a clearer picture. At that moment began the quest, the Milton Quest.

A friend had given me a crystal that was shaped like two crystals joined together. I dubbed it the Milton Quest crystal. One time, I let another friend hold the crystal. Her name was Josephine. Josephine was an angel on earth! She was older than my father, and was a psychic and healer. While holding the crystal, Josephine saw "Milton". She said she saw him standing on a rock, waiting for me.

I took the crystal with me the first time I went to Glacier. On one of the trails there was a fallen tree, along Avalanche Creek, that you could cross and be on a kind of sand bar. After sitting and just being for a while, I found a broken tree, did a beseechment ceremony and placed the crystal on the broken end of the tree. In the ceremony I asked for help on my "quest". I left the crystal overnight, and retrieved it the next morning.

I'll continue this later, for now I am sleepy. It really is an interesting story.

A bittersweet memory...

2009-03-17T21:36:00.008-06:00

...that makes me smile.

Today on the way to work, I was following a Volkswagen four door. Inside the car was the driver, and her dog. The dog looked to be a husky or malamute, and when I first saw the car he was in the back seat. After a few wags of his tail, he was in the front seat. When we stopped for a traffic light, I saw the owner reach over and roll down the passenger side window, so her friend could get some air. I thought, 'Hey that's cool. If that was me, I'd pet that dog right now.' With that the owner did just that, she scratched her dog's head.

I got a little nostalgic as I watched them. Many years ago I got a used dog, a husky named Bandit (see my slide show tribute to him). When I got him, I had a four door Honda, fully equipped. He would sit in the back seat and his head would be in the front. One time we were going someplace, and Bandit was sitting in the front seat. I scratched his head, and then tiiimmmmber, he fell sideways and laid his head on my shoulder.

When Bandit looked at me, and then looked at the window, I knew it was time to hit the power button to roll the window down for him. If it was hot enough for the air conditioning to be on, he had his nose right at the vent.

It didn't take me long to realize that Bandit was too big for my little Honda, so I went out and got him a bigger Honda. Not fully equipped! You should have seen the look on his face when I came home with our SUV. Pure joy! A truck with rooms for him to play in. And play we did. When we went on road trips, we'd play fetch. I'd throw the ball to the back cargo area, and he'd jump over seats to retrieve it. Then drop it on the front seat to play some more. We had miles of fun for sure.

When Bandit looked at me, and then looked at the window I had to apologize to him. There were no more power buttons to roll down the window, and I couldn't reach while driving. I think he gave me some dirty looks. Didn't matter, because they were always followed by smoochies!

Sadly, I had to put Bandit to sleep. He had inoperable liver cancer. They found the cancer by doing an operation! Bandit was a most awesome pal, friend, and confidant. I never knew if he was a good protector, no one got close enough to find out. Everyone seemed to think he was a wolf. I'll see you over the rainbow bridge bud, have fun playing fetch 'til then.

Be careful what you wish for

2009-03-16T15:58:00.007-06:00

Who hasn't heard that saying?!

When I was little my mom became pregnant. There was already a boy and three girls in the family, so Betty, Barb and I yearned for a baby brother. Our house was a split level, and at the top of the up stairs there hung a picture of Jesus, kneeling by a rock, praying. Every night, for nine months, Betty, Barb and I would kneel at the picture of Jesus, and pray for a baby brother. I think on Sundays we prayed more than once, because it was go to church day. There were nights Barb and I would even fall asleep, holding hands, praying for a boy!

You guessed it, we got what we "wished" for. A baby brudder! Who has become a green-eyed monster!

One year for his birthday, I told my baby brudder his gift from me would be that I wouldn't call him baby brudder anymore. I must be an Indian giver, because I have taken that gift back.

The moral? Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it, and want to send it back.

Hiding

2009-03-15T11:20:00.008-06:00

We all hide behind something, a picture, words, a smile, laughter, tears.

Are we afraid of what would happen if we came out from behind the picture, words, smile....? Are we afraid of our vulnerabilities? Afraid of rejection?

I started this blog as a kind of therapy. I had been hurt down to my soul, to the very core of me. I needed something to talk to....that didn't hear my sobs. There were words and actions said and done by Gerald, that haunt me. Things I wouldn't think another could say or do to someone they had loved. Things I have told no one. And, no matter how many times I sing in my head, sometimes they sing louder.

I have been told to forget him, he's no good. I think anyone reading this blog can agree he is not a good person. I don't miss Gerald. I miss being a we. I used to love being a me by myself. I used to go through life so easily, doing things as a me. Now I just tire easily.

I have been told to focus on the future. I can do that, truly. I know someday I will be over this hurt. That the scars on my soul will fade. That the core of me will be okay. I have already experienced more good days than bad. And, I know they will only get better. After all, I am living in Montana!

As for me, I used to hide behind 45 extra pounds, and hair down to the small of my back. I don't miss those things. I don't mind being exposed. And, now I am hiding less behind my smile and laughter. And I think myself only human, to have good days and bad days.

I know I have ranted and rambled in this post. But you know what? A day that started out a bad day, is turning into a good day after all. Therapy at less than whatever an hour!

Ah, the simplest of pleasures

2009-03-14T22:29:00.004-06:00

I just took a deliciously, relaxingly hot bath! I had bought a new bubble bath today, just for the occasion, Vanilla Noir. I now smell like Madagascan vanilla, whiff, mmmmm.

I enjoy the simple pleasures in life. The smell of a forest. Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. To be kissed by the sun, and caressed by the wind. A bouquet of fresh picked dand-e-lions. A smile. Laughter. Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.

One time I was walking back to work from doing errands. I looked in the sky and saw three eagles soaring, and playing on the thermals. Two of the eagles must have been a pair, because they locked talons and began a free fall waltz of love toward the ground. After a few moments, they unlocked talons and began to fly back up, to play on the thermals again. I cried. I can't even count the number of times I have almost crashed my truck, looking up at the sky, watching eagles.

I am a bath person. I wasn't always. Then about a year and a half ago, I started to take baths again. There is something about the sound of running water, that is music to my ears. I have an awesome bathtub where I live. It is nice and deep. I can fill it enough so that only my face is out of the water. I'm not sure if being in the tub takes me back to the time I was in the womb, or not. I just know that I feel warm, safe and secure while I am in there. An hour long bath is not unusual.

Sunshine on the water looks so lovely. Another pleasure is the sound of waves lapping up on the shore of Lake McDonald, in Galcier NP. When I was there a few weeks ago, I made a movie of just that very thing. I can look at it and smile. Sunshine almost always makes me high.

In search of biffle

2009-03-13T22:33:00.002-06:00

Sounds simple enough, eh?

Precious pieces.

2009-03-12T22:15:00.006-06:00

I have so few precious pieces left to give. I feel I must protect them, to keep me whole. Until I find someone I can trust with precious me again. But not protected with walls. Or, barbed wire. Or, coldness. Or, fear.

Perhaps they would be best protected with love, warmth, laughter, simplicity, kindness, gentleness, a sigh, a whisper?

Do I need to explain precious pieces? I think women will understand what I mean. I see and hear of women and girls giving away their precious pieces, to men and boys who have no intention of staying with them. Oh, some will stay for more than a night, or two. But, eventually, these women and girls will wish they had those pieces of themselves that were given without love. Some will become hardened by the giving of themselves. That is truly sad. When the pleasure wears off, and the pain sets in, we are left with ourselves, alone and wondering. We are worth so much more than that. We are all precious, you know.

Do ingnorance and mis-information bring on fear?

2009-03-10T13:11:00.004-06:00

I think I already know the answer.

The other day I was going to go to Glacier NP, to participate in a program where you go snow shoeing with a ranger. I had never snow shoed, snow shod, well walked on snow shoes before. I was looking forward to an afternoon of being in nature. Maybe fall on my dupa a few times, make some more snow angels, be in the moment.

At work earlier in the day, my co-worker said she wanted to ask me something, (she sounded all serious). She wanted to know if I was going to go alone. I said yep, up to Glacier anyway. I told her I would be going on a ranger led hike. Oh good she says, she was worried. She was afraid I would be attacked by wolves if I went alone. (I guess it would have been okay for me to go alone and be attacked by say a bear, or a mountain lion!)

I told her I worried more about bears. She said, bears wouldn't be a problem, because they hibernate. I told her that only the week before, I had gotten a pamphlet about bears when I went to Glacier. I told her in the pamphlet they showed bear tracks in the snow. I've read some info on bears. Bears would come up on the back porch where I lived in Wisconsin. From what I have learned, bears don't always hibernate, especially if there is enough food.

I told her I was more worried about mountain lions. I've seen shows where they have attacked skiers. I've heard on the news where they attack hikers, bicyclists and anyone else that is fair game. She agreed mountain lions are a worry.

I told her wolves don't attack people. She said, "Oh yes they do!" I told her that in the research I have done on wolves, there has not been a case of a healthy wolf attacking a human. She said we wouldn't talk about it anymore.

I guess I should point out that my co-worker had participated in the anti-wolf protest I wrote about in an earlier post. When she told me she had participated, she apologized. I guess she was apologizing for having a different view. A different opinion. I don't know. I did tell her no apology was necessary. I told her it is a wonderful thing that people have differing opinions. The world would be kind of boring if we all thought alike. I told her I would not apologize for my views. I am never sorry when I believe in things, that others don't.

I spent most of my life living in Chicago and its suburbs. Some call me city girl. What are ya gonna do? It's just a label. Again, I make no apologies. I spent some of my life living in Northern Wisconsin. There were wolves in Northern Wisconsin, but I was never honored to have seen one. I like to think I am chuck-full-o-common-sense. I am not going to leave my instincts (survival or otherwise) at the trail head and go charging into an area that might be teaming with predators. I told my co-worker that.

I have a respect and awe of all nature, all living things. If I don't know about them, and they interest me, I learn about them. There are plenty of research studies out there on any animal or living thing I want to learn about. And, I never tire of learning.

There are predators I worry about more. The two legged kind. The ones that believe in mis-information, and ignorance. Those are the ones that seem to become fearful of things they don't know, or understand.

Oh, I didn't go to Glacier that day. Don't ya know winter finally arrived in the valley. I didn't want to chance driving in the blizzard like conditions.

If you think tonight is beautiful...

2009-03-08T22:53:00.009-06:00

...wait until tomorrow night. It is a beautiful night here in my corner of the world. The sky is clear. The stars are bright. The moon is casting its brilliance on the snow (all blingy like). Tomorrow night is the full moon, and I'm sure it will be spectacular.

Do you ever look up at the moon and dream of, or wonder if that special someone is looking at the moon at that very same moment in time?

He must have been the Marlboro man

2009-03-07T08:59:00.006-07:00

You know the guy I mean. Wearing a cowboy hat, and riding the open range, on his trusty steed. With a Marlboro tucked firmly between his lips. Except this guy was a postman, and instead of a trusty steed he was driving a mail delivery truck. Oh, and there was no cowboy hat, or open range. There was a cigarette tucked, okay well more like dangling from his lips.

On my way to work, I saw a drama unfold that was worthy of I don't know, some kind of home video show. I had stopped behind the postman, on a busy side street, because I wanted to get a phone number off of a sign. He was putting mail in street side mailboxes. He got out of his truck and walked up to a residence, that was clearly empty. When he got back in his truck, he backed up to remove mail from one of the boxes.

Here is where I still can't believe what I saw. Here's the drama. As he was taking the mail out of the box, he was still inside his truck. The truck started to roll forward. He's still attached to the street side mailboxes. After being dragged for a short distance, he gets pulled out of the truck, falls, knocks over the mailboxes, sees his truck still rolling forward, gets up, and runs after the truck, which had stopped because it hit a sign post.

I jumped out of my truck and asked him if he was okay. He got back in his truck, without saying a word. He tried to back up to get away from the sign, but the tires spun on ice. After he got unstuck, he drove down to a gas station parking lot a short distance away. I thought he would come back, and I would help him upright the mailboxes. Next thing I look, and he is driving away around a corner!

With the cigarette still dangling from his lips!

Songs that run through my head

2009-03-06T00:41:00.010-07:00

There are places I remember all my life
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I loved them all

As I was sitting here, pondering what to write, this song popped into my head. I don't know if I am un-American, but I never was much of a Beatles fan. So, why this song came to me, I just don't have any idea. I like the song tho.

Some mornings I wake up with "Don't Worry, Be Happy", playing in my brain. I know why that plays. As I've said before, I believe in things that go bump in the night, guardian angels and such. In recent months, I have been going through things that, well lets just say I was getting ready to measure my truck windows for curtains. I believe my guardian angels remind me of the Don't Worry, Be Happy song, so I know things will be okay.

Today at work, Devo's "Whip It" was going through my head. I was even doing a techno dance, you know kind of Devo-ish. I know in past posts I have mentioned the muzak at work. Yep, it still moves me, still gets my head to bobbin' and my booty to shakin'. I am starting to care less and less who is around at the moment I am moved. I don't blush as much anymore. Sometimes, when I know no one can hear me, I sing out loud.

I think a lot. I mean, non-stop, cramp my brain a lot. So, when my thoughts are keeping me awake at night, in my head I sing "Row Row Your Boat". At times I can even get the left side of my brain starting it earlier than the right side, the way it is supposed to be sung. I'm not sure why that song works, but it does. I recently found alternative lyrics to the song:

Propel, Propel, Propel your craft
Placidly down the liquid solution
Ecstatically, ecstatically, ecstatically, ecstatically,
Existence is but an illusion.

I think I'll stick with the old lyrics, because the new ones would keep me awake trying to remember them!

For more years than I can remember the Judd song "Why Not Me", has often played in my head. I've often asked myself that question when a relationship didn't work. Why not me? I've never gotten, or come up with an answer. Okay, sing it with me, row row row.....

Seeing stars!

2009-03-04T19:45:00.006-07:00

I have heard from people at work that a lot of celebrities have homes (big homes) in the Flathead Lake area of Montana. Why just the other day my boss saw Wayne Newton, and his entourage at a restaurant in Big Fork. How cool is that? And one of the women at work said she was speechless when she saw Jack Hanna (yep, the zoo guy). I've heard so many names of celebrities my co-workers have seen, that I can't remember who they were.

In the past, I've seen a celebrity or two. I once saw Arte Johnson in the airport in Detroit. I came across his autograph while I was looking for the gorilla picture. I got the Statler Brothers' autographs when I saw them at the Milwaukee County Fair one year.

At work, besides seeing the odd (and I do mean odd) guy wearing his hair like Elvis, I was coming up celebrity sight-less. I am happy to report I have had my own celebrity sighting. Yep, one day at work I swore I saw Troy Evans. I pointed him out to people, and they said that it was Troy Evans. Pretty exciting stuff!

Who is Troy Evans? Is that what I hear you asking? Well, he is none other than Sgt. Pepper from China Beach! He also plays Frank Martin on ER, and has had numerous other parts according to his info on IMDB. I wondered what he would be doing in Kalispell, MT. Well, it turns out he is from Kalispell. Wow, is right.

Myself, I prefer to look at other stars. The kinds found in constellations. The ones found in the night sky. I used to know the names of more stars when I was younger. Like the big and little dippers. My dad used to point them out to us when we were kids. Now that I live in "Big Sky" country, away from the light pollution of the city, I see many amazing stars for sure.

I ain't never been a princess...

2009-03-03T11:44:00.003-07:00

...So, I cannot grow up to be a queen.

It's true, I can't remember a time in my life when I was called a princess. I guess when you are the youngest of three girls, the older ones get to be princesses. I was, and still am, a punkin.

I've been thinking about a time my grandmother on my mom's side and I went to California together. It was just before I went into college. Grandma and I were pretty close. It was back in the day when you wrote letters, and we exchanged quite a few. Anyway, Grandma and I went to visit my aunt, uncle and cousins in San Jose. They had moved out there nine, or so, years earlier.

My favorite memory from that trip was when my uncle took Grandma and me to San Francisco. We walked around the city some. Down by the wharf. Then we came across a gorilla playing the saxophone. How cool was that!! So cool that I had my picture taken with him!

Wow, I'm back. I just took a short trip down memory lane. I went to look through some boxes of photographs for the gorilla picture. I didn't find that picture (it must be with some of my stuff in Wisconsin), but oh the pictures of loved ones now gone that I did find. Sigh!

Ahhhhh, I was on a roll

2009-03-02T16:55:00.009-07:00

What an awesome day I had! A beautiful, sun shiny day in western Montana is not to be wasted indoors. So, I put some blueberries, a banana and water in a bag and headed off to Glacier NP. Oh, the joy and peace in my heart I feel when I turn on to Going To The Sun Road, most heavy, happy sigh.

It was the first time I had been to Glacier in the winter. And, although I didn't get into the heart of the park (closer to Logan Pass), I still wanted to cry at the beauty. There were only two places open, Apgar Village and the Lake McDonald area. Since I made my first snow angel the other night, I knew Glacier would be a good place to make more. I was on a roll. I made snow angels in both places. A way of leaving my mark, without leaving a lasting impression.

If you have never had a chance to visit Glacier NP in person, I recommend you check out their web cams at www.nps.gov/glac/photosmultimedia/webcams.htm. It isn't by any stretch of the imagination the next best thing to being there, but the cams do capture some of the beauty that is my favorite place on earth.

Tonight I am smiling. My heart is smiling. And, life is good.

Last chance before Spring

2009-03-01T20:48:00.006-07:00

Last night when I got home from work, I decided to make a snow angel. I had been kind of bummed that I hadn't had a chance to make one this year. In an earlier post, I said I would need a lot of snow, a cloud of snow, to make my snow angel on. Well, as winter passed I realized that just weren't gonna happen.

In my humble opinion I made one of my best snow angels in a long time. (I didn't even have as much trouble getting up, as I thought I would.)

I know some would say that at my age, I have no business getting down on the ground, playing like a child! To those naysayers, I say hoooey! I spend enough hours in a day, week, month, year, lifetime, being a grown-up, doing grown-up things, making grown-up decisions. So, the few moments I lay in the snow, and move my arms and legs in a rhythmic motion, with the spirit of a child, the better for me. Everyone should try it, it'll make you giggle. (By the way, I am ageless, at least in my own mind.)

Tsk, tsk, what's to become of this

2009-02-26T10:11:00.009-07:00

The animals had rights - the right of a man's protection, the right to live, the right to multiply, the right to freedom, and the right to man's indebtedness - and in recognition of these rights the Lakota never enslaved an animal, and spared all life that was not needed for food and clothing.

This concept of life and its relations with humanizing, and gave to the Lakota an abiding love. It filled his being with joy and mystery of living; it gave him reverence for all life; it made a place for all things in the scheme of existence with equal importance to all. Chief Luther Standing Bear, Oglala Sioux.

This weekend there will be a wolf protest at the fairgrounds in Kalispell. The ad in the local trade paper called for all hunters to "Be there or don't complain!" Some around these parts are saying the number of elk, deer and other game is down, because of the wolf population. I especially like the line that says, "Participate at your own risk". I'm wondering if that is for the pro-wolf folks that might show up.

I am a pro-wolf folk. I am also a pro-hunting folk, (I bow hunted for a couple of seasons). I have read a lot of info on wolves in my life, and watched documentaries. I've even watched hunting/outdoors programs. I have visited the International Wolf Center in Ely, MN, a couple of times (I still do via the 'net). I believe we can learn from wolves, (as well as other animals and nature).

It's not as though a wolf can go to a supermarket and buy a favorite cut of meat. A hunter can, and most likely he or a member of his family does. A pack of wolves doesn't go for a trophy "rack", as some hunters do. A wolf kills what it needs to survive.

My dad told me a story about when he and my mom had a young family, and money and food were scarce. He said they were hungry. He said he went out into the woods to hunt for meat, so his young family could eat. He said he prayed that he would get a deer, and when he looked up there was a good sized deer within shooting distance. He said the deer saw him, and lowered its head as if to say I am yours to feed your family. The deer gave of itself, so my parents, their young family and my grandparents could eat.

Maybe the problem is not dwindling elk and deer populations. Or, a growing, thriving wolf population. Maybe its not even a growing hunting/human population. I don't know. There must be a way to have balance.

I don't mean for this post to become a pissing contest to prove which side is right. No one wins that way, we all just end up getting wet. I do believe in the rights of We the People. The whole life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness thing is me. I also believe the other living things on our planet have rights too. We aren't smarter than they are. We don't dominate them. Nor, do we own them.

Okay, I'm stepping down and putting my soap box away now. Have a good day.

duck, duck, gOOOse

2009-02-25T19:25:00.011-07:00

The other day at work some people told me about a wonderful little nature oasis in Kalispell, called Woodland Park. I had been told to buy a loaf of bread, because there were ducks and geese to feed. So, with a loaf of whole wheat french bread under my arm, I headed off to Woodland Park.

The park was pretty, with snow and trees. There were some really awesome hills that would be great to sled down. I walked up one path, along the frozen water, wondering how there could be ducks and geese there. As I walked back to my truck, I heard what sounded like ducks-a-quackin'. I took another path, following the noise. There I saw an open body of water, with hundreds of ducks and geese on it. More like two or three hundred (who could count, they moved around so much).

I walked up to the waters edge, where I was approached by a female goose. She seemed friendly enough, and sure was not afraid of me. I hand fed her some of the bread. When the other geese and some of the ducks saw her eating, I was suddenly the most popular girl in the park. Most of the geese that I hand fed were cool, they kept their beaks away from my fingers. But, don't you know, there is one in every bunch and that one beaked my fingers too many times. So I stopped feeding her. The original female would wait patiently for her next piece of bread, she looked at me as if she knew something about human beings. Something most humans don't even know.

I took pictures. I even used my digital camera to make a video. When I looked down with my camera, there was a gander, taking a gander at me. I think he was wondering what the heck I was doing. What the big deal was. He probably figured if you've seen one goose or duck, you've seen them all.

I've since heard some interesting stories about the Spring time goings on with the ducks in Woodland Park. Stories of duck rapes, and female ducks dying from too much male duck attention. So, although I'll go back, I don't think it will be in the Spring. Okay, maybe once.

A woman at work told me about a time she took her son to the park, and she was chased back to her car, by 25 ducks and geese. She said she even had red marks on her legs from the Hitchcockian birds attacking her. She said they made her so upset, she dropped her keys. Then she was afraid a duck or goose would get the keys and fly away. I guess it has been long enough ago that she can laugh about it now. So, I laughed (at) with her.

Oh, snnniiiifffff, the smell is so intoxicating

2009-02-23T09:59:00.010-07:00

I've talked about my favorite blings, now I'll talk about intoxicating things.

Again things that intoxicate me are simple. I'm not talking about half a shot of Sambuca or the neck of a bottle of Leinie Berryweis kinds of intoxication either.

A guy at work gave me the pictured rose, it was a left over from Valentines day and headed for the dumpster with the other 11. It is a beautiful rose, and yes the smell is intoxicating. Just imagine what would happen if I had a dozen, (I wonder with a twinkle in my eyes and a shy smile).

I also get intoxicated by the smell of a forest. If the forest floor is wet, that is a different smell than if it is dry. They both make me want to fall down on my face and inhale deeply! Ahhh, mmm, sigh. I can remember the smell of the forest from when I was young and would go to Grandparents' houses in Northern Wisconsin. It smelled the same as an adult, and made me remember those parts of my childhood. It's amazing how smells/aromas can trigger memories. I have been in Cracker Barrel restaurants, and although the smell was not intoxicating, it did remind me of my Grandparent's house in Peeksville, WI.

Oh, and what the mountains do to my head! It's a wonder I don't have more problems driving to work or town, because there are mountains all around. The rugged peaks, that speak of Mother Earth's fury, are just so, well they make me dizzily intoxicated. That must be why I love Glacier NP so much, the free buzz I feel when I am there.

Here is a list of a few other things that, to me, are intoxicating (I'm sure there will be some that agree). The smell of lilacs (I even use lilac scented detergent). The laughter of children. The beauty that is all nature. Being in love. Kisses, the long lingering kind. Spinning as fast as you can on the merry-go-round. Life, oh sweet intoxication.

It was wondermous I tell ya

2009-02-22T21:56:00.007-07:00

With the help of the wonders of technology, today I got to see my elderly parents (they live in Wisconsin), for the first time since I moved to Montana almost eight months ago. Yep, we visited on the web cam. I was a bit apprehensive at first, because I thought they might look ill, or not the way I remembered them looking. I am happy to report they looked great! We had a nice visit. I showed them how much snow we don't have here, and they told me how much more snow they do have there. Ain't technology wonderful?!?

Going back to my favorite music memory post....The other day I had called my folks to ask them about Grandma's yodeling. My dad said he had been thinking about my grandparents a lot lately. He also told me that my grandma could sing and play the piano. That was the first I had heard of it! He said my grandma's family was all musical. Dad told me how when he was a lad (his word), the neighbors from across the road would come and get water from his family's well. He said many a time my grandma would be playing the piano and singing, and they would look outside to see the neighbors standing there listening to Grandma. What an awesome memory.

These are a few of my favorite blings

2009-02-22T08:20:00.002-07:00

In an earlier post, I said I wasn't impressed by shiny things, or big toys. While it is true about the big toys, I have to come clean about some shiny things that do impress me. Simple things really. Only one of them costs money (lots of course).

I love when the moonlight coming through the bedroom window tickles my palm to wake me up, beckoning me to come out and play. Or, the way the sunlight sparkles on freshly fallen snow, like millions of tiny diamonds (natural bling). Same with the moonlight bright enough to sparkle on the freshly fallen snow. Or, the sun coming up behind the mountains, making them look as if they are on fire. Oh, and the sun going down behind the mountains is something I also love. And the sunlight dancing all blingy on the water, that is something that is a favorite of mine. Has it ever been so cold where you live that the moisture in the air has frozen to little ice crystals? You feel like you are walking through sparkly, blingy diamonds. Yes, I love that too.

She wasn't "Psycho" after all

2009-02-19T21:53:00.005-07:00

No, I really believe she was just a woman scorned.

In an earlier post, I mentioned Gerald's 3rd wife, the one he called "Psycho Bitch". I've been thinking about old #3 lately, and the so called "vicious" (by Gerald's definition, certainly not mine) thing he said she did to him.

Gerald and #3 only lived together a few months after they were married. He told me she moved out and back into her own house. He said he remained friends with her, and would spend time talking with her, doing things for her, etc.

The following January, he had placed an ad on Yahoo Personals. I think it was in February that a woman intiated contact with him. They e-mailed and IM each other for four weeks, but never met or talked on the phone. By March he was in love with her. I mean in l-o-v-e, even tho he hadn't really seen pictures of her or anything. They made plans to meet 100 miles away in Missoula, at the airport, even tho the woman was supposed to be from the Kalispell area (40 miles from his house).

So he goes down to Missoula to meet his love (still never having talked to her on the phone or meeting her in person). He gets to the airport, and she does not get off the plane. There is no such flight. So he waits for the next flight, nope, nothing. He drives home to find the lock cut on his gate. His computer was damaged and things were missing. Turns out #3 had posed as the woman.

Now, I'm not saying what she did was right or wrong. I can't say if revenge is a good or bad thing. BUT, damn the thought that went into getting even with him!! They were still married. Imagine finding out your husband has an ad on a personals web site. Imagine your husband telling you about a woman he is communicating with. Imagine hearing your husband talk about how wonderful that woman is.

Maybe I am a little envious that I didn't think of some way to get even. Some way to hurt him as bad as he hurt me. But, alas, I'm not that way. There are higher powers that will take care of that kind of thing. For now, I would just like to say to #3, "You go girl!"

Is that the sound of a siren I hear?

2009-02-19T21:24:00.005-07:00

There is a driving phenomenon in Montana that still amazes me after all of these months. There are actually times I shake my head in wonderment. It is people driving through red lights. Seems like the lights have even been timed, so that after the traffic light for one direction turns red, there is a delay before the other direction turns green. I've seen people drive through a light when they had a block's distance to stop!! I've never seen an accident, which is lucky. Come to think of it, I've never seen a cop with someone stopped near an intersection either.

I wonder if those drivers say what I do when they go under that red light? "I'm a Montaaaannnnnnaaaaaaannnnnnn!!!!"

We were the Shangri-Las

2009-02-16T20:29:00.003-07:00

Yep, we were. When our folks were gone in the evening we'd put on a Shangri-Las album. Then Betty, Barb and I would dress up and pretend to be the Shangri-Las. Our microphones were hair brushes. We used the stairs as a stage prop, walking down them singing. (Yes, of course, I only moved my lips.)

Betty dated a "greaser" named Dave. So, "Leader of the Pack" was a song we had to "perform" over and over and over. Betty says that even now her kids know the lyrics to the song.

Barb, Betty and I had never talked about Grandma's yodeling before I posted it as my favorite music memory. Growing up it seems each kid had their own memories, their own perspective on how life was. They both said they loved Grandma's yodeling as much as I did. I sometimes wonder why we never talked about it before. I'm glad we are talking about our memories now.

What I miss the most.

2009-02-16T00:00:00.005-07:00

There are things I miss about being in a relationship. The most important is the touch of a man. The sweet caresses. The playful tickle on the back of my neck. The loving tug of my ear lobe. The warmth of his strong, gentle hands on my skin. Ahh, sigh.

I have a theory about what happens to skin when it is not lovingly touched by another on a regular basis. I believe lack of touch makes the skin unhealthy, wrinkled, dull and things grow on it.

The other thing, and you may find this hard to believe, is the snoring. I'm sure many a man has suffered a concussion from being biffed in the head for snoring, (I think there could be some brain damage involved). To me snoring is sweet music. A kind of symphony, that lulls me. A song that reminds me I am not alone.

What keeps the twinkle in my eye even tho I miss these things? Knowing that I will someday have them again, and the next time will be better. Deeper, dreamy sigh.

Even the dirt is pink!!

2009-02-14T13:15:00.004-07:00

This is my first Valentines in Montana. It seems to be kind of national holiday here in the Kalispell area. I've seen lots of rough and tumble looking cowboys carrying around bouquets of flowers for their special cowgirls. I've never seen people so into a Hallmark holiday.

I work in a bakery, and yep, the dirt (on the floor) is even pink there! What a way to celebrate!! Oh, by the way, hope everyone has a nice day!

Do you believe

2009-02-12T23:36:00.004-07:00

In the things that go bump in the night?

My sisters and I have been keeping in touch via web cams. Barb had hers, then Betty and I got ours for Christmas. It's a nice way to keep in touch with loved ones that are far away, (Barb in Florida, Betty in Michigan).

The other night, I was talking to Barb over the web cam when she told me to be still. She said she was seeing a face in front of my face on the camera. She said the face had dark eyes and a crooked mouth. Right off I knew it wasn't me, my eyes are blue and the only time my mouth is crooked is when I curl the corners up in a smile. I didn't get upset by the news of the face in front of my face. I kind of just took it in stride.

Then I looked up at Barb's image on my monitor, in time to see what looked like a dark figure walking behind her. I told her I saw someone walk behind her, (she was alone in the house). She freaked.

Now for Barb to freak at anything is funny to me. She was always the tough, tomboy. I remember one time when I was 12 she pinned me up against the wood box and proceeded to try to beat the crap out of me. I say try, because I started laughing so hard I almost wet myself, so she stopped. Also, Barb is a practicing witch, you'd think she would be used to being visited by spirits.

That reminds me of a time when we were little. Betty just had to watch the movie "I Was A Teenage Werewolf", staring a young Michael Landon. Creepy stuff. That night, I was woke from a sound sleep to my dad standing over the bed telling Barb there were no such things as werewolves. The odd thing about that is I had my own room, and Barb slept in a room with Betty. I hadn't even felt Barb crawl in bed with me. I'm still not sure what made her think she would be safer sleeping with me. The movie hadn't scared me, but it sure scared Barb. Wouldn't you know, Barb being scared is what scared me. I don't think we got much sleep the rest of the night.

Anyway, back to the things that go bump in the night. I do believe in spirits, angels, lost souls, soul mates, premonitions, psychics, gut feelings, intuitions, whatever you want to call them. I don't need scientific proof that these things exist. I don't need to read any research studies about them. There are things I just know. Do you believe?

A favorite music memory

2009-02-12T23:19:00.002-07:00

Well, actually this is my favorite music memory. When I was a little over seven years old, my mom had my baby brudder. For this happy occasion, my grandma on my dad's side came down to stay with us for a bit. Grandma and Grandpa lived in Northern Wisconsin.

My favorite memory comes from the trip taking Grandma back home. It was back in the day when kids didn't have to be restrained in seat belts. I was sleeping in the back seat of the family station wagon. My mom, dad and Grandma were in the front seat. I woke to the sound of an Angel yodeling. It was my grandma. Oh, how she could yodel! Beautiful music came from Grandma. Sadly, Grandma died a year and a half later. Happily, the memory of waking up to her yodeling lives to this day.

Dogs howl

2009-02-03T21:16:00.002-07:00

Like I said, I love music. I have been known in my day to belt out a song, at the top of my lungs.

When I was in kindergarten, they had a Christmas time show put on by my class. Instead of singing "Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer" with the rest of the kids, I skipped back and forth in front of them, wearing a fake fur Rudolph costume. The costume even had a red nose, it was cool. I was told that I got the part of Rudolph, because I was the only kid that could skip and my mom had sewn the costume.

Then when I was about 10, I participated in a Christmas play put on by the park district in the town I lived in. I got the part of an elf. I memorized my line(s) walking home with my friend. I still remember those, wait make it that line my little elf got to say, "Hehehehehehehehe". That was it. During rehearsals, when it came time to rehearse the songs, the director asked me to mouth the words.

When we would go on road trips to Northern Wisconsin, from the Chicago area, my dad would sing and us kids would join him. One time he said that one of us girls had a really pretty singing voice. I blushed, because aw gee Dad had complimented me. Turns out he was talking about Barb.

I used to have a Lhasa Apso puppy named Punk Idol. She lived with my folks, because I wasn't allowed to have a pet in my apartment. I worked midnights and would stop at my folk's house to visit Punk, while they were at work. One day I was laying on the couch, and Punk was laying on my legs. A commercial came on for a Dean Martin hits album. Since Dean Martin was one of my favorites, I started singing one of the songs. That really stirred something up in Punk, because she walked up my body, laid her little puppy belly on my mouth and started howling. I laughed so hard I almost bit her belly!!

Since then, I have told people that dogs howl when I sing.

P.S. That only stops me from singing in public. I never really understood people thinking I couldn't sing, because when I sing along to a song I sound just like the person singing it. Well, to me anyway.

Music and life

2009-01-25T11:22:00.006-07:00

I have always loved music, always. And, throughout life have had many favorite artists/singers that have expressed just the right feelings. I know I am not the only one that feels this way, (even without reading research studies on it). I bet as you read this, you are nodding your head and making a mental list of artists and songs that have helped you through rough times, and spoke of the pain in your heart. I know there are many songs that have also spoken of the joy in my heart and happy times.

One such artist is Janis Ian. Her song "At Seventeen" was an anthem for me, as I'm sure it has been for many women. As was "The Come On".

I love all kinds of music really. Anything that gets my booty to shakin'. The other day I was standing at a machine at work. Lately at work they have had the best muzak, a really great mix of all kinds of music. Spanning many decades. So, I'm standing there, bobbing my head, shaking my hips a little, ya know just getting into the beat. I turned and there was a male customer standing there watching me. He was smiling, and I was blushing.

Ooops, I did it again!

2009-01-19T18:09:00.002-07:00

Yep, when will I learn? I got an e-mail from Gerald the middle of December, saying he had some mail for me. It had been delivered to his PO Box, which he had let me use while I lived there.

While I stayed with Gerald after the break-up, I was not allowed to show anger or the fact that I had been badly hurt by him. It would have made him feel bad don'tcha know, and we couldn't have that. So, I saw an opportunity to tell him how badly he had hurt me, and I took it. Well, twice. I don't know if he has read the e-mails I sent him, asking him to bring me my mail. I'm thinkin' he did. I still don't have the mail. So, I'm believin' that he read the e-mails, it made him feel bad, and now my mail is history.

So, to anyone who sent mail for me to his PO Box (after November 3rd), and I haven't responded, sorry. I'm not ignoring you, really, I just don't know who you are.

A prayer for Dennis and Ramona

2009-01-18T17:13:00.004-07:00

Tomorrow my good friend Ramona's husband will be having surgery on his heart. I want to take this time to ask anyone reading this, to say a prayer for Dennis.

An update, 01/19/09: I got an email from Ramona this morning. Dennis did not have his surgery today. While driving to Milwaukee, they hit a patch of ice, hit a pole, flipped their truck (which landed on its wheels), before coming to a stop. Dennis had to get stitches. Ramona was hurt pretty bad also. Luckily they were wearing seat belts. Not so lucky for Ramona's truck, she thinks it is totaled. I'm thinking the prayers kept them safe, sounds like things could have been worse.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T00:14:00.000-07:00

May 2009 be a much better year. Full of love, good friends, family and laughter!!

Hugs and secret admirers

2008-12-23T12:20:00.004-07:00

I got the most awesome gift in the mail yesterday. The return address said, "Secret Admirer". It was from my grand nephew Austin. He lives in Michigan. One day I was instant messaging him, and asked him for a hug. So, he made me one and sent it. I think that is the coolest thing.

Austin and I have a special relationship. He would come with my sister, his brother and sister every year to Wisconsin during Easter break. We formed a bond that I hope will last well into both of our older years. I love Austin very much.

That is not to say I don't love his sister, Amber, and his brother, Trenton. But, Austin has the ability to feel your pain, and want to protect you. He is going to make someone very happy someday, because he is going to be a good man when he grows up.

Words of comfort...

2008-12-16T20:58:00.009-07:00

...that don't quite do the job. Thanks to all that helped me with this list.

10. Time heals all wounds.
9. Love is blind, and you were blinded.
8. Get a grip, it's just a man.
7. If you are that lonely, find someone else the Internet is full of losers.
6. Pull yourself up by your boot strings.
5. Find yourself, know yourself and love will find you.
4. Better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.
3. He's a nice guy, but he doesn't know what he wants.
2. He goes through women like most people go through underwear.

Drum roll please!! The number 1 words of comfort that didn't quite do the job....

1. I have a new lady friend, I hope that doesn't make you sad, but I'm very happy!!!

Actually, my sister Barb sent me words that were comforting. Barb told me that love is not instant. She said that two visits and a bunch of phone calls does not constitute a relationship. A relationship matures over years of companionship, with verbal sparing, caring, tragedy and a firm ground of knowing how each other ticks.

Barb also said, love comes in many forms. What I had is now what it was, let it go. Barb said to free myself of the bitterness, or it will poison me from finding new love. Thanks Barb, I love you.

The smell of dead

2008-12-15T12:48:00.009-07:00

A few weeks ago, I went to Gerald's to see my boy, Patch. I didn't cry when I got there, like I thought I would. He had gotten bigger! When he came over to me, he wasn't sure at first. Then after a quick sniff of my hand, he wanted to climb up my leg. Of course I picked him up, and cuddled him for quite a bit.

I went up on the hill where Gerald's dogs exist, and petted them too. Shelby was very happy to see me. The only one I didn't go see was Gimpy the cow. We called her Gimpy because she had been injured and walked kind of crippled.

I had left some DVD's at Gerald's. So he and I went in the house to get them. Among his stuff, Gerald has a beautiful house. When I walked in I was struck by an awful odor. As if he hadn't flushed the toilet in three weeks. When I lived there, the house didn't stink. At the time, I couldn't figure out what the smell was. After a couple of days I realized the odor was the smell of dead. Gerald's house was dead. There was no soul. No life in it. How sad is that?

My first Fallinter in Montana

2008-12-14T19:08:00.012-07:00

I moved to Montana from Northern Wisconsin. Sixty miles south of Lake Superior, where we frequently got lake effect snow. So, I am no stranger to snow in the Fall, Winter, or cold. They had snow before Halloween this year.

Here in the part of Montana I call home, we got our first stick-on-the-ground-more-than-a-dusting snowfall the other day. It wasn't enough for me to make a snow angel, which disappoints me a bit. I love to make snow angels! I need there to be lots of snow, so I don't feel like I am laying on the ground. I want to feel like I am floating on a cloud of snow. Plus at my age, it is getting harder to get up off the ground, once I get down. My baby brother says I am at the fall down and break my hip stage.

I love winter. I could spend hours outside shoveling snow. When I was a kid, we had snowmobiles. I would spend hours and hours riding a snowmobile in the field across from my grandparents' house. My mom would have to demand that I stop long enough for her check me for frostbite. Then I would be off riding again. I have some really awesome memories of family snowmobile trips. Sigh, what fun.

In Wisconsin I took care of my brother's dog, Mozes. When I would go outside to make snow angels, Mozes would go with me. He was a Rottweiler/Black Lab mix. Not a small dog. That is important to know, because when I would be laying in the snow, making a snow angel, Mozes thought it was play time. He would run and jump on me. I can laugh about it now, because all of the bruises have healed. Heavy sigh, fun stuff.

I'm trainable

2008-12-05T00:56:00.007-07:00

Where I am living, the homeowners have a dog named Samantha. She is part cocker spaniel and I think some kind of lab. She is a really sweet dog. The other day she taught me a new trick (like I said, I'm trainable). Usually when Sam wants in, she'll scratch at the door to my apartment. The other evening, I heard a scratch at the door. I opened the door, and there was no Sam. So, I checked the door that goes from the apartment to the house, and there she was.....wagging her tail. She walked to the pantry door, and wanted me to give her a treat. Of course I did!! Sam is funny, and she is a good people trainer. I like that in a dog.

They also have a kitten. Her name is Stickers. I sometimes really think she should be called Spaz, because of the way she runs and bounces off of the walls. She is cute, and yes, sometimes her eyes do glow red....even if no flash is going off. Yesterday she tried to jump up on my shoulder. I am not tall, but she couldn't jump that high. Pretty funny stuff.

Update 12/27/08:
I almost forgot to mention Oakley. He is the neighbors yellow lab. I've been told he is about a year old. He is a big puppy, with really long legs. I guess you could call Oakley the neighborhood barker/protector. He barks when anyone comes in the yard here. Then backs off if challenged. I hear too, that Oakley is a thief, if you leave anything of value laying around, he takes it home with him. So far, I haven't lost anything to Oaks. Oakley is full of energy, and lots of times when he comes over for a visit, he runs full throttle around the yard. Oakley is a good face washer.

Hate, what is it good for?

2008-11-30T21:13:00.011-07:00

Hate - verb (used with an object), to dislike intensely or passionately; feel extreme aversion for or extreme hostility toward; detest; to hate the enemy; to hate bigotry.

I admit, I have used the word hate too much lately. So much so, that I am tired of hating or saying I hate Gerald. I don't hate him, and probably never did. I was hurt and lashing out. Besides, I didn't like what the hate was doing to me. The person I was becoming, because I used the word hate.

I hear other people use the word hate. Some people say how they hate another person, because of the other person's behavior. I observe these people. What I often see is the hater doing the same behaviors the hatee does. It makes me wonder, does the hater hate themselves? Or, do they not realize they are doing the behavior too?

So, I am done hating. I don't like it, don't wanna do it anymore. When I catch myself starting to say I hate something, or hate Gerald, I stop myself. When it comes down to it, Gerald probably couldn't give a damn if I hate him or not. And, if it isn't going to hurt him a little bit, why should I hurt myself by feeling it? (I'm sure there have been research studies done on the affects of hate on a person's health....I love myself too much to get sick over him).

Lots to be thankful for

2008-11-26T19:53:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. This year I have much to be thankful for. Every morning I wake up above the sod. I have the most wonderful friends that love me, and care about my well being. I have a great family that loves me, and supported me when I decided to move to Montana (even tho it hurt them deeply). I am living in Montana (truly God's country). I see the mountains every day! I am less than 50 miles from Glacier NP!

I am thankful that I am a strong woman. I will make it in Montana. I am thankful I have not become jaded or bitter. I know I will find a good man. A man that is honest with me and himself. A man that is caring and giving. A man that wants a woman to love him from her soul. A man that has left his baggage at the curb. Oh, and I am thankful I haven't lost my sense of humor.