There was this one guy

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..

..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

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

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!

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

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?

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

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

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

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?

If ever there were a man

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

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

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

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

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

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

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...

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

Eye candy

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

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

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

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?

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?

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....

...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?

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?

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...

...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

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

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

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

Sounds simple enough, eh?

Precious pieces.

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?

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...

...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

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

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!

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...

...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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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.

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.