Adam and one of his best friends took their first solo deer hunting trip a few days ago. They were both really excited but mom was a bit nervous. I had to make sure they had enough food and water for 4 days, plus a lighter "just in case." I'm such a boob!
They were only going outside of Horseshoe Bend - about an hour away. They got up early and left in time to make it to their hunting spot by daylight. They saw another vehicle parked where they wanted to hunt so they parked nearby and got out.
The minute they stepped out of their vehicle, they were verbally assaulted by 3 men in their 30s. Calling them "anal assholes" and a bunch of other 4 letter words asking why they were hunting in the same area. Adam finally said, "Before you get all nasty, why don't you ask us where we're hunting." So, one guy asked where they were going and Adam pointed the direction. The jerk said "Good, we're going that way."
And they all parted ways. I keep thinking that this could have turned out really badly. I wish Adam had gotten a license number. This grizzly mama would have run down the jerk and told him that he could have ruined my son's first solo hunting trip if Adam had allowed it to happen. As it turned out, the boys saw a doe but no bucks and had a great time. Why would 3 30-year-old men talk like that to 2 teenagers?
Jerks.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Kitty in the Garbage Can...
My mother, bless her heart. She feeds the birds and loves them. She has one problem however, and that's neighborhood cats that tend to "sneak" on her birds and have often killed them. She hates that.
A few years ago, she watched as a neighborhood cat caught and killed one of her tweety birds. She was having none of that. She ended up catching the cat, set it into her big plastic garbage can, shut the lid, found a BIG stick and spent the next few minutes banging the garbage can. KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW! Needless to say, neighborhood kitty was scared shitless and when mom finally opened the lid, said cat flew out of that garbage can never to return.
Well, this spring mom kept seeing a cat out laying under one of her bushes. She was sure the kitty was stalking her tweety birds. This cat however, was very friendly and would run up to her as soon as she opened her door. After watching kitty lay under her bushes for several days, she finally scooped kitty up and gave her "the trash can treatment." Yep, my sweet 80-year-old mother.
This time however, she noticed that kitty kept coming back. Only it was getting thinner and obviously wasn't eating - not even her birds. It was instead, eating her bird seed. Poor kitty, somebody had obviously moved and abandoned her. So, trash can kitty stole mom's heart and she started feeding her. As time has passed, mom felt so sorry for her that she now lives inside mom's house. On mom's wonderful bedspread, on her beautiful furniture - wherever she wants to sleep.
Trash can kitty now has a home, although she tends to sit and stare at mom sometimes - like she'd like to scratch her eyes out. I wonder if she's having flashbacks...
A few years ago, she watched as a neighborhood cat caught and killed one of her tweety birds. She was having none of that. She ended up catching the cat, set it into her big plastic garbage can, shut the lid, found a BIG stick and spent the next few minutes banging the garbage can. KAPOW! KAPOW! KAPOW! Needless to say, neighborhood kitty was scared shitless and when mom finally opened the lid, said cat flew out of that garbage can never to return.
Well, this spring mom kept seeing a cat out laying under one of her bushes. She was sure the kitty was stalking her tweety birds. This cat however, was very friendly and would run up to her as soon as she opened her door. After watching kitty lay under her bushes for several days, she finally scooped kitty up and gave her "the trash can treatment." Yep, my sweet 80-year-old mother.
This time however, she noticed that kitty kept coming back. Only it was getting thinner and obviously wasn't eating - not even her birds. It was instead, eating her bird seed. Poor kitty, somebody had obviously moved and abandoned her. So, trash can kitty stole mom's heart and she started feeding her. As time has passed, mom felt so sorry for her that she now lives inside mom's house. On mom's wonderful bedspread, on her beautiful furniture - wherever she wants to sleep.
Trash can kitty now has a home, although she tends to sit and stare at mom sometimes - like she'd like to scratch her eyes out. I wonder if she's having flashbacks...
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
My sister sent an invite to Pinterest a few weeks ago. I went to the link and set up an account but had no idea what I was supposed to do with it. I went to websites I like but couldn't figure out how to copy the pictures to my page. I then discovered that they have to be linked to the site in order to do so. So, I started going just through the Pinterest website and starting finding all kinds of things that I love! They have lots of categories and it's a great way to keep track of ideas that I love for our barnhouse.
If you have a Pinterest account, send me the link, I'd love to see what you've pinned. Or, if you don't have one and would like one, let me know and I'll send you an invite.
You can look at my page by clicking on the Pinterest logo on the right hand side of my page here. It's great fun when you have nothing better to do. I haven't pinned too much yet but I'm working on it.
You can look at my page by clicking on the Pinterest logo on the right hand side of my page here. It's great fun when you have nothing better to do. I haven't pinned too much yet but I'm working on it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Well Shoot!
I tend to find that life is much easier to deal with if I ignore anything/anyone that bothers me. I didn't say it was a healthy solution, but it generally works for me. However, I don't usually ignore a medical condition.
After my second time with chemo, I noticed that my hands and especially my feet, were always tingling. Kind of like when your feet fall asleep and then tingle as they come back to life. Except it was constant. My hands aren't so bad but my feet have always been quite noticeable. Lately, they seem to be getting worse with hardly any feeling (yet I can definitely feel the constant tingling). It's the hardest thing to describe. They feel numb, yet I can feel almost constant pain in the balls of both feet and the constant tingle. I was told it was called neuropathy. I'd just as soon not know what it's called 'cause the less I know about it the better I like it.
Today I bought new slippers and when I tried them on, I scared myself. I kept trying to cram my foot into a size that I know I always wear, trying to get them all the way on. I suddenly realized they were on, I just couldn't tell. I couldn't feel my toes.
Luckily, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I started doing some checking and found that quite a few people have what is called Chemo-Induced Peripheral Neuropathy (CIPN). I had no idea that neuropathy could get worse over the years, in fact, I expected it to get better.
And as for the slippers, I bought them, but I still can't tell if they fit. I can't tell if they're too tight or too loose. I wonder why this is happening all of a sudden.
The doctor had better come up with a solution for this tomorrow as this is totally unacceptable. I won't tolerate it!
After my second time with chemo, I noticed that my hands and especially my feet, were always tingling. Kind of like when your feet fall asleep and then tingle as they come back to life. Except it was constant. My hands aren't so bad but my feet have always been quite noticeable. Lately, they seem to be getting worse with hardly any feeling (yet I can definitely feel the constant tingling). It's the hardest thing to describe. They feel numb, yet I can feel almost constant pain in the balls of both feet and the constant tingle. I was told it was called neuropathy. I'd just as soon not know what it's called 'cause the less I know about it the better I like it.
Today I bought new slippers and when I tried them on, I scared myself. I kept trying to cram my foot into a size that I know I always wear, trying to get them all the way on. I suddenly realized they were on, I just couldn't tell. I couldn't feel my toes.
Luckily, I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow. I started doing some checking and found that quite a few people have what is called Chemo-Induced Peripheral Neuropathy (CIPN). I had no idea that neuropathy could get worse over the years, in fact, I expected it to get better.
And as for the slippers, I bought them, but I still can't tell if they fit. I can't tell if they're too tight or too loose. I wonder why this is happening all of a sudden.
The doctor had better come up with a solution for this tomorrow as this is totally unacceptable. I won't tolerate it!
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Happy First Day of Fall!
Yes, it's my favorite post every year. Welcome, first day of fall!
and, I just had to add this picture because, damn, that had to hurt!
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Not Quite Home...
Jake, along with his fellow soldiers, returned to the US about 2 weeks ago. Unfortunately, it wasn't the happy return we had all been waiting for. Jake has bad knees and they're keeping him in Seattle until they can figure out if he needs surgery to fix them. Most of the soldiers from the 116th have all now returned to their families in Idaho, but not my son.
If he has surgery, he'll need physical therapy afterward so he could be in Seattle for a long time. I was happy that on the spur of the moment, his wife decided to pack up the 2 girls and drive to Seattle yesterday to spend a day or two with him. They all need this time together. Jake posted on Facebook that they all had dinner in a food court together last night - and it was the best dinner he's ever had. That made me happy.
If he stays in Seattle, here in a few weeks we'll all chip in and help send Heather and the girls to see him again. Only this time we'll make sure they fly so they can have those 18 hours spent driving on this trip, together.
I'm so happy to have him back in the states, but so sad that he's stuck alone on a military base. I know how hard this last year was for them all - it's time to be back together.
If he has surgery, he'll need physical therapy afterward so he could be in Seattle for a long time. I was happy that on the spur of the moment, his wife decided to pack up the 2 girls and drive to Seattle yesterday to spend a day or two with him. They all need this time together. Jake posted on Facebook that they all had dinner in a food court together last night - and it was the best dinner he's ever had. That made me happy.
If he stays in Seattle, here in a few weeks we'll all chip in and help send Heather and the girls to see him again. Only this time we'll make sure they fly so they can have those 18 hours spent driving on this trip, together.
I'm so happy to have him back in the states, but so sad that he's stuck alone on a military base. I know how hard this last year was for them all - it's time to be back together.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Written on Sept. 12, 2001...
The following was shared by a friend on Facebook. We all remember what we were thinking in the days following 9/11/01 but he says it so well...
By LEONARD PITTS JR., Miami Herald
It's my job to have something to say.
They pay me to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering.
You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.
Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.
Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve.
Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us together.
Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae - a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though - peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and loving God.
Some people - you, perhaps - think that any or all of this makes us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.
IN PAIN
Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel. Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States and, probably, the history of the world. You've bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before.
But there's a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard, the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length, in the pursuit of justice.
I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too. Unimaginably determined.
THE STEEL IN US
You see, the steel in us is not always readily apparent. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don't know us well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on hold.
As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish.
So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And take this message in exchange: You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn.
By LEONARD PITTS JR., Miami Herald
It's my job to have something to say.
They pay me to provide words that help make sense of that which troubles the American soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown author of this suffering.
You monster. You beast. You unspeakable bastard.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you failed.
Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your cause.
Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our resolve.
Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us together.
Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome family, a family rent by racial, social, political and class division, but a family nonetheless. We're frivolous, yes, capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop cultural minutiae - a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent, though - peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know the right thing and to do it. And we are, the overwhelming majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and loving God.
Some people - you, perhaps - think that any or all of this makes us weak. You're mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.
IN PAIN
Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that this isn't a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster, isn't the plot development from a Tom Clancy novel. Both in terms of the awful scope of their ambition and the probable final death toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of terrorism in the history of the United States and, probably, the history of the world. You've bloodied us as we have never been bloodied before.
But there's a gulf of difference between making us bloody and making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught to its bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us this hard, the last time anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When roused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our force. When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length, in the pursuit of justice.
I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. It also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go forward from this moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too. Unimaginably determined.
THE STEEL IN US
You see, the steel in us is not always readily apparent. That aspect of our character is seldom understood by people who don't know us well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on hold.
As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish.
So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us? It occurs to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And take this message in exchange: You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable of. You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn.
Oh Roaming Gnome, Roaming Gnome, Wherefore Art Thou, Roaming Gnome?
Several years ago, before she moved up here to Hidden Springs, mom was trying to sell her house. Some of her Bunco friends who are Catholic told her about burying a St. Joseph statue in her yard. Supposedly that will help you sell.
Becoming desperate to sell, because it's so hard to compete with the short sales in the area, I thought I'd look it up to find out how and where to "bury" St. Joseph. I found something I wasn't prepared for. You can actually buy St. Joseph in a friggin' kit. Yep, he can be bought for anywhere from $1.39 (cheap plastic) to $27.89 (pewter). Some of them are labeled "EcoJoe." They're made of clay. Seems kind of sacrilegious to call him Joe... Anyway, who knew you could buy it in a kit?
Well, I don't have time to order St. Joseph in a kit so the closest thing I have on hand is my Roaming Gnome. So, he went into a 30 cent garbage bag and Ival buried him on the farm. I hope he can remember where he put him so we can dig him back up.
St. Joseph is supposed to be buried upside down. I hope it doesn't break his pointy hat.
We only have a few days left. We've got the house for sale by owner and are taking it off the market the end of September. We'll try again next spring.
Becoming desperate to sell, because it's so hard to compete with the short sales in the area, I thought I'd look it up to find out how and where to "bury" St. Joseph. I found something I wasn't prepared for. You can actually buy St. Joseph in a friggin' kit. Yep, he can be bought for anywhere from $1.39 (cheap plastic) to $27.89 (pewter). Some of them are labeled "EcoJoe." They're made of clay. Seems kind of sacrilegious to call him Joe... Anyway, who knew you could buy it in a kit?
Well, I don't have time to order St. Joseph in a kit so the closest thing I have on hand is my Roaming Gnome. So, he went into a 30 cent garbage bag and Ival buried him on the farm. I hope he can remember where he put him so we can dig him back up.
St. Joseph is supposed to be buried upside down. I hope it doesn't break his pointy hat.
We only have a few days left. We've got the house for sale by owner and are taking it off the market the end of September. We'll try again next spring.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
One of My Favorite Songs...
Today is Rick's memorial service and he loved country music. To me, this isn't a sad song, I love it and I think Rick would love it too.
I hope you're enjoying a Corona - here's to you old friend...
Somehow, I have a feeling Hank was there to greet you.
I hope you're enjoying a Corona - here's to you old friend...
Somehow, I have a feeling Hank was there to greet you.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Fond Memories of an Old Friend...
About a year and a half ago, when Ival and I took our last cruise, I got to meet up with an old friend from high school before we left our port in Florida. I hadn't seen Rick Dewey since 1974 when I graduated. He was a year behind me in school, but with only about 50 kids in the whole high school, we were all good friends.
They lived up at Terrace Lakes. Rick had this boyish smile that always made you want to ask him what he was thinking. I was happy to see that he still had that smile when we met up with him 36 years later. It was almost like we had never missed a day of seeing each other. The visit was easy and it was so nice to catch up. What made me the happiest though, was how obvious it was that he loved his wife and how happy they were together. He told us how he was estranged from his family, and that made me sad. He had an older brother that drowned a few years after I graduated, but his father and a few siblings were still alive. I didn't ask why, but not being close to his family was obviously very hard on him.
I got on Facebook the other morning and started reading all the new posts. There was a status update on his page from his wife saying how sorry she was for his friends and family, but Rick had died the day before. My brain went numb. Rick was a contractor and I thought maybe he had been killed in an accident. I sent a message to his wife and told her how incredibly sorry I was because I knew how much they loved each other. She sent me a message back telling me that Rick had killed himself.
I still can't believe it. I hate suicide. My first husband did the same thing 34 years ago. I just don't understand how people can do that to all the people that love them. He seemed so happy, yet sometimes there can be pain so deep that you get very good at hiding it after having it for so long. I'll never know what caused him to do it, but I'll certainly miss keeping up with him.
My hope for Eileen is that she can someday find peace, keep the wonderful memories, and always know how much Rick loved her.
I'm going to miss you friend. Happy Trails...
They lived up at Terrace Lakes. Rick had this boyish smile that always made you want to ask him what he was thinking. I was happy to see that he still had that smile when we met up with him 36 years later. It was almost like we had never missed a day of seeing each other. The visit was easy and it was so nice to catch up. What made me the happiest though, was how obvious it was that he loved his wife and how happy they were together. He told us how he was estranged from his family, and that made me sad. He had an older brother that drowned a few years after I graduated, but his father and a few siblings were still alive. I didn't ask why, but not being close to his family was obviously very hard on him.
I got on Facebook the other morning and started reading all the new posts. There was a status update on his page from his wife saying how sorry she was for his friends and family, but Rick had died the day before. My brain went numb. Rick was a contractor and I thought maybe he had been killed in an accident. I sent a message to his wife and told her how incredibly sorry I was because I knew how much they loved each other. She sent me a message back telling me that Rick had killed himself.
I still can't believe it. I hate suicide. My first husband did the same thing 34 years ago. I just don't understand how people can do that to all the people that love them. He seemed so happy, yet sometimes there can be pain so deep that you get very good at hiding it after having it for so long. I'll never know what caused him to do it, but I'll certainly miss keeping up with him.
My hope for Eileen is that she can someday find peace, keep the wonderful memories, and always know how much Rick loved her.
I'm going to miss you friend. Happy Trails...
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