NOT HERE!! Praise the Lord!
The good news is: Hurricane Rita did her dirty work (like predicted) to both port and starboard sides of the Sabine River. Ravaging Sabine Pass and Johnson's Bayou upon making landfall; she continued up the river taking ruthless aim at Pt. Arthur, Orange, Lake Charles and then periphery damage to: New Orleans (again), Beaumont, Galveston, the Houston metro-area, and the Big Piney Woods. The Big Thicket as we call it (and it IS BIG and THICK and full of trees of the same description) took a hard blow from the hurricane force winds all the way past San Augustine TX including: Hemphill, Jasper, Buna, Silsbee, Kirbyville, Woodville and more.
She was projected to sit (for several very long days) and dump 20-30 inches of rain accompanied by high winds further up the Texas-Louisiana border in the Arkla-Tex region. Here in SW Ark, we had been told to expect Century-flood type weather. As it turns out- she did dump some much needed rain on us (maybe about 4 inches locally) and got a move on and somehow or another (God's Divine Plan- I'd imagine!) kept moving and today- we have SUNSHINE and next to no winds! Yesteray, there were several tornadoes over the state and wind damage all over; but, for the most part- we ALL dodged a great BIG bullet!
Now, the "other side of the coin" of the good news. There is much damage to my former communities and plenty of logs for the sawmills. Sabine County is literally in the heart of the Sabine National Forest and is for the most part, impassable. Downed trees and power lines will have to be cleared before many of the folks that evacuated the coastal counties can get out and back down the road. Many of them were riding out the evacuation in their RV's and they have some horror stories to share. My sis's home has a hole in the roof; but, their large trees fell without damaging her house, vehicles or boats that dbil uses for his fishing/hunting guide business. The neighbors weren't so lucky. Dbil is leaving the Gulfport/Biloxi area today for Port Arthur and Beaumont (St. Elizabeth's hospital) to do first-responder construction repairs. One of the fellow guides has this business for the "off-season" of guiding. The schedule works pretty good- you have more hurricanes in the months with not such good fishing. He will check on his parent's and sister's home (in Jefferson County) and give damage reports before they try to make it back home from Sabine County.
Today, my sister will be picked up by our Dad because the fishing tournament she was working is finally over! She will join her sons and the three evacu-dogs here until it's safe to re-enter the county. My hope and prayers are for all their peace of minds, grace of spirit and a clear definite direction for them to follow in this situation of so many unknowns.
I can hardly WAIT to hug her neck! I just wish our baby sister and brother (and his fiance) were here to hug, too-- seems like in a time when you watch tv and literally see the neighborhoods of your childhood memories disintegrate photo by photo; you just need a hug. A big ole family group hug. Nan, if you're reading this- DON'T CRY-- unless it's just for the sheer joy that we can celebrate that we are alive and SAFE! As are our family's peripheral members (in-laws families) and our former neighbors.
Thank YOU, GOD that it's over!
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Friday, September 23, 2005
Dimming of the Day & the Evacu-dogs
Dimming Of The Day
lyrics by: Richard Thompson
This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
I need you at the dimming of the day
You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide
You know just where I keep my better side
What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart
Now all the bonnie birds have wheeled away
I need you at the dimming of the day
Come the night you're only what I want
Come the night you could be my confident
I see you on the street in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me
I'm living for the night we steal away
I need you at the dimming of the day
I need you at the dimming of the day
This song has been recorded by several great artists... the version I'm currently favoring is by the Neville Brothers. I guess that's rather poignant considering the fact that the Neville's are from New Orleans; and, that town is once again under water today thanks to Hurricane Rita on it's way to my beloved Texas coast.
She (Ragin' Rita) is taking a leisurely stroll through the Gulf of Mexico and is promising buckets upon buckets of rain for our drought parched earth here in Arkansas. BIL who is re-constructing in Biloxi MS has called in and said that they're seeing feeder bands. This storm is so wide that it is affecting both MS and Galveston at the same time. Crazy. Unheard of. And, we're all sitting here in the a/c watching the awful gridlock of the largest evacuation movement in the history of Texas on the tv. Well- actually I'm not currently watching-- I'm listening to some really great music on iTunes... this is quite coincidental; but, "Flood" by Jars of Clay just queued up- wow. Isn't that prophetic or what? When, I'm not juking, cutting stamps (yeah TAC.. got my order here for the looooong w/e) and flipping channels for hurricane coverage.. I'm going and visiting with all the doggies next door.
Oh! Funny thing! Our boss-dog, Wrigley, met all the evacu-dogs earlier today. It was rather comical as the first yellow Labrador, Josie Bell, headed out the door to greet him... she favors Sandy (next door dog) in color- but, Wrigs realized quickly that wasn't his friend! Then... it's Whiskey's turn to meet Wrigs. Whiskey is Stephen's number one duck dog, she's a black lab and smaller than Josie and even Shady Lady, the lab that we lost last Spring. So- Dad suggested that Wrigs must be thinking he's seeing a ghost or something!! Well- Wrigs had upon meeting Josie felt the need to mark a few blades of grass just to establish himself. By the time Whiskey has entered the scene, Wrigley is just sort of looking bewildered and not quite so intent on doing anything but the occasional sniff. THEN... out comes big Mr. Feisty! Whiskey's son, a large black lab, #2 in working order-- Wrigley's countenance just sort of registered a disbelief and after the briefest of a sniff he put himself on a down-stay and sat resignedly at my feet. Didn't even try to mark another blade of grass or greet those dogs. I almost felt sorry for him.. "his" Richard had been gone, returned and he'd been replaced! Dad did give him a treat-- but, you could tell he really REALLY wasn't all that interested. I brought him back home and he's just parked himself on his bed and doesn't even bother to snuffle my hands every time I return from visiting over there!
Well- that's what it's like preparing for Rita in ARkansas, 360 miles inland but expecting a deluge. I mean-- how do you prepare for that?? Uhh... go to Wal-Mart and get more chocolate I guess. Oh- and dog treats! :-)
God help us. Just hope we all weather this one.
lyrics by: Richard Thompson
This old house is falling down around my ears
I'm drowning in a river of my tears
When all my will is gone you hold me sway
I need you at the dimming of the day
You pull me like the moon pulls on the tide
You know just where I keep my better side
What days have come to keep us far apart
A broken promise or a broken heart
Now all the bonnie birds have wheeled away
I need you at the dimming of the day
Come the night you're only what I want
Come the night you could be my confident
I see you on the street in company
Why don't you come and ease your mind with me
I'm living for the night we steal away
I need you at the dimming of the day
I need you at the dimming of the day
This song has been recorded by several great artists... the version I'm currently favoring is by the Neville Brothers. I guess that's rather poignant considering the fact that the Neville's are from New Orleans; and, that town is once again under water today thanks to Hurricane Rita on it's way to my beloved Texas coast.
She (Ragin' Rita) is taking a leisurely stroll through the Gulf of Mexico and is promising buckets upon buckets of rain for our drought parched earth here in Arkansas. BIL who is re-constructing in Biloxi MS has called in and said that they're seeing feeder bands. This storm is so wide that it is affecting both MS and Galveston at the same time. Crazy. Unheard of. And, we're all sitting here in the a/c watching the awful gridlock of the largest evacuation movement in the history of Texas on the tv. Well- actually I'm not currently watching-- I'm listening to some really great music on iTunes... this is quite coincidental; but, "Flood" by Jars of Clay just queued up- wow. Isn't that prophetic or what? When, I'm not juking, cutting stamps (yeah TAC.. got my order here for the looooong w/e) and flipping channels for hurricane coverage.. I'm going and visiting with all the doggies next door.
Oh! Funny thing! Our boss-dog, Wrigley, met all the evacu-dogs earlier today. It was rather comical as the first yellow Labrador, Josie Bell, headed out the door to greet him... she favors Sandy (next door dog) in color- but, Wrigs realized quickly that wasn't his friend! Then... it's Whiskey's turn to meet Wrigs. Whiskey is Stephen's number one duck dog, she's a black lab and smaller than Josie and even Shady Lady, the lab that we lost last Spring. So- Dad suggested that Wrigs must be thinking he's seeing a ghost or something!! Well- Wrigs had upon meeting Josie felt the need to mark a few blades of grass just to establish himself. By the time Whiskey has entered the scene, Wrigley is just sort of looking bewildered and not quite so intent on doing anything but the occasional sniff. THEN... out comes big Mr. Feisty! Whiskey's son, a large black lab, #2 in working order-- Wrigley's countenance just sort of registered a disbelief and after the briefest of a sniff he put himself on a down-stay and sat resignedly at my feet. Didn't even try to mark another blade of grass or greet those dogs. I almost felt sorry for him.. "his" Richard had been gone, returned and he'd been replaced! Dad did give him a treat-- but, you could tell he really REALLY wasn't all that interested. I brought him back home and he's just parked himself on his bed and doesn't even bother to snuffle my hands every time I return from visiting over there!
Well- that's what it's like preparing for Rita in ARkansas, 360 miles inland but expecting a deluge. I mean-- how do you prepare for that?? Uhh... go to Wal-Mart and get more chocolate I guess. Oh- and dog treats! :-)
God help us. Just hope we all weather this one.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Where to begin?
Can I just say... I'm tired of the weather? From one extreme to the next- and this time it's taking aim on my childhood memories.
After we moved from Arkansas we grew up on the Sabine River in Texas. First, Orange for eight years. Then, Groves. I only lived there for two years before becoming an Arkansan again. Dad worked in the Little Cypress-Mauriceville and Port Neches schools until he went to the Sabine Pass school. The family remained and as young adults often will- I referred to it as "home" because that was where my parents, grandmother and siblings were.
Just about everything we did was somewhere up or down that river. Going to a ball-game? the rival school may be across the river. Going out to eat? Cross the river and the restaurant is on piers on the river. Going sight-seeing and relaxing? Get on the river or one of the lakes that has been formed on it: for bird-watching, skiing or sailing.
Our communities livelihoods were based on river traffic of super-oil tankers to fishing fleets, oil & chemical plants.
Later on, the folks and one sister moved to Hemphill much further inland but still on the Sabine River; on the Toledo Bend Reservoir. My folks have since moved back to Arkansas while maintaining two lakehouses on Toledo Bend. Dad had actually been contacted earlier in the week by potential Houston evacuees for shelter at the homes- so, he'd driven down to open them up.
Sister is working this week at a tournament much further inland (Lake Fork) while her hubby is doing re-construction work (from hurricane Katrina) in Mississippi. Her boys, however, are currently in Hemphill with their dad & step-mom... problem is... the way Rita has shifted, the worst is looking as if it's going to go straight up the Sabine River starting at Sabine Pass and heading north. If you look at the map Hemphill/Jasper area is about the same distance inland as Hattiesburg in MS and we know what all kinds of damage they had. Dad says they'll keep watching it (Rita) make the turn; but, he may have to bring all bil's dogs (he's a duck/fishing guide) and the kids here. Sister and dbil will just have to rough it where they are (on opposite sides of the storm) - which is not a good thing if you know my sister and understand that it wasn't until just two years ago that she's ever EVER lived further than 30 miles from my parents.
So... we wait. And, wait. And, watch the poor folks evacuating stuck in 14 hour lines of traffic jam trying to leave the place. Word from Dad is that the traffic in Hemphill is now bumper to bumper... it's lovely primitive countryside with nothing but two lanes (no shoulders even!) for roadways. I can't imagine how LONG a day it is for the folks in those vehicles. I just thought it was tough on us waiting... it's going to be worse when she lands and sits for two-three days on top of east Texas and dumps upto two feet of water. Ugh...
Maybe the title should read: When does it end?
After we moved from Arkansas we grew up on the Sabine River in Texas. First, Orange for eight years. Then, Groves. I only lived there for two years before becoming an Arkansan again. Dad worked in the Little Cypress-Mauriceville and Port Neches schools until he went to the Sabine Pass school. The family remained and as young adults often will- I referred to it as "home" because that was where my parents, grandmother and siblings were.
Just about everything we did was somewhere up or down that river. Going to a ball-game? the rival school may be across the river. Going out to eat? Cross the river and the restaurant is on piers on the river. Going sight-seeing and relaxing? Get on the river or one of the lakes that has been formed on it: for bird-watching, skiing or sailing.
Our communities livelihoods were based on river traffic of super-oil tankers to fishing fleets, oil & chemical plants.
Later on, the folks and one sister moved to Hemphill much further inland but still on the Sabine River; on the Toledo Bend Reservoir. My folks have since moved back to Arkansas while maintaining two lakehouses on Toledo Bend. Dad had actually been contacted earlier in the week by potential Houston evacuees for shelter at the homes- so, he'd driven down to open them up.
Sister is working this week at a tournament much further inland (Lake Fork) while her hubby is doing re-construction work (from hurricane Katrina) in Mississippi. Her boys, however, are currently in Hemphill with their dad & step-mom... problem is... the way Rita has shifted, the worst is looking as if it's going to go straight up the Sabine River starting at Sabine Pass and heading north. If you look at the map Hemphill/Jasper area is about the same distance inland as Hattiesburg in MS and we know what all kinds of damage they had. Dad says they'll keep watching it (Rita) make the turn; but, he may have to bring all bil's dogs (he's a duck/fishing guide) and the kids here. Sister and dbil will just have to rough it where they are (on opposite sides of the storm) - which is not a good thing if you know my sister and understand that it wasn't until just two years ago that she's ever EVER lived further than 30 miles from my parents.
So... we wait. And, wait. And, watch the poor folks evacuating stuck in 14 hour lines of traffic jam trying to leave the place. Word from Dad is that the traffic in Hemphill is now bumper to bumper... it's lovely primitive countryside with nothing but two lanes (no shoulders even!) for roadways. I can't imagine how LONG a day it is for the folks in those vehicles. I just thought it was tough on us waiting... it's going to be worse when she lands and sits for two-three days on top of east Texas and dumps upto two feet of water. Ugh...
Maybe the title should read: When does it end?
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Harsh Realities
The cold hard truth of the matter is: I am obese and I need to loose 100+ pounds. In light of all the other medical complications- one kidney, blood clots and high blood pressure to name a few- the obese factor could be life-threatening.
How I got to this point and what happened is all relative. Pun intended.
My plan to address this predicament I've put myself in- is also dependent on the relatives- family that is.
Neither of those statements are made to point blame- but, rather to define how vital my dependence on them actually is.
Now, the options.
Traditional diet programs. Traditional in the sense that it's primarily an individual odyssey with me doing all the counting and the counseling on my own and finding the inner will for the necessary exercise. Considering that self-discipline and meal-planning aren't exactly my strong suit.
Planned weight-loss programs. This would include: Weight Watchers (which I had success with back in the 80's); Jenny Craig, Nutrasystems, etc. Might be an option if I commit to going to the once a week meetings and follow the guidelines- I don't know what effect their foods and or supplements might have on the kidney.
The Supervised Weight Loss Program like the one offered by UAMS that Governor Huckabee (see his book at the above link); and now his cousin, Sandy, is in that is so successful. This program is combined with weekly blood panels being drawn and monitored with counselors and classes. The success rate and the rapid loss that the majority of participants experience is impressive. The reality is it is hard on the kidneys. I could very well not be a candidate for this program.
I've got some tough choices ahead of me. And, some tough pounds. Prayers requested.
How I got to this point and what happened is all relative. Pun intended.
My plan to address this predicament I've put myself in- is also dependent on the relatives- family that is.
Neither of those statements are made to point blame- but, rather to define how vital my dependence on them actually is.
Now, the options.
Traditional diet programs. Traditional in the sense that it's primarily an individual odyssey with me doing all the counting and the counseling on my own and finding the inner will for the necessary exercise. Considering that self-discipline and meal-planning aren't exactly my strong suit.
Planned weight-loss programs. This would include: Weight Watchers (which I had success with back in the 80's); Jenny Craig, Nutrasystems, etc. Might be an option if I commit to going to the once a week meetings and follow the guidelines- I don't know what effect their foods and or supplements might have on the kidney.
The Supervised Weight Loss Program like the one offered by UAMS that Governor Huckabee (see his book at the above link); and now his cousin, Sandy, is in that is so successful. This program is combined with weekly blood panels being drawn and monitored with counselors and classes. The success rate and the rapid loss that the majority of participants experience is impressive. The reality is it is hard on the kidneys. I could very well not be a candidate for this program.
I've got some tough choices ahead of me. And, some tough pounds. Prayers requested.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Two bills, Three catalogs, One letter from the bank..
...saying I'm their favorite customer (yeah- RIGHT)... and no stamps and/or scrappy stuff.
Not a good mail day. Send mail. I think my mailbox is broken. No joyful wishes of happy days. No art in a 'vope. Heavy sigh.
Today is a cloudy kinda overcast morn... which is a good thing, actually. But, it's gonna be hot again- and still no signs of rain. Whasup with that? Used to be- if it was County Fair Week- you could COUNT on a deluge and slopping through the mud to go to watch piggies frolicking in the slop under the livestock sheds and the anticipation of some really good mud-slinging rodeo rides. Now.. it's just dusty and makes you want to sneeze. And- it IS Fair Week. Which reminds of hot, sticky wool band uniforms and marching in the Fair Parade to throngs and throngs of proud community members out to get in the mood for celebration.
Another thing has changed and I don't think it has anything to do with the weather. The only folks that go to the parades now are the family members of the folks that are required to BE in the parade... I don't think that the real community SPIRIT is there- at least if it is... I'm not feeling it. I don't really choose to put myself out there and cheer on the loosing team and all the vapid little wanna be pop-tarts starting at age 3. What ARE these moms thinking?? Used to be they were proud members of the 4-H club... now, they are members of the "I'm dressed just half-as-sexy as MTV sluts" fan club and raising daughters and sons to embrace the same ideals. Oh. Yah. I remember now-- it's a beauty contest for the Fair Queen pageant. Wonder why they don't have it based on Jam & Jelly preserving and quilting and an art contest?
wow. did I just write that? No wonder Kid is so darned negative-- he must get it from me!
Okay-- I guess if it were just BANDS that were in the parade I might go-- but, only if they promise not to have drill teams and color guards writhing to the Vegas music. Which is in fact, the theme this year for our local high school and while I enjoy a lot of the music that is associated with those venues... it just seems really WRONG to me to have high-schoolers wearing the very suggestive mantra "What happens in Vegas... " well... you get the drift?
I may be a real prude- but, until a couple of years ago I wasn't interested in going to Vegas. I mean- I don't gamble. The only cards I play are Canasta and Gin Rummy. Putting money into a slot machine hoping to get some paltry pocket change seems ridiculous when I can hand over the same amount to a stamp or scrapbook store and be infinitely more gratified with what I get in return. But- then... I got intrigued with the "behind the scenes" shows on the Travel Channel and the lovely, lovely themed art venues and famous mini-locals that the casinos have recreated. I mean- the Bellagio is so on my list of places I'd like to see- cuz they've got all kinds of museum collections. Trouble is-- the focus on family friendly was last decade. My sister tells me that when they had their "renaissance" it was advertised as being more benign and the emphasis was less on the seedy side of life. But- that really doesn't make money- so, things have gone back to the more traditional risque adult pleasantries and truly- what happens in Vegas.. should STAY in Vegas. So- guess I won't go to see the art after all.
harmump. don't know what so got me so dog-goned grouchy this morning.
But- on a postive note.... I'm in the mood to SCRAP! and- so- I go now to put some page kits together in anticipation of creating dozens upon dozens of lovely memories. yeah. Right. As if.
Or maybe I should go get another cup of coffe and try to change this attitude.
In the meantime, send mail. I really think my mailbox is broken.
Not a good mail day. Send mail. I think my mailbox is broken. No joyful wishes of happy days. No art in a 'vope. Heavy sigh.
Today is a cloudy kinda overcast morn... which is a good thing, actually. But, it's gonna be hot again- and still no signs of rain. Whasup with that? Used to be- if it was County Fair Week- you could COUNT on a deluge and slopping through the mud to go to watch piggies frolicking in the slop under the livestock sheds and the anticipation of some really good mud-slinging rodeo rides. Now.. it's just dusty and makes you want to sneeze. And- it IS Fair Week. Which reminds of hot, sticky wool band uniforms and marching in the Fair Parade to throngs and throngs of proud community members out to get in the mood for celebration.
Another thing has changed and I don't think it has anything to do with the weather. The only folks that go to the parades now are the family members of the folks that are required to BE in the parade... I don't think that the real community SPIRIT is there- at least if it is... I'm not feeling it. I don't really choose to put myself out there and cheer on the loosing team and all the vapid little wanna be pop-tarts starting at age 3. What ARE these moms thinking?? Used to be they were proud members of the 4-H club... now, they are members of the "I'm dressed just half-as-sexy as MTV sluts" fan club and raising daughters and sons to embrace the same ideals. Oh. Yah. I remember now-- it's a beauty contest for the Fair Queen pageant. Wonder why they don't have it based on Jam & Jelly preserving and quilting and an art contest?
wow. did I just write that? No wonder Kid is so darned negative-- he must get it from me!
Okay-- I guess if it were just BANDS that were in the parade I might go-- but, only if they promise not to have drill teams and color guards writhing to the Vegas music. Which is in fact, the theme this year for our local high school and while I enjoy a lot of the music that is associated with those venues... it just seems really WRONG to me to have high-schoolers wearing the very suggestive mantra "What happens in Vegas... " well... you get the drift?
I may be a real prude- but, until a couple of years ago I wasn't interested in going to Vegas. I mean- I don't gamble. The only cards I play are Canasta and Gin Rummy. Putting money into a slot machine hoping to get some paltry pocket change seems ridiculous when I can hand over the same amount to a stamp or scrapbook store and be infinitely more gratified with what I get in return. But- then... I got intrigued with the "behind the scenes" shows on the Travel Channel and the lovely, lovely themed art venues and famous mini-locals that the casinos have recreated. I mean- the Bellagio is so on my list of places I'd like to see- cuz they've got all kinds of museum collections. Trouble is-- the focus on family friendly was last decade. My sister tells me that when they had their "renaissance" it was advertised as being more benign and the emphasis was less on the seedy side of life. But- that really doesn't make money- so, things have gone back to the more traditional risque adult pleasantries and truly- what happens in Vegas.. should STAY in Vegas. So- guess I won't go to see the art after all.
harmump. don't know what so got me so dog-goned grouchy this morning.
But- on a postive note.... I'm in the mood to SCRAP! and- so- I go now to put some page kits together in anticipation of creating dozens upon dozens of lovely memories. yeah. Right. As if.
Or maybe I should go get another cup of coffe and try to change this attitude.
In the meantime, send mail. I really think my mailbox is broken.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Another Texas-Cajun casualty on a National Day of Memorial
This news comes on the date that will always be remembered in American history as a very dark day. Our hats off to the heroes from 9/11.
Though I don't think I could have identified Mr Brown per se- his musical style is what I remember from growing up in Orange. That and Saturday afternoons watching the honky-tonkin' Cajuns on tv, a few songs by a local upstart band: ZZTop; and the guitar strains of "Proud Mary Keep on Burning" played by senior high kids on the band busses as well as a rich background in liturgical, Baroque, and "longhair" music to the other far edges of showtunes and circus music. What a grand and wide ranging scope my parents exposed us to! Many Thanks to Dad and Mom!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Gatemouth" Brown dies Saturday
By Keith Spera, Music writer NOLA Times/Picayune website 11/9/2005
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, the guitarist, fiddler, vocalist and composer who wove threads of blues, big band swing, Cajun and country into his own unique, self-described tapestry of "American music," died Saturday. He was 81.
Mr. Brown had been in declining health for months, as he battled emphysema, heart disease and lung cancer. As Hurricane Katrina approached, he fled from his home on a Slidell bayou to Orange, Texas, the town where he grew up. His Slidell house was subsequently destroyed by the storm.
His fans included Eric Clapton, ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons and scores of music lovers who reveled in his effortless command of multiple idioms. He released his first blues 'n boogie single, "Okie Dokie Stomp," more than 50 years ago. His music clearly drew on the sounds of southeast Texas and southwest Louisiana.
After a stretch of relative obscurity, Mr. Brown relaunched his career in the 1990s with a series of acclaimed albums, including "Gate Swings" and "American Music, Texas Style." He and his band, Gate's Express, toured all over the world, from South Africa to China. He won a Grammy, numerous Handy Awards and scores of other accolades.
Clapton invited Mr. Brown to sit in during a special appearance at the House of Blues in New Orleans in the mid-1990s. Mr. Brown immediately took over the show, calling out songs as he relegated a grinning Clapton to the role of sideman, Clapton subsequently enlisted Mr. Brown as the opening act for arena tours in Europe and America.
Mr. Brown rejected the label of "bluesman," preferring to think of his music as more broad-minded, complex and celebratory. He conjured lean, concise solos that depended more on fleet progressions of precise notes than on showy displays. He was equally at home arranging songs for his Gate's Express ensemble or the swinging, horn-heavy big band with which he sometimes recorded and performed.
A colorful, outspoken character, Mr. Brown did not hesitate to offer up less than complimentary assessments of other, better-known musicians. When not on the road, he often piloted his vintage black Cadillac from Slidell to New Orleans for nighttime excursions. Outfitted with an honorary sheriff's badge and a pistol, he'd make the rounds of music clubs, holding court at every stop. The House of Blues restaurant honored him with his own dedicated booth,to which he had exclusive rights.
When he was diagnosed with lung cancer last fall, Mr. Brown opted to forgo treatment; neither did he give up his omnipresent pipe. He resolved to play music as long as possible.
He continued to tour on a limited basis, traveling and performing with a portable oxygen tank at his side. In March, his ailments left him bedridden for weeks; he struggled to autograph an allotment of souvenir New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival posters bearing his likeness.
But as he had so many times before, he rallied to make brief appearances in New Orleans clubs, often sitting in with keyboardist Joe Krown, a longtime member of Gate's Express. Mr. Brown expressed his determination to honor his commitment to the 2005 Jazzfest.
He succeeded in that ambition. Occupying the slot just before B.B. King, Mr. Brown rendered a triumphant set to an enormous crowd at the Fair Grounds. Decked out in his trademark Western shirt, boots and cowboy hat, he led Gate's Express in a spirited show. Seated center stage, he sang, introduced songs and switched off on guitar and fiddle, all without the assistance of oxygen.
Afterward, he was exhausted but exultant, posing for a picture with King and signing autographs at the festival's record tent. Mr. Brown continued to perform locally after Jazzfest, but his stamina waned as summer wore on. The hurried Katrina evacuation to his boyhood home in Texas proved to be his final tour.
He reportedly died at his brother's home in Orange. Survivors include three daughters and a son.
Though I don't think I could have identified Mr Brown per se- his musical style is what I remember from growing up in Orange. That and Saturday afternoons watching the honky-tonkin' Cajuns on tv, a few songs by a local upstart band: ZZTop; and the guitar strains of "Proud Mary Keep on Burning" played by senior high kids on the band busses as well as a rich background in liturgical, Baroque, and "longhair" music to the other far edges of showtunes and circus music. What a grand and wide ranging scope my parents exposed us to! Many Thanks to Dad and Mom!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Gatemouth" Brown dies Saturday
By Keith Spera, Music writer NOLA Times/Picayune website 11/9/2005
Clarence "Gatemouth" Brown, the guitarist, fiddler, vocalist and composer who wove threads of blues, big band swing, Cajun and country into his own unique, self-described tapestry of "American music," died Saturday. He was 81.
Mr. Brown had been in declining health for months, as he battled emphysema, heart disease and lung cancer. As Hurricane Katrina approached, he fled from his home on a Slidell bayou to Orange, Texas, the town where he grew up. His Slidell house was subsequently destroyed by the storm.
His fans included Eric Clapton, ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons and scores of music lovers who reveled in his effortless command of multiple idioms. He released his first blues 'n boogie single, "Okie Dokie Stomp," more than 50 years ago. His music clearly drew on the sounds of southeast Texas and southwest Louisiana.
After a stretch of relative obscurity, Mr. Brown relaunched his career in the 1990s with a series of acclaimed albums, including "Gate Swings" and "American Music, Texas Style." He and his band, Gate's Express, toured all over the world, from South Africa to China. He won a Grammy, numerous Handy Awards and scores of other accolades.
Clapton invited Mr. Brown to sit in during a special appearance at the House of Blues in New Orleans in the mid-1990s. Mr. Brown immediately took over the show, calling out songs as he relegated a grinning Clapton to the role of sideman, Clapton subsequently enlisted Mr. Brown as the opening act for arena tours in Europe and America.
Mr. Brown rejected the label of "bluesman," preferring to think of his music as more broad-minded, complex and celebratory. He conjured lean, concise solos that depended more on fleet progressions of precise notes than on showy displays. He was equally at home arranging songs for his Gate's Express ensemble or the swinging, horn-heavy big band with which he sometimes recorded and performed.
A colorful, outspoken character, Mr. Brown did not hesitate to offer up less than complimentary assessments of other, better-known musicians. When not on the road, he often piloted his vintage black Cadillac from Slidell to New Orleans for nighttime excursions. Outfitted with an honorary sheriff's badge and a pistol, he'd make the rounds of music clubs, holding court at every stop. The House of Blues restaurant honored him with his own dedicated booth,to which he had exclusive rights.
When he was diagnosed with lung cancer last fall, Mr. Brown opted to forgo treatment; neither did he give up his omnipresent pipe. He resolved to play music as long as possible.
He continued to tour on a limited basis, traveling and performing with a portable oxygen tank at his side. In March, his ailments left him bedridden for weeks; he struggled to autograph an allotment of souvenir New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival posters bearing his likeness.
But as he had so many times before, he rallied to make brief appearances in New Orleans clubs, often sitting in with keyboardist Joe Krown, a longtime member of Gate's Express. Mr. Brown expressed his determination to honor his commitment to the 2005 Jazzfest.
He succeeded in that ambition. Occupying the slot just before B.B. King, Mr. Brown rendered a triumphant set to an enormous crowd at the Fair Grounds. Decked out in his trademark Western shirt, boots and cowboy hat, he led Gate's Express in a spirited show. Seated center stage, he sang, introduced songs and switched off on guitar and fiddle, all without the assistance of oxygen.
Afterward, he was exhausted but exultant, posing for a picture with King and signing autographs at the festival's record tent. Mr. Brown continued to perform locally after Jazzfest, but his stamina waned as summer wore on. The hurried Katrina evacuation to his boyhood home in Texas proved to be his final tour.
He reportedly died at his brother's home in Orange. Survivors include three daughters and a son.
Friday, September 09, 2005
Happy Endings and Rose Colored Glasses ~ a tribute to Gary
I love Happy Endings.
If I'm going to read a book- it had better have a happy ending. If I'm going to watch a movie-- it, too- had better have a happy ending... if you find out I'm fixing to watch one without the desired ending PLEASE WARN ME! I just don't even like to contemplate life with anything other than happy endings.
When faced with real life situations (oftentimes dire and horrific) I will seek the silver lining and wrap myself in the little bit of comfort. Knowing full well that the majority of the problem is overwhelming and truly uncomfortable to contemplate- I cling to that little bright spot. So, call me Pollyana- it's better than Polyester (lol).
II Timothy 4:6,7 says: "For I am now ready to be offered, an the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith."
This week our pastor, Brother Gary, died. He has been battling leukemia for two years and had undergone the painful bone marrow transplant with his sister's donated marrow. He leaves behind his wife, two boys, two sisters, a brother, a church congregation and a host of friends. Almost literally- the whole town knew Bro. Gary. Many in our state knew him as well. Particularly, the folks "in need" knew Bro. Gary and that they could count on him to come through with whatever material goods they were short in that day. But, Bro. Gary came through with the spiritual goods (salvation and the message of Christ) to a great many more.
Our church's history is the stereotypical "pulled up from the bootstraps"... from the "wrong" side of the tracks... kind of people. Started as a tent-revival by some Ouachita students for locals living literally- on the other side of the railroad tracks from the larger 1st and 2nd Baptist churches- Third Street Baptist Church (TSBC) had very humble beginnings. By the time Gary was called to preach- the church was a cinder-block building with under fifty members. It's now one of the largest churches in our town and has had lots of impact on many folks from all walks of life including: a tape ministry that is delivered nation-wide; an AWANA scripture memorization program that is a family outreach in the community; an athletics organization; an after-school program; and hosts countless other civic and community efforts such as tax-prep and disaster relief.
Our church history is so inexplicably tied with Gary Turner's that it's often hard to separate one from the other. He served TSBC for 25 years. He served God a lot longer than that- because Bro. Gary felt and answered the call to preach as a teenager. Gary's legacy includes the Christmas Store- a charity run by volunteers with donated goods so that financially strapped individuals could shop "for free" for their families. That one single institution provided an awful lot of happy endings. Gary opened the doors of our very damaged church to the tornado victims of 1997 when a good quarter of our town was devastated and one nursing home was destroyed. The residents were moved to our church first- and then relocated from there. Meals and water were distributed from there as repairs were taking place literally overhead and a funeral service held for three of the six victims. Gary gave his participation and blessing to so many activities in our community.
Gary ministered to our family and friends through so many ways- he baptized me in 1984. He baptized Jess when he was but five years old- on an Easter Sunday. He recognized that Byron had the gift of Biblical languages and coached and proctored him through his New Testament Greek courses from Moody Bible Institute. He gave Byron his first opportunity to fill his pulpit and later appointed him to be the AWANA Commander. He married many of our friends. He buried many of our family and friends. He counseled many of our friends. He served on the local schoolboard and still took a great interest in a Christian School that we (and many of our friends) formed yet didn't take over the leadership position; but, rather provided space when we needed it and often spoke to our students.
He rejoiced when another soul professed Christ as their Savior. He sat with the families of the bereaved and the grieving and reminded them of a private conversation he had had with their family member and told them of that event. He always found just the right words to uplift people in the midst of troubled time; and prayed diligently for them. Gary's final message to us was recorded two days before his death.
"To the greatest church that God ever gave a preacher, Third Street Baptist Church:
There is no church in history that I know of, that would do what this church has done for me. And, I don't deserve it, but, I'm glad they're doing it. I know that Job Chapter five says that God will preserve our every way. If it's fiery darts of the battlefield or going out like this, to suffocate one breath at a time, that's irrelevant. How you go is not important, it's where you go. You don't have to be a Methodist, or a Baptist, or Presbyterian, or any other group to get to heaven. God showed you, you don't have to have the right color, you don't have to have the right amount of money, you just have to love Him.
And, I love you. And, God bless you. And stick to the Word of God. Don't fight. Don't air your dirty laundry. Don't fight. There's a better way."
Gary IS a Happy Ending. He's in Heaven with Our Lord- and that's as happy as it gets. No need to look for the rose colored glasses.
Praise God!
If I'm going to read a book- it had better have a happy ending. If I'm going to watch a movie-- it, too- had better have a happy ending... if you find out I'm fixing to watch one without the desired ending PLEASE WARN ME! I just don't even like to contemplate life with anything other than happy endings.
When faced with real life situations (oftentimes dire and horrific) I will seek the silver lining and wrap myself in the little bit of comfort. Knowing full well that the majority of the problem is overwhelming and truly uncomfortable to contemplate- I cling to that little bright spot. So, call me Pollyana- it's better than Polyester (lol).
II Timothy 4:6,7 says: "For I am now ready to be offered, an the time of my departure is at hand. I have fought the good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith."
This week our pastor, Brother Gary, died. He has been battling leukemia for two years and had undergone the painful bone marrow transplant with his sister's donated marrow. He leaves behind his wife, two boys, two sisters, a brother, a church congregation and a host of friends. Almost literally- the whole town knew Bro. Gary. Many in our state knew him as well. Particularly, the folks "in need" knew Bro. Gary and that they could count on him to come through with whatever material goods they were short in that day. But, Bro. Gary came through with the spiritual goods (salvation and the message of Christ) to a great many more.
Our church's history is the stereotypical "pulled up from the bootstraps"... from the "wrong" side of the tracks... kind of people. Started as a tent-revival by some Ouachita students for locals living literally- on the other side of the railroad tracks from the larger 1st and 2nd Baptist churches- Third Street Baptist Church (TSBC) had very humble beginnings. By the time Gary was called to preach- the church was a cinder-block building with under fifty members. It's now one of the largest churches in our town and has had lots of impact on many folks from all walks of life including: a tape ministry that is delivered nation-wide; an AWANA scripture memorization program that is a family outreach in the community; an athletics organization; an after-school program; and hosts countless other civic and community efforts such as tax-prep and disaster relief.
Our church history is so inexplicably tied with Gary Turner's that it's often hard to separate one from the other. He served TSBC for 25 years. He served God a lot longer than that- because Bro. Gary felt and answered the call to preach as a teenager. Gary's legacy includes the Christmas Store- a charity run by volunteers with donated goods so that financially strapped individuals could shop "for free" for their families. That one single institution provided an awful lot of happy endings. Gary opened the doors of our very damaged church to the tornado victims of 1997 when a good quarter of our town was devastated and one nursing home was destroyed. The residents were moved to our church first- and then relocated from there. Meals and water were distributed from there as repairs were taking place literally overhead and a funeral service held for three of the six victims. Gary gave his participation and blessing to so many activities in our community.
Gary ministered to our family and friends through so many ways- he baptized me in 1984. He baptized Jess when he was but five years old- on an Easter Sunday. He recognized that Byron had the gift of Biblical languages and coached and proctored him through his New Testament Greek courses from Moody Bible Institute. He gave Byron his first opportunity to fill his pulpit and later appointed him to be the AWANA Commander. He married many of our friends. He buried many of our family and friends. He counseled many of our friends. He served on the local schoolboard and still took a great interest in a Christian School that we (and many of our friends) formed yet didn't take over the leadership position; but, rather provided space when we needed it and often spoke to our students.
He rejoiced when another soul professed Christ as their Savior. He sat with the families of the bereaved and the grieving and reminded them of a private conversation he had had with their family member and told them of that event. He always found just the right words to uplift people in the midst of troubled time; and prayed diligently for them. Gary's final message to us was recorded two days before his death.
"To the greatest church that God ever gave a preacher, Third Street Baptist Church:
There is no church in history that I know of, that would do what this church has done for me. And, I don't deserve it, but, I'm glad they're doing it. I know that Job Chapter five says that God will preserve our every way. If it's fiery darts of the battlefield or going out like this, to suffocate one breath at a time, that's irrelevant. How you go is not important, it's where you go. You don't have to be a Methodist, or a Baptist, or Presbyterian, or any other group to get to heaven. God showed you, you don't have to have the right color, you don't have to have the right amount of money, you just have to love Him.
And, I love you. And, God bless you. And stick to the Word of God. Don't fight. Don't air your dirty laundry. Don't fight. There's a better way."
Gary IS a Happy Ending. He's in Heaven with Our Lord- and that's as happy as it gets. No need to look for the rose colored glasses.
Praise God!
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Gadzooks! a PINK cat??!!
When Philip and Joan Worth's cat Brumas went out for a walk last Friday near his Devon, England, home, he was the same shade of white he'd always been.
When he came back later that day, the 9-year-old male was a delicate shade of pink.
"He was pink — Barbie pink," Joan Worth told the BBC. "His head, ears and right down his body, although not underneath, had gone a quite brilliant pink."
The next day, Brumas was taken to the vet, who found nothing wrong with him and also said the color was nothing toxic.
"We have thought about everything as to how this happened, from him being covered in some form of cow treatment to children's poster paints," said Philip Worth.
It doesn't seem to be paint, as Brumas' fur isn't matted. None of the Worths' five other cats have been affected.
"He seems fine, he's eating well," observed Joan Worth, "and the other cats aren't terribly bothered."
--from the FoxNews.com site.
Now, this leads to some interesting speculation. WHAT could that cat have gotten himself into? a Pepto-Bismol factory? a cotton candy mixer? I know-- he musta met up with some Mary Kay consultants! or... perhaps he's decided to take a pro-active stand in the fight against breast cancer? That's a pretty noble effort- for a cat. I'm glad he chose that color.
But, honestly! How DID he become that color?? especially if it's not paint? chalk? inks? Send your ideas to me-- address them to the Pink Panther....
So much to ponder.
When he came back later that day, the 9-year-old male was a delicate shade of pink.
"He was pink — Barbie pink," Joan Worth told the BBC. "His head, ears and right down his body, although not underneath, had gone a quite brilliant pink."
The next day, Brumas was taken to the vet, who found nothing wrong with him and also said the color was nothing toxic.
"We have thought about everything as to how this happened, from him being covered in some form of cow treatment to children's poster paints," said Philip Worth.
It doesn't seem to be paint, as Brumas' fur isn't matted. None of the Worths' five other cats have been affected.
"He seems fine, he's eating well," observed Joan Worth, "and the other cats aren't terribly bothered."
--from the FoxNews.com site.
Now, this leads to some interesting speculation. WHAT could that cat have gotten himself into? a Pepto-Bismol factory? a cotton candy mixer? I know-- he musta met up with some Mary Kay consultants! or... perhaps he's decided to take a pro-active stand in the fight against breast cancer? That's a pretty noble effort- for a cat. I'm glad he chose that color.
But, honestly! How DID he become that color?? especially if it's not paint? chalk? inks? Send your ideas to me-- address them to the Pink Panther....
So much to ponder.
Friday, September 02, 2005
Just say NO! No, no, New Orleans....
Walking to New Orleans...
lyrics by: Bobby Charles; inspired by and sung by: Fats Domino
This time I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm gonna need two pairs of shes
when I get through walking me blues
when I get back to New Orleans
I've got my suitcase in my hand
now ain't that a shame.
I'm leaving here today
yes
I'm going back home to stay.
Yes
I'm walking to New Orleans
You used to be my honey
till you spent all my money.
No use for you to cry
I see you buy and buy
'cause I`m walking to New Orleans
I've got no time for talking.
I've got to keep on walking.
New Orleans is my home
that's the reason while I'm gone
yes
I`m walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
Today in the news- it was reported that Antonio "Fats" Domino had been both rescued and evacuated following the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and the total destruction of New Orleans from the subsequent levy breaks that flooded the "bowl" as predicted by so many doomsayers. I often think of this gifted man as I catch myself humming this little ditty... it will remain poignant even more so now as the great Crescent City will never be the same. And- now- I read these words and reflect on how many of those poor refugees left town (finally) with no shoes and only the shirts on their backs.
I hope that both Fats and the people of New Orleans will be able to look back and also look forward and sing this song proudly. They may also want to sing another of his famous songs: "Blueberry Hill" a catchy tune and clever lyrics that is actually a little town not far from New Orleans. I'm not sure how it fared in the tragedy. It's also coincidental to note that Fats recorded: "Blue Monday" and "Let the Four Winds Blow"... more appropriate words haven't been written in regards to this tragedy.
Regardless-- it's easier to sleep now (almost five days after the beginning of the end) knowing that one of New Orleans' great sons is alive and well.
lyrics by: Bobby Charles; inspired by and sung by: Fats Domino
This time I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm gonna need two pairs of shes
when I get through walking me blues
when I get back to New Orleans
I've got my suitcase in my hand
now ain't that a shame.
I'm leaving here today
yes
I'm going back home to stay.
Yes
I'm walking to New Orleans
You used to be my honey
till you spent all my money.
No use for you to cry
I see you buy and buy
'cause I`m walking to New Orleans
I've got no time for talking.
I've got to keep on walking.
New Orleans is my home
that's the reason while I'm gone
yes
I`m walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
I'm walking to New Orleans
Today in the news- it was reported that Antonio "Fats" Domino had been both rescued and evacuated following the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina and the total destruction of New Orleans from the subsequent levy breaks that flooded the "bowl" as predicted by so many doomsayers. I often think of this gifted man as I catch myself humming this little ditty... it will remain poignant even more so now as the great Crescent City will never be the same. And- now- I read these words and reflect on how many of those poor refugees left town (finally) with no shoes and only the shirts on their backs.
I hope that both Fats and the people of New Orleans will be able to look back and also look forward and sing this song proudly. They may also want to sing another of his famous songs: "Blueberry Hill" a catchy tune and clever lyrics that is actually a little town not far from New Orleans. I'm not sure how it fared in the tragedy. It's also coincidental to note that Fats recorded: "Blue Monday" and "Let the Four Winds Blow"... more appropriate words haven't been written in regards to this tragedy.
Regardless-- it's easier to sleep now (almost five days after the beginning of the end) knowing that one of New Orleans' great sons is alive and well.
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
I hope you are loved this much...
This morning my dear husband had a profound memory. The kind that comes from within the depths of childhood recollections so deep that when experienced- it caught him by surprise and brought a catch to his breath.
His mother was deeply, deeply loved. She was brought up by her mother and surrounded by a bevy of doting paternal aunts while her father was away during the War. Byron knew most of these aunts and was cherished by these same women. The memory is of one of the aunts, Choxie- and the revelation to Byron of true and unconditional love through a mostly benign incident.
One day while he was out mowing in her yard, he got some debris in his eye. During the course of cleaning his eye- Aunt Choxie was peering into his eyes and commented to him that "your eyes are the same as your mama's." But, what Byron saw was deeper and into her very soul- and he knew then and there how much she loved his mother.
What prompted all this was a casual conversation of a movie we saw recently that had a character that was remarkably like Aunt Choxie in her mannerisms. And, though this woman was a little rough around the edges- she had a heart and love more valuable than gold.
I hope that you are loved (and that you love) to this degree. So much so that when someone remembers you years later- they remember the depth of that emotion.
His mother was deeply, deeply loved. She was brought up by her mother and surrounded by a bevy of doting paternal aunts while her father was away during the War. Byron knew most of these aunts and was cherished by these same women. The memory is of one of the aunts, Choxie- and the revelation to Byron of true and unconditional love through a mostly benign incident.
One day while he was out mowing in her yard, he got some debris in his eye. During the course of cleaning his eye- Aunt Choxie was peering into his eyes and commented to him that "your eyes are the same as your mama's." But, what Byron saw was deeper and into her very soul- and he knew then and there how much she loved his mother.
What prompted all this was a casual conversation of a movie we saw recently that had a character that was remarkably like Aunt Choxie in her mannerisms. And, though this woman was a little rough around the edges- she had a heart and love more valuable than gold.
I hope that you are loved (and that you love) to this degree. So much so that when someone remembers you years later- they remember the depth of that emotion.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Fly me to the moon.....
What a bunch of air-heads!!
or...
Out of this world investments!
or....
What to get for the person that has everything!!
A homestead on the moon!?? Well, sure-- why not! Sign me up, Scotty! I want a piece of the action... a little sliver of green cheese on my face... since I'm married and I share everything with dear ole' hubby- then, I guess he'll be my man in the moon! Whatya bet Jackie Gleason bought some and sent Alice to the moon?? And, I'm sure Frank Sinatra invested-- especially since he was always getting flown up there! I'll have good neighbors anyway!
To get yours before the land run is all gobbled up, visit:
http://www.planetaryinvestments.com/
See ya there!
or...
Out of this world investments!
or....
What to get for the person that has everything!!
A homestead on the moon!?? Well, sure-- why not! Sign me up, Scotty! I want a piece of the action... a little sliver of green cheese on my face... since I'm married and I share everything with dear ole' hubby- then, I guess he'll be my man in the moon! Whatya bet Jackie Gleason bought some and sent Alice to the moon?? And, I'm sure Frank Sinatra invested-- especially since he was always getting flown up there! I'll have good neighbors anyway!
To get yours before the land run is all gobbled up, visit:
http://www.planetaryinvestments.com/
See ya there!
Had enough??
Mimi used to say... "We just sit here and watch all the violence on the 24 hour news channel and when we've had enough we change over to the Animal Channel and watch little critters eat one another."
Boy. Ain't that the truth. An online friend wrote recently of their two pet hamsters (a father and son no less) that were brought home and the son preceeded to mature and canibalize his father. Well. It happens. Call it too much testostrone. Or- survival of the fittest. If you've got more than one male in the environment (contrived or natural)- then, there's gonna be a fuss. That's just the way of it.
Consider this. Even TURTLES are territorial.
With that having been said- it's been a "relatively" smooth last couple of weeks with both of the males in my household being "home" at the same time. PTL. No mountain goats displaying major head-butting sessions; no King o' the Mountain bravado and posturing and no major theatrics.
Just lots of smoking and hot air. And- I mean that LITERALLY not figuratively! The double-barrelled Big Baby (and his master) have smoked at least four briskets, as many racks of ribs, too many chickens to count and one fabulous pork loin. Yum. It's also been the hottest this week- I wouldn't care to have to sit and mind the fire; but, some peeps don't seem to mind it! And, we've eaten well around here. I was even persuaded to make some of Aunt Ruth's famous bbq sauce; I stayed in the a/c with a fan on me, mind you! My personal opinion is that the Man should buy the local Bar-B-Q joint and cook to his heart's content; and/or set up a metal fabrication shop and build the smokers to sell. But- that's just my "dreaming" as it's called around here.
I can only hope that what we've experienced is not like the middle-Eastern peace (traumatic, unsteady and most assuredly gonna fail) as it looks as if the Son will be living here awhile longer yet.
So... it's my turn for some time off. I've scheduled two crop weekends in September and November and a Keyton girls' weekend event with the sisters and the new lil' sil2b in Dallas. Oh, boy! Serious girl time!
C'est la vie!
Boy. Ain't that the truth. An online friend wrote recently of their two pet hamsters (a father and son no less) that were brought home and the son preceeded to mature and canibalize his father. Well. It happens. Call it too much testostrone. Or- survival of the fittest. If you've got more than one male in the environment (contrived or natural)- then, there's gonna be a fuss. That's just the way of it.
Consider this. Even TURTLES are territorial.
With that having been said- it's been a "relatively" smooth last couple of weeks with both of the males in my household being "home" at the same time. PTL. No mountain goats displaying major head-butting sessions; no King o' the Mountain bravado and posturing and no major theatrics.
Just lots of smoking and hot air. And- I mean that LITERALLY not figuratively! The double-barrelled Big Baby (and his master) have smoked at least four briskets, as many racks of ribs, too many chickens to count and one fabulous pork loin. Yum. It's also been the hottest this week- I wouldn't care to have to sit and mind the fire; but, some peeps don't seem to mind it! And, we've eaten well around here. I was even persuaded to make some of Aunt Ruth's famous bbq sauce; I stayed in the a/c with a fan on me, mind you! My personal opinion is that the Man should buy the local Bar-B-Q joint and cook to his heart's content; and/or set up a metal fabrication shop and build the smokers to sell. But- that's just my "dreaming" as it's called around here.
I can only hope that what we've experienced is not like the middle-Eastern peace (traumatic, unsteady and most assuredly gonna fail) as it looks as if the Son will be living here awhile longer yet.
So... it's my turn for some time off. I've scheduled two crop weekends in September and November and a Keyton girls' weekend event with the sisters and the new lil' sil2b in Dallas. Oh, boy! Serious girl time!
C'est la vie!
Thursday, August 11, 2005
ahhh...David
I thought this photo was appropriate for today. It is so very VERY hot. A person could wilt just sitting next to the windows.
Stay cool.
Friday, August 05, 2005
It's Not Easy Being Green....
It's not that easy being green;
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves.
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold...
or something much more colorful like that.
It's not easy being green.
It seems you blend in with so many other ord'nary things.
And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're
not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water
or stars in the sky.
But green's the color of Spring.
And green can be cool and friendly-like.
And green can be big like an ocean, or important like a mountain,
or tall like a tree.
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?
Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine, it's beautiful!
And I think it's what I want to be.
From "The Sesame Street Book and Record". 'Green' is (c)1970 Jonico Music, Inc.
I love these lyrics... they seem to apply to someone special I know. *wink* here's looking at you!
Having to spend each day the color of the leaves.
When I think it could be nicer being red, or yellow or gold...
or something much more colorful like that.
It's not easy being green.
It seems you blend in with so many other ord'nary things.
And people tend to pass you over 'cause you're
not standing out like flashy sparkles in the water
or stars in the sky.
But green's the color of Spring.
And green can be cool and friendly-like.
And green can be big like an ocean, or important like a mountain,
or tall like a tree.
When green is all there is to be
It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?
Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine, it's beautiful!
And I think it's what I want to be.
From "The Sesame Street Book and Record". 'Green' is (c)1970 Jonico Music, Inc.
I love these lyrics... they seem to apply to someone special I know. *wink* here's looking at you!
Saturday, July 30, 2005
DEEP THOUGHTS
Save the whales. Collect the whole set.
A day without sunshine is like... night.
And on the other hand, you have different fingers.
99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
Honk if you love peace and quiet.
Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.
How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand...
OK, so what's the speed of dark?
How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.
When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.
Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.
A day without sunshine is like... night.
And on the other hand, you have different fingers.
99 percent of lawyers give the rest a bad name.
Honk if you love peace and quiet.
Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.
Support bacteria. They're the only culture some people have.
A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory Plan to be spontaneous tomorrow.
How many of you believe in psycho-kinesis? Raise my hand...
OK, so what's the speed of dark?
How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?
If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously overlooked something.
When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
How much deeper would the ocean be without sponges?
What happens if you get scared half to death twice?
I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder.
Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Worst Writers Welcome... gives a whole new meaning to WWW
ahhh... you always wondered didn't you?
Well- the truth is this. Worst Writers Welcome!
My newest favorite site is http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/
Visit it for hilarity and some fine writing faux-pas... it's the worst fiction contest for panjandrums. Yes! That's a really obscure word for "holier than thou high muckety mucks!" or pretentious wordsmiths (just the way I like it!)
You may be acquainted with this beginning line "It was a dark and stormy night..." ? The fine author of this prose is none other than Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830). I have always loved to parody this line (as many others have and will continue to do so). Now, there is a contest for the worst writing! And, I missed it! Darn. Gives me a whole year at least to work on some really bad prose, huh??
so- with that tongue in cheek attitude and a goal to attain; I must go to work. And, you dear readers will have to endure it! In the meantime- feel free to peruse the above mentioned site and perhaps write some of your own!
Ta-ta for now... I'm off to journal and weave some awful adjectives and nouns!
Well- the truth is this. Worst Writers Welcome!
My newest favorite site is http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/
Visit it for hilarity and some fine writing faux-pas... it's the worst fiction contest for panjandrums. Yes! That's a really obscure word for "holier than thou high muckety mucks!" or pretentious wordsmiths (just the way I like it!)
You may be acquainted with this beginning line "It was a dark and stormy night..." ? The fine author of this prose is none other than Edward George Bulwer-Lytton, Paul Clifford (1830). I have always loved to parody this line (as many others have and will continue to do so). Now, there is a contest for the worst writing! And, I missed it! Darn. Gives me a whole year at least to work on some really bad prose, huh??
so- with that tongue in cheek attitude and a goal to attain; I must go to work. And, you dear readers will have to endure it! In the meantime- feel free to peruse the above mentioned site and perhaps write some of your own!
Ta-ta for now... I'm off to journal and weave some awful adjectives and nouns!
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
The Story Behind the Ingalls Dolls
This is from the Dedication Page of the Ingalls' Album...
When Robin was a 5th grader at Little Cypress Elementary school she was given an English assignment by Mrs Fuller; a book report and a creative project to illustrate the characters. Robin chose the Laura Ingalls Wilder books and made the doll family. She hated the project and wasn’t really thrilled with the dolls.
Fast forward twenty-eight years. Robin grew up and had two boys. The dolls were left in our parent’s attic & survived several moves... Pa Ingalls is eventually discovered by our little sister, Nancy, as they made yet another move- this time to Arkansas. However, Ma (Caroline), Mary and Laura are not packed with Pa and it is a mystery as to where they might be. Pa was admired by the family and since it was near Christmas; and pranks are always a part of our traditions- a plot was hatched. Robin’s Christmas gift was to be a gift certificate for some leopard print bedding (our father had actually shopped all over Little Rock for these items and had not been successful!) Sister, Sally, decorated a Velveeta box (with some papers that looked like our childhood bedroom curtains and leopard prints) to resemble a miniature bed; and upon displaying it- it was found to be just the right scale for Pa! So, he was tucked into the package with the bed and the gift certificate. Come Christmas Day- Robin opened her package and was most pleased with the gift and rather surprised to be reunited with Pa. There was quite a bit of laughter of her memories of the sad little art project and her eventual distaste of the 70’s era bed-linens!
But, Nancy would not let the issue of the missing Ingalls women die. Every time she visited home she would rummage through more boxes and crates in her search. Finally-- in July they were found!! But, where was Pa? Well- of course- he’d gone back to Texas with Robin! After considerable giggling- a plan was concocted to surprise Robin with yet another truly wonderful “gift” for Christmas. And, wouldn’t it be funny if we were to take the “girls” to various favorite childhood places and take pictures of them? After a drive up to the Dwiggins Peach Orchards in Amity- the plot had thickened and included a hilarious story of just why the girls were traveling. Mae and Mother helped to embellish the story and thus the journeys began!
Nancy had a diving trip planned to Cozumel and she would whisk them off to the Mexican Caribbean and snap some more pics. In the style of “Flat Stanley” or “The Traveling Gnome”. The real fun had begun! Nancy and I thought of several scrapbook friends and acquaintances that would be willing to “host” the girls, take a few pictures and send them on their journeys.
We emailed pictures and snail-mailed the dolls back and forth across the nation to our buddies, then Nancy’s office manager decided to visit her family in England and agreed to take the girls on their second big overseas adventure! In the meantime- we collaborated on the scrapbook for Robin. The logistics on this weren’t the easiest- I made the “base” pages and penned some of the “diary” narration. Through email and parcel shipments - we completed the biggest part of the album. Nancy laid-out the pages and edited the narration. At one point- Robin came home for a visit and I invited her to scrapbook with me- well- she wasn’t thrilled! But- she agreed to help cut out dies with the Sizzix machine- thus, even Robin’s handiwork was included in the album.
As Christmas neared- I called Robin’s husband, Stephen, and though he had been blissfully “out of the loop” as far as all the shenanigans- he quickly agreed to be an accomplice in the great scheme. He and Robin’s son, Christopher, snatched Pa off of Robin’s bedroom dresser, packed him up and mailed him to us without her knowledge. Now, almost the whole family was in on the joke! Pa arrived in Arkadelphia and was reunited with his wife and girls and was set in a place of honor next to the Christmas tree.
Our father could not stand to be left out of the action and in typical Keyton merriment, would email us pictures that he had concocted of the Ingalls family (see his journaling on the previous blog entry). They were seated at the breakfast table; in front of the crèche and were the source of a lot of laughter as we anticipated the holiday visit. One night as the family slept- a great ruckus occurred. It seems that the cats, Mama Jenny and Purrscilla-Priscilla, had taken a fancy to the dolls as they were sitting in one of the chairs they pre"furred" to sleep in. The next morning the Ingalls family were all strewn about and Ma Ingalls had been dragged off down the hallway- attacked by a wild panther-ack!! Just to show you that truth can be stranger than fiction!
Robin’s Ingalls dolls were destined for lots of adventures and travels! We had a wonderful time “mock-umenting” a few of these escapades and hope that Robin and her family continue to have many more delightful journeys.
Best Wishes, Sister-- and Many Happy Days! We love you--and don’t forget... we GOTCHA one more time!!
When Robin was a 5th grader at Little Cypress Elementary school she was given an English assignment by Mrs Fuller; a book report and a creative project to illustrate the characters. Robin chose the Laura Ingalls Wilder books and made the doll family. She hated the project and wasn’t really thrilled with the dolls.
Fast forward twenty-eight years. Robin grew up and had two boys. The dolls were left in our parent’s attic & survived several moves... Pa Ingalls is eventually discovered by our little sister, Nancy, as they made yet another move- this time to Arkansas. However, Ma (Caroline), Mary and Laura are not packed with Pa and it is a mystery as to where they might be. Pa was admired by the family and since it was near Christmas; and pranks are always a part of our traditions- a plot was hatched. Robin’s Christmas gift was to be a gift certificate for some leopard print bedding (our father had actually shopped all over Little Rock for these items and had not been successful!) Sister, Sally, decorated a Velveeta box (with some papers that looked like our childhood bedroom curtains and leopard prints) to resemble a miniature bed; and upon displaying it- it was found to be just the right scale for Pa! So, he was tucked into the package with the bed and the gift certificate. Come Christmas Day- Robin opened her package and was most pleased with the gift and rather surprised to be reunited with Pa. There was quite a bit of laughter of her memories of the sad little art project and her eventual distaste of the 70’s era bed-linens!
But, Nancy would not let the issue of the missing Ingalls women die. Every time she visited home she would rummage through more boxes and crates in her search. Finally-- in July they were found!! But, where was Pa? Well- of course- he’d gone back to Texas with Robin! After considerable giggling- a plan was concocted to surprise Robin with yet another truly wonderful “gift” for Christmas. And, wouldn’t it be funny if we were to take the “girls” to various favorite childhood places and take pictures of them? After a drive up to the Dwiggins Peach Orchards in Amity- the plot had thickened and included a hilarious story of just why the girls were traveling. Mae and Mother helped to embellish the story and thus the journeys began!
Nancy had a diving trip planned to Cozumel and she would whisk them off to the Mexican Caribbean and snap some more pics. In the style of “Flat Stanley” or “The Traveling Gnome”. The real fun had begun! Nancy and I thought of several scrapbook friends and acquaintances that would be willing to “host” the girls, take a few pictures and send them on their journeys.
We emailed pictures and snail-mailed the dolls back and forth across the nation to our buddies, then Nancy’s office manager decided to visit her family in England and agreed to take the girls on their second big overseas adventure! In the meantime- we collaborated on the scrapbook for Robin. The logistics on this weren’t the easiest- I made the “base” pages and penned some of the “diary” narration. Through email and parcel shipments - we completed the biggest part of the album. Nancy laid-out the pages and edited the narration. At one point- Robin came home for a visit and I invited her to scrapbook with me- well- she wasn’t thrilled! But- she agreed to help cut out dies with the Sizzix machine- thus, even Robin’s handiwork was included in the album.
As Christmas neared- I called Robin’s husband, Stephen, and though he had been blissfully “out of the loop” as far as all the shenanigans- he quickly agreed to be an accomplice in the great scheme. He and Robin’s son, Christopher, snatched Pa off of Robin’s bedroom dresser, packed him up and mailed him to us without her knowledge. Now, almost the whole family was in on the joke! Pa arrived in Arkadelphia and was reunited with his wife and girls and was set in a place of honor next to the Christmas tree.
Our father could not stand to be left out of the action and in typical Keyton merriment, would email us pictures that he had concocted of the Ingalls family (see his journaling on the previous blog entry). They were seated at the breakfast table; in front of the crèche and were the source of a lot of laughter as we anticipated the holiday visit. One night as the family slept- a great ruckus occurred. It seems that the cats, Mama Jenny and Purrscilla-Priscilla, had taken a fancy to the dolls as they were sitting in one of the chairs they pre"furred" to sleep in. The next morning the Ingalls family were all strewn about and Ma Ingalls had been dragged off down the hallway- attacked by a wild panther-ack!! Just to show you that truth can be stranger than fiction!
Robin’s Ingalls dolls were destined for lots of adventures and travels! We had a wonderful time “mock-umenting” a few of these escapades and hope that Robin and her family continue to have many more delightful journeys.
Best Wishes, Sister-- and Many Happy Days! We love you--and don’t forget... we GOTCHA one more time!!
Sunday, July 24, 2005
The Ingalls Album is now online.... and here's the Diary Journaling!
Well-- it is finally finished! I know you have been waiting patiently!! At least it didn't take as long as a Harry Potter release!... and now, without further ado...I present-
The Ingalls Family Album...
otherwise known as: "Laura's Travels"... from Little Houses to the World Tour
or...
"The Ingalls Girls Search for Pa"...
Thanks to: Nancy & Derral; Caroline; Simone; Mary, Cameron and Cole; Doralisa and Phil; Stephen & Christopher; Richard, Cindy & Mae; and many others!!
See the album here:
http://www.angelfire.com/art2/arkyangel/Ingalls/
Read the journaling here:
July 21, 2004
Dear Diary,
We began our search for Pa near where we last saw him. We know he likes peaches so we went to Amity. The peaches were great, and these nice women, Cindy, Sally and Nancy offered us a Coke (and a smile) and the matriarch of the family, a very sweet lady named Mae, even made us a peach cobbler. They were quite entertaining, and would start fits of giggling for no real reason. Reminds me a lot of the happy times spent listening to Ma and the aunts. They told us that they had seen Pa, and all they knew was that he was headed for Texas. So we leave again in the morning. Ma found us a nice little red convertible car- it's got plenty of horse power- I'm sure Pa would appreciate that!
August 8, 2004
Dear Diary-
We’ve arrived at a “Little Town on the Prairie”, Abilene, Texas. No hot leads for Pa yet, but we’ve stumbled on to quite a few adventures. We got stuck in a cactus patch, which I was not too happy about. Ma and Mary didn’t seem to mind so much, they pretty much smile about every pickle they get into. We did get a horse ride, stopped at Senior Day at the Fair and Rodeo, met a nice man named Derral; flirted with a cowboy or two and ate some good BBQ and a deep fried Snickers bar. At least these West Texas folks know how to eat. The scenery around here reminds me somewhat of being “By the Shores of Silver Lake” what with all the railroads and all. Wish Pa could have been with us- he would like West Texas.
August 23, 2004
Dear Diary-
We headed to south Texas to look for Pa, and somehow ended up in the Mexican Caribbean- that’s Ma’s navigation for you. But while we’re here we searched high and low for Pa anyway- he could have made the same mistake traveling. We didn’t find him floating in the sea, but we did find one nice conch shell for a souvenir. You can even hear the ocean when you hold it up to your ear! I have to say that I could get used to this beach resort life. Maybe once we find Pa, he will come back and enjoy this on vacation- buenos noches.
September 1, 2004
Dear Diary-
We were headed back for Texas, but veered off course again. Ma and Mary should let me read the map. I told them to take a right at Albuquerque, but they didn’t listen. So, we ended up in Santa Fe, New Mexico. While there, we visited the Indian market at the Governor’s Palace and found some incredible deals on turquoise jewelry. You know Mae- she just goes bananas over the stuff- kinda reminded me of the excitement of our Saturday market days.
We ended up spending the night at the Baca B&B- a lovely home at the base of the Sandia Mountains in New Mexico. Our hostess, Carolyn, her husband Fernando and children, Gabriel and Daniella, served us melt-in-your-mouth enchiladas with green chilies and we all enjoyed margaritas by the pool. You can literally see forever up here- Pa is missing a great view. Looking west, it’s almost like the view from our “Little House on the Prairie”.
September 27, 2004
Dear Diary-
Well we’ve not made it back to Texas yet. Ma and Mary had a hunch that Pa may have tried to go back north to the Great Plains. So we set out and ended up back in familiar country-Wisconsin- that’s a super long drive! We are staying in the Hauser House; a boarding house run by a nice scrapbooking lady and her family. Mr and Mrs Dave (Mary) are very nice hosts. Fortunately, we’ were well fed as this is cheese and bratwurst country- there are 3 cheese companies in Sheboyhan County- Borden, Sargento and Sartori, as well as Johnsonville Sausage. We met Elsie''s cousin and then the Hauser boys, Cameron and Cole, took us to the lighthouse on Lake Michigan to look for Pa to get a better look. It’s lovely here, a little nippy- but, not as cold as "The Long Winter" and still no sign of Pa. Next, we’re going to head west to find him.
"How easy and delightful life might be if...when we had attained the position we wished, we might rest on our oars and watch the ripples on the stream of life."
--Laura Ingalls Wilder
October 10, 2004
Dear Diary,
Well we were headed out west, but with all the hassles at the airport, somehow we found ourselves in merry old England. The big expanse of water we flew over was so much bigger than a view from "On the Banks of Plum Creek"- at first I thot it was a river- then realized it was just a big pond. A very nice British expatriate named Simone is serving as our travel guide. So we’'re staying for a few days to enjoy the countryside here and the palace gaurds look like so many little toy soldiers! Stonehenge is nearby to the village we’re staying in. We’ll check it out before going stateside again. Pa used to call me "Half-Pint" when I was younger-- over here all the pints in the pubs are full-pints and kept at room temperature.
November 8, 2004
After another flight delay- Ma got us some extra frequent flyer miles and we are finally back in the U.S.... and, on the west coast! We’'ve arrived in Portland Oregon, and Pa'’s not here either. Another scrapbooking lady- Doralisa Palomares, has generously offered to look for him. We'’ve searched the market, and boy do they have some funky looking cows here- not at all like in Texas or Wisconsin. I don’t think I’ll try the BBQ or the cheese here, but you know Ma and Mary are still saying that I need to lighten up. We even checked the Oregon Vietnam Veterans Living Monument - Pa feels really strongly about patriotism. Doralisa and her friend, Phil, drove us down to Stockton CA and back just to make sure that he Pa hadn't gone searching for gold in them thar hills. We drove behind the snowplows right thru the Pass and saw Mount Shasta. The camera began to have some "issues" so all our lovely pictures are like Mae's fond memories of the day at the World Fair-- well framed and probably the best she ever took... only to discover that there was no film in the camera. :(
Dec 10- We are headed back home to Arkansas, just hoping and praying that maybe Pa will be home by Christmas. My fondest dream is to find him playing some of our favorite tunes on his fiddle. Ma thinks I need to compile all my journal notes from my Big Chief pads into books and tell the story of "These Happy Golden Years". I may just have to do that- life hasn't all ways been a bed of roses--, it's like I've always said...
"...but, at long last, I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all...I believe we would be happier to go back to simpler living and more direct thinking. It is the simple things of life that make living worthwhile, the sweet fundamental things such as love and duty, work and rest and living close to nature. There are no hothouse blossoms that can compare in beauty and fragrance with my bouquet of wild flowers."
--Laura Ingalls Wilder; from "A Little House Sampler"
December 23, 2004
To Whom It May Concern:
From: Keyton’s Bar & Lodge, Mr Keyton- Proprieter
Now, the rest of the story:
The Ingalls family had gone to pay their taxes and had reserved a room in the Inn. When they arrived, the hotelier announced: "The Inn is over booked and all we have left is small cave out back." Now that they had gotten a raw deal on the hotel reservation and were in the outback, they just went ahead a cooked supper. This was the first OUTBACK Restaurant.
Now as why they are there by themselves, it is very simple. Mary and Joseph don't arrive for another two days.
Now that they have a couple of days to sightsee - they are talking about going to Hot Springs to take the baths. While there, they want to walk on Central and have a picture made in front of the National Park sign. They are planning to eat at Stubbies. No pork, you understand!
The Ingalls Family Album...
otherwise known as: "Laura's Travels"... from Little Houses to the World Tour
or...
"The Ingalls Girls Search for Pa"...
Thanks to: Nancy & Derral; Caroline; Simone; Mary, Cameron and Cole; Doralisa and Phil; Stephen & Christopher; Richard, Cindy & Mae; and many others!!
See the album here:
http://www.angelfire.com/art2/arkyangel/Ingalls/
Read the journaling here:
July 21, 2004
Dear Diary,
We began our search for Pa near where we last saw him. We know he likes peaches so we went to Amity. The peaches were great, and these nice women, Cindy, Sally and Nancy offered us a Coke (and a smile) and the matriarch of the family, a very sweet lady named Mae, even made us a peach cobbler. They were quite entertaining, and would start fits of giggling for no real reason. Reminds me a lot of the happy times spent listening to Ma and the aunts. They told us that they had seen Pa, and all they knew was that he was headed for Texas. So we leave again in the morning. Ma found us a nice little red convertible car- it's got plenty of horse power- I'm sure Pa would appreciate that!
August 8, 2004
Dear Diary-
We’ve arrived at a “Little Town on the Prairie”, Abilene, Texas. No hot leads for Pa yet, but we’ve stumbled on to quite a few adventures. We got stuck in a cactus patch, which I was not too happy about. Ma and Mary didn’t seem to mind so much, they pretty much smile about every pickle they get into. We did get a horse ride, stopped at Senior Day at the Fair and Rodeo, met a nice man named Derral; flirted with a cowboy or two and ate some good BBQ and a deep fried Snickers bar. At least these West Texas folks know how to eat. The scenery around here reminds me somewhat of being “By the Shores of Silver Lake” what with all the railroads and all. Wish Pa could have been with us- he would like West Texas.
August 23, 2004
Dear Diary-
We headed to south Texas to look for Pa, and somehow ended up in the Mexican Caribbean- that’s Ma’s navigation for you. But while we’re here we searched high and low for Pa anyway- he could have made the same mistake traveling. We didn’t find him floating in the sea, but we did find one nice conch shell for a souvenir. You can even hear the ocean when you hold it up to your ear! I have to say that I could get used to this beach resort life. Maybe once we find Pa, he will come back and enjoy this on vacation- buenos noches.
September 1, 2004
Dear Diary-
We were headed back for Texas, but veered off course again. Ma and Mary should let me read the map. I told them to take a right at Albuquerque, but they didn’t listen. So, we ended up in Santa Fe, New Mexico. While there, we visited the Indian market at the Governor’s Palace and found some incredible deals on turquoise jewelry. You know Mae- she just goes bananas over the stuff- kinda reminded me of the excitement of our Saturday market days.
We ended up spending the night at the Baca B&B- a lovely home at the base of the Sandia Mountains in New Mexico. Our hostess, Carolyn, her husband Fernando and children, Gabriel and Daniella, served us melt-in-your-mouth enchiladas with green chilies and we all enjoyed margaritas by the pool. You can literally see forever up here- Pa is missing a great view. Looking west, it’s almost like the view from our “Little House on the Prairie”.
September 27, 2004
Dear Diary-
Well we’ve not made it back to Texas yet. Ma and Mary had a hunch that Pa may have tried to go back north to the Great Plains. So we set out and ended up back in familiar country-Wisconsin- that’s a super long drive! We are staying in the Hauser House; a boarding house run by a nice scrapbooking lady and her family. Mr and Mrs Dave (Mary) are very nice hosts. Fortunately, we’ were well fed as this is cheese and bratwurst country- there are 3 cheese companies in Sheboyhan County- Borden, Sargento and Sartori, as well as Johnsonville Sausage. We met Elsie''s cousin and then the Hauser boys, Cameron and Cole, took us to the lighthouse on Lake Michigan to look for Pa to get a better look. It’s lovely here, a little nippy- but, not as cold as "The Long Winter" and still no sign of Pa. Next, we’re going to head west to find him.
"How easy and delightful life might be if...when we had attained the position we wished, we might rest on our oars and watch the ripples on the stream of life."
--Laura Ingalls Wilder
October 10, 2004
Dear Diary,
Well we were headed out west, but with all the hassles at the airport, somehow we found ourselves in merry old England. The big expanse of water we flew over was so much bigger than a view from "On the Banks of Plum Creek"- at first I thot it was a river- then realized it was just a big pond. A very nice British expatriate named Simone is serving as our travel guide. So we’'re staying for a few days to enjoy the countryside here and the palace gaurds look like so many little toy soldiers! Stonehenge is nearby to the village we’re staying in. We’ll check it out before going stateside again. Pa used to call me "Half-Pint" when I was younger-- over here all the pints in the pubs are full-pints and kept at room temperature.
November 8, 2004
After another flight delay- Ma got us some extra frequent flyer miles and we are finally back in the U.S.... and, on the west coast! We’'ve arrived in Portland Oregon, and Pa'’s not here either. Another scrapbooking lady- Doralisa Palomares, has generously offered to look for him. We'’ve searched the market, and boy do they have some funky looking cows here- not at all like in Texas or Wisconsin. I don’t think I’ll try the BBQ or the cheese here, but you know Ma and Mary are still saying that I need to lighten up. We even checked the Oregon Vietnam Veterans Living Monument - Pa feels really strongly about patriotism. Doralisa and her friend, Phil, drove us down to Stockton CA and back just to make sure that he Pa hadn't gone searching for gold in them thar hills. We drove behind the snowplows right thru the Pass and saw Mount Shasta. The camera began to have some "issues" so all our lovely pictures are like Mae's fond memories of the day at the World Fair-- well framed and probably the best she ever took... only to discover that there was no film in the camera. :(
Dec 10- We are headed back home to Arkansas, just hoping and praying that maybe Pa will be home by Christmas. My fondest dream is to find him playing some of our favorite tunes on his fiddle. Ma thinks I need to compile all my journal notes from my Big Chief pads into books and tell the story of "These Happy Golden Years". I may just have to do that- life hasn't all ways been a bed of roses--, it's like I've always said...
"...but, at long last, I am beginning to learn that it is the sweet, simple things of life which are the real ones after all...I believe we would be happier to go back to simpler living and more direct thinking. It is the simple things of life that make living worthwhile, the sweet fundamental things such as love and duty, work and rest and living close to nature. There are no hothouse blossoms that can compare in beauty and fragrance with my bouquet of wild flowers."
--Laura Ingalls Wilder; from "A Little House Sampler"
December 23, 2004
To Whom It May Concern:
From: Keyton’s Bar & Lodge, Mr Keyton- Proprieter
Now, the rest of the story:
The Ingalls family had gone to pay their taxes and had reserved a room in the Inn. When they arrived, the hotelier announced: "The Inn is over booked and all we have left is small cave out back." Now that they had gotten a raw deal on the hotel reservation and were in the outback, they just went ahead a cooked supper. This was the first OUTBACK Restaurant.
Now as why they are there by themselves, it is very simple. Mary and Joseph don't arrive for another two days.
Now that they have a couple of days to sightsee - they are talking about going to Hot Springs to take the baths. While there, they want to walk on Central and have a picture made in front of the National Park sign. They are planning to eat at Stubbies. No pork, you understand!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Some people are like Slinkys...
Some people are like Slinys...
Not really good for anything,
but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
That is a direct quote from my sister. I only hope she didn't have me in mind when she said it!
In other news... we've had a little rain. Yeah. Even a little tiny bit of a shower is that much less I have to water the flowers.
In more other news... large parts of our family have had vactions. Which means they took pictures. Which means that they'd like them arranged in some sort of pictorial review. Which means I need to get with it and scrapbook. I may just have to play around with some lovely inks and stamps and make a few cards, too. Just cuz.
And... while I'm creating-- I'll watch a few movies. Up next on the dvd-reader... "The Terminal".. sounds kinda like a grand finish doesn't it? Well- it's just ole Tom Hanks up to his usual tricks in a great role that for a long part of the film has the same isolated feel as "Castaway". Kinda weird. To be in a large public facility and be so alone? I think that's a good commentary on a lot of American society.
Anyway- I can watch just about anything he's in. Traa-laa-la.
Off to stamp!
Not really good for anything,
but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs.
That is a direct quote from my sister. I only hope she didn't have me in mind when she said it!
In other news... we've had a little rain. Yeah. Even a little tiny bit of a shower is that much less I have to water the flowers.
In more other news... large parts of our family have had vactions. Which means they took pictures. Which means that they'd like them arranged in some sort of pictorial review. Which means I need to get with it and scrapbook. I may just have to play around with some lovely inks and stamps and make a few cards, too. Just cuz.
And... while I'm creating-- I'll watch a few movies. Up next on the dvd-reader... "The Terminal".. sounds kinda like a grand finish doesn't it? Well- it's just ole Tom Hanks up to his usual tricks in a great role that for a long part of the film has the same isolated feel as "Castaway". Kinda weird. To be in a large public facility and be so alone? I think that's a good commentary on a lot of American society.
Anyway- I can watch just about anything he's in. Traa-laa-la.
Off to stamp!
Friday, May 13, 2005
I'm a Mommy again!
Well-- no... not a new baby! But- my OLD baby came back... home that is!
My OLD baby is almost 19 years old and has finished his first year of college! And, now, has come home! Woohoo! I'm a mommy again! We've celebrated by catching up on all the news from campus, home and watched some CSI. We're going to go and watch "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" as soon as he's rested up!
Oh, delight! Oh, joy! I guess I can now look forward to KP duty! Hmm.... I wonder if I can remember how? or WHAT to cook?
Peace-out.
My OLD baby is almost 19 years old and has finished his first year of college! And, now, has come home! Woohoo! I'm a mommy again! We've celebrated by catching up on all the news from campus, home and watched some CSI. We're going to go and watch "Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy" as soon as he's rested up!
Oh, delight! Oh, joy! I guess I can now look forward to KP duty! Hmm.... I wonder if I can remember how? or WHAT to cook?
Peace-out.
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