tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13124776287087084582024-03-13T15:20:25.725-04:00Life is a JourneyThis blog is merely a diary of sorts of my day to day life and the things I do to pass my time,trying my hand at the many different things that interest me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger747125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-55506717682348438772021-02-05T18:30:00.002-05:002023-05-20T12:39:03.315-04:00too thin<p>taken down</p><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-58115503389914736012017-09-16T10:29:00.002-04:002023-05-20T12:40:50.779-04:00I'm still here among the flowers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-70623157344930966622017-09-16T10:26:00.002-04:002017-09-16T10:26:26.534-04:00Our New House as it was in 2007<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sg2Qo6qsfD8/VuwL9BTF2XI/AAAAAAAADYQ/w9Wj7jZ-vC43sozaWM1R3KVOEezho5wNw/s1600/our%2Bnew%2Bhouse%2B07.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Sg2Qo6qsfD8/VuwL9BTF2XI/AAAAAAAADYQ/w9Wj7jZ-vC43sozaWM1R3KVOEezho5wNw/s400/our%2Bnew%2Bhouse%2B07.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our new house in 2007</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Several years have gone by since the house fire. This is how our new house looked after it's completion in 07. I have done much planting since then and as I look back at the house when it was fresh and new, I sometimes wonder if I could only bulldoze away all of the growth around it and start fresh. I guess it comes with age, but now it seems I like it in a more simple state. Maybe not quite this simple, but much less smothered in flowers and vines than it has evolved to today.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-33543559450933350322016-09-28T10:59:00.001-04:002016-09-28T10:59:28.355-04:00My Mom Was One Strong Lady<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BG-JkjK76bg/V-vY1CO6RWI/AAAAAAAADbE/Rbt1r1ou2zMHE4nE7dQyLbtpNkX-68SPACLcB/s1600/mom%2Bon%2Btrip.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BG-JkjK76bg/V-vY1CO6RWI/AAAAAAAADbE/Rbt1r1ou2zMHE4nE7dQyLbtpNkX-68SPACLcB/s320/mom%2Bon%2Btrip.png" width="249" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;">I like to keep this photo
of my Mom out where I can see it. She was heavy most of her adult life, most
likely from having us 9 children, but later in her life she lost the weight and
was very proud of herself for what she had achieved. She began going to various
music concerts with Donna, her good friend and hairdresser after Dad sold the
family farm in Rineyville, and relocated the rest of the family to St. Simon's
Island, Georgia. Donna would fix Mom's hair and get her all dressed up and they
would head out to their concerts. Dad was always invited, but would never
commit since the concerts were planned months in advance. He would always say
he didn't know what he would be doing at that time. I am so glad that Mom got
to experience some of the things she finally did. She was plucked from her life
as she knew it in South Louisiana, to spend a huge part of her lifetime on a
Kentucky farm, feeling her way as she went, to learn a whole new way of doing
things. Cooking in particular. Mom never drove, so that made it unhandy for her
as well, but she never let that hold her back. She could always find a way to
get where she or us kids, needed to go. Namely to church when the doors were
open or to the grocery store on Friday nights. She definitely, as all who knew
her will agree, did not have a shy bone in her body. She was always one to get
the job done, regardless as to what it was. I am grateful to have inherited
some of her strong attributes, but so grateful, as well, that I did not inherit
her temper and her extreme extrovert personality. She was a bit shy about a few
things, but very few. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "calibri";">I
could always count on Mom to come to my aid when I had a job of any kind to do.
I had raised a huge flock of chickens one year from chicks purchased at a
hatchery, and most of them turned out to be roosters. I called Mom up to help
me. She agreed to come, but later she said" DON'T EVER CALL ON ME TO DO
THAT AGAIN," I think there were about 20 roosters to kill and clean that
day. Then another time, Mr. Ford Dyer and his daughter Sarah Springer, whom I
was working for at the time,wanted a brick walkway. I told him that Mom and I
could do that. Mr. Dyer was blown away that me and my Mom were willing to
tackle that job, but we got it done. I have wondered<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>, at times, if that walkway is
still being used today.</span></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
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<br />
<div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 16px 0px;">
<span lang="EN" style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 10.5pt; margin: 0px;">All of my sisters were just as handy and willing to tackle any task, as well. I am grateful, and I hope they are, for having had such a strong Mother. Many times, it takes a strong women to keep a marriage, and life in general, running smoothly. Mom was definitely
"One Strong Lady<span style="font-size: small;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span>."</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-86272959871459685242016-06-24T10:23:00.002-04:002017-09-16T10:24:05.293-04:00Ruger to the Rescue! NOT!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I was filling an old aquarium with some of the rich soil which
Hershell keeps replenished in a pile near my gardens, I heard an unusual
sound coming across the hay field. It was a cry of fear and/or distress
coming from our new hunting dog, Ruger. Being just a pup, I guess he
didn't know quite yet, that he was suppose to be the pursuer and not the
pursuee. A doe was chasing him toward the house, and came very near to
where I was working. She didn't appear to be going anywhere soon, so I
had plenty of time to get in the house and retrieve my iPhone. Thank
goodness, she was still close by, grazing happily, not too concerned
about my presence, but Ruger's barking sent her a running back into the
woods. I'd say she has a baby or two, close by. Such a refreshing sight
to see on this cool and misty morning. I am not sure on the date of this post, but decided to go ahead and let it go. Ruger is now full grown, going on 2 years old, and still enjoying his tag games with the mother deer and her babies.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vGgBtirGUE/V21BIR8P5hI/AAAAAAAADaQ/HuP6VtFlKb8_fQS0S4KvomYJ1VP7ccemwCLcB/s1600/ruger%2Bdeer%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vGgBtirGUE/V21BIR8P5hI/AAAAAAAADaQ/HuP6VtFlKb8_fQS0S4KvomYJ1VP7ccemwCLcB/s1600/ruger%2Bdeer%2B2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the center, if you look closely, you can see the mother deer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkHaZLSpwIc/V21BLxWUq9I/AAAAAAAADaY/yy7IMwU8LwwpsaIRTbITn5mb0XjORTklgCLcB/s1600/RUGER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkHaZLSpwIc/V21BLxWUq9I/AAAAAAAADaY/yy7IMwU8LwwpsaIRTbITn5mb0XjORTklgCLcB/s1600/RUGER.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruger is only 5 months old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-50027692250226756362016-06-24T10:23:00.001-04:002016-09-28T11:00:29.528-04:00Ruger to the Rescue! NOT!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
As I was filling an old aquarium with some of the rich soil which
Hershell keeps replenished in a pile near my gardens, I heard an unusual
sound coming across the hay field. It was a cry of fear and/or distress
coming from our new hunting dog, Ruger. Being just a pup, I guess he
didn't know quite yet, that he was suppose to be the pursuer and not the
pursuee. A doe was chasing him toward the house, and came very near to
where I was working. She didn't appear to be going anywhere soon, so I
had plenty of time to get in the house and retrieve my iPhone. Thank
goodness, she was still close by, grazing happily, not too concerned
about my presence, but Ruger's barking sent her a running back into the
woods. I'd say she has a baby or two, close by. Such a refreshing sight
to see on this cool and misty morning.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vGgBtirGUE/V21BIR8P5hI/AAAAAAAADaQ/HuP6VtFlKb8_fQS0S4KvomYJ1VP7ccemwCLcB/s1600/ruger%2Bdeer%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8vGgBtirGUE/V21BIR8P5hI/AAAAAAAADaQ/HuP6VtFlKb8_fQS0S4KvomYJ1VP7ccemwCLcB/s1600/ruger%2Bdeer%2B2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the center, if you look closely, you can see the mother deer.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkHaZLSpwIc/V21BLxWUq9I/AAAAAAAADaY/yy7IMwU8LwwpsaIRTbITn5mb0XjORTklgCLcB/s1600/RUGER.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkHaZLSpwIc/V21BLxWUq9I/AAAAAAAADaY/yy7IMwU8LwwpsaIRTbITn5mb0XjORTklgCLcB/s1600/RUGER.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ruger is only 5 months old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-75255016688531641232016-06-24T10:10:00.003-04:002016-06-24T10:10:44.302-04:00Thirteen Chicks in a Pan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Patience is definitely the key around my house lately. Even with their
beautiful new living quarters, all was not bliss, for myself nor my baby
chickens, last night. I made numerous trips to check on my them, before
my bedtime since it was their first night separated from their moms. They didn't want to settle down and accept the fact that
Mommie was no longer there to snuggle with them at bedtime and scratch
out their food and call them for their meals. Having to grow up is
proving that it is indeed a cruel hard world, at least un<span class="text_exposed_show">til
you learn the ropes. After about the third trip out in the darkness to
check on the chicks, I went out once more to hear an unusually loud
chirping sound coming from the area of the shed, near the chicken coop.
As I walked nearer to the chicks, I could see a Sparrow Hawk fly out of
the shed, and realized it was the one doing the loud chirping. I guess
he heard the baby chick's cries of distress and thought he might find an
easy meal. All was not well quite yet with the chicks, but I went back
inside, hoping they would settle down soon.With my next trip out to
check on them, I find several chicks, huddled up in the opposite corner
of the cage from where their roosting box was located, sitting on the
bear wet ground, in a spot where there was not even a sprig of grass to
make a comfortable bed. I felt so sorry for them,I draped an old quilt
around the corner of the cage. I had an old rusted granite wash pan
that I had once used as a flower pot, placed in their cage, filled with dirt for them to wallow in and clean their feathers. I lined it with grass from my compost bin, and moved it to the corner where they had congregated.
Then back to the house I went. About 30 minutes later, I decided to go
and check one more time, hoping this would be my last trip to check on
them for tonight. Some of the chicks had previously,ventured into the roosting box,
but during my final trip out, I found every single chick, all 13 of
them, nestled up in the wash pan. All encircled like a covey of quail.
It was so comical, I had to make one more trip with my camera. So now
that you know WHAT you are looking at, hopefully, you can see the chicks
in the pan. They had no need for the duster I had placed there as a
temporary Mother. Thirteen chicks in a wash pan was snugly and warm
enough.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiPjI3LiEpk/V206fzAoHhI/AAAAAAAADaI/oZNWJlyzsJgabhPsoPCsCia3fCHV06GIACKgB/s1600/chicks%2Bin%2Bpan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SiPjI3LiEpk/V206fzAoHhI/AAAAAAAADaI/oZNWJlyzsJgabhPsoPCsCia3fCHV06GIACKgB/s320/chicks%2Bin%2Bpan.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thirteen chicks in a wash pan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g_pS2-6HIrY/V206ssffa_I/AAAAAAAADaA/xCAbrcGxOhUDUUr2sGZ6FJ4A_ryo62nIgCKgB/s400/me%2Band%2Bmy%2Bchicken%2Btractor.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="400" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the new chicken tractor made by my son-in-law, David Painter. He had no pattern, but had seen others on the web and came up with this design. It has an open bottom so the chicks can have access to fresh grass and clover as it is pulled around the yard. It has retractable wheels and a tougue and hitch to pull it from place to place.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-29901671891569873502016-06-24T09:33:00.000-04:002016-06-24T09:39:08.501-04:00More rocks, gardens, and flowers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I use a lot of rocks. I suppose the reason why is simply because they
are so plentiful on our property. I paint on many, but I also use many
others as borders for my flower beds. They make it much easier to mow up
close to the beds and keep the flowers within their boundaries.
Hershell had been telling me that he had uprooted some buried rocks as
he putters around the fields and woods with the tractor. I was asking
him lately if I could purchase a load of rock to use as a bor<span class="text_exposed_show">der
for my raised garden area. He said, "Why. We have loads of rock on the
property. I just made a new pile along the edge of the woods." But I had
in mind the pretty rock like I see others use. Nevertheless, I took the
tractor out this morning for a stroll around the property to see if I
could find the rocks he had spoke of. It's Wednesday. His eat breakfast
out with the daughter day, so I have lots of time to play. Sure enough, I
found the pile of rock he had spoke of and loaded several in the
tractor bucket. Not near enough. I'll need to make another trip, but my
border around the garden area is shaping up. The other side of the
garden is being invaded with Bermuda grass. I will be working on it
next. I just finished up making my last piece of chicken cage wire into
more raised beds. I have the chicken tractor for my chicks now, so I no
longer need the wire. My plan is to totally move the mulch pile from my
garden area and fill that space with more vegetable and flower beds. The
entire garden is shaping up nicely. I spend as much time in it as the
heat will allow. I get most of my work done in the early morning as it
is the coolest time of the day. I found myself another treat as I was
loading the rock. Hershell had unknowingly uprooted what appears to be a
red honeysuckle vine, so I had carried it to the yard, hoping to add it
to my endless collection of flowers. I can't wait to see how it does, but with
the day's getting hotter, it will be a chore keeping it alive. I do hope
I can get it to live.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-29441932183194707272016-03-11T18:18:00.001-05:002016-03-11T22:00:12.633-05:00March 12, 2013 Mom went to her Heavenly Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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March 12, 2016 marks year 3 since my Mom's passing. As I skipped through some of her collectibles that she had saved, I found this page, laminated and tucked away neatly among the many other special things she had collected over the years.. She saved many of the letters and cards from us nine kids and other friends and family members. She saved pretty pictures clipped from magazines, bulletins from her church marking special dates to remember, poems, verses, and sayings that tugged at her heartstrings, many of the drawings that us kids had made for her over the years.certificates and report cards, letters of praise from our teachers regarding our behavior. and so many other fragments of our lives, neatly laminated and stored away for her quiet time and peaceful moments of reminiscing as she grew older. Mom was so sentimental in that way although many who knew her well, knew she was tough as nails, and could be as mean as a copperhead snake when provoked.I guess her hard life caused her to be tough, but underneath, she was as loving as any other Mother.She simply wasn't comfortable being a sweet little demure and needy sort of a lady. That just wasn't her style. Ask some of our neighbors. I'm sure they would agree. She could get loud when necessary.and she didn't care if the neighbors a half mile away heard her scolding us and trying her best to keep us on a straight and narrow path.I know when she read this story about the Meanest Mother, she did so with a chuckle, seeing herself and us kids in every line. There are a few things that may not fit our lives,but very few.........................................................."The Meanest Mother"</div>
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I had the meanest mother in the whole world. While other kids ate<br />
candy for breakfast, I had to have cereal, eggs or toast. When others<br />
had cokes and candy for lunch, I had to eat a sandwich. As you can<br />
guess, my supper was different than the other kids' also.<br />
But at least, I wasn't alone in my sufferings. My sister and two<br />
brothers had the same mean mother as I did.<br />
My mother insisted upon knowing where we were at all times. You'd<br />
think we were on a chain gang. She had to know who our friends were and<br />
where we were going. She insisted if we said we'd be gone an hour, that<br />
we be gone one hour or less--not one hour and one minute. I am nearly<br />
ashamed to admit it, but she actually struck us. Not once, but each<br />
time we had a mind of our own and did as we pleased. That poor belt was<br />
used more on our seats than it was to hold up Daddy's pants. Can you<br />
imagine someone actualy hitting a child just because he disobeyed? Now<br />
you can begin to see how mean she really was.<br />
We had to wear clean clothes and take a bath. The other kids always<br />
wore their clothes for days. We reached the height of insults because<br />
she made our clothes herself, just to save money. Why, oh why, did we<br />
have to have a mother who made us feel different from our friends?<br />
The worst is yet to come. We had to be in bed by nine each night<br />
and up at eight the next morning. We couldn't sleep till noon like our<br />
friends. So while they slept-my mother actually had the nerve to break<br />
the child-labor law. She made us work. We had to wash dishes, make<br />
beds, learn to cook and all sorts of cruel things. I believe she laid<br />
awake at night thinking up mean things to do to us.<br />
She always insisted upon us telling the truth, the whole truth and<br />
nothing but the truth, even if it killed us- and it nearly did.<br />
By the time we were teen-agers, she was much wiser, and our life<br />
became even more unbearable. None of this tooting the horn of a car for<br />
us to come running. She embarrassed us to no end by making our dates<br />
and friends come to the door to get us. If I spent the night with a<br />
girlfriend, can you imagine she checked on me to see if I were really<br />
there. I never had the chance to elope to Mexico. That is if I'd had a<br />
boyfriend to elope with. I forgot to mention, while my friends were<br />
dating at the mature age of 12 and 13, my old fashioned mother refused<br />
to let me date until the age of 15 and 16. Fifteen, that is, if you<br />
dated only to go to a school function. And that was maybe twice a year.</div>
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Through the years, things didn't improve a bit. We could not lie<br />
in bed, "sick" like our friends did, and miss school. If our friends<br />
had a toe ache, a hang nail or serious ailment, they could stay home<br />
from school. Our marks in school had to be up to par. Our friends'<br />
report cards had beautiful colors on them, black for passing, red for<br />
failing. My mother being as different as she was, would settle for<br />
nothing less than ugly black marks.<br />
As the years rolled by, first one and then the other of us was put<br />
to shame. We were graduated from high school. With our mother behind<br />
us, talking, hitting and demanding respect, none of us was allowed the<br />
pleasure of being a drop-out.<br />
My mother was a complete failure as a mother. Out of four<br />
children, a couple of us attained some higher education. None of us<br />
have ever been arrested, divorced or beaten his mate. Each of my<br />
brothers served his time in the service of this country. And whom do we<br />
have to blame for the terrible way we turned out? You're right, our<br />
mean mother. Look at the things we missed. We never got to march in a<br />
protest parade, nor to take part in a riot, burn draft cards, and a<br />
million and one other things that our friends did.<br />
She forced us to grow up into God-fearing, educated, honest adults.<br />
Using this as a background, I am trying to raise my three<br />
children. I stand a little taller and I am filled with pride when my<br />
children call me mean.<br />
Because, you see, I thank God, He gave me the meanest mother in<br />
the whole world.</div>
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written by Bobbie Pingaro (1967)</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-22337168212583445552016-03-11T01:53:00.000-05:002016-03-11T01:53:01.419-05:00Petit Fours Anyone?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I collect all sorts of wax. Well, I really collect everything, but wax is my topic today.I have tackled this project before and it turned out so nice, I decided to try it again. This is my latest attempt at making Petit Fours. The last tray I made was a whole assortment of various types of cookies, candies, etc. Lots of different colors used, but today I had only melted enough wax for one color. Brown. So these are my chocolate covered petit fours.They look delicious, but believe me, they are not for human consumption. They are made of wood blocks covered with brown wax. I didn't take near the pains I should have to coat them more perfectly, but I was having a bit of trouble getting my wax melted like I needed, to get a better coating on them.They do make for a nice centerpiece. Now if I can only keep folks from biting into them. I don't want to get sued over a broken tooth.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-9878036125723903882016-03-11T01:32:00.001-05:002016-03-11T01:32:07.137-05:00I Love Making my Little Refrigerator Magnets.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;">I have been making refrigerator magnets for months now. Making them has become one of my favorite projects. I use a lot of recycled card stock from any boxed item that passes through my house. Many days when I have nothing better to do, I will sit down with my home made templates,my paints, my glue gun and Elmers glue, my many containers of all sorts of embellishments, and begin putting together various layers of card stock and sometimes fabric, until I come up with an appea</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 21.4667px;">ling finished product, I seal the back of each project with white paper or brown paper to hide the printing on the card stock.then I glue 2 tiny magnets on the back of each. After gluing the 2 tiny magnets on the back, I then glue a matching piece of paper over the magnets to double insure that they stay put. The heart is a favorite shape of mine at the moment, but I have drawn and cut out several other shapes of templates from the same card stock,that I use for other projects.The fun is in mixing and matching colors and shapes and embellishments to form an appealing product. I always leave just enough space on the faces of each to place my sentiment. I keep a lot of generic sentiments printed up with my printer. I print the words very small, in most cases, so that I can glue them onto another tiny piece of colored card stock for the border around the sentiment before strategically placing it onto the finished magnet.I have given out so many of these magnets during the last few months along with my crocheted dish washing cloths. Some that I adored so,I literally hated to part with them, but I did take pictures so that I can duplicate some of them at a later date.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-62497230336012719422016-02-19T11:44:00.000-05:002016-02-19T11:44:04.197-05:00My latest obsession, Refrigerator Magnet Sentiments<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I am so proud of the fact that I have the ability and the desire to use many things that others would discard. My ultimate goal is to make something useful and pretty. I have spent a great deal of my spare time during the cold, nasty days of Winter, many of which kept me inside, not my most favorite place to be, doing something I thoroughly enjoy. I can't really say what I do is card making. I know that has become a big thing in crafting today. Card making for many, means hun</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">dreds of dollars spent on fancy modern supplies, but that is not my way. My goal has always been to use recycled or reclaimed materials. I have made, in my opinion, many beautiful cards, tags, and my latest passion, refrigerator magnets, using only recycled and reclaimed supplies. That, I feel, is my trademark, but I must now confess. I have ordered a very few fancy tools from the Master Crafter herself. Most of my creations are still being made in the same manner, but I have now added a paper butterfly and paper lace to some of them. I am having so much fun creating my little works of art. I find it to be a very peaceful and calming hobby. I do a lot of searching through my mountains of supplies to find just the right embellishment, but a little more exercise is good, too.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-41578154072996851842016-02-18T10:22:00.003-05:002016-02-18T10:22:46.725-05:00One Less Chicken Killer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #666666; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; line-height: 16.08px;">One old lady, out in the freezing cold, wearing nothing but her night clothes, with no glasses, shivering and barely awake, does not make for a good scenario. My eye opening experience this morning at day break, ended up with less than perfect results. Three dead chickens. Well, two bodies, for sure. A third body, evidently totally devoured. Only feathers remain of it. Three dogs running around the hen house frantically. Only after circling the pond and surrounding property,did they decide the culprit was still hid away in the hen house/ tractor shed. I hear a loud noise in the adjoining shed, only to find the yard dog had treed a raccoon up in a tight corner of the tractor shed in it's attempt to get away. Hopefully, Bear would keep him there until I could get back to the house, awaken Pop, get him dressed and awake enough to shoot the gun. Using guns are not my first and foremost favorite hobby, therefore,I'm out of practice. I'd rather Pop did the shooting, if and when it comes to that. No coffee in him yet, so that speaks volumes. Rhonda will tell you that he is definitely not at his best for any task, with no coffee, much less for shooting a gun. Nevertheless, Pop tries frantically to get a sight of the raccoon in the scope, but without glasses, that was futile. He shoots a hole or two in the roof of the shed and maybe one in the raccoon, and the raccoon looses his grip, and falls to the outside pen. That's where we have our extra lumber and metal stored. We think the raccoon is still under the tin, too frightened or injured to come out. Back to the house for coffee and glasses,we try again. We must now bring out Ole Rose to lift the tin, hopefully, to finish him off, if he's still there. I know there are rules and regulations about killing most varmints anymore, but it is my understanding that if it is caught in the act of destroying your property or livestock, killing it is allowed. At least we now know, it is a raccoon. I have found the entry hole, over our newly installed door, an repaired it.We'll post an update as to our results, as soon as we make another attempt to settle this case.................Pop managed to toss some of the metal sheeting aside, exposing the 20 pound raccoon who was growling furiously, possibly knowing that he was caught and his demise was imminent. We have a couple of neighbors who collect and use hides of various animals, so hopefully some good will come from his remains, even if he did cost me 5 or more chickens over this last year..... We lost one of our beautiful white Silkie hens that was laying good, a Rhode Island Red hen that had escaped from a hawk last year with only slight damage to one of her wings, and a small black bantam hen that sang the prettiest songs.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-49687890120866586012016-02-05T12:15:00.002-05:002016-02-05T12:15:29.595-05:00My Favorite Craft for the Winter of 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have lots of time on my hands and loads of ribbons, lace, card stock,paints,etc. As a matter of fact, I have most any kind of crafting supplies known to man, so I have been crocheting lots of dish washing cloths, and I do mean lots. Most folks use cotton only, but I have so much acrylic yarn accumulated, I tried using it and it works fine for my dish washing. That's my opinion anyway. Nevertheless, I give many of them as "spur of the moment gifts", and I usually don't have a store bought sentiment card handy, so I make my own card to attach to the dish washing cloth. I have enjoyed making the cute little topper cards as much, if not more, than the dish washing cloths themselves. I can mix and match and create till the cows come home. I think this is my favorite craft for the year. Every year, it seems, I find something new to busy myself during the winter months. The only problem is......time goes so much faster when I am creating the little cards. At my age, that is not a good thing. <i class="_4-k1 img sp_UkKp2mjPS47 sx_06185f" style="background-image: url("/rsrc.php/v2/yp/r/aeO1ik7i7-T.png"); background-position: 0px -5593px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block; height: 16px; vertical-align: -3px; width: 16px;"><u style="left: -999999px; position: absolute;">😥</u></i></div>
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P.S. My ultimate plan for the little cards is to use them as refrigerator magnets. That is my goal anyway. Only time will tell if that plan comes to fruition.I will give an update on that in a future post.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-89662036396239230852016-01-28T06:30:00.001-05:002016-01-28T06:30:22.116-05:00My Jar and Box Top Collages.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">I am so happy with my progress on my latest project. I may not have all of the fancy store bought supplies that many are using today, but I get so much pleasure from making pretty things from all of my reclaimed collectibles. I am not real sure what I'll call them, but for now, I will call them my jar and box top collages. I love making my little tags and I love making embellishments for my pin cushions, but the two projects seemed to have collided and evolved into a totally different product. I am getting so much pleasure from assembling these adorable little arrangements, I may be making more of my little keepsake jars and boxes soon. I picked up a cute little keepsake box at a consignment store this past week, simply to be used as a pattern. It is so cute and looks very similar to some of my own creations.</span><br />
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While looking over a few DIY crafts this morning, I have decided that there are so many ways to use these little collages. I use a lot of jars for various purposes since a dear friend of mine saves them for me, so I will definitely be moving a few of them along as gifts in the near future. Many are not usable for canning or freezing, but I do not have the heart to tell him to stop saving them for me. He is such a sweetheart for thinking of me. I watch a lot of the TV programs that involve cut outs and dies and such. I am fascinated with many of their ideas, but too cheap to order their products, so I use what I have on hand and make my own. I think my creations look as good as any they have made, and they are definitely less expensive. I had been crocheting a lot of dish washing cloths since I came into an abundance of yarn lately, but now it's time to "Move over yarn". You definitely have a new competitor when it come to finding things to keep me busy during these long winter days. No complaint of getting house burned here. I have too many exciting things to keep myself occupied.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-44218291525705102282016-01-05T16:06:00.000-05:002016-01-05T16:06:22.492-05:00Chocolate Covered Cherries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">This is not a new story to some, but since I ran across a box of chocolate covered cherries in the pantry this morning, I'll share it again. When I was in grade school........it was about fifth grade....the best I remember.....many of the kids were giving and receiving these boxes of cherries at Christmastime when we exchanged gifts. At that time, I think they cost approximately 50 cents a box. Today they are closer to $3.a box. I'm guessing since I never buy them for myself. My family was so poor, we were lucky to get a gift for the person whose name we had drawn. I remember getting a blouse for my gift. It was a nice blous</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px;">e, and I remember it well. I only hope the person who had my name and gave me the blouse that year is not reading this, although it is very likely they are, since many of my fifth grade friends from grade school are following my posts. I cherished the blouse, but to a child, clothing, no matter how badly it's needed, is not the most appreciated gift. Nevertheless, I longed for a box of those cherries, just one time, but that never happened. When Hershell and I married, I shared that story with him, and every year for the last 37 years, he has gotten me a box of chocolate covered cherries for Christmas, and sometimes on even Valentine's Day. Now that is true love. He is definitely a keeper.</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-71073083078622765652015-11-15T12:10:00.002-05:002015-11-15T12:10:48.226-05:00Wrapped in Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Each night when go to bed, I wrap myself in memories. Memories of my Mother who has been gone from this life since March 12, 2013. Mom made many quilts in her life time. Not the fancy, beautiful quilts that win prizes in the county fairs, but quilts that she made from our outgrown clothing, and lined with worn blankets, or something similar, just to make them nice and warm and snugly. I remember many quilts that she made over our lifetime. Some made from f<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">abric that was so heavy, it was hard to roll over in the bed at night, back when we were very small. The older houses that we lived in, had no heat other than the wood stove in the living room, or maybe the heat from the cooking stove. A warm quilt was such a treasure back then. One that was made well enough to hold in body heat.<br />As Mom lay dying, those last three months of her life, my sister and I spent all of those final days with her. At night, we snuggled up in the warm quilts, on cots, close by her bedside. I have acquired a few of her old quilts, over the years, and they bring much comfort to me, today.<br />I remember when I was first out of high school. I had taken a night shift job. That meant I must try to sleep during the day, while the rest of the family scurried around in the house. It was hard to get use to, but Mom allowed me to sleep in hers and dad's bed away from the noise of the younger children, as they played. I remember their bed being so warm and snugly. I guess it takes a little more living to learn how to make a bed feel that way. I think I have learned it by now, but Mom's quilts are a big part of my warm and snugly beds, even today.</span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-79486737565525899722015-07-08T22:20:00.004-04:002015-07-08T22:21:21.580-04:00Getting Old is not for Sissies<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This past year, I have had more medical issues than the combined 66 years prior. Everything seems to begin falling apart all at once. I really have no right to complain, since I have been so healthy for so long, but it definitely hard to accept. It is my opinion that some, not all, but some of the problems I am experiencing are related to the chemo pill I must take for 2 years following my cancer removal. The majority of the symptoms, I can handle, but the weak muscles is the worst. I have always been strong and had boocoodles of energy. Those two symptoms are the hardest to accept. I have had my one year scan and check up with both my surgeon and my oncologist and got good reports from both. During my visit with them, I voiced my thoughts about the weak muscles and questioned whether my heart would be affected since it is a muscle. They are now recommending a stress test. I have been having several episodes of chest pains. Nothing major, but enough to get my attention. The heart is the first thing to pop into my mind. Could this be a warning of worse things to come? Hopefully, with this, test, we will be able to see what is going on. I pray it is only stress causing the chest pains.<br />
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Now I am dealing with another totally different issue, unrelated to the chemo pills, as far as I know anyway. I have been doing a lot of reading and feel the thing I am dealing with now is a Baker's Cyst. There is a swelling in the back of my knee and it makes bending my leg or using the muscles in my leg very painful. From the reading I have done, it must be a fluid that has built up around a joint. The more reading I do, the more frightened I get. It says it can heal and go away on it's own, but then there is a chance it may require surgery. I have an appointment with my family doctor next week for my routine checkup. I tried to get in earlier to no avail. I think I read that the fluid sac could rupture and the fluid could run down into the calf muscle and cause more problems. I am already experiencing the sensation on the soul of my foot of standing on a couple of small water balloons.Could this be the fluid from the ruptured cyst? I hope not, but it does sound logical. The entire thing makes it very uncomfortable to walk, so hopefully I will get to the bottom of this issue before too long. The rains have hampered my work in the yard and gardens nearly all Spring and Summer, so far. I have had to spend a lot of time indoors. I am ready to pull my hair, or someone's hair, out over it all. I pray this, too, will pass, as have so many other hurtles in my life. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-83676861866357954132015-07-04T17:08:00.001-04:002015-07-04T17:08:14.286-04:00Potatoes in my Bed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">early stages of my raised bed... 30 X 5 ft.</td></tr>
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We bought a bag of red potatoes at the local auction this year, and I decided I would plant some of the eyes in my new raised garden bed just to see how they do. We have had the wettest Spring I can remember in awhile. It has been extra cool and rained more days than not. I suppose it was just what the doctor ordered for my potatoes. I harvested a full 5 gallon bucket from only a dozen hills. They were amazing. I cooked up a batch of potato soup for a gathering we were having a couple of weeks ago and they were such a hit, I have decided to cook another batch for our outing at the lake on Sunday. I have a few tires remaining with the last few hills that have not been harvested yet. It, too, was an experiment, so having such good luck with the potatoes this year, I will definitely be trying it again next year. With potatoes though, one just knows it is a hit or miss thing. A lot depends on the weather and other factors, as to whether or not you have a good crop. My raised bed is young yet, so I'll need to add a lot more soil and other things in order to make it better. I am so pleased with the results, I can't imagine it being any better. My tomatoes are doing great. I have sweet peppers coming on. The watermelons are growing good. I had a few strawberries earlier this season.. I have a few strawberry corn nearing maturity. I've had loads of onions, My cucumbers are bearing good. And, oh yes, my potatoes. I dare say, I have impressed my own self with the abundance of veggies that I have grown in my new raised bed. I have planted some beans lately and they are coming along nicely. Who could ask for more in such a small space. Having a place to raise your own food and enjoying the process as we both do, is truly a blessing. We are so blessed, and we thank God, daily, for this wonderful life we are living.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-47362190835927137442015-06-17T22:46:00.003-04:002015-06-17T22:46:22.524-04:00One year later, no sign of Cancer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Here I am once more, grateful for the opportunity to tell the world, I am alive and feeling so blessed. One year ago. After a lengthy heart examination by Dr. Mehta, an Elizabethtown Cardiologist, it was determined that there was something out of the ordinary, showing up in my exams and scans. With the insistence of Dr Mehta, we engaged another doctor q,Dr. Marshall Johnson, for his assistance in determining exactly what it was they were seeing . After a few more tests, Dr. Johnson felt it was something that required a specialist. He immediately hooked me up with Dr. Charles Scoggins at Norton's Hospital. We then made arrangements to have it checked out, whatever it might be, as soon as possible. Within a week. I was meeting with Dr. Scoggins when he expressed to us, it was indeed cancer. A GIST cancer. He had seem enough to know. Our next step would be to take it out, send it off to determine other factors. Fast or slow growing and in what stage.Within another week, I was headed for surgery with Dr Charles Scoggins at Norton's Hospital. At 5:30 in the morning of June 17, 2014 .I was being rolled into surgery. After roughly, an hour later, we were informed that a mass the size of an orange, was sitting directly on top of my stomach, not in the lining as was originally thought. Now the waiting. Four days later, about the time I was ready to be released from the hospital, the results were in. Dr. Scoggins came to my room to tell me and my family the results of the tests we had been waiting for. The Gastro Intestinal Stromal Tumor was a fast growing tumor in the 3rd stage. We were indeed blessed. Had it gone into the fourth stage, it would have metastasized and went to my liver and my brain. There would have been no stopping it. So, here I am, one year later, having just recently got the results of my one year scan. All Clear. Praise, God! Although it has been a somewhat difficult year for me, adjusting to the fact I do not have the strength I once had, I do feel I am so grateful. I feel I am getting my strength back gradually. I have been on the chemo pills for the last year and was told I will need to be on them one more year, if all goes well, and they do not change the guidelines on that order. There has been talk of moving the time on the pills up to five years. I feel tthe chemo pills are holding me back from regaining my full strength, but I am trusting that with the help of God,my Oncologist, Dr. Vivek Sharma,and my surgeon, Dr. Charles Scoggins, I will be just fine. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-764847653921736412015-06-12T11:48:00.000-04:002015-06-12T11:50:50.527-04:00Step back Facebook. I'm blogging today.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Since joining the Facebook world, I rarely get around to posting on my blog anymore. I tend to write about much of the same things on my FB posts and folks seem to enjoy my daily entries, but since the things I post about on my blog will eventually end up in my little books, I need to get back to posting here as well. I will try to keep them both up to date, if possible, but this time of the year is a busy time for me anyway. We'll just have to see how it goes.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1 of 2 compost bins and compost strainer</td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961);">The cats awakened me </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><a href="about:blank" style="background-color: white; color: blue; cursor: pointer;" target="_blank">at 5 am</a><span style="background-color: white;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.701961);"> and after feeding them and letting them out, there was no way I could fall back asleep. I lay awake, thinking of a project I had been wanting to undertake for some time. It was just turning daylight, so I had to get to it. We no longer use one of the enclosed dog/chicken pens, so I have been gradually disassembling it. We, at one time, had multiple sections of woven wire, given to us by Cousin Keith. Pop has since hauled most of it off for scrap, much to my dismay, since I used and loved that wire. It came in so handy for so many of my projects. I use it to make compost bins, strainers for composted soil, small cages for various uses, wind and frost caps for my plants, temporary fencing for the chickens to have extended space to get to more bugs and grass. So many uses. Now that I am down to only a very few sections of the wire, I had to disassemble the old pen in order to reuse that last section that was used overhead to keep the varmints out and the chickens in, but I got it done. A lot of trimming of honeysuckle and wisteria vines, but I managed to get it done much quicker than I had originally thought. My flock of smaller chickens, bantam and silkies, now have more space to scratch and eat. No where near the trouble I had anticipated. Much to my surprise, I found a lot of volunteer tomato plants growing in the abandoned pen. Most likely they are cherry tomatoes. They reseed more readily than most tomatoes and since I had chickens in that pen last, the seeds were, most likely, left from the table scraps I had fed them. No matter. They were a welcome sight. I'll let them grow where they are. Who knows. That pen may make an excellent greenhouse after all. That was a plan I had for it sometime back, anyway. Now I know. It will work as a greenhouse, but that is another project for another day. </span><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></b></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-56210750421958056082015-04-30T21:39:00.003-04:002015-04-30T21:39:43.369-04:00Is this what they mean by "Noodling"?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hershell and I got a call this week from our friend, Budco, who was filling in a pond for a field tiling job he was doing. He called saying the number of fish coming out of the pond was unreal. Would we like to come and save a few more for our pond. We jumped in the truck and headed that way. No thought of how things would be when we arrived. Thank goodness I had enough sense to pitch a net in the truck. Hip boots never entered my mind. When we arrived on the scene, we found a couple of hog wallow type streams that we needed to cross. Not even the 4-wheel drive truck would help. It was a trip we needed to make on foot. The muck and mire where we needed to cross was too wide to jump, but we had to try. Hershell made it across without getting too muddy. I attempted to jump to what I thought was a solid spot, but you can guess the rest of the story. My solid spot target turned out not to be so solid. My foot slipped, bringing me down, flat on my back, in the mucky hog wallow of a stream and since he had tried to help me, down he went, too. We were both laughing so hard, it took what seemed like forever to get ourselves up and out of the muck. After we got over the embarrassment and humiliation, we proceeded to dip up many fish to take home to our pond. 21 blue gill and 6 bass. Not a bad days fishing. I hope my former classmate, Nelson Burnett, is following my story. I'd like to tell him, "If this is anything like noodling, I want no part of it ever again. Sorry." Many years ago, he informed our eighth grade class that he had been dubbed with the nickname Noodler. When asked why, he replied, "Because I love to noodle." I never knew until that day what noodling was. I have since learned that it means getting in the water, feeling around under the water, and catching fish with only your hands. I, personally, don't see how that could possibly be any fun, but hopefully, you don't need to get down and wallow in the mucky mud to noodle.<br />
Above are a few pictures from our trip. Hershell had rinsed my back side off a bit with the ice cold water from a nearby creek. The water was too cold for much rinsing off. It's a wonder we both didn't catch pneumonia.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-11858541730344192952015-03-26T07:16:00.000-04:002015-03-26T07:16:00.801-04:00Energy and Motivation, Don't Leave Me Now!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I guess I could put an ad in the local paper, but I am afraid the things I have lost, cannot be found that easily. I have a long list of excuses as to why I have gained several extra pounds in the last year, but the plain truth is, I have been snacking too much and not getting enough exercise.<br />
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The Cancer ordeal of this past year did have a tiny bit to do with it, but it was not the only factor. It took the better part of the summer to heal from my surgery and I did tend to stay in and do as little as possible during the healing process. Then there was the Iron ordeal. I had to go to the James Graham Brown Cancer Center once a week for a 2 hour session of intravenous iron. Louisville being 60 miles away, and the traffic being so bad at times, I was a nervous wreck each time we had to make the trip. Pop does the driving, and he scares me as he is much older now, not to mention, he thinks he is still 25 and driving on the racetrack, which he was really good at, back then. But age tends to change a lot of things, and he doesn't accept change easily. Many times when we'd make the trip, one of his two daughters would go. Most times, they would drive, but occasionally, they will let him drive. They truly want to believe he is just as capable as he was when he was much younger, and do not want to hear me say he does not need to be driving to Louisville. I've lived with him for the last 37 years, so I feel I know his driving habits a little better now. I would rather one of them would drive. They are both good drivers, although they do drive faster and take more chances than I ever would. I guess it's a case of choosing the lesser of the two evils.<br />
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Nevertheless, the Cancer and the Iron ordeals are behind us, for the most part. I am still taking the chemo pills daily, and I still need to have a CBC once a month, regular check ups with both my surgeon and my oncologist, once every 3 months. and a scan every 6 months. Both doctors are in Louisville, so that's a pain, having to make the trips backup there, but when you consider my alternatives, it's not that bad.<br />
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The Winter was really rough on me this time. Over and above the other issues, I have been experiencing a lot of troubles with one of my shoulders. Both tend to bother me a lot, but the right shoulder froze up completely. It, too, was possibly brought on by inactivity. During the time I was recuperating from the cancer surgery, I was doing a lot of work on the computer, planning my big 50th class reunion. I was on the computer the better part of every waking hour for much of the Fall and Winter. I was the number one, search and find, person, for locating our 169 plus classmates.<br />
I enjoyed every minute of it, but I do think it may have played a big part in my shoulder joint freezing up. I went through a few weeks of physical therapy, and it helped somewhat, But I still do not have the complete mobility back in that arm. Mom had a similar problem with her right arm and shoulder. They would not do surgery on her because of her age, but I do not plan to have surgery at any age on mine. I am hearing too many stories of bad results for folks who have had the surgery.<br />
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Now,back to my topic. Spring is here now. My aches and pains seem to diminish with more activity and a change in the weather. It will take me all summer to clean up the mess left from my inactivity of the past year. Things tend to get out of hand in the yard and gardens, without regular routine care. I have been working with these things for a few days now, and I do feel I am rebuilding my strength and stamina a bit. It's a slow process. I am struggling with low energy and weak muscles, but I plan to persevere. Hopefully, I will get back to my usual self before Winter hits again,along with the long spells of inactivity which accompanies it. I have never been one to do my exercising indoors.<br />
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I do believe the fresh air and outdoor activities tend to play a major part in how one feels, but diet does play a huge part in it, too. Thus, I have just today, ordered Dr. Phil's 20/20 Diet Book. I have never been one to follow a diet, and do any good, but hopefully he will have a few pointers that I can use in my own routine.I'll check in, in a few days to post an update on how I am doing.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-20237818111428471672015-03-09T13:06:00.000-04:002015-03-09T13:06:19.615-04:00Our Family Grows<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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One day, this past few months, Pop and I were working with the winter's wood supply, when we heard the 3 dogs barking incessantly at something they had treed. We investigated and found it was a young calico cat. It didn't appear to be a full grown cat, but maybe 3/4 grown. We called the dogs away and between Pop and I, we coerced the kitten down from the tree. It seemed to be comfortable with humans, so we went about convincing the dogs that it was not a varmint, so they,too, become comfortable with each other, right away. It seemed to be a well kept cat. It was healthy and friendly, but it was determined to follow us, every step we made. We'd go inside. It would follow. We'd go outside. It would follow. It knew exactly where to go inside the house, for water, To the commode. That told us that it must have been a house cat where ever it had come from. We continued on with letting it be a house cat, but it definitely wanted to go outdoors to do it's business. It would use the litter box if it had to, but we could tell, it preferred to do that outside in the dirt.We noticed it getting fatter and fatter, or so we thought. It only took about 60+ days to figure out it was not fat that was making her appear much bigger. Pop was worried she had a tumor, and sure enough 60+ days later, she had 5 little tumors. We have spoiled them all rotten now, and it will be hard to let them go, but we are pretty sure we have found homes for most of the babies. We plan to have Callie, the Mother cat, neutered as soon as possible. She is a darling pet. It is hard to understand who would have dropped off such a great pet, but with the economy being as it is nowadays, we figure they could not afford to feed her, plus most likely knowing she was bred, did not help. Our male cat has been neutered so we know he was not guilty of fathering the kittens.She had to have been bred when she was dropped or shortly thereafter, by a neighboring male cat. They do tend to travel great distances, when in season, to find a mate. No matter. She is our cat now, and we love her dearly. The babies are all precious. Each with it's own darling personality. They will make great pets for their perspective owners soon, although we will miss them terribly. It is so easy to get attached to a tiny kitten, as we are learning, all too well.</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1312477628708708458.post-91197599420381845832015-03-09T12:25:00.000-04:002015-03-09T12:25:42.178-04:00Back in the Saddle Again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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This has been a very rough year for me and I am hoping with the arrival of the Spring season, to be able to get things back on track. My muscles have deteriorated over this past Summer and Winter, due to inactivity. The Cancer scare, hopefully, is behind me. I had it removed and I am now taking 300 milligrams of Gleevec, a chemo pill, once a day.The healing from the surgery took about 6 weeks, but then we learned that my iron levels were bottomed out, so that took another 6 weeks to get the treatments for that taken care of. All in all, I have had very little outdoor activities to keep my muscles built up as usual. One of my shoulders froze up, probably due to the same reason, and I am convinced that age and the weather had a bit to do with it also. I went through a few rounds of therapy which helped to a great extent, but I am sure some of the pain and discomfort will be with me always. I have kept myself busy as always, through this lengthy recovery from all of the above. I have busied myself doing lots of my many craft interests, but the one that captivates me most often is making the little pincushions.This is only a few of my pincushions as I have been giving them to friends and family as gifts this past few months.I enjoy making the little pincushions, although they are very tedious and time consuming. The process does seem to have a calming effect on me, so when I am stressed, they are the perfect distraction and remedy.</div>
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