My friend Molly emailed this morning…..What? No Sunday blog? What's up with that? Hope you are doing okay? Would love to call but I never know if Steve is doing conference calls or working from home via the phone. Love Molly
We needed tomatoes yesterday to make a salad. Rather than drive the 6 miles to Yokes or WWW, we drove a mile and a half to the Pack River General Store. It’s a one room we-have-everything-you-need-for-a-price-laundry-showers-and–one-gas-pump-too kind of store. It sits right on the Pack River, fronts Rapid Lightening Creek Road and is a throw back to several generations.
We loaded up the dogs and decided to take a little ride up Rapid Lightening Creek Road after our tomato purchase.
It has been two years since we needed to drive up that road and Upper Gold Creek Road that sits at the top of Rapid Lightening. Our friends Barb and John used to live on RLC and Cliff and Lou lived on Gold Creek, the downward slope of Upper Gold Creek. It is a beyond beautiful drive. Trees, mountains, creeks, falls, valleys and fields abound in the glory that is summer in Idaho. Those were secondary to the drive.
In the early summer of 1989 we went to Steve’s 25th high school reunion in Anaheim, California. Steve met up with his old childhood friend Cliff. There was a lot of reminiscing and belly laughs and at the end of the evening Cliff invited us to visit him and his wife in Sandpoint, Idaho. It was a sincere invitation.
Late that same summer, Steve had a consultation in Spokane, Washington. Spokane is the closest airport to Sandpoint and Steve drove up to see Cliff. Not only were Cliff and his wife Lou in Sandpoint, his children, his parents Cliff Sr. and Nancy Sr., brother Jerry and his wife and children, his sister Nancy and her husband David, and various in-laws, cousins and extended family lived there too. John, another childhood friend, had migrated to Sandpoint and through a set of strange circumstances had just “hooked up” with Barb from California as well. Steve came home in love with another woman named, Idaho.
In October of ’89 Steve and I came up for a visit and within a week we had purchased our 16 acres and building plans were in progress. You can read more about the evolution from that point on in my sidebar under stuff about me...big adventure.
There were a lot of trips to Sandpoint after that momentous year. We spent a few holidays with these friends and gradually we became part of the family.
After we moved here full time in 1998, almost every holiday was spent with all of these special folks. Easter had egg decorating contests; not with dye but with fabric, lace, buttons and doo-dads. The elder Cliff was always the judge. The 4th of July meant a parade then a Bar-B-Q then fireworks. A few of those 4th’s were spent around a fire ring with jackets and blankets, but the fountains and crackers went off as planned using a propane torch to light them. Parades are popular up here and we all would congregate in front of Ricardo’s Pizza and bring chairs, cameras and our loudest cheering voices.
Thanksgivings were food glorious with everyone sitting around a plywood panel perched on top of sawhorses talking and joking. Christmas was filled with homemade gifts; very little was store bought and every gift special to the person not assembly-line-one-fits-all.
Were it not for this family of friends, the hole in my heart from leaving my children behind in California after the big move would have turned into a volcanic crater with molten ash and tears.
Then everything changed.
The elders sold their compound in back of the Pack River General Store (they had built the store and had sold it but kept the 200+ acres with their home behind it).
David died, then John died, then Jerry died, then Cliff did something so unspeakable that Lou left him, Barb moved to Spokane, Nancy’s house was on the market. All of those drives up those roads ceased in a matter of months.
The drive yesterday made me cry. Steve didn’t understand. I felt such a huge surge of loss I didn’t think I would ever catch my breath. It had sort of floated out the window on Gold Creek. Damn all of them for dying, damn Cliff for being so selfishly stupid, damn all of them for taking away the only real reason I wanted to move to Idaho. Yes, I love this land and my two friends, Gina and Molly. Yes, I love the Library and being a Trustee, yes I have fond memories of the minutia that made me first fall into wanting to be a nature faerie. Where else could you find a long bridge that spans a clean lake filled with healthy fish, population of a little over 5,000, The Bohemian Trader with all things needed to survive Idaho, Yokes Pac n Save that was really just a warehouse, Dead Harold’s Market so named because Harold had been murdered there, The Panida and not having to lock anything ever including your car in town?
Damn all of them for taking away what was my Idaho life. Selfish, I know but I don't care.
I don’t go into town much anymore. The traffic is horrible and parking a joke. Yoke’s is a fancy schmancy market, WWW has taken over everything it seems and I just kind of want to stay at home in my own forest with my wildlife and the kittens and Steve and our pets. We can’t afford many visits to California to see the kids at the moment, so I am planted here.
Steve says he thinks I have a list of worries. When one is gone, checked off, I put another on the list. What’s the latest worry that has soared right to the top of the list? That Steve will be traveling and I will die on the forest floor alone with no one to find me except for the Bambi’s and that only a few friends are left in Idaho to miss me. I’m not going up Rapid Lightening Creek Road, Upper Gold Creek Road or Gold Creek Road ever again.
Monday, July 30, 2007
My friend Molly emailed this morning…..What? No Sunday blog? What's up with that? Hope you are doing okay? Would love to call but I never know if Steve is doing conference calls or working from home via the phone. Love Molly
Saturday, July 28, 2007
This is my old washer, known as POS. See all the fancy push buttons? See all the cycles I had to choose from when washing clothes? See all the potential for screwing up? Not me screwing up, the POS screwing up. And it did all the time.
My brand new washer. Dials. See the dials? Sweet, simple, and it was so cheap it almost clucks when it spins. Love it! I'm gonna call it Cutie.
Friday, July 27, 2007
Thursday, July 26, 2007
This couple are the Celinos. They were the parents of my godmother, Lucy. Neither one of them spoke English but Mrs. Celino (never knew their first names and wouldn't have called them by those names anyway unless I wanted to get smacked) would bark out orders in Italian to the kids at a gathering and expect all of us...none spoke Italian....to understand everything she was saying. When we didn't respond she would call us "stupido" and raise her hand and take a deep breath and exhale with a protracted ahhhhhhiee. I think the Teflon Don would have looked like Mr. Celino had he lived. I think he is quite a handsome man.
Monday, July 23, 2007
I am apologizing again for not reading blogs last night. I was on a mission, a research mission.
I have made three really bad purchase decisions in my life; a Corvette, a waterbed and now a washing machine.
The Vette was an 89. Red. Fast. Beautiful. I wanted it. I bought it. The E brake came off in my hand, the back window slid off, a gasket continually blew and all of this happened in the first year I had it. I lost my a## when I traded it in on my cute little MR2.
The water bed was a trendy thing to buy. I wanted one. I wanted one. I bought it. It was the worst sleep of my life. I hated the damn thing. Kept it for a year and then gave it to my oldest son. He still has the frame with a regular mattress set in it.
Three years ago I needed a new washer. The newest thing on the market was a brand that starts with May and ends with Tag but I don't think I should put the brand name in this post; might get me in trouble. It was a Neptune but I really can't post the model type. It had paddles instead of an agitator. It was supposed to do a whiz bang wash job, better spin thus saving on drying time, could launch rockets into space and bring a man home from the moon. I wanted one. I wanted one. I bought one.
It is a piece of crap. I hated it after the second load of wash. It does not wash well, the capacity is fraudulently advertised....yes it has a large tub, but you can only load it half way up....when it spins it turns my clothes into pretzels and actually can knot a pair of pants legs. Yesterday was the last straw. It kept going off balance with a load of two sheets. Two. No pillowcases, no wash cloths, no dish towels, just 2 sheets. I eventually wrung them out and hung them to dry.
I ranted like a fish woman (you know, like in a fish market yelling "Buy the mackerel today or I'll hit you in the head with a fish"). If I was married to anyone other than Steve I would have been told to deal with the situation. When I screamed "I am finished with this POS. I am researching a new washer, I am going to buy a new washer TOMORROW. I don't care how much money I wasted on this POS, I am getting a new washer and that's it!" He said "OK, honey."
So, I have done my research. I am going to Sears this afternoon and getting a new washer with an agitator, dials, no little clicky push button thingies, very few choices in wash types and load sizes....hot, warm cold, big, middle, small, agitate the clothes to death or be gentle.....and that's IT. Oh, and don't ever buy a Maytag Neptune washer. While doing my research I found out that the class action lawsuit about this exact washer had been settled earlier this year.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Yup, my wild child is home; with 4 babies in tow. She is dirty and acted like I was nuts when I cried louder than when I thought she was gone forever.
She's not talking. Neither are the babies. If I push the issue, she walks away. Little snot.
Steve and I were talking about our pets and how blessed we have been to have the particular ones that we have had. We have accumulated a laundry list of unwanteds over the years. The first baby we brought home was Babie; so named because my kids teased me and called her mommy's new baby. Babie was the result of a kitty mill. While Babie was at the vet's getting "fixed" we brought home Magic who was a lab kitten at Loma Linda Medical Center. He wouldn't have worked in what ever experiment they were going use him for because his momma had mastitis and couldn't feed him. One of the neurosurgeons I worked with asked me if I had room for a 4 week old kitten that would need a faux kitty mommy and I said yes! Magic was forever Babie's baby, not mine.
Then came Mr. Butterbur Goldberry the Dog (can anyone guess where the name came from). He was a 6 month old pedigreed Lasha Apso that was HUGE and had a jaw deformity. He never took to me and at one time the vet suggested we put him down because he had several episodes of biting me, once on the lip. Ah, that would be a no. He spent almost 2 years walking around with a leash attached to his collar. As soon as the leash came off, he would potty in the hallway. It was an attractive leash. Then Cicero was rescued from death row at the animal shelter. He was almost a year old and not "placement material." He was nicely placed in our family.
Miss Drake was my son's cat. He wanted a kitten as his college graduation gift. No, he didn't want a computer or a trip to Hawaii, he wanted a kitten. After my son moved back home with Drake in his arms, she fit in perfectly as the Queen of the pets and became "our" cat after my son married.
When Magic died at 14 we felt like there was an enormous hole in our family. When a co-worker announced her registered Siamese had gotten "that way" from an alley cat and she was going to have the babies aborted I told her if there was a male kitten I would take it. If no males then I would take a female. She let the pregnancy go to term and we not only took Fuzz (named in utero) but Mimi Louise as well as she was going to the animal shelter.
We lost Babie, Cicero and Goldberry in Idaho.....all of them to very old age and serious illness.
Enter Charlie, absolutely the undisputed doggie love of our lives. We got him from the local shelter when he was almost 8 years old. We had 8 glorious years with Charlie. He had experienced some pretty significant spinal problems in 2004, but they were under control and he was comfortable and able to walk and move around quite well. Then the accident happened (Charlie and Violet were in the back seat). Charlie deteriorated rapidly after that and we finally got past our selfish need for him and let him rest. Then there is Schitzo Violet a gift from our daughter. Violet was discovered in a pet grooming shop; the result of another promiscuous animal.
Penelope. What can I say about Penelope? She was the street bag lady, snooping into garbage for snacks, laying on a snow berm in winter to sleep, in knapweed during the summer. She was destined to be shot in the forest because she was inconvenient. She is now conveniently an indoor/outdoor dog that sleeps on a sheepskin pad next to my side of the bed.
The last cat to let us live with her was Sophie. She was the cat living, in-the-closet-full-of-fleas-and- scared-of-her-shadow-which-was-rather-large, at my brother in laws.
And now we have SweetPea. We do have a plan; SweetPea to the vet's to get fixed, babies to the no kill shelter to find homes because they would not survive a winter up here and I will try my best to integrate SweetPea into a family of 3 females and 1 male cat and 2 female dogs all of whom are testy on their best days.
None of these animals were/are animals. We feel they are an integral part of our family, our friends, our children in a sense, our dear companions and deserving of at least a second chance if not more.
Friday, July 20, 2007
I haven't seen SweetPea and the babies since Wednesday night. It will be 40 hours soon. Sounds silly I guess but I am worried about them and even more worried that I will never see them again.
We had a really big, bad storm pass through Thursday at 2:30 in the morning. It lasted for hours, pounded the house with thunder and lit up the forest with lightening; hail rained down and sounded like rocks on the roof. Penelope tried to get up on the bed but thankfully her butt is loaded and she didn't succeed. The kitties were all hiding and all I could do was lay awake until it passed close to 6 AM.
I have a routine with Pea. I go out in the morning at about 10 and play with her, hold her and tell her I love her. We had hatched a plan where she could eventually come inside to live and I promised her I would find good homes for her babies. She is still a baby, she needed a mommy and who am I kidding, I want her. If she is a year old I would be surprised.
I would go out again at dusk when the babies had napped all day long and were more receptive to the big human that talked baby talk and fed them. I was able to sit within 2 or 3 feet of all 4 babies and watch them gobble their can of kitten tuna. I bought a Furpie and we had started playing and socializing a little bit. I "borrowed" Steve's laser pointer and they danced around trying to catch the light. After our dusk play date I would go inside and watch them from Steve's office window as they jumped and ran in the wild daisies.
No SweetPea or babies yesterday morning. OK, I left the tuna on their plates thinking they were out napping in the coolness that had come after the storm. I went out at noon. The food looked untouched. I went out at 2, 3, 4, 6 and finally at dusk I picked up the bee covered food and took it inside. I got the flashlight and walked into forest a bit, but came in after knowing if I did find anything bad I would not be able to stand the sight.
I am not exaggerating when I say that our forest is alive with danger for small animals. Squirrels were in danger because of SweetPea as were the Pine Siskins. We have not seen the bears for a while but it has been hot and the berries are shriveled and dying I have read. We have mountain lions and a den of thriving coyotes a few miles down the road because the idiot people whose property the den is on put their food garbage by the mouth of the den for the "poor skinny creatures." We have voles, raccoons, porcupines, skunks and anything else that naturally lives on the acreage we call home.
I know I am a silly old woman who has placed cats and dogs and Bambi's and squirrels in the pockets of my heart where little children used to come for comfort. But, you know what, they have been magic for me, kept me sane and are the best company anyone could ask for. I love them and they in return act like they tolerate my affection and allow me to think they love me too.
So, I am off to go check for the third time this morning. Of course I am crying. Of course I don't have much hope that when I next go out SweetPea will come sauntering out like she was always there and I-just-came-at-the-wrong-time-silly-human. But, maybe later today or tomorrow I can announce that my wild child and her babies are back.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Steve is gone until Friday, so the job of mowing the lawn is mine. I checked the weather for the week and it is going to be hot every day. I figured I just might as well get this over with. I gathered my equipment:
The riding mower (AKA my Rig) is my friend. Steve says I scare him when I am on it. I do speed a bit I admit. But I make really nice patterns in the grass, only use the cruise on straight paths and try to stay off the rocks. Steve wants me to wear my bike helmet when I mow. No.
I use the walk behind to mow all around the perimeter and along the garden paths. It is a PIA to use this mower because the yard is full of mole and gopher holes and is uneven. I used the wheelbarrow to collect all of the pine cones and the lawn chairs. I have been known to just mow over the pine cones, but they make a horrible noise that sounds like I am killing my rig. I have also just reached out to throw the chairs out of the way as I mow, but that is really not a good idea.
Violet helped me. Is she laughing? Winking?
Here is the north yard all pretty and mowed. The grass is a bit dry. Maybe I should water.
Here is the south yard all pretty and mowed. The grass is a bit dry. Maybe I should water.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
5th grade, 8th grade, some other time, in order of the pictures. One thing never changes; it's all about my hair.
As I go through more and more contemporary pictures I am constantly wondering about the girl I see in pix like these.
I think from babyhood until I was 10 or so, I was just an average kid. I liked school, got good grades, was a Girl Scout, pouted at times, said things to my mother I shouldn't have and got smacked my share of times too. I loved to skate and ride my bike. I played for hours on end with my dolls and paper dolls. I didn't have many friends because, regardless of the big mouth I have in my blog posts, I was and am shy.
Things changed after my brother was born. He was sick a lot, had asthma and I know now, is mildly autistic. My dad was on the road all of the time as a long haul truck driver and my mom ruled the house. She was engaging in reckless behavior and drug me along on those adventures.
I chose to become reckless. I became reckless. I engaged in reckless behavior. But, what was I dreaming about in those days?
In 5th grade I wanted to learn how to ice skate. The Girl Scout troop was going to get a badge in ice skating. My mom said no; the lessons were too expensive and all I would do is spend my time falling at the ice rink. My dad was on the road and so my backup yes was gone. I got over it. I worked on a cooking badge (go ahead and laugh) and was the only girl in my troop to earn one of those badges. I was writing to the Sister's of Charity. I was sure I had heard the calling. I was basically a happy kid. No dreams hit with lightening yet.
In 8th grade I finally got my first bra. I was happy for months. I loved George Phillips who lived in the neighborhood. He was older too; a freshman. He actually talked to me every once in a while. The bomb had gone off with my parents and they were still together, but......I had lied to my dad about what my mom had done. I felt like dirt on his shoes. I had heard my mom say those words.....You can have rosebud. Please. Don't take my dollboy. Reckless had started to tug at my brain. I worried about my frizzy hair and how to get out of accordion practice. I went to picnics with my friends Bea and Diane, played with my mom's makeup, stole one of her lipsticks and lied about taking the bus uptown. Oh, we went uptown, but in Bea's brother's car. I stole a bathing suit. It was green with white zig-zags. I thought I looked at least 15.
The last pix must be one of my high school yearbook photos, but for the life of me I don't know what year. I do remember the blouse. It was green and blue and a kerchief print. It zipped all the way up the front and as soon as I would leave the house the zipper went up and I would pull the back of the collar up and look "tough." But-oh-my-gawd-the-hair.
The summer before my freshman year, I met the man that would become my first husband; the man that I wanted to love me forever. I was typically heartbroken when summer ended even though I had known him for one day and that day ended with the worst kiss of my entire life (and believe me I have kissed some frogs). I saw him again the first day of second semester my freshman year at Alhambra High School. I had sex with him on our first date. Did I type date? I'm sorry, I meant I lied and told my mom I was going to Bea's and told Bea to cover for me. We "parked." Did I type I had sex? I'm sorry, he had sex I pretended. See, I was a woman already.
I did have dreams. I did think I would live them. I could have lived some of the less outrageous ones, but making a 45 record of the "Yellow Rose of Texas", or becoming a Fredrick's model; those were just not going to happen.
Nope, those young girl dreams of ice skating, becoming a nun, having George Phillips fall in love with me, I traded those in for reckless.......I did this backwards. Read this (some of you have already read Something so) and maybe you will understand.
How tall do you think this guy is? 4' 6" on his best day, maybe??
I wrote this... rosemary at 8:29 AM
Sunday, July 15, 2007
I know the marriage did not last long, but it was long enough for Barbara Jean to have a son, Jim, Jr. Eventually Barbara Jean re-married another deaf man, Ralph Cox, and they moved to Michigan.
Below is Barbara Jean maybe 9 or 10 years later (after her re-marriage to Ralph). From left to right, Ralph holding Rose Emma their daughter, Barbara Jean, my grandmother Minnie and standing are my Dad and Jim, Jr. At the time this pix was taken Barbara Jean was diabetic, they lived in squalor, neither she or Ralph worked, they lived on welfare, Barbara Jean no longer spoke but made noises and pointed a lot. This pix was taken at my Uncle Jack's place in Michigan. Both of the children were perfectly healthy. Both Ruth Brown and her mother MRS. Brown passed away shortly after Barbara Jean married Ralph. After my dad passed away the last thing I heard about the family was Jim, Jr. was in the Navy, Barbara Jean was very ill and Rose Emma and Ralph were living with his family. She was my half sister from the family from another time.
FYI, my dad was born in 1903 and I was born in 1944. He was 41 when I was born. I do know he was still married to Ruth Brown when he met my mom which was in the early 40's. My mom had married Phil Rivers and moved to California where Phil was stationed in Long Beach.
Friday, July 13, 2007
I heard a song today and it brought back lots of memories. Not every day can be fun in blogland. But, with friends it doesn't have to be.
When I was 5 I wanted to be a dancer. I would play The Hungarian Rhapsody #2 on my 78 RPM record player and dance until my heart soared and then I would dance some more.
And I was in crazy motion.....
When I was 9 I wanted to be a Sister of Charity. I prayed and prayed and hoped my heart would soar to the heavens and then I prayed some more. I loved the coronet and the way the nuns looked when they walked, almost like floating. I wanted to be a good girl.
til you calmed me down......
When I was 13 I wanted to be a doctor. I took all of the right classes my first year in high school and I thought I would heal the masses and my heart would soar higher than the clouds. Then I saw him. My heart skipped a beat and the doctor in me misdiagnosed my condition.
Some people never say the words I Love You; it's not their style....
When I was 15 I wanted to love and be loved. I thought my heart was large enough to hold and give all of the love in the world and I could soar into womanhood. I was married the March before my 16th birthday and my first son was born in August. I was finally truly in love and my heart soared.
Some people never say the words I Love You, but like a child I'm longing to be told.
When I was 17 my daughter was born and my heart burst from her sweetness. I didn't know love was that wonderful. I was soaring.
and you've got the look of love right in your eyes....
When I was 21 I was divorced. My heart hurt, but, my children kept me strong and we soared together.
It took a little time, but you calmed me down....
When I was 25 I fell in love again and was sure my heart was telling me the truth. My youngest son was born in 1969. He filled that last place in my heart and I didn't think I could be happier. The problem with soaring is staying on track.
and I was in crazy motion...
When I was 29 I was divorced again. My heart was wounded and I thought my soaring days were over. My children kept me grounded, school filled those hard hours when someone would have been coming home from work and then I fluttered and started to soar a bit again.
If something goes wrong I'm the first to admit it....
Foolish heart, weak heart; it was addicted to this soaring. I was 25 again and my heart lied for the second time about the same love. This time I didn't hurt when it was over. I had started to build a wall around my heart that held it tight and pulled my children close. We were not going to soar again. We were going to march in place, make small advances and be content.
I'm the first to admit it but the last one to know...
When I was 38 my heart had a wall around it. It was sealed off and quiet. It was earth bound and was not going to soar again except for my children. But, it seems I didn't totally control that wall and it started to crack a little and a man found his way inside.
They've got a wall in China that's a thousand miles long. And I've got a wall around me that you can't even see...it took a little time to get next to me.
This time was the charm. I had made oh-so-many-bad-flights, my heart had been broken, mended and healed. I thought being content was enough, but soaring was my heart's desire and so I told it to take off. At 41 I married for the last time. My heart was full, it was soaring and has never stopped.
If something goes right, well it's likely to lose me. It's apt to confuse me because it's such a beautiful site. It took a little time to get next to me.
At 62 I retired. I played The Hungarian Rhapsody #2 today. I might just take up dancing.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
It seems that when I won at the Western States Accordion Festival I got the top cute little sticker. When I participated in 1959, I got this huge cute sticker. Says a lot about budgets and winners. The little sticker was won in 1960 the last year I actively competed.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
OK, so it might be a YES! But, front and center winning the race is my youngest son. This was a pro race in Glendale a few weeks ago. Am I proud? Oh, a little bit I guess. Sure wish I had been there. This son of mine could be a poster person for making lemonade out of lemons. He has overcome some pretty substantial issues, become a teacher, husband and father and he continues to be my heartbeat. Kiss, kiss Gil.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Sunday, July 08, 2007
(The shotgun is not loaded. The cracker shot is in a box in a drawer. The bears make it through occasionally this time of year but not enough to cause any problems)
Saturday, July 07, 2007
Here I am in all my nursiness in 1983. I am the redhead with the goggles. Behind me is my friend Ruth. My nursing years are still very vivid in my mind and I know I could still get and give shift report, start an IV, do a sterile dressing and many other nursie duties.
Why are we smiling so broadly? Because we are sitting on the physician's side of the station desk which was a sin, we were using the floor camera to have our pix taken which was a no-no, it was graveyard shift and we were probably exhausted.
The floor I worked on was a 52 bed unit; orthopaedics and neurology or, bones and brains as we called it. It was the floor I was working on when I met Steve, it was the floor I worked as an LVN, an RN, a nurse manager and one that I covered when I became a Clinical Case Manager. I loved my job as a bedside nurse and later when I became an RN, I never complained when assigned to total patient care. Not to sound sappy or make myself a saint, but nursing was always about the patients and not the prestige. However, when the flames of nursing hell took me down (aka burnout) I happily walked away from my profession and forgot lab values, lung sounds, ABG's and a whole lot of other critical knowledge.
Friday, July 06, 2007
First through fifth grade I went to All Soul's Catholic School in Alhambra. Here I am in my school uniform complete with beanie. The uniform was all blue, with ASCS embroidered on the vest. Don't my feet look big? There they are in all of their saddle oxford splendor. The pic was taken in the living room of the house we lived in on Third Street; the hassock is ivy green, the wall paper is light green with white and pink magnolias. All that is missing is my halo and prayer book because I was a good little girl then.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
We went to the local parade yesterday. It is times like this when living in a small town is the best. We saw old friends, cheered local businesses and cried when the pipers walked by. I hope you enjoy the pix taken with my minus 3 MP camera...POC.
We used to have a wonderful family living next door (as in acres away). We loved them and still do, a lot. They moved to town. We still talk and see them occassionally. One of the family members is an incredibly talented young woman (I can't call her a girl anymore, sniff) who has started a blog. I hope you will visit and read her amazing poems. I have told her I want a % of her first book deal! Love you, KT