Our weather is becoming more and more like fall. I’m loving it. It’s cool enough now I am enjoying wearing a hoodie when I go out. In the afternoons it’s warm enough to open front and back doors and let the beautiful breezes in. We already have leaves all over the place because of our lack of rain, so I’ll have to be content to find fall images to enjoy the changing colors this year. Tomorrow, as a part of our change of seasons, we’re due for some strong storms. One day soon I’ll need to move hot weather clothes out and cold weather clothes into my closet. We’ll put snow tires on our truck. Shut down the irrigation system, and more.
Some things are ‘sneaking up on me.’ I was thinking of fall, but was surprised when I was asked yesterday about our plans for Thanksgiving. It seemed like it was much farther away, and yet I have made and packed Christmas presents…
I’m having fun trying the impasto technique in my art room. I’m not happy with the one I’ve been working on. I’m not sure whether I should continue to work on it, or dump it and start another. Wonderful ‘problem,’ isn’t it?
I hope that today is a good one for you. Enjoy every minute.
I LOVE these! I WISH I could get them for my front porch.
One year when we were living in Broken Arrow, Oklahoma in a neighborhood with a gazillion kids, my husband got into the spirit. He bought a super ugly, wonderful mask and then put a pillow on his back to create a hump-back and put an old military blanket over his head. He looked really scary. :0)
As he answered the door to the Trick-or-Treaters, there would be screams, laughs, etc. from the kids and their parents. We had more and more visitors as word spread. By the time we ran out of FIVE humongous bags of candy, my husband was exhausted, but still laughing like a loon.
Our son was about 4 at the time. My husband showed him the costume and he was NOT amused. My husband tried to calm him, but the man in the mask was NOT his daddy! Even when the mask was OFF, with my husband stomping on it on the floor, our son was still upset. We put it up in the closet, not taking it down again until our son decided there was nothing to fear.
I have such wonderful memories of Halloween when I was a child, back in 1492…
It was before the world changed. Back when I was free to walk by myself half a mile to my friend’s house to play for the day. Back when we actually Trick-or-Treated, dressed up in handmade costumes and going out at night with a group of friends – no parents – to spend a couple of hours gathering as many goodies as possible before we wound our way back home, half sick from eating our ‘spoils.’ :0)
I never wore a costume bought from a store. One of my favorite memories was figuring out what I ‘would go as” (meaning what type of person or character I would emulate) and then figuring out how I could make a costume. My friends did the same.
I lived in Tulsa, Oklahoma on one of two streets that ran parallel to each other and were one mile long, called Johannson Acres. Each house sat on an acre and a quarter. Some of my friends had horses, though I never learned to ride.
My friends would meet on Halloween evening and walk to the neighborhood behind us, where the houses were closer together with lots and lots of porch lights on, welcoming us. My favorite treat was a mini-chocolate bar, like Snickers. A close second was anything baked by a wonderful mom.
We would come home laden with goodies, legs tired from all of the walking, grinning from ear to ear, full of stories about our adventures. I was shocked one year to hear that we needed to cut apples in half before eating to make sure there weren’t any razor blades hidden in them – the first memory that the world as I knew it was changing.
Since we now live on top of a ridge line, up a steep driving outside the town, we don’t get any trick-or-treaters. Churches have get-togethers for the kids, or create scary houses for kids and their parents to tour. If you go to town during the festivities, you might see a small group of children, but they are closely followed by a mom in a vehicle. Everyone seems to be in a costume bought from the store. Kids are taught to wait to eat any goodies so that parents can go through everything, throwing out anything baked, or anything that might be suspect before the children get their goodies back.
My ‘celebration’ of Halloween nowadays is search the Net to find the absolutely fantastic job people do on pumpkins and decorations. I am in awe of the creativity and talent shown and will share what I find with you. I’ll also look for children’s costumes that I find clever and creative.
I have celebrated Labor Day this year by NOT laboring very much.
I did the laundry and vacuumed the first floor tiled areas, but that’s about it. I have enjoyed reading and napping and watching TV, talking with my husband, playing with Amber, the dog, and Abby, the cat. It’s been a lovely day.
Tomorrow will be full of work and errands, but that’s tomorrow.
This year I’m trying to make something for many of my friends for Christmas. I’m having a good time, going out to our shop each morning to work on some of the presents, plus repainting the dragonfly metal/glass critter that lives on the side of our house. It was down to the bare metal on a lot of the framework for the wings, so it’s taking many coats of paint to refurbish it. I think I have the underside done now, and I’ve started on the side that shows when it is hung up.
In the afternoons, I’m working on more presents up in my art room. I feel good, not feeling rushed, but making steady progress on everything.
The presents are coming along. At least my friends will know I spent a lot of time thinking of them and trying to do something unique for them. :o)
Isn’t this guy beautiful? – and the photograph is awe-inspiring.
We don’t have any outside errands today, so we’ll get our mail later and consider it done. :0)
Audrey Hepburn – Katiedaisy.com
As soon as I finish this, I’m going to fill up my two-gallon spray container with EIGHT and go out to the garden to spray it in the garden boxes, murdering any bugs there. (I’m still having to treat the ONE sting/bite a fire ant gave me the other day, though my arm is finally not swollen anymore). If the heat is not yet lethal (it’s supposed to FEEL LIKE 110 this afternoon) I’ll fill my other container with KillzAll and spray the boxes for weed roots I missed while cleaning out the boxes. Fingers crossed.
Clipart
I had an idea of what I would like to make for my friends for Christmas this year! I ordered some things and received them a couple of days ago. I started work on them yesterday in the shop and will turn on the a/c while I’m out spraying so I can continue working today on them – plus a dragonfly I’m refurbishing.
agirlandagluegun.com
We’re getting to the very last of the tomatoes now. We were delighted to find these yesterday right before dark.
We had a quiet celebration yesterday. Last night our wonderful neighbors in the valley put on a beautiful display of fireworks. They don’t know how much I look forward to it. :0)
Independence Day was my father’s favorite holiday. He used to get a whole double-armful of ‘ladyfingers’ that were all tied together. You were supposed to untie each one and set it off. My dad would light the one on one end, then throw the whole bunch into the yard. Each went off with a bang, making the whole bunch jump with non-stop bangs. The group jumped all over the yard by the time it was finished. He would stand there watching with a huge grin on his face.
He had a challenging couple of years the result of which was that his vision was mostly gone. (My mom laboriously copied the cryptoquote from the newspaper onto a huge piece of paper with a sharpie so that he could try to work it every day.)
In preparation for the holiday, he had bought the usual fireworks he loved, including some ones for after dark. My husband and I were dating, and we all had dinner together, my dad having grill chicken quarters outside. My husband picked up the mantle without a word, setting off the fireworks for all of us, having my dad ‘choose’ which one was next. Of course, the celebration started with the ladyfinger ‘detonation.’ We followed that with my favorite ‘snakes’ and ‘sparklers.’
Finally, my husband set off the night ones, one at a time, with my dad choosing the order. It was super hot that year, and I brought out a wet washcloth so my husband could mop his face. When the display was finished, my dad had tears quietly rolling down his face as he smiled. He stood up, put his hand out in thanks to my husband, then pulled him in for a hug.
If I hadn’t already decided my husband was the one, that would have sealed the deal.
Our little town of Greenwood is celebrating Independence Day today. My husband and I steer clear of crowds, so we’ll stay home today. For many years I rented a spot on the square to sell my wares. I met a lot of nice people doing that, happy to see so many people out with their kids, having a good time. The city also puts on a fireworks display.
Happily, our neighbor down in the valley behind us usually sets off a bunch, too, so I can enjoy my “own, private fireworks display”, sitting on my porch with my feet up, coffee cup in hand.
This year is confusing. Greenwood – and I guess many other places – celebrating the holiday today. The actual holiday is tomorrow. Will people get the day off on Monday?
When I first heard this song, chills ran up and down my spine. My heart was in my throat as I listened. The chills continued throughout. This song says everything, as far as I’m concerned. I still get chills. I hope you enjoy it, too.
A Heart-filled Independence Day – whenever and wherever you are celebrating.
I made it through the weekend of cooking out and countless chances to indulge. I didn’t LOSE any weight the past four days, but I didn’t GAIN any, either. I will chalk it up to the PLUS column and just consider it a DELAY in my progress.
Today we are having pretty much non-stop rain, so my outside exercise of weeding the garden and finishing dismantling the greenhouse will have to wait. I’ll substitute my yoga stretches this afternoon.
I’m hoping that in another week or so, I will have a firm grasp on watching my portions in order to lose the lard.
I don’t have a current photo, but each year the display grows. Families honor their veterans here, purchasing a stone to be engraved with the veteran’s name, branch of the service, and which war. The display now resembles a wheel with spokes. Volunteers add the flags on particularly special days.
There is a bronze statue representing each of the services. The park is the center of town – the center of all special activities of the town. Any time you come to town, you see it – whether standing in its quite glory or dressed in flags or fancy clothes for some other holiday.
I wanted to buy a stone for my husband. He served in the Marine Corps from 1961-1965. He was offshore everywhere during those four years. He doesn’t want me to get it. He says he doesn’t deserve to be there since he didn’t actually fight during the Vietnam War, Cuban Missile Crisis, etc. We continue to disagree.
My heart is full – thanking all veterans and their families today.
Each year I am hired to go to Washington, DC, with the eighth grade class from Clinton, WI., where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation’s capital, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall’s trip was especially memorable.
On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in history — that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan, during WW II
Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, ‘Where are you guys from?’
I told him that we were from Wisconsin. ‘Hey, I’m a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story.’
(It was James Bradley)who just happened to be in Washington, DC, to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who had passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington, DC, but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.)
When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his words that night.)
‘My name is James Bradley and I’m from Antigo, Wisconsin. My dad is on that statue, and I wrote a book called ‘Flags of Our Fathers’. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me.
‘Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team. They were off to play another type of game. A game called ‘War.’ But it didn’t turn out to be a game. Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don’t say that to gross you out, I say that because there are people who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old – and it was so hard that the ones who did make it home never even would talk to their families about it.
(He pointed to the statue) ‘You see this next guy? That’s Rene Gagnon fromNew Hampshire. If you took Rene’s helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph…a photograph of his girlfriend Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. It was just boys who won thebattle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not old men.
‘The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank ..(from Johnstown, PA).Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the ‘old man’ because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn’t say, ‘Let’s go kill some Japanese’ or ‘Let’s die for our country’ He knew he was talking to little boys. Instead he would say, ‘You do what I say, and I’ll get you home to your mothers.’
‘The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona. Ira Hayes was one of them who lived to walk off Iwo Jima. He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, ‘You’re a hero’ He told reporters, ‘How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?’
Soyou take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes carried the pain home with him and eventually died dead drunk, face down, drowned in a very shallow puddle, at the age of 32 (ten years after this picture was taken).
‘The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop, Kentucky. A fun-lovin’ hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, ‘Yeah, you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn’t get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Those cows crapped all night.’ Yes, he was a fun-lovin’ hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother’s farm The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. Those neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away.
‘The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley, from Antigo, Wisconsin, where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews.
When Walter Cronkite’s producers or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say ‘No, I’m sorry, sir, my dad’s not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don’t know when he is coming back.’ My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell’s soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn’t want to talk to the press.
‘You see, like Ira Hayes, my dad didn’t see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, ’cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a combat caregiver. On Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died on Iwo Jima, they writhed and screamed, without any medication or help with the pain.
‘When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, ‘I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.’
‘Sothat’s the story about six nice young boys. Three died on Iwo Jima, and three came back as national heroes Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time.’
Suddenly, the monument wasn’t just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.
One thing I learned while on tour with my 8th grade students in DC that is not mentioned here is, that if you look at the statue very closely and count the number of ‘hands’ raising the flag, there are 13. When the man who made the statue was asked why there were 13, he simply said the13th hand was the hand of God.
These aren’t the steaks we grilled, but we had a GREAT time grilling steaks last night. It was too light, still, to enjoy the colorful rope LED lights we have going around the roof on the deck, but the weather was perfect. Our dog, Amber, and our cat, Abby, were on the deck with us and we truly relaxed while the steaks smelled better and better.
It’s been a long time since we had a cookout. Our weather has been super rainy, and will be again next week, but yesterday was as pretty as it gets. We’re supposed to have a possible two more days of really nice weather before a really rainy week starting Monday. I’m going to spend as much time as possible outside, trying to catch up on yard work. My husband is planning to mow the lawn while it’s possible, as well, so it will look like someone actually lives here. :0)
I was good, trying to keep my diet alive last night. We cut one of the three steaks we cooked in half to share. I had half a baked potato. I’m hoping to continue really watching my portions this weekend to hopefully get through the wonderful holiday weekend at least at the same place I was in my losing the lard efforts. Fingers crossed.
I hope that you are spending the weekend with people you care about, having a relaxing and fun time.
Happy Mother’s Day to my mom, Betty Hamblin Wheaton. She would have been 98 this coming July. She was one of the strongest, most admirable women I’ve known, and I was lucky to share part of her life.
She loved small or baby animals. They simply melted her heart. Not so much when they grew up or grew large. My dad tried to indulge her weakness, and one of my favorite memories was when she would gush over a picture or video of a baby ‘whatever,’ and then would look at my dad and say firmly, “BUT I DON’T WANT ONE!”
She usually had several small dogs at once. She loved chihuahuas. At one point she had two, plus a toy poodle (shown here.) All three would sit with her in her chair in the living room. She would have a coffee cup by her side, the three dogs, plus a big lapboard on which she would spread the New York Times Sunday Crossword Puzzle and the CryptoQuote. She would sit there industriously working on the board, drinking coffee, and talking TO (or FOR) all the doggies.
She was super smart. Her dad considered educating women a waste of money. She wanted to go to the University of Chicago, but he said no. She ended up going to Cottey College in Nevada, MO where they lived. It was a two-year college. She only got to attend one year, living at home, and finished everything they offered for the two-year course in one year, with the exception of one gym class, which wasn’t offered when she could work it into her schedule.
She was gutsy. My dad got the chance to get into advertising, something he really wanted to do, after they had been married about 9 years. They were living on Long Island in Levittown at the time. I was 5 and my brother was about 8. My mother loved going to shows in New York City. She loved the big city life, even though things were tough at that point due to the world war, rationing, etc. The ‘catch’ on the chance for the job was that it was in Tulsa, Oklahoma. My mom had to get a map to find out where that WAS, and she was appalled. But they bundled us up and we moved to a place where we had to drive quite far away to get groceries, and we took a bus to the closest school. A lady came on her horse to say hello and welcome us to the neighborhood. She and the horse stood in what would later be our living room. Each house was built on an acre and a quarter. There were two mile-long streets between Sheridan and Memorial streets – 24th Street and 25th Place. The lady on the horse would much later become my mother-in-law.
My mom never went back to school. She should have been a lawyer. She read voraciously and worked the crossword puzzle in the paper every day, including the Sunday one which was a post-graduate course in vocabulary. She would go to community meetings, fired up about one thing or another. She would stand up, saying what she had to say in a very impressive manner. She persuaded people to adopt her point of view. One funny thing – if she were really angry, her words would get longer and longer as she spoke. Her vocabulary was amazing. Sometimes she would tell someone off, and the person wasn’t sure exactly what she had said – unless they could remember the words and look them up in the dictionary when they got home. :0)
I’m proud of my mom. I miss her. I feel her most strongly when I’m sticking my neck out, trying something new, cheering me on. Happy Mother’s Day.
Actually, the ‘crowd’ was my husband, our dog, Amber, and our cat, Abby, and me, but HEY! – you have to take your joy where you can get it.
We have been eating the things we don’t eat at all – or rarely – in the last days before we get serious about getting the lard off again. Yesterday I made a crock pot full of beef stew. And we had rolls with it. Amber and Abby licked our bowls in the kitchen while we were cleaning up.
My husband said two or three times while eating it how good it was, and a couple of times afterward. Then, this morning, he asked if we had leftovers and if we could have more tonight. :0)
As I gathered trash this morning, I got rid of some more things that we shouldn’t be eating in preparation for our getting serious about trying to lose the lard. We should be starting formally, as well as upping my exercising on Thursday. Right now I’m doing yoga stretches, but that’s pretty much it.
We have had a nice long break from doing what we are supposed to do. Part of me is actually looking forward to being in control again. Isn’t THAT a kick in the head!
“May peace break into your house and may thieves come to steal your debts. May the pockets of your jeans become a magnet of $100 bills. May love stick to your face like Vaseline and may laughter assault your lips! May your clothes smell of success like smoking tires. May happiness slap you across the face and may your tears be that of joy. May the problems you had forget your home address! In simple words ………… May 2021 be the best year of your life!!!” Author Unknown
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