Only four of us showed up for watercolor class tonight. So, we didn't start the new landscape project - we drew and painted this old man who's already headed our way.... actually, he's here. There was Christmas stuff in the stores last week.
Showing posts from October, 2006
One of the most frightening moments of my life occurred a few years ago when I crawled out of bed, stumbled sleepily into the restroom and saw my deceased mother watching me from the mirror. Now I see her every morning. I loved her dearly, but I never once thought I resembled her. Stay with me now as I completely flip-flop to a totally unrelated topic: Bigfoot! Also known around the world as Almas, Barmanus, B'gwas, Booger, Devil Monkey, Gin-sung, Gugu, Kakundakári, Mo Mo, Nguoi rung, Nuk-Luk ,Nyalmo, Oh-mah, Old Yellow Top , Orang-Pendek , Sasquatch, Skunk Ape, Tano Giant, Teh-Ima, Ucumar, Windigo, Yeren, Yeti, and Yowie. The hairy guy really gets around doesn’t he? My daughter Karmyn posted a story of the time we accompanied a Big Foot Hunter into the Blue Mountains . I used the excuse of another daughter’s class project to finagle the big man’s cooperation. The truth is I was and still am curious about what may or may not be. (The videotape of that day’s adventure has
We hopped in my little car and got much better gas mileage on our short weekend/long trip to Portland. We do those things to see daughters and grand kids. The Gorge is always a beautiful drive and this weekend was no exception. Canadian Honkers were everywhere, including waddling up the railroad tracks that parallel I-84. A passing grain car must have left some lunchables for the feathered travelers. (Northern Pacific, Really Terrific. Anyone remember that?) Fall colors in the trees were mostly shades of yellows and brown. The western trek was unusually wind-free, the leaves weren't scattering, and the the Columbia River was like glass. While I was driving, and the hubby was asleep, I noticed the colors reflected like the wells of a painters pallet. I could have dipped a brush in the water and continued tinting the autumn designs on the hills. The fog became heavy in the deepest area of the mountain pass. 'The Nothing' from The Never Ending Story loomed in the di
Today I have to share three links for people to enjoy. The first one is Susie's Space , who blogs out of the San Francisco area. Just scroll down until you get to her pictures of the costumes her kids wore during many years of trick-or-treating. Why didn't I TAKE PICTURES OF MY KIDS THAT WAY!~! Then scroll on down for her Halloween advertisements from old newspapers. Its just a fun time with her. Then you need to visit Karmyn's Dreaming What If's for her ghost story and her 13 reasons she loves Halloween. Of course I'm biased, because she's my grown -up kid. After you've had your fill of Halloween I recommend a sweet and loving tribute to a grandfather by Songbird. I got all teary-eyed reading her fond remembrances. UPDATE ! ! ! AND DON'T FORGET that Robin over at Pensieve is hosting the CARNIVAL OF THE BLOGGIN G CHICKS on Sunday. The theme is all things F A L L --- so it should be a colorful read. See you there.
First I must extend my sincere apology to Susan in VA because I know how she detests anything that has to do with nose debris. And to her blogs question, ARE WE THERE YET? Yes, in regards to nose debris, we are. I am guilty of not being very excited about the World Series. Last night the hubby turned on the TV and was asleep on the couch as the game played on. I was reading blogs. Some excited commentary snagged my attention. There was a close call at 2nd base, so I stopped to watch the replay. They replayed it at least 10 times from four different angles. I continued to watch for a little while after that to see what was happening with the Tigers. That's when the camera tuned into the dugout and zoomed in on some guy on the bench. The player very clearly picked his nose. Then, he held his finger up and looked at it. (I wonder if his nickname is Booger.)
Today I was visiting another Pam's blog to enjoy her lovely tour of Las Vegas through her camera's lens and and verbal ramblings . One picture rang a little bell in my head that filled me with tinkling mirth. Last year we accepted an invitation from our friends Michael and Beth to meet them in Las Vegas for a weekend. Michael (not to be confused with Michael my brother, or Michael the Piper, or Michael the cyclist, and a few more Michaels in our lives) , is a psychologist. His schedule included a speaking engagement at a convention at the Wynn. We were going to do some touring with Beth and then Michael would join our party after his meetings. The first morning we walked from our more humble accommodations over to the fantabulous Wynn so that Michael could register and map out the conference rooms. Beth and I stood near a magnificent column, admiring the fresh flower arrangements, the exquisite artistry tiled into the floor, and the opulence in general. (In the picture o
My friend Donna moved back to northeastern Oregon in September to the Strawberry Mountains and the small friendly town that they left a few years ago. She was able to find a job immediately; Robert is still a traveling man but plans to retire very soon. This picture of a Canyon Mountain Sunrise was taken from their patio the morning of October 18. Photo By Robert Not only does her new home have a patio, but it has running water, electricity and a paved driveway. This time around she's enjoying the view with modern conveniences. She says that Willy and Nike (her dogs) love it, too! (Oh, Donna. Rose and I miss you!)
I am known by many names --Whitey, Mizzou, Shorty, Slim, Mac, Red and Al: but Al or Whitey will do for me in this narrative of rambling and working in an Oregon hop yard. I am what is known these United States as a migratory worker, an itinerant laborer, a drifter, a floater, a bubble chaser, or, in slang terms, hobo. The first two-and-a-half months of 1933 I spent in idleness in the neighborhood of Sacramento, California. A large part of my time was spent in the city and state libraries of Sacramento. Sometimes I spent hours in the beautiful capital park, which is said to have one of the finest botanical collections in the United States. On other days I spent the time listening to soap box orators in Plaza Park. Here one could hear opinions expounded and discussed on almost any subject from the Bible to birth-control The Young Communists' League, Industrial Workers of the World, the Red Internationals and may other such organizations were represented. Most of their grievanc
The park is just a short walk from our house. Our daughters are going to be sad when they see this sign. Looks like someone needs a sign like that on her fridge. There - thats really what I was trying to photo. There are 58 acres in this park. I forgot how many variety of trees. Some autumn reds. Stocking the pantry for winter. The smaller duck pond. (Same size ducks, smaller pond) The Band Stand Gazebo. Picking a bouquet. For my coffee table.
Zac k ary Johnson has a birthday coming up in a few days so it wasn't odd to have an envelope addressed to him show up in the mail last week. His mom, Glenda, pulled it from the mailbox and noticed immediately that it was spelled "Zac h ary " Johnson . She didn't find that unusual because many people spell Zac k ary's name incorrectly. (Her husband Steve insisted they spell his name with a "K" because "you know we’re going to call him Zack!") She looked at the sender’s pre-printed label with some confusion. That name didn't match up to anyone of her acquaintances. "Hey Hon,” she inquired of her husband, "Do you recognize this name?" "Nope," Steve responded and became somewhat concerned. Still, they agreed to present the envelope to their son to see what was in it and his reaction. Zack opened it to find $20 tucked in a birthday card that said "Happy Birthday Zac h ary!” He was excited. Boy, howdy, he was ready
My co-workers son Brayden (Bubby) is an almost six-year old. He loves to draw pictures, which includes the little tattoo pictures all over his mothers office desk phone. His Kindergarten teacher taught Bubby and his classmates all about following rules. They also learned about a sign that has a red circle and diagonal line. His mom said, "Bubby took this as the perfect opportunity to make rules of his own. He has always been a stickler for following the rules and making go od choices ." (Hey Marnie and Melissa -- when I saw this one today I knew you two would be humbled. And then I thought I would send it to Kelly to consider for her Pass The Torch Tuesday!! Or I could have submitted it to Kailani's Carnival of Family Life. This poster really is the best!) So from now on, Brayden, I will remember never to choke anybody by the neck - no matter how much I really want to!
I can't take back the part about my brother Mike being bald, because he is. However, I can add that he is handsome and is wife is beautiful. She is also a Sparkle Bug.... and finds the grandest jewelry in the most surprising places. So, take a look at what came to me in the mail yesterday in pretty wrapping. It's pinned to my black shell. I'm hummin' today! Thanks you two!
We rarely take a drive "just because." But, there was something about the fall day - the sunshine and the fruition of a long dry summer. It called us and we answered. The river winds up a valley into the Blue's and ends at a small park that was dedicated years ago by the rotary club and a now defunct pine mill. We hadn't driven up the south fork in years. In the valley the fruit orchards have been cut down leaving fields of silent s tumps and memories of Red Delicious apples and Bartlett pears. Wild blackberries, elderberry, and other native plants are abundant along the roadways. One reminded me so much of snow on the fence that I was hesitant to touch it for fear it would melt in my hand. Once the pavement ends, the gravel road gives one the feeling of those bygone days of buggies and box lunches. At one curve there was a line of celestial black locust trees that demanded we stop and walk beneath them just for the pleasure of looking up. I heard a soft whinny and tu
The Declassified History. At midday, and again in the early evening of October 16, 1962, John F. Kennedy called together a group of his closest advisers at the White House. Late the night before, the CIA had produced detailed photo intelligence identifying Soviet nuclear missile installations under construction on the island of Cuba, some ninety miles off the Florida coast; now the president and his men confronted the dangerous decision of how the United States should respond . . . (The Cuban Missle Crisis) I was in elementary school. Mom sent me off to school that day with full knowledge that it could be the very last day she said, "Goodbye, I love you." We lived about 3 miles from the huge Air Traffic Center that controlled the skies over Washington , Oregon , Idaho and into Montana . They were sure that one of those Nuclear War Heads would be aimed at our little piece of paradise in the Pacific Northwest . If war was imminent, and everyone thought it was, then we wer
If you travel in Oregon, not only do the station attendants fill your tank, they wash your windows, too. When I was a small child I remember hopping into the car every Sunday morning to drive into town with my dad. We always had two tasks. The first one was to buy the Sunday edition of the Seattle Times. The other one was to fill the gas tank of our little Nash Rambler. Dad always said, "I'm going to stop at the fillin' station." The attendant would check your oil, tire pressure, and top off the tank with a smile. There was a station a short distance from our country home, but dad wouldn't stop there and he wouldn't let his kids go there either. We called it "Browns Store." There weren't any convenient stores in those days - but many neighborhoods had the little grocery and filling station combo. I'll have to ask one of my siblings if they know why Dad had feuded with the old guy. For whatever reason, we never bought gas from Mr. Bro
When Shauna tagged me with the meme "Five Famous Oddities about Myself" I was sure she had me confused with somebody else. There's nothing odd about me. Nothing at all! I had a lot of fun reading hers as well as the odds of Amanda , Karmyn , Pete , MJ , Susan , Tiffany , and I'm sure there are more of you............... (I've just amazed myself at how many links I could get in one post!) They really did reach some apogees with their memes....mine will stink in comparison. My first oddity is that it seems that no matter what the conversation is about, when I am in the room it always leads to something that has to do with poo . Just last night we were having dinner with Mike and Kim while talking about the lovely fall foliage and colorful falling leaves. Kim said it brought back childhood memories of one weekend that she and her father gathered leaves from the whole neighborhood and piled them high in their northern California back yard. Monday, after sch
I battled four hours with blogger this morning trying to publish a M-E-G-A post for my ben'jammin. (He'll read it when he's in his thirties.) I want to know why blogger remembers me some times and not all the time. Why will one picture show up 4 times when I only publish it once? OH! AND WHY THE PREVIEW IS NEVER WHAT PUBLISHES? I wanted to do a little water coloring. I planned on making concord grape jam. I want to know why two identical trees would not produce fall colors at the same time. Yes.. thats the bowl I picked grapes in. I must have dropped it there in my bewilderment. Today was a holiday for me. Thank you Christopher Columbus.
A little over 412 years ago, The Spanish Armada, the greatest naval fleet of its age, met their defeat in the English Channel. The first European colonies were being established in the new world. It was during this time that William Harland was born in England. Was his father a farmer? a Blacksmith? a Peasant? or a Wealthy Merchant? I wish I knew. A girl named Deborah caught his eye when he was but a young man. They married and a son was born in 1625. They named him James. It was an extremely popular name because the Scottish King James I had reigned over Britain from 1603 to 1625. Little is known about our James. He may have married while yet young; the deaths of children and spouses were common. I do know for sure that he became a father at the age of 58 when his 23-year-old bride, Elizabeth Duck of Ireland, bore a son, Moses. In October 1702, William Penn granted a charter to the city of Philadelphia and five years later Benjamin Franklin was born in Boston. Our Moses must have sail
If you like bird watching, then you might grab your binoculars and set out beside the road when avid cyclists "fly by" in one of their regional fun rides. I googled the question, "Can Peacocks Fly?" and was assured that they do. These two peacocks are the hubby (right) and his buddy Mike. They drove to Ellensburg, Washington and had a pleasurable day riding in what is called a " metric century." The weather was perfect and the only pitfall was that Mike forgot his helmet. The local bike shop loaned him one and away they flew. The route follows the Yakima River and parallels the North Cascade range. With the sun shining and the open road calling, the boys pedaled their hearts out. Then they hurried home and had just enough energy left for baked chicken, stuffing, gravy and red potoatos.
(Aunti Fern, the youngest sister of the hubbys gram, at our Anniversary party in August) Aunti Fern will be 98 this spring. She is a delightful woman who is still the life of every party. Recently she was complaining in her usual lighthearted way the woes of growing old. This poem was her wonderful lament: I feel like the old women in the shoe I have so many wrinkles I don't know what to do, so I guess I'll paint them with pencil, powder and paint but that makes me what I ain't so, I guess I'll stay like I am cause at my age, who gives a damn!