Cookin’ Part II

Towards Saturday evening while everyone else was sitting in the shade sipping cocktails, wine coolers and possibly a beer or two, I was minding the fire under my Dutch oven. I had put together a Campfire potato dish that called for layers of potato slices, chopped onion, green & red pepper, roasted garlic (which I roasted over the fire) and a pint of turkey stock, topped with cheeses. While that was cooking, I fired up Kelli’s grill and grilled the steaks. Kelli contributed a pan of fresh veggies which we roasted on one corner of the grill while the steaks cooked. Everyone loved the potatoes. They all think it was recipe, but just between you and me: it was the potatoes. I picked them up at a fruit/veggie stand north of Fremont and they are absolutely the nicest, freshest, best potatoes I’ve seen in a long time: thin skins, perfect white flesh. Just what “new potatoes” are supposed to look like. Exactly the kind I can’t grow.

Conversation – translated “tall tales” - about life with horses filled the rest of the evening until it got dark. I retired to the cot in the back of my pickup and everyone else slept in the main tent on Army style cots. I exiled myself because I snore like Toro; waking myself up now & then wondering who in the heck is mowing a lawn at this hour of the night? I slept pretty well until about 2:30 AM and then came wide awake, for no particular reason, so I spent the next couple of hours staring at the miraculously starlit sky and listening to my favorite Country station playing softly. And of course, Bubba, in his corral right next to my pickup crunching his hay and occasionally clearing his nose with a “Pshbpshbpshb.” Insomnia out in a camp is a lot more interesting than insomnia in the house.

When the sun came up, I rolled out and started the coffee and biscuits & gravy. Since we were in range, I made some of the cowgirls listen to my radio Ministry when it came on at 8:00.

After breakfast, we saddled up and took a six mile trail ride around the neighborhood. The sun was high and hot by midmorning, but ever willing to do my part to slow down global warming, I soaked up as much of the heat as I could on my bare neck & arms and will probably be peeling like a snake by the end of the week. Fortunately, I had plenty of water with me, even though I forgot the sunscreen.

When we got back to Kelli’s, all that was left to do was clean up, load up and head out. A very nice weekend!

A few pictures will be posted as they come available - remember, I still use film and have to rely on the developer!

So here’s a couple questions for your comment: what did you do with this fine weekend?
What do you do when you have insomnia?

Cookin’ for Cowgirl Camp Part I

Me & Bubba had a fun weekend. I was designated cook for the Mid-States Ranch Horse Association’s Cowgirl Camp. We spent all day Saturday and part of Sunday at Kelli’s place, just playing. When I wasn’t busy cooking, I was able to saddle up and join the fun.

We actually spent some time playing (are you sitting down?) POLO. Yes, most of us in western saddles, without helmets. Also, we were using modified equipment. One of the cowgirls brought four oars (the kind you’d buy to use with an inflatable boat) and a beachball sized soccer ball. And we batted that thing around, once the horses got used to the sight of the big ball rolling all over the place and the WHUMP! sound the paddle made when it was hit, we all did pretty well. I gained new respect for honest-to-goodness polo players and their ponies. I’ve watched a little of it on TV and often admired the control they must have over their mounts and their ability to “turn on a dime” and adjust their speed with the touch of a heel. And how DO they manage to see that tiny little puck, let alone swing and hit it, going full speed ahead? Lots of practice, I suppose. I also found out that there is an actual Polo Club or League of some kind in Omaha.

One of the fun things to do at Kelli’s place is practice on obstacles. The place she lives is home to an old rodeo arena and she and her partner, Mark Lyon, fill it obstacles and the trick is to get your horse to approach and cross each obstacle without balking. This can take awhile with some horses (like mine). Some of the things they put out are tarps on the ground; a wooden bridge; a long plank on a fulcrum (like a seesaw); and water puddles and muddy, boggy places. The thing the horses find the scariest of all is an old bed mattress. They absolutely hate stepping onto that thing and feel it give under their feet. Most of them back off in a big hurry. If you could have a discussion with your horse about this mattress, the conversation might go something like this:
You: “Let’s just walk across this mattress.”
Horse, after stepping on it: “Did you see that! It tried to swallow my foot! We gotta get away from this thing!”
You: “No it didn’t, you just pressed it down. Try again.”
Horse: “No way! This is quicksand; my mom told me about this stuff. Let’s go do the bridge again.”
You: “Stop crowhopping! You don’t have to be scared. In all the years we’ve known each other, have I ever taken you into anything that would get us hurt?”
Horse: “No, I guess not.”
You: “So why would I start now? Just move in a little closer.”
Horse: “Okay, but I don’t like this. What does it smell like?” Leaning down for a long whiff. “It doesn’t smell like sand.” Backs away again.
You: “It isn’t quicksand. Would I lie to you?”
Horse: “I don’t know. How would I know if you did?”
You: “Don’t make me get the spurs!”
Horse: “Alright alright already. What’s your hurry?”
And finally, after several false starts, we walk across.
By the end of the day, we were all crossing it successfully.

Here is a fun interview that Mary did:
http://www.betsy-ann.blogspot.com/
She also has a link to it on Real Life Petticoat Ranch.

It looks like the stuffed grape leaves generated more interest than I anticipated.
They really turned out quite good, even if I do say so myself.
I cheated a little and bought a couple of them at the Baker’s Supermarket deli, so I could at least get an idea what they were supposed to look and taste like. I carefully unwrapped it to get a look at how the thing was folded around the filling and what the filling looked like, and then forged ahead with my own good intentions. Emily had bought two jars of pickled grape leaves at Wild Oats, a health food store in Omaha. The hardest thing about stuffing them was getting them out of the jar intact. They come wrapped up in rolls, kind of like a cigar and they were packed in really tight. Unrolling and unfolding the delicate things was a little time consuming, but worth the effort in the end. I suspect a suitable substitute might be blanched spinach leaves, except I think spinach stays less firm and shrinks more when cooked than the grape leaves do.
The filling was a mix of white rice cooked in vegetable stock, flavored with minced garlic and finely chopped leek. I actually thought mine were better than the Baker’s deli version, but maybe they were just fresher.
I think that the filling would make a good starter for a rice casserole – just add broccoli & cheese, or cooked turkey or chicken or chopped ham or crumbled bacon and warm it up in the oven.
The recipe yielded a large number of the tasty little appetizers, but I ran out of filling long before I ran out of grape leaves. So now, what to do with the rest of them? Any suggestions would be welcome.

At the end of the meal, Emily quietly spoke up and said, “If anyone has any birthday presents, I’d be happy to accept them now, since we’ll all be working on my actual birthday.” Bless her heart, I thought it was such a polite way to say, “Hand over the loot!” So we handed it over.

Sunday evening, we drove out to my friend Juli’s and picked 3 bushels of sweet corn, so I know what I will be doing until it all finds its way into the freezer. I’m amazed at the amount of fresh produce coming my way and I don’t even have much of a garden. What I do have is looking pretty pathetic, except for the eggplant. I’m blessed to have such a generous circle of friends!

And Mary, if you’re reading this, I’m still waiting for “news” as opposed to “olds” on Real Life Petticoat Ranch!

And the final tally is: 14 half pints of relish, 39 ½ pints pickles, five broken jars. (I must be losing my touch.) Can’t “beet” that for a good stash for winter! Additionally, Jack made 2 quarts of Borscht for supper one evening and we had roasted beets with our supper on another evening. I still have a handful to cook, but I’ve run out of pint & half pint jars, so we will just cook them up and munch with butter until they’re gone.

Now, on to the cucumbers. I found a “new to me” recipe in one of Grandma Anderson’s old cookbooks. It’s for making sweet pickles out of those really large, old and sometimes useless cucumbers that didn’t get picked in time for the 14 day or dill batches.

We will be having Emily’s birthday dinner this Sunday. She has to work at the Hut on her actual birthday. Her requests have challenged my culinary skills, but she had the courtesy to provide recipes. We’ll be having stuffed grape leaves, creamy crab-stuffed portobellos, bleu cheese tomato soup, French bread and chocolate cake. I have her permission to use a mix for the cake, thank goodness! She’ll be 23.

As for the weekend, when I’m done grocery shopping (for grape leaves, etc.) I might go check out the festivities at the John C. Fremont Days in Fremont. They have a nice Chautauqua Presentation and a Living History encampment, which both appeal to the historian in me. A couple years ago they had an eight horse hitch of the Budweiser Clydesdales in town. They were SO AWESOME to stand next to. I also learned there are 5 such teams that travel the country making personal appearances. Unfortunately, they weren’t hiring grooms, handlers, drivers or even stall muckers at that time. Darn.

I got invited to ride in the Chicken Days Parade in Wayne, (see www.chickenshow.com for more info) but that’s a long drive and I’d have to get there by 9 AM. I’m pleading guilty of laziness to get out of that one and of course, the pickling must go on!

I see that today is Friday the 13th. Since last week’s 7/7/7 didn’t prove to be especially lucky, I expect this day won’t be especially unlucky. Anyway, I don’t believe in luck – only blessings.

So blessings to you for this weekend!

Beets

I have good friend named Clyde who is the most extraordinary gardener I have ever known. He keeps me in beets. Sunday evening, we went to his place and picked beets and wound up with three 5 gallon buckets of beets – each beet is about the size of an apple. His garden is an awesome sight: potatoes, tomatoes, beets, (we barely made a dent in his crop), corn, peppers, garlic, onions and grapes to name just a few of the things he grows. And do you know why he grows all this?
To give it away.
He has a heart the size of the Louisiana Purchase and he loves to grow things, so he grows this magnificent garden and gives 99 % of it away. His wife likes to keep some of the potatoes.
He has passed this gift for growing things along to his daughter, Kelli (who happens to be a cowgirl friend of mine) and now they trade bedding plants and growing secrets, so between the two of them, I think they might be able to keep the entire Midwestern USA in fresh produce throughout the growing season.
Meanwhile, I will be spending every spare minute of the next few days processing beets. We love pickled beets and I found a recipe for beet relish that I’m going to try.
Joani is going out of town from now until Sunday and her cucumbers have just started to bear, so I will have cukes to pick & pickle for a few days. I appreciate that a lot, because I don’t have room for cucumbers in my little space and I am completely out of my 14 day sweet pickles.
Not only that, but it’s sweet corn season and there is a truck on every other corner selling fresh corn – the good kind that has both white & gold kernels.
Life is good.

I saw a painting of this pose at the Leanin’ Tree Museum, so here is my attempt to recreate it, using my own horse and the defunct privy in the woods behind my house.

I walk past this tree every morning with Cody and there is always a redwing blackbird in it. I don’t know if it’s the same one every day or not, but here he is.

Toby Keith

One of my new favorites

A poem, like Myrna suggested a while back, where you describe an emotion using the five senses.

When someone is angry with me:

A vicious punch in the stomach.
Halogen lights burning, bringing tears to the eyes.
A persistent mosquito in the ear buzzing, “Why didn’t you just shut up?”
Bitter as rotten celery.
Onion rings sizzling in a vat while you stand outside the door with an empty, gurgling belly and no money in your pocket.

Tomorrow, we celebrate the 231st anniversary of the signing of the American Declaration of independence.
My childhood memories of this holiday center around the City Park in Lyons, Nebraska. My memories of this begin in grade school, sometime after we moved to town in the 60s. I loved sleeping late on a summer morning and the 4th of July was no different. With what was left of the morning, I lit some firecrackers in our front yard, terrorizing all the dogs and cats in the neighborhood, no doubt. I loved lighting the “snakes” and watching the smoke billow out as they seemed to slither up out of the sidewalk. For the rest of the summer, there was a stain of black soot on the sidewalk where ever I had lit a “snake.”
The afternoon was spent at the swimming pool. I was usually there during all its hours of operation: from 1-5 and 7-9. Then, I’d join some friends for fireworks at the ballfield (there was only one back then). We sat on blankets, if we remembered to bring them, and stood at the end for a scratchy recording of The Star Spangled Banner blared over a loudspeaker during the finale. Then home for a few bottle rockets and maybe a Roman candle or two.
The day passed pretty much the same way year after year. The festivities were what held my attention and I didn’t really give much thought to the event the date commemorated until I became an adult and two things happened: I enlisted in the Army and later, I earned a B.A. in History.
In Basic Training camp at Ft. Jackson, South Carolina, one of the first things you learn is RESPECT for the flag. Each day at Reveille when the Post Flag was raised, where ever you were, you stopped what you were doing, faced the flag (or its direction, if you were too far away to see it), stood at attention and saluted. At dusk, they played Taps and you did the same thing. Heaven help the Recruit who failed to assume Attention during Reveille or Taps. No one in my unit got caught at that, so I don’t even know what the punishment was – probably a few hundred push-ups and KP for the rest of your stay.
In my studies of American History, I learned exactly what it cost the men who signed the Declaration of Independence. All of them immediately had their property seized by the British Army. Most of them were hanged for Treason. The survivors went on to “ordain and establish” the Constitution, but not a single one of them ever recovered their property or financial losses. I gained a whole new perspective on the meaning of Independence Day.

Here is one of my favorite pages from History:

It was in August of 1812 that a young Lawyer living in Geogretown, Pennsylvania watched as the British army invaded and captured Washington DC, setting fire to the capitol and the White House. President Madison and his wife Dolley barely escaped with their lives. A thunderstorm quenched the flames before the whole city became engulfed. (Coincidence?) The following day, the invading army returned to light more fires and, again, thunderstorms developed, extinguishing the flames before they spread.
Baltimore was the next target and during that invasion, the British arrested a beloved physician, Dr. Beanes and took him to a ship in the harbor to be held as a prisoner of war. The help of the lawyer from Georgetown was enlisted to negotiate a prisoner exchange for the Dr. Beanes. Accompnaied by Col. John Skinner, the lawyer was taken to the British ship, where he produced letters of testimonials from British prisoners who had been treated by Dr. Beanes. They testified to his compassion and to the excellent medical care they had received at his hands. The British agreed to release Dr. Beanes, but the lawyer, Col. Skinner and the doctor were not allowed to leave. It was feared they had seen and heard too much of the preparations for the next attack on Baltimore.
The next morning, at 7 AM, the British launched their attack. The assault began with the firing of 1500 220 pound bombshells that often exploded in midair before reaching their target. Congreve rockets were fired almost continuously, leaving a contrail of red smoke arcing across the sky. When dusk fell, the firing stopped (due to another thunderstorm – another coincidence?) until about 1 AM, when the British fleet roared to life again. The three Americans watched helplessly, fearing the worst. But a few hours later, the firing stopped. As the sun rose in the east, the three men stood and gazed toward the shoreline and saw the Stars and Stripes still flying over Ft. McHenry. It was then that the lawyer, Francis Scott Key, wrote these words:

Oh, say can you see
by the dawn’s early light
What so proudly we hailed
at the twilights’ last gleaming
Whose broad stripes and bright stars
through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watched,
were so gallantly streaming?
And the rockets’ red glare,
the bombs bursting in air
Gave proof through the night
that our flag was still there.
Oh, say does that star spangled banner
yet wave o’er the land of the free
And the home of the brave?

I believe that this is the land of the free BECAUSE it is the home of the brave.

Happy Independence Day!

What a NICE weekend we had here – moderate temps and low humidity. So comfortable. Bubba & I had a nice ride Saturday afternoon with our saddle club. We rode along the banks of the Missouri River. There were several sandbar parties going on and lots of motorboats, speedboats and one big barge, who blew his foghorn for us. After the ride, we had potluck picnic.
On the 4th, we are going to ride in the parade at Tekamah, maybe against my better judgment. Last time we tried that one, the firecrackers going off everywhere made him SO jumpy, but my friend Renee talked me into trying it again. We even bought matching shirts and a big red, white & blue bow to put on the horse’s tail. Wish me luck!
I can’t believe how quickly June went by. I must insist that the earth spin more slowly and slow its orbit down for the remainder of the summer so that the rest of the season doesn’t fly by so quickly.
I’ve heard that several people have come down with an awful stomach flu in the past few days. Even though I do not have time for that sort of thing, I am beginning to feel a little strange: not much appetite (very unusual for me) and a little light headed. I might also attribute that to caffeine withdrawal as I have decided to get off that stuff again (for about the fifth time). I’m down to about 3 ounces of coffee in the morning and no more the rest of the day. Tomorrow or Wednesday, I’ll start skipping that, too. I like to taper off to avoid the headache.
Last week, I learned that no matter how irritating something is, it can always get worse. Next time I have to go to the county courthouse and stand in line to get my driver’s license renewed or license plate tags, I promise not to complain. On Friday, I had to go in and get tags renewed for eighteen (count’em – 18) vehicles for TST. So that means insurance cards for each one, the little postcard the county sends out, proof that we paid our heavy highway use tax and a check for about $3800. The girls at the Treasurer’s office were good, though. As soon as someone got finished with another customer, they stepped in to help the lady who was doing my paperwork. They all stayed fairly cheerful throughout the process, but I’m not sure the people in line behind me did the same. I didn’t hang around to find out.

Busy busy busy

Haven’t had much time for blogging this week.
Tomorrow I go on a trail ride with my saddle club. We are going to a friend’s place on the Missouri River east of Tekamah.
I don’t have to work on the 4th, but Wednesday is my usual day off anyway, so maybe I should sneak off and go riding on some other day, just to make up for it. I shouldn’t be blogging about it, I think Joani actually visits here occasionally.
My quartet sings this Sunday at church and I always look forward to that.
Anyway – have a good weekend, everyone!

Here is my friend Joani and her new horse - a nice little filly named Jesse.
Jesse is perfect for her: very quiet natured and not very tall. A good match.

Shhhhh – if you’re really quiet while you’re looking at this picture, you can hear strains of “In the Mood” and the sound of dancing feet shuffling in the sawdust on the floor of the old hall.

This is a picture of the Bertha, Nebraska Dance Hall. It is located at almost the geographic center of Burt County Nebraska. Bertha is a tiny community consisting of the Dance Hall and two or three farm places. There used to be a schoolhouse about a mile north of the dance hall, but it’s all gone and the site is overgrown with weeds and cluttered with junk.
I don’t know how long the Dance Hall has been there, but I was doing some historical research and stumbled across an ad in a 1927 issue of the Burt County Herald that there was going to be a revival there with an internationally famous guest speaker who specialized in Prophecy.
Lawrence Welk and his band played at the Bertha Dance Hall many times. And it’s where my mom and dad first got together as a couple, through Dad’s cousin and Mom’s best friend: Tom Coneally and Marybelle Roscoe. Tom and Marybelle eventually married and remained close friends with my folks all their lives.
Myrna once told me she drank her first beer parked on the road outside the Dance Hall. Maybe she can elaborate on that experience.
While I was standing on the road taking this picture, one of the residents of one of the houses came out and got into her vehicle and left. She kept an eye on me, though and waited politely until it was obvious I was done taking the photo, before she drove into my line of sight. She gave us a friendly wave. I’m guessing this kind of thing happens to her a lot.

From the top: Jacob on board
Jacob and Kendra
Jaydee & Sue
Kendra

Skyler taking the reins.

Shae: The CUTEST cowgirl in the Western Hemisphere!

Here is an essay by my Aunt Grace that I picked up at last Sunday's reunion.

Memories of Joel and Almina Gatewood
By Grace Gatewood Smith written 4/15/2007

Since I am one of the oldest of the grandchildren of the Joel Gatewoods and was close to my Grandmother Almina Gatewood, I’ll try to write a few things that I can remember about her.
Grandma Gatewood was real short in stature and was a twin. She was raised by someone other than her parents I never knew nor heard much about her background. She had a sister Jane and a couple of brothers, I believe. She was a staunch Republican and was opposed to drinking, she would go around the community working for people and helping others, especially the sick. She made her headquarters and spent a lot of time at our home (Thornton “TW” and Agnes Gatewood) after Grandpa Joel died September 21, 1919 at the age of 77 years and 9 months. She was a faithful member of the Eastern Star and my dad took her to their meetings. Almina and my mother Agnes got along great. Agnes always called her “Mother Gatewood.” Grandma was helpful, always peeled the potatoes, and oh! Ever so thin so there was no waste. She always washed the dishes, too.
Grandma Gatewood and I used to pick up the corn cobs from the pig pen to burn in the cook stove. We prided ourselves on how many gunny sacks we could store ahead for a rainy day. Our mode of operation was to place a long cob rolled up in one side of the sack, dragging it along as we walked filling the sack one or two at a time. I also was Grandma’s bed partner and she snored a little. She was an avid reader and would read half the night by the light of a kerosene lamp. I loved her very much.
Grandma was always ready to go when the car went somewhere. One of her friends was Mrs. Myles Rogers, mother of Neal Rogers who lived near Divide Center between Decatur and Lyons. I often rode along when my dad took her to the Rogers to visit. The Donohues of Decatur, who ran a bakery, were also good friends. Mrs. Donahue suffered from lung trouble. She accompanied Grandma to Wyoming to see my Aunt Bess Harris in Binford, Wyoming. (Bess was Almina’s daughter). It was summer time and it was hoped the lighter air would benefit her lung problems. While there, Mrs. Donohue suffered a hemorrhage and passed away. Aunt Bess lived in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains so a doctor could not be summoned quickly enough to save her.
The Telliferos, whose daughter was Mrs. Mary Neary, was a place she visited. Jim and Mary Lambert were also her great friends. They ran a grocery store and on Saturday nights, about closing time, our family enjoyed crackers and cheese in the back of the store with them.
Grandma always talked about wanting to go to the Old Soldiers Home in Grand Island. When she finally went there she only lived a short time and died March 3, 1929 at the age of 77 years and 7 months. I was 14 and I remember going to the funeral in Decatur. One of her friends, Ina Lambert, sang at the funeral.
Since I was only five when Grandpa Joel Gatewood died I have few memories of him. His body was brought to our home to lie in state before burial. He was visiting his daughter Mary Dillon in Scottsbluff when he passed away.
Joel was a tall man with dark hair, later he had a long white beard as his picture with the Civil War Veterans shows. He was a Mason, Woodman and a Civil Was Veteran serving with the 51st Regiment Indiana Volunteers Infantry. Our family had his sword but lost it when our house burned down Oh, how I wish it could have been saved! I know he ran the ferry boat between Decatur and Onawa, Iowa. My dad told of swimming a team of horses to shore on the night the ferry sank, November 16, 1908. That must have been something as the old Missouri was a treacherous river.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, STEPHANIE !!!!!
I hope you are having a wonderful day.

It’s a Gatewood thing

A “good time was had by all!” at the 2007 reunion of the Descendants of Joel and Almina Gatewood at Platte River State Park near Lousville, Nebraska. There were a few more grey hairs than when we met in 2005, but that’s life on the green side of the grass.
Aunt Grace at 93 was the oldest attendee and Shae Johnston at age 3 was the youngest. Myrna got the prize for logging the most miles on her journey (or should I say odyssey?) to attend.

My cousin Paul D. (that’s what we always called him – I’m not trying to be vague about his name! Sharon, his wife calls him PD and the way she says it sounds like “Petey.” But I digress.) Paul D. related a new story to me. He recalled how my dad used to sit in a chair: we both remembered he always sat leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and his fingers intertwined or one hand holding a cigarette, head down, looking at the floor – until he had something to say or something to laugh about. Then his head would come up until he finished talking or laughing and then he’d resume his usual position. It must have felt comfortable to him to sit that way.
Well, Grandpa TW had a brother named Eugene who moved away from Nebraska at a young age and spent the rest of his life in Minnesota. At some point, Paul D. and his family went to visit them and met his 3-4 sons. One of the sons, Paul D. said, not only looked a lot like Dad, but sat exactly like Dad did – leaning forward, elbows on the knees, head down looking at the floor. He also mentioned the other two brothers looked a lot like two of Great Grandpa Joel’s brothers; Isaac and Shannon. But it was the similar mannerisms between Dad and the cousin he’d never met that really impressed Paul D.

There were several second cousins who were unable to attend this year’s reunion due to baseball and softball games. I think our cousins Ray, Dale, and Joe would definitely understand that. The three brothers; sons of Joel Jr. and Lucille Gatewood, were locally famous as great baseball players in their younger years. Ray and Dale, now watching from Heaven, were probably following the progress of the baseball games instead of haunting the rest of us as we stuffed ourselves silly at the picnic!

I picked up several articles and such that I will be sharing here throughout the week. And pictures, too as soon as I can.

I saw the saddest sign in the world yesterday at the Arlington Country Market.
It said “Going out of business.”
This little store will be sorely missed. It’s probably one of the last non-supercenter grocery stores in the Midwest. The only thing you had to shop for when you went into the ACM was groceries: no auto parts, no fabrics, no prescription drugs, no alcohol, no jewelry and no clothing or electronics. I loved walking into that store with my $25 grocery list because I (usually) came out with $25 worth of groceries. Not so at the superstore down the road, especially if hubby comes along. We walk in with a $25 grocery list and come out with $125 worth of groceries, electronics, antifreeze, books, magazines, etc. etc.
And ACM has the nicest little luncheonette with a daily noon special (pan-fried chicken to die for every Friday) and lots of conversation.
The owner thought they’d be open until the end of July, so my grocery shopping and fried chicken Fridays are numbered now.
Another sign of the times - the end of an era.

Here is Extra Dividend and his pals: Grandpa Gatewood (with the cane) and Gayland Smith up. Uncle John is barely visible, but he is fifth from left. Gayland is LaDawn's Dad and Randy's First Cousin. Photo was taken April 2, 1964.

COOL!

GPS Farming

The sod farm supervisor and I went to get a bite to eat on a recent rainy Friday in Arlington and sat with one of his old friends from way back. (Everyone in Arlington is one of his old friends from way back. I don’t think there is anyone in that town he doesn’t know.)
Anyway, this farmer was talking about his newest tractor. It comes with a GPS navigator and he said he can literally put it on cruise control and just sit there while the tractor does the driving. He has to make one pass manually to get it going and then he sets the on board computer to do the rest. He couldn’t believe how perfectly straight it stays to the first row he plants. And it works on curves and terraces, too. He says a bell goes off when he gets a few feet from the end row and he has to manually turn it around, but once the direction change is complete, the tractor takes over, lines itself up and continues the work. He said he got his whole 60 acres planted and wasn’t even tired at the end of the day. At this rate, it won’t be long before the whole job can be done by remote control from the living room!
He said he’d heard a story of a farmer who fell asleep and didn’t hear the bell go off, so he wound up bouncing through a ditch and onto a highway.

You probably think GPS navigation is something new to farming, but have you ever seen a draft team at work? I once visited and Amish community and we just sat on the road and watched them work. They can even get themselves turned around at the end of the row without a bell going off!

And that reminds me of a story I heard about an incident that took place during the blizzard of 1888. It seems a fellow who farmed near Lyons, NE went to town that morning on horseback and was still in town when the storm hit. Well, it happened that the mare he rode that day had been blind from birth, so he gave her her head and she got him home in the midst of the storm, when so many others got lost or stranded trying to see their way through the blinding snow. Talk about built in GPS! Horses have had it all along. And at no extra charge.

Tomorrow is the Belmont, so this seemed like a good time to share this.

I was snowed in for two days in March of 2006 and here is the result:

So, what did you do while you were snowed in?
I spent the two days sewing on a project I have been working on for several years now. I call it “20th Century Champions” and it’s a depiction of the 11 Triple Crown winners of American Thoroughbred horse racing. No. I’m not kidding. Each block is a paper-pieced figure of the horse with the background being the colors of the silks worn by the jockey when they won the Triple Crown. It really did take me several years to track down the silks colors and the color of each horse, but once that was determined, the rest of the project was a breeze. (I’ve since learned that you can find the registered colors of a stable just by visiting jcsilks.com – IF you want to do it the easy way) As I searched for information about the colors, I couldn’t help but learn more and more about each horse along the way.
As I assembled each block, I found myself developing new respect for each of theses champions. Like Sir Barton, the very first Triple Crown winner who accomplished the feat in1919. SA I pieced the rid and black striped for his background, I remembered that, after his racing career, Sir Barton served his country as a US Cavalry remount until his death in 1937. I decided I needed to add an American flag to his block.
And as I worked on the red polka dots of Gallant Fox (1930) and Omaha (1935), I was reminded that they are the only father and son duo to win the Triple Crown honors. An unprecedented and unrepeated feat. Omaha lived out his retirement years as a stud in Nebraska and was laid to rest at the old Aksarben race track. Sadly, all that’s left of his grave is a marker, which has been moved several times to make way for building projects.
War Admiral, with his black and yellow checks, recently became widely known as the ‘big shot’ who was brought down by the little guy in the movie Sea Biscuit, but he really deserves to be remembered more respectfully. His Triple Crown wins in 1937 included a stumble out of the blocks at the Belmont which left him with a gash in one of his front legs. He was so covered with blood at the finish line his owners feared for his life, but the cut was minor and this son of the great Man’O’War finished a stellar career with a record of 21 wins, 3 places and 1 show of 26 starts.
As Count Fleet (1943) came to life under my stitches, I remembered learning hat he is the middle man of three generations to win the Kentucky Derby, taking the Run for the Roses after his father Reigh Count and before his son Count Turf.
And then there was Assault who hailed from King Ranch in Texas. As a baby, Assault sustained a severe injury to his right front foot and was nearly euthanized. The scar tissue left him with a limp when he walked, but did not have any effect on his ability to run. If it ever pained him, he never showed it and was nicknamed “The Clubfooted Comet” following his Triple Crown victories in 1946.
Whirlaway (1941) and Citation (1948) share the devil blue and red background pieces as they both come from Calumet Farm and were both trained by the great Jim Fitzsimmons.
Since eight of these champions lived and won before I was even born, my only knowledge of them comes from books and newspaper articles. But as my blue and white checks went together for Secretariat’s background, I vividly recall watching on live TV as he took the Triple Crown when he won the Belmont by 31 lengths in 1973. He still holds the record for two of the three races.
Seattle Slew (1977) and Affirmed (1978) are the only two Triple Crown champs to survive into the 21st Century. Affirmed died in 2001 and Seattle Slew died in 2002.
I hardly noticed the more than two feet of snow piling up outside as I stitched my personal memorial to these 11 American legends.

I received a National - no, an International Treasure in the mail yesterday.
Thank you, Gayland and Elaine!!
I'll be getting it scanned so I can post it here ASAP.
All of you Gatewood people will find it absolutely DELIGHTFUL!

The cell phone lady

Last Sunday in church, just when Pastor was getting to the really good stuff in his sermon, a cell phone went off about three rows behind me. No big deal. It happens. We don’t make an announcement to ask folk to turn off their pagers and stuff and I understand how easy it is to forget that sort of thing, but what happened next was reprehensible: the woman answered and carried on a 10 minute conversation with her caller! Out loud! Making no attempt to even keep her voice down! Right after, “Hello,” she said, “I thought you were coming to church today.” I thought at first it might be an emergency, but then, apparently in answer to a question, she continued with what her plans were for the rest of the day: going to eat at Fernando’s, drop off one of the kids at a friend’s house, get some groceries. If the call had gone on much longer, I’m sure I could be ghost writing her autobiography! Those of us in her vicinity at first looked at each other in disbelief, then some of us had to suppress some giggles. A couple of Dana basketball players who were sitting in front of me turned around and looked straight at her, neither smiling nor disapproving, but I hoped their attention on her would alert her to the distraction she was making. Then one of them whipped out his phone and mimed a conversation. That didn’t even slow her down. She seemed to be quite literally in her own little world with no regard for where she was and who she might be bothering.
I’ve seen people like her in restaurants. They are ignoring the person or persons they are with and mentally they are with the person on the other end of the cell phone call. Thankfully, my husband is not one of them. If he were, his cell phone would end up sticking out of his nose as he thumbed a ride home.
I understand emergencies, both personal and business, and issues come up that need attention, but my goodness, in church?

For Brooke
Potato Casserole #1
1 ½ bags frozen Southern style hash browns
1 stick butter
1 cup sour cream
1 can cream/mushroom soup
½ cup finely chopped onion (or to taste)
1 ½ to 2 cups grated cheddar cheese

Grease the bottom and sides of a 9 x 13 pan. Preheat oven to 350 F. In a saucepan, melt the butter into the cream soup and whisk until mixture is smooth. Stir in sour cream.
In the pan, layer as follows: potatoes, a sprinkle of onions, cheeses, sauce. Repeat layers, ending with potatoes. Bake uncovered 45 minutes until bubbly and starting to brown around the edges.

Potato casserole #2
6-8 medium raw potatoes, peeled and sliced very thin
one 4 oz can chopped green chilis
¼ cup finely chopped onion
1 can cream-style corn
1 ½ cup grated Mexican 4-cheese mix
¼ cup chopped green onions (scallions)
2 cups buttermilk

In a greased 9 x 13 pan, spread a layer of half the potato slices. Sprinkle with green chilis and onions. Spread the cream corn over all. Top with the remaining potato slices. Pour buttermilk over all. Bake uncovered at 350 F for 1 hour, or longer until potatoes are soft. Remove from oven, sprinkle with cheeses and return to oven until cheese melts. Sprinkle with green onions.

For low fat/low carb recipes, eat something else.

Happy Birthday, Sebastian!

As you happily work your way towards your next birthday, remember: Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear, or a fool from any direction.

Comparisons

La Dawn did a great job of converting British Pounds to dollars and metrics to imperial. See her price comparison chart on her blog. You’ll find the link to it at left – The Clare-Panton Family Adventures (in case you’re new here). I found it fascinating. Thanks La Dawn!

Because every time the price of gas goes up here in the US, somebody points out how much more it costs in Europe. So let’s compare other things. Some of you Europeans who visit here, what do you pay for the following? Here's what I pay here in the heartland:

Butter $2.85/pound
Large Eggs $1.25/dozen
Milk $1.88 half gallon (Hy Vee has just started carrying milk in glass bottles again, so I get a $1.50 return for every bottle I bring back, so a half gallon actually costs me 38 cents. And it tastes better!)
Ground beef 90% lean $2.25/lb
Bread $1.25/loaf
Hot dogs $1.25 for 8
Pork & Beans .59 can
Heavy cream $3.88 quart
Breakfast cereal $4.00 box
Ice cream $3.99 for 5 quart pail
Fresh halibut steak $12.99/lb (How sad is that?)
Beef T-bone steak $5.99/lb
Lettuce .99/head
Cabbage .29/lb
Apples $1.99 lb
Laundry Soap 40 load bottle of liquid $2.50
Bath soap $3.89 for 4 bars Olay (Other brands make me itch, so I have to go with the expensive stuff.)
Shampoo $3.99 30 oz bottle
Dish soap $1.89 30 oz bottle
Toothpaste $2.79 for a large tube (Can’t remember how many ounces, and I usually don’t bring it with me to work, so I can’t go take a look!)
Toilet paper $6.00 for 12 double rolls
Beer $4.99 six pack
Good beer $7.99 six pack
Local telephone landline $19.99 month
Cell phone minutes $29.99 for 100 (my family uses tracphones)
Electricity $100/month average
Propane for heat $1.89 gal
Hay for the horses $4.50 per bale, delivered.
Dog food $16.99 40 lb bag dry
Cat food $26.99 40 lbs Iams (Another expensive brand name we use)
Cat litter $3.99 20 lb bag

Shirl & Sue, how much for cable tv and internet access? We don’t have either one at home.

I usually buy the store brand of everything instead of the brand name products, so that is what I’m basing my prices on. And I don’t know how any of this would figure in metric equivalents.

A Closer Look

A gravel road offers a lot more to see when you are walking on it than when you are speeding along at 55 mph.
For example, you can see what the grader accomplished when he went rumbling by yesterday and it looked like he was just kicking up dust. You can see that his blade scraped off the brome and weeds that were creeping into the roadway from out of the ditch. And you can see that his blade turned up old gravel, spreading it out where it might otherwise have been beaten down into the earth by the traffic.
You can hear birdsong when walking at 5-6 mph that you can’t hear at 55: blackbirds, chickadees, meadowlarks and occasionally the scream of a soaring hawk.
At a place where the creek crosses the road, you can see that a backhoe made an attempt to clear flood debris. It was clear for a few days, but the swollen creek soon filled it up again, debris straining against a doomed barbed wire fence.
Invisible to the driver, but obvious to a walker are the entrances to ground squirrel burrows. Just holes in the road with small piles of dirt and gravel to mark their presence, they speak of life underground, out of sight, down in the subterranean darkness. Who knows what nefarious plans and schemes for survival are made down there?
You can see the new gravel that was spread just a few days ago and how it has filled in the soft spots in the road where potholes threatened.
The color and fragrance of wild roses, goldenrod, red cover and dozens of other wild flowers come into perfect focus to a walker. As does the trash: beer and pop cans, fast food sacks and so on – containers people have sucked the goodness from and discarded.
There is a lot more to see when you slow down and take a closer look.

My internet connection was down for most of the day.
See you tomorrow.

Memorial Day

I extend a salute of respect and my heartfelt thanks to all who are now or have in the past served in the American Armed Forces.
Thank you for defending my country, my freedom and my way of life.
God bless you all.

Ferrier Visit.

Bubba got new shoes yesterday evening so we are ready to roll!
A couple of weeks ago, I left home around 5:30 PM to make a grocery run. On the road, I met my Ferrier. “Hmmm,” I thought to myself. “I wonder where Bob’s going?” Well, guess what? He was coming to my house. I’d had an appointment with him that day and completely forgot about it. Very bad. Very bad. He is one of the best ferriers and one of the most reasonably priced in this area and he can pick and choose who he wants to keep on his client list. He was very gracious about rescheduling this time, but I need to be more careful about honoring my appointments with him. I don’t want to have to start with someone new at this point. He’s been doing my horses for 11 years.

Does this count as a Blackberry moment? Or a senior moment? Or an “I’m just too darn busy to be polite enough to keep my appointments moment?”

Tale of a tail.

No, I’m not trying to ‘moon’ you. This is the north end of a southbound mule. His name is Big John and his rider is Bruce (my landlord). If you’ll notice Big John’s tail is cut to show three bells. This is a practice that dates back to the time when the US Army used mules and horses instead of humvees. An Army mule was trained to do one, two or all of three tasks: pack, drive and/or ride. Once in a while, a mule would go AWOL from its assigned unit and, if it was lucky, join up with another unit. His new handlers would need to know what their new recruit was trained to do. If his tail had one bell, they knew he was a pack mule. Two, meant he could both pack and pull a wagon. Three bells meant he could pack, drive and carry a rider. No bells in the tail meant meat for supper. Big John’s bells tell us he can do all three. He stays in a pen at my place during calving season and Bruce rides him out amongst the cows to check on things.

Okay, ‘fess up. Who is visiting from Alvo, NE? And Blair? Annoymous comments are not only allowed here, but encouraged. But please, mind your language. I am the only one allowed to use profanity. (Well, it is MY blog).

We had an inch of rain overnight and it was still coming down when I left home this morning.

I enjoy May and June. It’s encouraging to me that every day offers a few more minutes of daylight than one before. So what to do with this extra light? The possibilities are nearly endless! Walk the dog. Ride the horse. Mow the lawn. Weed the flowerbeds & garden. Plant something. Or just sit on a lawnchair and watch Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal. That last one is my favorite.

Here are my friends on the Sunday trail ride: Renee on Cody, Kate on Boscoe and Bubba, carrying around a circus fatlady.

I’m a little miffed.

A certain lovely young woman I know recently had a discussion with her significant other, expressing her desire to devote the rest of her life to him, bear his children and generally forsake all others, keeping only unto him.
His response? “What’s your hurry?”
My response, “Well, what the hell are you waiting for, Bozo? If you don’t have enough sense to jump in and grab the good life this young lady is offering you, then adios, amigo, vaya con Dios and have a nice life, ‘cuz God has a better plan and a stronger man in mind for her.”
I’ve never met this young man and I’m certain he has some lovable qualities and charm, otherwise our girl would not be interested in him, but this is really ticking me off. What’s your hurry, indeed. Where’s your brain, Fool and how about your heart? If you don’t have the guts to give your heart to this woman, then you aren’t even remotely good enough for her.
There. I said it. I’ve been thinking about it since 3:00 this morning. It’s only my opinion and opinions are like a**holes – everybody’s got one. I’m entitled to mine and this is my blog, so take it for what it’s worth.
I get real upset when someone shows a lack of respect for people I care about, but I feel better now.
This blogging is very therapeutic.

Jack’s birthday at the zoo.
This is my family. They must have behaved themselves while they were there because they didn’t get locked in with the apes or anything.

Bubba & I went on the sweetest trail ride yesterday. We had permission to ride on a hunting preserve about 11 miles south of me. Lots of wooded areas, rustic scenery, a riverfront and hills. The afternoon ended with a nice potluck .
I reconnected with a dear old friend whose life had taken some unexpected twists & turns.
In the middle of the day, one person’s horse got loose and panicked because his saddle slipped and ended up on his belly instead of his back. He disappeared, bucking, crow hopping and running full speed ahead into the woods. Now if you’re going to run into trouble with your horse, the best place to do it is in the midst of a crowd of cowboys and cowgirls. The ropers of the crowd mounted up and went in after him. It wasn’t long before the most gentlemanly of these calmly walked out of the woods with the frightened horse in tow. The renegade had succeeded in shedding the saddle somewhere in the woods and another group emerged a few minutes later with the missing saddle. Thankfully, no one was hurt and the ride continued as planned.

I had a ton of paperwork to get done today, thank goodness that’s over with.

Randy is leaving on a road trip to deliver augurs to northeast Iowa tomorrow. He’ll get home Wednesday evening.

Street Sense lost the Preakness to Curlin by a nose hair on Saturday. The top three finishers were the same three that finished in the top three in the Kentucky Derby. It will be fun to see if the same three horses win, place and show in the Belmont.

Until tomorrow!

Preakness tomorrow at Pimilco Park Maryland.!
Street Sense will try for the second jewel in the 07 Triple Crown.
Post time 6:15 PM eastern.

Toastmasters International

I feel very lucky to have become involved in Toastmasters. Usually when I mention it, someone will say, “Is that group still around?” Yes, it is. I’ve belonged to a group that meets in Fremont every Wednesday at noon and have successfully worked my way through two and a half of the books of speech assignments they provide.
I first got involved when I was working at the quilt shop. One of my main duties was to sell sewing machines. Now you would think that it wouldn’t take much to sell a sewing machine to someone who came into the shop looking to buy a sewing machine. You would be wrong. I was a miserable failure as a salesman, so my employer signed me up for Toastmasters. Within a few months, my communications skills improved drastically and I finally sold not one, but THREE sewing machines to one customer (it was for a high school home ec class). I also gained enough confidence to begin teaching a few classes a week and all my students gave me very complimentary feedback.
I don’t work at the quilt shop anymore, but I maintain my membership in Toastmasters. In my present job, the skills I’ve picked up at T/M have helped me in doing collections and in customer communications.
In my club, we all take turns filling the various jobs at each meeting. The meeting is held in a party room at a local restaurant, so we usually eat while we meet.
A typical meeting goes like this: The Toastmaster of the Day opens the meeting, sometimes with an Invocation. The Toastmaster is responsible for introducing each participant, leading the applause, and keeping the meeting moving.
Next up is the Reader; this person reads a story, poem, article, (the Chicken Soup for the Soul books are a popular source for this) or other reading for 3-5 minutes.
Next is the Jokemaster – this person tells jokes (duh) for about 3-5 minutes.
Next is Table Topics. The TableTopics Master has three questions prepared and calls on three people to speak extemporaneously on the topic for 2-4 minutes. (This was the hardest one for me – my first time, I only talked for about 45 seconds!) At the end of the meeting, everyone votes for the Table Topics speaker of the day. I’ve gotten better and have even gotten this prize a few times.
After Table Topics is Speaker #1 and then Speaker #2.
Then the Evaluator takes the podium and gives kudos for the things each participant did right and makes suggestions for improvements for next time.
Then we vote on the Speaker of the Day and review the next week’s assignments.
The first book you work your way through includes ten speech assignments that increase in level of difficulty as you go. I worked my way through that one in 10 months. The next books you choose depend on your interests and your goals. I chose to do Interpretive Readings and Storytelling. (It’s the Drama Queen in me).
At any rate, ALL Toastmaster clubs heartily welcome visitors and you won’t be called on to participate in any way shape or form unless you want to be until you’ve actually paid your dues ($30 twice a year) and become a member.
You can find a club in your neighborhood by visiting www.toastmasters.org

Tim McGraw - Live Like You Were Dying

I found this video of one of my favorite songs. The basball player in the vidoe is Tim McGraw's dad, Tug.
Enjoy!

Mr. & Mrs. Cardinal

We have a pair of cardinals living on our place. They have the most beautiful song, and Mr. Cardinal is like a flying flower with his bright red feathers. And Shirley is right: Mrs. Cardinal’s tans and browns are gorgeous.
Mrs. Cardinal might be in need of some therapy. She perches on the door of Jack’s car and looks into his side mirror. Then she hops up on top of the mirror and looks behind it, then looks around, as if saying, “Where’d she go?” She hops back over to the door, looks in the mirror, chirps wildly and then hops on top of the mirror, looking behind it trying to “catch” that ‘other woman.’ She may have a bit of a jealous streak.
Meanwhile, Goldie, one of our cats, is watching her, slinking along low to the ground until he thinks he is within pouncing distance, when he makes a run for it. Of course, she probably saw him coming from the very beginning, so she escapes every time. As soon as Goldie retreats, she comes back to the mirror and starts the whole routine all over again.
Goldie is the first one to figure out that Cody does not want to eat the cats. In fact, he has even gotten interested in Cody’s squeaky toy. Somebody picks up the toy, squeaks it, and Cody come bouncing in from what ever else he was doing, ready for a game of fetch. This takes Goldie’s attention away from Mrs. Cardinal and as soon as the toy is thrown, Goldie and Cody both chase it. Cody always wins the race, but I wonder what Goldie would do with it if he got there first?
With all this going on right outside my front door, who needs television?

From an advertisement:
A man took his ailing horse to the vet and said, “My horse limps and then sometimes he’s just fine. I hope you can help me.”
The vet examined the horse and said, “Yes, I think I can help you. When he’s walking just fine – sell him.”

From a Business Card for an auto repair shop:
“Labor charge is $40/hour. Discounts given for anyone who hasn’t already tried to fix it themselves.”

Commuter sightings
Road kill. Need I say more?
No, I don’t have any pictures to go with this.

Handsome Fellow
Here is a toad that Jack rescued from the lawn mower and from the cats. We thought he (the toad) was unusually cute and I wanted to finish up a roll of film, so we photographed him before we turned him loose into the creek.

Mother's Day USA
I got some really nice gifts from my family this year.
Jack commuted all the way into Omaha to get me two floral scented candles: lily of the valley and Victorian Rose.
Randy got me two movies: A Prairie Home Companion and Where the Heart Is. He also ordered the video Barbaro: America’s Horse, but it’s not here yet.
Emily got me a beautiful journal to write in. It’s leather bound and the front cover is a reproduction of Leonardo Da Vinci’s horse sketches. I love a brand new blank journal – it represents such potential!
A Prairie Home Companion is such a hoot. If you haven’t seen it yet, you really should. And I finally know what the Guy’s All-Star Shoe Band looks like.

"Real Quick"
Since I’ve been working for Joani I’ve picked up a phrase that I need to eliminate from my vocabulary: “real quick.” As in, “I’m going to run into the grocery store real quick for some milk.” Or “I’m going to go do the bank run to Fremont real quick.” My mom used to say it once in a while, too. “I’m just going to sit down here for a ‘real quick’ nap,” she’d say and then be snoring in a matter of seconds. I had a lot of stuff to get done this afternoon, so I wanted the bank run to be “real quick” today, but of course, that couldn’t happen. It seemed the world was trying to teach me that there is no such thing as “real quick.” For starters, there was only one car ahead of me at the bank drive through, but I still ended up sitting there for 10 minutes. I sat behind the same car for another 5 minutes trying to make a left turn onto a busy four lane street. The Sonic burger joint at the edge of town is usually a “real quick” place to pull in for a “real quick” cup of afternoon coffee, but not today. I got behind someone who was apparently ordering for a group, because they handed out way more bags of food and trays of drinks than there were people in that pickup. Just when I’d think, “That will surely be the last one,” the window would open up again and out would come a couple more bags and trays. When it was finally my turn at the window, they greeted me with, “We had to put on a fresh pot. It will be just a few minutes.” So much for “real quick.”

“Real quick” in this life is either a lie or a fantasy. Come to think of it, it’s not even good grammar, is it?

Your turn
What did you get (or do) for Mother's Day?
What’s a phrase you use that turns out to be a lie or a fantasy?

Happy Mother's Day to every mom who visits here!

Excuse Notes

I’ve been reading Frank McCourt’s Teacher Man. McCourt is the author of Angela’s Ashes and ‘Tis – two of my favorites - and Teacher Man is the continuation of his story. Anyway, as a teacher of a creative writing class in New York City in the 1960s, he notices that the most creative things his students write are the forged excuses they bring from “home.” He gives them an assignment based on the Excuse Note. He has his students write an “Excuse” to God from Adam and Eve. Or from Napoleon Bonaparte to the French for Waterloo. Or some other moment in history. If I’d had the good fortune to be in Mr. McCourt’s class, here is what I might have written:

Please excuse my daughter Hilary for missing class. Her husband Bill is out of work and she has been seeking a promotion, which requires that she frequently be out of town.
Sincerely; Mrs. Rodham

Please excuse my son Alec for missing class. He had a terrible hangover.
Sincerely; Mrs. Baldwin

Please excuse my soninlawdaughter Brangolina for missing class. They have been out of town collecting babies.
Sincerely; Mrs. Jolie

Please excuse my son Jamie for missing class. He couldn’t find a thing to wear.
Sincerely;
Mrs. Oliver

Please excuse my son Smokey for missing class. He had such a raging fever, it was like he was on fire!
Sincerely;
Mrs. Bear

Please excuse my son Alfred for missing class. He was having dizzy spells and got crapped on by a flock of birds.
Sincerely;
Mrs. Hitchcock

Please excuse my son Carl for missing class. He was all worn out from coughing billions and billions of times during the night.
Sincerely;
Mrs. Sagan

Please excuse my son Stephen for missing class. He was all out of time.
Sincerely;
Mrs. Hawking

I’ll probably think of more as the day goes on, but do you have an excuse to add?

All bets are on

It’s a good thing I did not have the opportunity to put any money on a horse at the Kentucky Derby, because I did not pick Street Sense to win. I enjoyed the 90 minutes of pre-race coverage, though. With the thunderstorms raging outside my window, I just sat on my duff in the easy chair and stared at the tv, like some kind of a couch potato. I know it’s all hype and holler, but I liked it. We even made mint juleps and my own version of Kentucky fried chicken for supper. I’d like to host a derby party – maybe next year.
Queen Elizabeth made her appearance, although I didn’t like her hat as much as the one she wore the day before. She very graciously stood respectfully while everyone bellowed “My Old Kentucky Home,” though she looked a bit perplexed. I think maybe she was expecting the “Star Spangled Banner.”
Anyway, when the gate opened and the field spread out, Street Sense was in 19th (out of 20) place. He made his way up the pack, mostly on the rail until he found an opening on the home stretch. He blew past the leader and crossed the wire, winning by a couple of lengths. The horse that ended up in second had been leading the whole race and was completely clean at the finish. Street Sense, on the other hand, was covered in dust from the top of his ears, the white blaze on his face, his chest, his front legs and clear back to his withers.
So let that be a lesson to you – If you have to come from behind, you might still be able to win, but you’re going to get covered with dirt.

Now for a practical application… I don’t really have one. What do you think?

And, like the old song says, “It’s not where you start, it’s where you finish…”

Another thing – in 1973 when Secretariat won the Triple Crown, he stumbled coming out of the gate at the Derby and had to come from dead last.
I know who I’m going to be rooting for in the Preakness.

Here is a GOOSE (or two) to get you going on this soggy Monday morning.

Tomorrow is DERBY DAY!
Guess who is coming to the Kentucky Derby? Queen Elizabeth! Don't worry, LaDawn, we'll take good care of her - I'll bet she'll have the nicest hat in the crowd. The one she had on yesterday when she visited Jamestown was lovely. I wish Ladies' hats and gloves would come back into style.

Lucy's first Ride. We had a little excitement, she wasn't too sure about his saddle, but once Mark was on board, she was a jewel. You can also see Kelli in the background. Mark and Kelli run the Mid-States Ranch Horse Association (Link at left). I'm going to be their cook for the cowgirl camps they are sponsoring.

Today, Thursday May 3, is National Day of Prayer. I share this from Charles Swindoll:

"Almighty God, we pause to reflect on Your character as we seek wisdom for such a time as this.
In these unsafe days,
You remain all-powerful and able to protect;
In these uncertain times,
You remain all-knowing, leading us aright;
In the unprecedented events we're facing,
You remain absolutely sovereign.
Our times are in Your hands.
Therefore, our dependence on You, is total, not partial
. . . our need for Your forgiveness is constant
. . . our gratitude for Your grace is profound
. . . our love for You is deep.
We ask that You guard and guide our President
and all who serve the people of these United States.
May uncompromising integrity mark their lives.
We also ask that You unite us as truly "one nation,
under God." May genuine humility return to our ranks.
And may that blend of integrity and humility
heal our land.
In our Lord's name we pray,
Amen."
If you want to know more, visit www.nsptf.org

Well, Lucy is a trooper. I thought I’d done our groundwork pretty well, but watching the pros in action, I got to feeling like I had been trying to do brain surgery with a degree purchased on ebay. Mark came and worked with her for 2 hours yesterday and when he got on, she demonstrated back for him everything he’d taught her from the ground. She was thoroughly worn out when he left, and just stood and rested in the corner of her pen for about 2 hours. I’m supposed to ride her when I get home today, but it started raining about an hour ago, so I don’t know if that will happen or not. I took LOTS of pictures and they are at the developer’s today, so I should be able to post some tomorrow.
My mood right now is as gloomy as the sky is grey. I had the worst case of insomnia from last night/this morning 1-4 AM that I’ve had in a lo-o-ong time. (YAWN) Don’t know what’s up with that.
My saddle club is supposed to have its first trail ride of the season this Saturday, but it’s supposed to rain then, too, so that might be canceled. (sniff)
I hope I have a little more energy tomorrow.

It turns out my banishment was very temporary. Whatever the problem was has fixed itself.

I’m so excited! Tomorrow my friends Kelli and Mark who train horses for a living are coming over to help me get on Lucy for the first time! I promise pictures! And hopefully, no broken bones. I don’t expect any trouble – Lucy is as gentle as Bubba and very sensible for a 3-year-old.

Lucy was a gift to me two years ago from my friends Merle and Fran. Merle has since passed away from cancer and Fran had a scary experience a few weeks ago. She still lives on the 320 acre place she and Merle owned, along with their remaining 3 horses. She was at home one stormy afternoon and her lights began to flicker. She looked out at the western sky and thought it looked like it might rain, and proceeded to go down to the basement to check her fuse box. She was downstairs for maybe 2 minutes and when she came back up, a large, old fashioned hog barn and half of a cattle shed were a pile of rubble. Huge sheets of roofing tin (from a neighbor’s building) were laying here and there in her pasture. A tornado had hit while she was in the basement and she hadn’t even heard it. She was kicking herself for not having the radio or TV on to check for weather warnings, but decided God was looking out for her and sent her to the basement at the right moment. Within 20 minutes, the chief of the local volunteer fire & rescue was knocking on her door to see if she was okay, which helped to set her mind at ease. We are all so thankful that she is okay, but her adult children and I are hoping that the sale of her place will come through quickly now so she can move to Omaha and be near them.
When she does move to town, we are going to adopt her 10-year-old black lab, Cody. We haven’t had a dog in over 22 years. Big changes for everyone!

Jack and Emily are finished up with their classes for this semester, so they are both in a good mood.

Yesterday, we borrowed a tiller from our landlord and worked a whole bunch of horse manure into our little garden plot, so now I’m ready to put in my tomatoes and peppers. It’s really been such nice weather the past couple of days – warm and sunny. Very cheery.

I had a visitor to my blog from Sweden today! How cool is that?

Banished again.
My internet access at the office is down again, so I'm sneaking in to check on everyone at the Library. Hope to be back soon.

I know this is supposed to be a day of silence, but my sitemeters tell me I’m getting my usual visitors, so I’m going out on a limb and posting something I hope you’ll like. This was my March Loose Threads column:

Back in the old days, quilt patterns were named for everyday things that surrounded the folk artists who created them. Since almost all the working hours I spend at my day job are at the computer, and every so often my mind wanders a bit, I have a few ideas for some new quilt designs. I offer them to you along with a vague idea of what each one should look like.

The Web: This quilt will be made from a very captivating and time consuming pattern. Just when you think you have it finished, another shape or color will pop up and demand to be included. This quilt will command the undivided attention of any onlooker. Other responsibilities of the quilter, such as food, water, and rest, may suffer.

The Blog: This quilt will be an interesting conglomeration of darks on one side and lights on the other. Which side is up will depend on your mood.

The Address Bar: Very long and narrow, with ‘Magic Carpet’ capabilities. Being unable to determine the difference between what you said and what you meant to say, this one will take you exactly where you tell it to whether you really wanted to go there or not.

Email Inbox: The corner where you keep this work in progress will be filled to overflowing with scraps on days that you have little or no time to deal with it and completely empty on the days you are looking for something interesting to do.

The Ebay: This quilt will evoke images of lots of things you didn’t know you couldn’t live without. It will seem cheap at first, but once you get going on it, it gets more and more expensive.

The SPAM: This one is going to be ugly and consist of hundreds, possibly thousands of tiny, useless bits of fabric that you don’t want. Some of the fabrics may even be offensive, but the harder you try to get rid of them, the more they accumulate.

Windows: This quilt will look big enough, but it really won’t cover as much as you expected it to. It will always make sure you are made aware of all the expensive add-ons and downloads that are available to make it seem more complete.

Software: The Software quilt seems necessary at first, but once you get it done, it just sits in the corner. In some cases it’s free, but it only works for 30 days and then you have to either dump it or pay for it.

The Mouse: Small and slippery, this quilt will make small clicking noises at random intervals, causing lights to turn off and on or window shades to open and close. It’s usefulness will be called into question until the day it clicks on the minus sign and successfully minimizes a complaining spouse, causing him to disappear into cyber-limbo until you are ready to deal with him again.

The Dubya Dubya Dubya: Lots of Americana in this one.

The Crash: You don’t even want to go there. This quilt will disappear completely, without a moment’s notice and usually at the moment of your most critical need. It will take everything with it; leaving no trace of fabrics, pattern or even thread. The only way to restore it will be to start all over from scratch.

Sorry if I offended anyone by not being silent.

Meanwhile, I do pray that the healing continues for all those who are wounded emotionally, spiritually and physically by random acts of violence.

Random Friday Thoughts

The Elkhorn River just west of here is up a lot higher than usual. Bell Creek, just to the west of that has escaped the confines of its banks.
A Washington County History lesson: Bell Creek was named for one of the first settlers to cross it back in the late 1870s. His name was Bell (duh) and he and a group of men came out here from Illinois on foot to stake claims when they came to the creek. The story doesn’t say how they got across the Elkhorn without getting wet. They secured a rope across the little creek from a tree on the east side to a tree on the west side and hand over handed themselves across. When it was Mr. Bell’s turn, he lost his grip and fell in, so they named the little creek after him.

I went out blog browsing a little bit today and could only conclude that I am living a very sheltered life out here on the prairie. I didn’t realize that there was so much anger out there in the world and I found it to be a little scary. At first I thought, “Maybe it’s only in cyberspace,” but then I heard on the radio that at around 3:00 this morning, there was a road rage incident right here in Washington County, over in Ft. Calhoun. Two drivers, a man and woman were arrested – she for allegedly beating up him and his car and he for possession of drugs and paraphernalia. Apparently they had been playing a vicious version of “Betcha can’t pass me!” on Highway 75 and stopped in Calhoun to finish the fracas.
I’m glad I’m not usually out and about at 3:00 in the morning.

Here is a story (except for the first sentence, totally fiction) I wrote for my column Loose Threads in Country Lanes Magazine:

I remain convinced that the advancements of humankind all began with a mother looking after the well-being of her family.
For instance, eons ago, our foremother was out hunting and gathering carrying a basket for her findings with a 2-year-old perched on her hip and another on the way. As you might guess, it didn’t take long for fatigue and backache to set in and she started looking for a way to lighten her load. She thought to herself, “If only I had something to push around that I could put my basket and toddler in, this would be a lot easier to do.” So she found a downed tree, sliced off a couple of narrow pieces from one end, made a hole at the center of each, ran a thin branch through them, attached her basket and a seat for the baby to the branch, added a handle and there it was: the first grocery cart – and the wheel.
Now it happened that her second baby was due to be born during the rainy season and while her campfire was adequate for warmth, she wanted to get in out of the weather for the blessed event. One day she was gazing across the river and spotted a cave in the bluff on the other side. From her point of view, she could see that it was dry inside, so she began to look around for a way to get over there. As she stood pondering a solution, a piece of driftwood floated by. She went back to the downed tree, hollowed out what was left of it and grabbed another branch and flattened out one end of it. She packed her baby, her husband and her grocery cart into the hollowed out log and floated across the river in her new canoe. And so she invented water transportation and established a permanent residence, just in time for the arrival of #2.
On another hunting and gathering expedition in the early summer, our Mom happened across a patch of wild strawberries and seeing how her toddler gobbled up the sweet treats, thought to herself, “There must be a way we can get these things to grow around home.” And so gardens were invented. Now her husband saw how well it worked with the little strawberry plants, so he decided to give it a go with apple trees and cherry trees, and before long they had a nice orchard going.
One day, this mom was doing her spring cleaning and ran across some old ears of corn they had gathered, but hadn’t eaten, so she handed them to her husband and said, “Go bury these someplace before they rot and start to smell.” So he did, and of course they sprouted and grew more corn. Thus began farming.
And, as winter began to roll in, she wanted to keep her little ones warm, so she took a couple of pieces of old skins, stuffed them with wool shaved off a sheep, stitched them together and wrapped it around her wee ones. So was born the art of quilting.
All thanks to our foremother.

Here is something interesting I found during my blog browsing. I’d never seen a picture of a Cedar of Lebanon before. Wow.
http://happywonderer.wordpress.com

Family Tradition: The Methodist Kitchen

The Lyons Methodist Church that I grew up in owns and operates a café at the Burt County Fairgrounds in Oakland, NE. Every year in August, the ladies of the church pack up everything in the church kitchen: roasters, coffeepots, dishes, silverware, serving and cooking utensils and haul them the 7 miles to the little building at the west end of the fairgrounds. For the duration of the Burt County Fair, the tiny building would be a mass of activity. I can see it all in my mind: ladies pulling roasts out of the ovens, frying chickens, mashing boiled potatoes, stirring gravy or cutting up the homemade cakes and pies volunteers were bringing by the dozens. The men were stationed at the sinks washing dishes, peeling potatoes or slicing cucumbers for the ever-present bowl of vinegared cucumber/onion that sat at each table. I can see the fairgoers and “carnies” standing in the line that always ran the length of the building and sometimes spilled out the door into the Midway. And kids (like me) dashing around with trays to gather up the dishes, silverware and glasses and wipe down the tables. My friends and I made a game of seeing who could get their tables cleared off the fastest. We must have looked like vultures circling the diners, trying to spot who was going to be done next.
And the heat – it was ALWAYS hot and steamy in the place. Although it must have occasionally been cool and rainy in all the years we went there, it escapes my memory.
I’ll bet my sisters can add their memories of this particular family tradition to this posting.
One of the big rides – like the Tilt-a Whirl or the Octopus was always at our end and they blasted top 40s music constantly – to this day I can’t hear a Creedance Clearwater Revival song without remembering my days in the Methodist Kitchen.
When the crowd began to lull in the late evening, Mom would give me 50 cents or so and I was turned loose to go ride a few rides on the Midway before they shut down.
For as long as she was able, Mom did her time at the Methodist Kitchen. When my kids were small, we’d take them to that fair for one evening and stop in to eat supper with her.
I still eat at least one meal a year in the Methodist Kitchen, only now it’s with my husband’s family. We gather there on the last Sunday in July for a family potluck picnic. So some new memories are taking their place beside the old ones. One thing remains constant, though – it’s almost always HOT.

The B&W aerial photo is the farm where my family lived from 1957 to 1964 or so. It’s north of Lyons, Nebraska about 2 miles.

The color pic is where I live now. It’s sort of in the middle of nowhere – not the end of the world, but you can see it from here…

This came in an email.
Enjoy!

http://www.members.shaw.ca/grandmafaiths2/boogie.htm

Loved the music.

VT Tragedy
There aren’t enough words in the human language to express the sorrow we all feel for the lives lost at Virginia Tech. (As in Romans 8:26 “…We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.”)
We have enough laws and regulations regarding firearms. As far as I know, it’s always been illegal to carry a weapon into a classroom, whether you were planning to use it or not. We have no way of knowing how many weapons the current background checks and other laws have kept out of the hands of people with evil intent, but I’ll bet it has worked more often than not. I don’t own a gun and I don’t want one right now; but I don’t want to ever give up my right to be able to get one to protect myself if necessary.
People who commit these horrific mass shootings have murder in their hearts and will find a way to commit it one way or the other. The Boston Strangler never used a gun and neither did Jack the Ripper or the Hillside Strangler, Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer. And the hijackers of 9/11 used boxcutters and various items which were easily and legally obtained.
It isn’t the presence of weapons that brings about these crimes, rather it is the presence of evil in this world. And it rears its ugly, destructive head when people choose to fulfill their own sick, twisted desires instead of looking outside themselves for the Source of true fulfillment – a personal relationship with the Creator through the Risen Savior.

Commuter “Sounding”

Rain pounding on the tin roof of the lean-to where I park my pickup gave me a round of applause. No one was looking, so I took a bow.

An Inconvenient Truth
I read it, as promised, and once I got past the first several pages of Mr. Gore giving himself credit for advances in environmental issues and placing blame on President Bush for a variety of ills, I now see that global warming is happening. I am not a scientist by any stretch of the imagination (neither is Al Gore) however, I have some questions.
I found the two most convincing evidences of global warming he presents are the melting glaciers and the evaporation of Lake Chad in Africa. If humans and their machines are causing global warming, why do glaciers melt when they exist in areas where human population is sparse? And science has been declaring for centuries that without interference, naturally occurring phenomena tend toward decay, so why wouldn’t glaciers melt anyway? Maybe we are in the midst of a cosmic hot flash.
How did CO2 cause the evaporation of Lake Chad when the auto-human ratio in that area is something like 20 people to every car, while in the US, where the auto-human ratio is pretty much 1-1, most of our naturally occurring bodies of water remain at a constant level?
Mr. Gore quotes his college professor’s findings of rising CO2 levels which he tracked through several years over Hawaii, but why wouldn’t the CO2 levels be on the rise over Hawaii since the entire collection of islands is made up of volcanoes in various stages of activity?
If you hold to Evolutionary theory, the earth is millions of years old. If you are a Creationist, the earth is about 6,000 years old. Climatology has only been around for the past 400 years or so and accurate records of climate changes and meteorological phenomena are even younger. Ice cores and tree rings (dendroclimatology) can give clues as to what climate changes have taken place, but can not give us the reasons for those climate fluctuations. Given the large scale studies needed and the long time periods required to scientifically prove cause and effect in climatology, it is at best, a stochastic process and should be studied as such.
Dr. D. James Kennedy (who holds nine PhD.’s) said that only about 3% of the scientists in the world have the skills, knowledge and experience to fully study and understand the issue. They need to examine all the possible causes in order to determine the truth. Studies of Galactic Cosmic Rays hold some interest in the effects of sunspot activities on climate fluctuations.
In the meantime, the “what you can do to help” section is old news. I’ve been doing most of it since the 1980s, except for the curly-que light bulbs, which are new. I will continue to do so.
And I close this rant with Haggai 2:4-5 “And now get to work, for I am with you, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. My Spirit remains among you, just as I promised when you came out of Egypt. So DO NOT BE AFRAID.” (Emphasis mine.)

I"M BACK!!
Whew! My banishment from the blogosphere was truly a remarkably unsettling week for me. I did manage to visit all my pals and family blogs briefly, but could not take the time to respond.
It never ceases to amaze me how much I have in common with you all - just as it never ceases to amaze me how opposite my opinion is on so many things. That being said, in an effort to "not let any unwholesome talk come out my mouth" I will just say that I am content to live here in the USA under the current administration.
More opinionated postings will follow.