QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 5/27/12

"The way to get good ideas, is to get lots of ideas, and throw the bad ones away."
--Linus Pauling, American scientist

A THOUGHT AND A PRAYER

I'm sure that a lot of us spent the weekend with family and friends. We had two graduations to attend and, of course, ate way too much.

A friend I have known since 4th grade had surgery to remove a brain tumor he didn't even know he had. The surgery went well and he is now at home resting and doing well. He served in the Air Force after high school. A Vietnam-era veteran. Me? I've never served, but really wish that I had.

I've been lucky. I've got more than one best friend. I've had five. Two have passed on: one from cancer, and the other from congestive heart failure. One of them served in the Air Force. I've had other friends and family serve also, and those who have passed are all missed, on a daily basis, by their family and friends.

Those who have gone before us, who served, paved the way for the rest of us. They are the heroes. They gave all for us to be able to enjoy the things that we have and the freedom to be a great nation. And though, things and times may look bleak, WE will survive as a nation as long as we remember those who gave all.

So, say a prayer. Say a whole lot of prayers for those who didn't give up on us. They fought for us. They fought for each other.

God bless our service personal, living and dead, and our nation.

SELF RELIANCE EXPO: Colorado Springs

OK, we joined the ranks, kind of. We took some time and made a little trip to our neighbor south of us -- Colorado Springs. Nice drive, if you miss rush hour traffic. We went to the Self-Reliance Expo on Friday and spent the night in a hotel.

This is the first self-reliance expo that I or Kathi have been to. I'm not really sure what we expected. I thought that it would be bigger. 'Course, I guess I was kinda expecting it to be more like a gun show. The people were great and answered all our questions. We tried some of that "prepper" food. Some of it is quite good! (Thankfully, they didn't have any freeze-dried brussell sprouts.) We looked and listened then ate some more.

There was only one gentleman there selling firearms. Half of his table was filled with rifles, and the other half was filled with pistols and revolvers. The NATGEO Doomsday Preppers tv people were there recruiting for season 2. But we never saw anyone at their booth. (Ha!)  We didn't really have time to listen to any of the speakers. I found out after I got back home that a friend in our little blog world was there and did a talk on the main stage.

If I'd have known, I would of stopped by her booth and said howdy. She was with the people from Backwoods Home Magazine. She blogs at Rural Revolution. Patrice has lots of good things on her blog. So, if you get a chance, go visit her. When they have the next expo, I will be looking her up.

We didn't take a camera, but should have. There is just WAY too much to try and tell about this expo. I'd put it right up there with a Tanner Gun Show. They have some things that some of us just can't do without. And other things, if you have the bucks, and a place to bury it. That might be just what the doctor ordered. Like, this huge, I mean, like 14-foott tall or more food storage container.

If you bought one, you would have to have them bury it in your backyard in the dead of night or have some property somewhere that people can't see what you're doing to bury this hummer. I like the idea, but for the average Joe like me -- I'd be better off burying stuff in a 50-gallon drum.

There was the storage of extra food, freeze dried or dehydrated and canned goods from your local store,  to supplement what you are eating now. It is not a bad idea. Buy it or join up to have it delivered right to your door! It will save you some of your hard earned paycheck and give you some peace of mind. I found even the meat that was freeze dried was pretty good.

Just think of some of the recipes you can come up with! Also, maybe it might be something to talk to your church about. Do they have any extra food on hand in case of a natural disaster in your neighborhood?

Just a thought.

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 5/21/2012

"In every walk with nature, one receives far more than he seeks."
John Muir, Naturalist and Author

POOP SCOOPIN'

Scoopin' poop. Everyone has done it  at one time or another. Litter box scoopin', dog poo scoopin', rabbit poo scoopin'. . . the list could go on and on.

On a ranch or farm there seems to be more poop scoopin' than other places. I've done more than my fair share of scoopi'n over the years. When we first came to Colorado, Pappy, my grandfather, had rabbits. Lots of rabbits. A whole chicken house full! I remember going out with him to feed his rabbits. Of course, all that food makes for lots of rabbit poo. (I once was told the little pellets were raisins. Yet still, I'm not warped. . .) Along with the rabbits that Pappy butchered were the little bunnies he sold. He also sold rabbit poo. The rabbit poo was watered down in a pile outside of the chicken house, and mixed with some shredded newspaper and garbage, like coffee grounds, crushed egg shells, and all the other stuff you use to make compost.

He would bag it up and sell it to the neighbors for their gardens of flowers and such. I thought it was fun to go into the rabbit house, scoop up the poo, and put it in a wheelbarrow. I was helping. And I got paid 25 cents. So, that was my first poop scooping experience. Then we moved and had to get rid of all the rabbits.

We got a dog. Second poop scooping experience. But, it wasn't like doing the rabbit poo. I didn't really care for having to do it.

Then my sister and I got to go to the ranch. My aunt and uncle had this huge ranch up in Kremmling. There were cows, horses, chickens, goats, lambs, dogs, cats, and some wild critters that came up to the ranch house, such as elk, deer, skunks, rabbits, and even a mountain lion once or twice. (I think they could smell some of old Joe's water repellent or bug spray.) There was even a bear or two because of Aunt Nadine's berry patch. So, there was tons of poo. You could walk hardly anywhere without stepping in poo.

You ever scoop horse poo? Now, that's a job. I'd never seen so much poo. Uncle Fay was always scoopin' it out of the barn. Well, he talked me and my sister into helping him one day. We made short work of it. Instead of a wheelbarrow, he had this wagon hooked up to a tractor. We'd scoop the poop and throw it into the wagon. What my sister and I didn't know was that there was a cow barn or two also.

Did you know that scoopin' poop can be an all day job? We didn't.

And once you fill up that wagon, you have to also unload that wagon. The ranch had a special place to unload all that poo. Our cousins called it, POOP MOUNTAIN. You have never seen such a HUGE pile of poo in your life. And there was more than one of these mountains. Now, why in the world would you have all of these piles of poo?  They were so big that one time Uncle Fay had several of these big old belly dump type trucks come out to the ranch, and they used a front end loader to load up the trucks, and haul away the poo.

Well, my cousins, being the way they are, always had something going on, even if it was a little on the scary -- or just a might illegal -- side. Did you ever have a road apple fight? Do you know what road apples are? If not, it's horse poo. And when it dries it is almost like throwing dirt clods, except that if you get hit in the face with one??? It doesn't taste like dirt.

Every now and then we would all end up at POOP MOUNTAIN and have some of the best poop fights in the world. 'Course, once the flinging of the poo starts, there is more than road apples being thrown. Did you know that you can throw a cow patty just like a Frisbee? But, you have to make sure it is dry enough.

It was so much fun. Where else could you throw stuff and not have to worry about knocking someone out or putting a lump on someone's head. The only bad thing was that you had to watch how you laughed. If your mouth was open too far you could get a pie or apple right in the mouth. But we never knocked a tooth out, like you could with a dirt clod.

It seemed that Aunt Nadine always knew when we had been out to POOP MOUNTAIN. She would catch us about 20 or 30 feet from the back door and make us get undressed on the back porch. And then it was straight to the tub for a bath. Once, Aunt Nadine was gone and Old Joe saw us coming. When we got close enough, he told us to turn around and march down toward the horse barn. When we got down to the barn, he made us get undressed, and he proceeded to pick us up one at a time and throw us into the horse trough. He made us scrub up and he used a pitch fork to pick up our clothes, which he then carried at arm's length, up to the back porch.

When Aunt Nadine came home, we were still in the trough, splashing and having a good time. Old Joe told her where we had been. She laughed that he didn't take us into the house and use the tub. Old Joe rolled a smoke, looked Nadine square in the eye, and said "water is water."

RAMBLIN'

Well, I missed posting on Monday. Had to do some errands. So, I didn't get a quote up. I am taking my son to his doctor appointments on Monday mornings. Yesterday, after we were done at the doctor, we went by Fort Logan National Cemetery. I wanted to meet some of the guys who are in the Colorado Patriot Guard Riders.

We met, we talked, and I and my son were asked if we would like to stand with them for a fallen soldier. I'm now a member of the Colorado Patriot Guard. I was humbled and  honored to be able to stand for one who has stood for us.

I'm looking forward to doing more. Now I'm really wanting to get another motorcycle. They have some awesome bikes. I've already got one picked out. Now it's just a matter of time and dollars. But it will come.

The Patriot Guard was on hand for my nephew's funeral when he was killed in Afghanistan. They did a fantastic job. I'm just sorry that I didn't join sooner. So, I'll drive my truck until I can get a bike. Kathi will have a hoot when I get her on a Harley!

I see some future road trips coming up, too.

DRIVE IN

Remember the drive in movies? It seemed like there was at least one in every town. They all have, except for a few, gone the way of the Dodo bird. The only one I know of right now in Colorado is one that is a motel/drive in. You can watch a movie from a rented room. Or I guess you could set in your car and watch. There is also an alligator farm down the road. Go figure.

Anyway, the drive in was fun. You could take a date or take a bunch of friends. At some drive in's, they would let in a whole carload of people for like three dollars. I can remember loading up 15 people in my old Chevy Biscayne. And that was without putting people in the trunk! The trunk would be loaded up with popcorn, candy, a cooler or two for pop or beer. We would take and make our own popcorn. Many a mom would let us use their popcorn makers.

We would go get a whole package of popcorn, pop it, and then put it in trash bags or paper grocery bags. (Remember bagging your groceries in paper bags?) It took several people popping corn to fill the bag's. Pop was pretty cheap and so was the beer, if you didn't mind drinking some really bad, cheap stuff. Then it was a matter of picking up everyone and getting to the drive in before the movie started.

The drive in was also a great place to go on a date. It didn't cost you an arm and leg to take your girl out. And you could double date. You would want to pick the right movie. The horror movies were the best. It would get to a scary part and your date would let out a scream and jump into your arms. 'Course, I had that backfire once.

A buddy of mine and his date decided to go with us on a date to see Jaws. We picked up our dates and made our way to the drive in. We didn't have any popcorn or stuff to drink, so we hit the concession stand.
We bought two big buckets of popcorn and some drinks. We made our way back towards our car and made some plans along the way. He and his date would set up front and towards the right side of the front seat. Me and my date would take the back seat and set towards the left side of the seat. That way, you're not blocking the view of each other. (Like your really going to watch the movie, right?)

As the movie progressed, things were going good. We were right at the part where the shark bashes in the back of the boat. It was unexpected and lots of folks let out screams. And, so it was in our car! Except, my buddy was the one to let out this girly scream. I mean one of them real high squeaky type of girly screams. And when he screamed, he threw his bucket of popcorn up in the air. His date screamed, cause he screamed. And the car was full of popcorn, front and back, and a drink or two was in the mix.

Now, this friend of mine? He's a man's man. Real deep voice like a fog horn. He looks kinda like Animal from the muppets. Drives a muscle car. Gets into fights, and doesn't take crap off of nobody . . . and he lets out this girly scream. I mean, I'm laughing so hard that I had to get out of the car. Everyone around us was looking, and there we all were with popcorn and pop all over us. My buddy was telling me to be quiet and quit laughing.

His date was then in tears 'cause she was drenched in pop and the popcorn is sticking to her all over and the seats of the car were wet, and there was popcorn stuck to the head liner and on the windows. It was so bad that the manager came out to the car and actually told us to keep it down. Cars were honking, head lights were flashing, and my buddy was chasing me around the car. I couldn't stop laughing, and my date was setting on the ground laughing, too.

We were asked to leave. Can you believe it? As we left, cars honked and kids we knew from school made remarks, laughed at us, and just gave us all kinds of grief. I was still laughing and getting punched in the arm by my buddy. The girls were getting madder than two wet hens. Wait! They WERE wet. We took them right home.

My date snickered and said she had a real good time. I tried to pick some of the popcorn out of her hair. As we walked towards her front door we both started to laugh again. Her mom opened the door when she heard us. She had a funny look on her face as her daughter stepped into the house. Neither one of us said a word. She walked in and her mom closed the door.

I was laughing all the way back to the car. My buddy wasn't. He dropped me off at my house. I have no idea how it went when he took his date home. The next day, I had bruises on my arms from my buddy slugging me so many times. I called his house and his mom said that he was out getting his car cleaned. I found him at the car wash, bent over with the vacuum hose in hand, sucking the soggy popcorn out of his car.

He gave me a bad case of stink eye and I knew I was in for it. So I stood on the far side of his car. I was informed, in no certain terms, was I EVER to say a word about "The Scream." I promised. 'Course, one or the other of our dates had different plans. He still catches it from time to time as the years have come and gone. I can still bust a gut just thinking about it. My buddy sold his muscle car years ago. He told me about how, as he was cleaning it out, he found some old petrified popcorn between the cushions in the backseat.

He said that it brought a smile to his face. His wife wanted to know what he was smiling about. He told her. They called me the next day. She wants to try to get him to scream like that so she can hear it.

I told her to go rent the movie Jaws.

MORE ON CAST IRON

Here is another way to cure your Dutch oven. The leftovers from it can be used also.

If you want to really season your Dutch oven, place it on the stove at the lowest setting that you can. Now fill it all the way to the top with Crisco, lard, or oil. Put the lid on it and leave it alone, but keep an eye on it.

As it processes, you may need to add more oil or whatever you started with to replace what was absorbed by the Dutch oven. Bring it back up to the top. Now, when you see the outside glisten, it's done. It takes several days to do this.

The oil will have turned black and can not be used for cooking, but it makes great waterproofing for your boots, moccasins, and other leather things. The only problem is that every dog or cat in your neighborhood will be following you around 'cause it does smell.

Old Joe seasoned a brand new 2 quart Dutch oven like this on the ranch one time. He always had some cast iron ovens and skillets in his little bunk house. And he always waterproofed all his boots at least once a year.

He even once put this oil on his old saddle, but he only did it the one time 'cause after he had oiled it up and put the saddle up in the barn the ranch, for some reason, was taken over by about a 1000 cats. They had cats of all kinds. Even two Bob cats showed up! And, of course, a ranch always has a dog or two, but they all of a sudden had about a 1000 dogs also. Plus, several coyotes, that tried to fit in with the dogs. You couldn't get near the barn.

Joe took his new boots and put the oil on them to waterproof them. He sat them out on the little porch of the bunk house. The next morning, the boots were gone! All Joe could find the next morning were some bear tracks around the bunk house.

After about a month, Joe was able to get to his saddle in the barn. He saddled up his horse, Old Dusty, and proceeded to climb into the saddle. As he turned Dusty towards the road, Joe slide right out of the saddle and landed on his butt. A few of the other hands saw what had happened. The younger ones laughed and the older ones knew better and turned their backs towards Joe.

Joe jumped right up. Dusty kind of had his head turned towards Joe as if to ask what happened. "What did you do?" Well, Joe got right back on old Dusty and started down the road. We all watched as Joe slid from side to side, forward, and backward on his saddle. He looked like a real tenderfoot on his horse.

Dusty showed up at the barn about half an hour later with Joe nowhere to be seen. As Dusty was being put in his stall, my aunt came out and said she had to go to town to pick up Joe. Seems that Dusty had "wandered off." When my aunt came back with Joe, we saw that the back end of his jeans was as shinny as a new silver dollar!

QUOTE OF THE WEEK: 5/7/12

"Almost every wise saying has an opposite one, no less wise, to balance it."

--George Santayana, Philosopher, Poet

A waste of $2.44

Kathi here.

I do not like to waste money. BUT -- I just spent $2.44 I'll never get back on something really crappy. (Can I say crappy here to you all?)

I love bacon. I love cheese. So, wouldn't a bacon AND cheese product be totally wonderful? One would think!

Well, in theory.

But I'm here to help YOU not waste money on the same thing: Bacon-Cheddar Popcorn.

It didn't even smell very good when it was popping, but once I tasted it? Eeeuuuwww.

Nugget likes popcorn, so I offered him a bite. He came over, half-opened his mouth, sniffed the bite of popcorn, and backed away. Now, THAT'S pretty bad.

Save your money!

SUNDAY DINNER

How many of you remember Sunday dinners? Every Sunday when I was a kid, we would go to grandma's house after church and have dinner. She always had it ready. All she needed to do was to get everyone to set down. Then she would start setting food on the table.

We always had mashed potatoes with either white gravy or brown gravy, homemade biscuits or rolls or homemade bread, with butter and her homemade jelly. Some Sundays it would be fried chicken or maybe fried pork chops. Some Sundays it would be home made meatloaf or even a big pot roast. There was always a big pot of coffee for the grown-ups.

There would be corn, peas, or green beans with little bits of bacon, though sometimes it might be corn on the cob. Sometimes we had some type of salad, which you'd pick out your own dressing for. We'd have okra, spinach, collared greens, tomatoes -- just about every thing you could think of showed up on that table at one dinner or another.

For dessert, there could be homemade cake. Mine favorite was chocolate. Or she would have made pies: cherry, blueberry, apple, rhubarb, strawberry, blackberry, banana cream, lemon -- you name it, Grandma could make it.

She always had the table set so nice. Flowers of some type, depending on the time of the year. Napkins folded just so. Coffee cups with saucers for the grown-ups. Water glasses and milk glasses for the kids. A tablecloth to go with the time of season. And everyone was dressed from having come from church. And she always had an extra place setting at the table. Sometimes someone from the neighborhood would show up to eat dinner with us.

Sundays came and went. The meals were always a family thing for us. As grandma got older, the Sunday dinners slowed down. They weren't every Sunday, but.maybe once or twice a month. We tried to have the Sunday dinners at our house, but they just didn't seem the same. One of the parents would have to go get grandma and bring her to our house.

After the meal, we didn't set around and laugh and talk like the years before. Things were much more subdued. And as time went by, we didn't stay dressed in our Sunday clothes. And the table wasn't set as nicely. The meals just didn't seem to have the same feeling as they used to.

Things were changing, times were changing, and -- of course -- we were changing. We kids were growing up. Mom and dad were older. And grandma . . . she was getting older too. The Sundays of the past were gone. She could still cook. She could still get around. But it was harder for her to do things. And her eyesight was going.

You could still go to her house. The sights and smells of our childhood were still there. The smell of fresh brewed coffee and homemade bread, and cookies, and all the pies. The smell of furniture polish, the dollies on the tables. The little dust particles dancing in the strip of sunlight coming from the living room window. The nick-nac's on the shelves. These are things that I remember.

Getting the family together is hard now. It seems that we have lost something as family's. Everyone is on a different schedule. We all seem to be in a bigger hurry now. And everyone seems to always have something to do or some place to be.

I would like to start an old tradition again. Let's see if we can bring back the tradition of the Sunday family dinner. No going out to eat! A meal at home, homemade, or as close as you can get to it, with family and/or  friends. Let's set and enjoy a meal together without being rushed. Share some time, tell some stories, play a game. If you can, invite some people over.

My friends, life is too short. We need to slow down every now and then. Our friends and families will not be here for us forever. It's maybe time to get to know one another all over again. And what better way can you think of than. . . A SUNDAY DINNER.

Quote of the Week: 4/30/2012

The godly give good advice to their friends; the wicked lead them astray.
Proverbs 12:26

Kathi here.

I have heard it said many times that it's the little things that count. I'm not sure I totally agree with that statement, but I do know that the little things make a big difference.

My Jim does big and little things for me all the time.

I work in a tax office on the weekends during tax season. Our favorite garden center, O'Toole's, was having a nice giveaway on the last weekend of the season. I wasn't able to go because I was working, BUT my sweet husband went for me.

O'Toole's was giving away a free flat of pansies to anyone who came to their event dressed for "flower power." Jim put on his tie-dyed shirt, sunglasses, sandals, and headband and went to the event. It was not warm and the wind was chilly, and he stood there waiting for the giveaway to begin.

Thanks to my sweet man, I have pansies planted in two large round planters and one really big rectangular planter. I did not know how many pansies there would be! They look really nice and I love how hardy they are in our unpredictable spring weather.

This picture shows what he kinda looked like on the day he got my flowers.

Thank you, Jim. You are the BEST!

Quote of the Week: 4/23/2012

Gardening is cheaper than therapy and you get tomatoes.
~Author Unknown

ON MY SOAPBOX: BULLYING

I might be opening a can of worms here. But what the heck. Sometimes worms come in handy.

We have a nine year old boy who stood up to his bully here in Denver. Both boys have been suspended. I say HOORAY for that kid. He followed the rules, and had told teachers about the bullying. Nothing was really done. His parents also knew. They told him that if he needed to defend himself, to do so.

The bullies had been beating on this kid. He was kicked in the back and groin, and hit in the face. The bullying had been going on for quite some time. He finally had enough and punched his tormentor in the face.

I, as a child, was also bullied. I took crap off of them for years. It started in first grade and went on until seventh grade when I had finally had enough. I struck back. And yes, it felt good.

There were others who thought they could bully me also. I got my butt kicked several times, but I tried to give as much as I got. After each fight, the bullies would leave me alone. I got their respect one way or another. I never went looking for a fight, and I never bullied others.

Back then, a lot of us had access to firearms. As kids, we grew up around them because our parents hunted or were into shooting for sport. Never once, in all of those years, did any of us take a firearm to school or have the intention of causing harm. If we had a problem with some one, we settled it with fists.

Nowadays, you get arrested if you defend yourself on the playground -- or if you defend yourself anywhere. I have a special needs child. He is now in his 20's. When he was a child, he was picked on by a school bully. It had been going on through several grades. His mom, my ex, DID NOT want him to be fighting. His stepdad and I also didn't want him to be fighting, but we both DID want him to protect himself.

One day at school, during recess, the bully started in on my son. Bryan, my son, had brought to school that day, his baseball glove and bat. Bryan carried the glove in one hand and had the bat over his shoulder. The bully stood right in front of Bryan, called him several names, and then punched Bryan in the stomach.

Bryan never dropped his baseball glove. He still had the bat over his shoulder, and he took the bat from his shoulder to the kid's head. A swing, if you can call it that, of about a foot or less. Not a lot of power behind it. But enough to bring tears to the bully's eyes. Bryan, upon seeing the tears in the bully's eyes, dropped the bat and glove and, with tears in his own eyes, went and told on himself to the playground teacher.

Bryan's mom was not too happy. She was upset, which I can understand. We all had a talk with Bryan. As Bryan's mom turned her back to Bryan's stepdad and I, he and I gave each other a thumbs up sign. We were glad that Bryan had stood up for himself. Bryan never had another fight.

And the bully? Well he and Bryan became friends. Kids of all ages are going to have a bully sometime in their life. Heck, I know a few adults who have a bully to this day.

I think that we have taken the rules too far. Kids will be kids. But, now it seems that they all think they are entitled to everything. Parents buy cars for their kids now. When I was old enough to drive, I worked to save money to buy a car. Are parents now just trying to buy their kids' affection? I would say it is something to at least think about.

There are way too many spoiled and undisciplined brats running around. And just think: one day they will be running this country. In charge, when we are old.

Scary thought.

FISHING

Time to check your fishing gear. Fishing pole with new line. Maybe some new fishing lures. Dig out your tackle box and dust it off. Check inside of tackle box. Might be time to get rid of some of them jars of fish eggs or power bait. They don't work well when there is mold on your salmon eggs. Plus the smell will drop you like a ton of bricks.

Hooks! Got to have lots of hooks. All of mine end up in snags or tree branches. Bobbers, just about every size you can get. (A lot of them end up with my hooks.) Waders -- patch them holes from last year. (Mine have patches on the patches.) Fishing vest? Maybe wash it to get stinky fish smell out from last year. (Didn't wash my last vest. Hung it on a branch and a bear took off with it.) Sinkers, make sure you have enough. (With all the sinkers I have, it must have added about 10 or so pounds to my tackle box. And at least five to my vest.)

Extra fishing line. You never know when you will mess up your reel. And have about 20 feet or so of knotted and twisted line. Or tangle it in the prop of your boat.

Speaking of your boat. . .don't forget to place the drain plug back in. (I had to whittle a plug once.) And make sure that you have the motor well secured before starting it. (The water is cold and deep, and it is a pain trying to get back in the boat after diving for said motor.) And don't forget the oars. (Try paddling to shore with just your hands!) Dry clothes! ALWAYS bring extra clothes. Nothing worse than fishing in wet clothes.

By the time you're done fishing in your wet clothes and get home uou may be dry, but you will have the worse case of wrinkle-butt you have ever seen. Not to mention the dye from your shorts has stained your skin. (Explain that to your friends at the gym.)

Maybe the most important thing to remember to take fishing with you is money or a credit card.

If the fishing sucks, run to the store on your way home and buy a few nice fish. Then drop them in the dirt before placing them in your cooler. No one will ever know. Unless they see you at the store. (Or the guy behind the meat counter sees your wife the next day and asks how the fish was.)

Yep, I love fishing.

Quote of the Week: 4/16/2012

“Blaming guns for killing people is like blaming pencils for bad spelling.”

--Larry the Cable Guy

OOPSY DAISY

Everyone makes mistakes. Some of us more than others. I fall into that category.

It's not that I do it on purpose. The mistakes just seem to happen. And, I admit, I've had more than my fair share. Is it because my brain disconnects? Something more sinister?

I hope that this does not offend anyone. I don't mean for it to. This really did happen and it really was just a mistake. And I felt really bad when I found out I had made the mistake. . . though, it IS funny.

Anyway, this happened years and years ago. I and my girlfriend, who is Catholic, were invited to go to a Christmas Eve midnight mass by my best friend. Since I had never been to one, I thought it would be neat to see one. Kathi went, too. As we walked through the parking lot, my friend and I were smoking. He finished before I did, and flicked the butt out in front of us then stepped on it to put it out.

I, on the other hand, was still smoking as we went through the parking lot. As we approached the doors, I was almost finished with my cigarette. As we came up the steps, I saw what I thought were ashtrays mounted to the walls by the doors. I put my cigarette out in one, and it made a hiss. I asked, "Who put water in the ash trays?!!!"

From the reaction I got, you would have thought that I had shot the pope or something! I was told that they are NOT ashtrays, they are holy water. Well, Kathi (who is not Catholic) laughed. She was the only one. . .

Geez, how was I suppose to know!?

Well, after getting reamed out by my best friend and my date, things kinda went downhill from there. My friend and my date would not let me and Kathi set next to each other, 'cause Kathi kept on giggling.

During the service, an alter boy accidentally set one of the poinsettia's on fire with the thingy he was supposed to light candles with. Then the incense stuff they burned made me have a sneezing fit. And it smelled like old rags to me. And what was up with this stand-up-set-down-stand-up-kneel-down-set-down-stand-up thing. It could be an Olympic event! Going to Catholic church can be a real work out.

When I was a kid, when we went to church, people talked to one another, until it was time to start the service. In the Catholic church, it is really quiet. This was a learning experience for me. And the church was really beautiful. I did enjoy the service. But, I still caught all kinds of grief after the service.

I was never invited to go to another service.

Then again, maybe it had something to do with my rubbing ash off of my girlfriend's forehead one time. She hollered something about Ash Wednesday or something like that, as she stormed out of the Denny's restaurant.

Quote of the Week: 4/9/12 and. . .

"A goal without a plan is just a wish."

Antoine de Saint Exupery
French writer and aviator

Also, I hope that all of you had a nice Easter.

ZOMBIE DANDELIONS

Why to they call them dandelions? They sure are NOT dandy (nor lions). They are a pain in the butt. They sneak into your yard, sprout them yellow flowers, then turn puffy, and let little seed things go everywhere.

You spray, they die, and more show up. It's almost like trying to take out zombies. (If you don't know what I mean, watch the TV show The Living Dead.) The guy who lives behind us lets the damn things grow without even trying to do something about them.

Now, I know that some people like to eat dandelions. And I don't hold that against them. I've tried them, but didn't like them. Even as wine.

Besides, I wouldn't eat the ones in my yard even if they hadn't been sprayed, 'cause, I'm sure our dog has sprayed them lots! Now, if you maybe had acres of them, then maybe they'd be okay.

But they are still like zombies.

If the world were to end, there would still be roaches and dandelions, I'll bet. And maybe mutant flying bunnies that lay mutant Easter eggs.

Who knows. . . it could happen!

STOLEN FISH

Some years ago I was out fishing with my brother-in-law. It was just a day trip. We were up around Conifer, here in Colorado, fishing along the head waters of the Platte River. We had hiked in about a mile. We had both caught a few really nice trout. My brother in-law, Robert, moved further downstream from where I fishing.

I had found me a honey hole! I had pulled out three nice rainbow trout. And since I had forgotten my stringer, I had taken a willow branch to make one. I had the three fish from the honey hole and two others from further up stream. I set my stick of fish on the bank and moved off about 10 yards or so. I threw my line in and watched as my grasshopper slowly went in circles at the end of this honey hole.

All of a sudden, my grasshopper disappeared, my pole bent down, and the fight was on!

I set the hook, reeled in a bit, pulled back on the rod, and then reeled some more. I was now at the edge of the bank trying to land this fish. Then he jumped! Man, he was huge! Maybe two pounds, the biggest yet.

Well, I fought that bugger for what seemed like half an hour (but it was probably just a few minutes). I landed the fish and took him off my hook. I walked back to where my stick of fish were.

The stick was not there!

I looked high and low for my fish. I couldn't find them anywhere. I paced up and down the bank of the river from where I had caught the big one to where I thought I had left the others on the stick.

About that time, Robert showed up with his fish and a big old grin on his face.

That didn't help things at all, the braggart. Now I would have to hear ALL about how he caught his fish. I couldn't swap stories with him, 'cause I had no fish to show for it. I told him about the big fish I had, but I couldn't find my stringer of the other fish. He asked if I maybe hadn't gone far enough up river. Maybe he was right. I told him I was going to go look.

Now, along our side of the river, the grass was about three feet tall. You could see where you walked through it. As I walked away from Robert and a little around the bend, I saw where someone else had walked, and then off our path and behind some bushes.

I'm thinking that some other fisherman found my fish and walked off with them. So now I'm ready to chew someone's butt for taking my fish!

I followed the pushed down grass, went further around the bend of the river, and saw that the new trail went around this big willow bush. I went storming around that bush, ready to get my fish.

There sat this BIG FAT old bear. He was setting on his butt and he had my fish. He was eating them fish like we eat corn on the cob. He was smacking his lips and looking at me like, "What are ya going to do? You want a piece of me, or what?" Well, I pulled up real short and quick.

I looked at the bear. He was looking at me, half of a fish in his mouth.

The last thing I remember seeing as I turned to run was that fat old bear with the stick in his mouth like a toothpick. And, I swear, he was smacking his lips as he got off his fat old butt. I never knew that I had wings on my feet, 'til was running on top of the grass -- not through it, but on top of it! I let out a holler that would have made a southern rebel proud. Or scared the crap out of him. I think I hollered something about a bear.

I saw Robert in front of me. He was making pretty good time through the grass also. I passed Robert and he let out this funny little sound. I guess he figured that was it -- he was bear food. That must have given him a jolt. He passed me like I was setting still! (He cheated. . . he has longer legs than I do.)

For every step he took, I was beating feet like three steps to his one, and he was pulling ahead.

I swear that I could feel that old bear breathing down the back of my neck. Robert was now almost over the hill. I was way behind. I still had my fishing pole in my hand. I figured that was how they would identify what was left of my body. And, boy, was I ever going to haunt Robert's butt after this!

I made it to the top of the hill. Robert had at least stopped. I think it was just to see if the bear got me so he could direct the rangers to where he last saw me.

I passed his butt. He hollered at me to wait. No way! But I did slow down enough to look behind me. That old bear had come out from behind that bush and maybe made three strides. I had dropped my prize fish, and that damn bear, I swear, waved at us and ate my big fish, just like he didn't have a care in the world. I don't remember if Robert still had his fish or not. I didn't care. I was wondering about how to clean my shorts.

THE LITTLE CHURCH ON THE HILL

The other day, while Kathi was at work, I was in our garage. I was attempting to make extra room for some things that Mom gave us after the yard sale. As I moved things around and found space for other things, I came across the old G.I. pack that my Dad had given me when I was about 10 or so. It is still useable. It's ratty, tattered in spots, stained, and faded. It has been just about everywhere here in Colorado.

When I picked it up, it felt a bit heavy. I haven't used it in about 20 some years. I opened it up and it was still loaded up with some of my hunting, camping, and fishing gear. It even had a pair of my old jeans, socks, and spare shirt. 'Course, the pants are WAY too small now, as is the shirt. As I dug deeper, I came across the old Western hunting knife that my Dad had given me when he gave me the pack. The pack also had my old mess kit, with silverware, and my old skillet.

There were other things in the pack also. A old fishing creel, some fishing line, still on the spool. Some fish hooks and sinkers. Other things that one might need while out and about. As I looked at all of these things -- and I don't really know why -- it made me think back to a trip I made many years ago. It was 1976 or '77. I was living with my grandparents then.

I had decided to make a trip up into the mountains, but wanted to see some new country. So I decided to head towards Glenwood Springs, find a back road, and see where it would take me. I loaded up my old Blazer with gear, threw in my backpack and my dog Jessie, and away we went.

After making it through Glenwood Canyon, I found a road that went up and over the top. We ended up above the town of Glenwood Springs. So we pushed on further into the back country.

After several hours, we found a real good spot to camp. We set up the tent and made the camp comfy. Jessie was having a ball, running, jumping, and scoping out all the different smells, when all of a sudden she took off after a rabbit. It didn't take her long before she had the rabbit and brought it back to camp. The rabbit was dead, 'cause she had broken its back. She did this quite often on our little trips. She was also pretty good at getting fish also. I cleaned the rabbit, and we had him for supper that evening.

The next day, we were up bright and early. The sun was just barely coming over the top of the mountain. It was not really cold out, but it was one of them mornings where you can see your breath. It was just cool enough that you'd want a jacket, but you know that as soon as the sun gets up past the top of the mountain that it is going to warm up pretty fast. We ate a quick breakfast of cereal and a few dog biscuits and we were off. We walked and took our time. We found a nice stream to fish on and we would do that later on that day.

We came across a old road, if you can call it that. You could see that it had not been used in a lot of years. Trees had grown along the road. The trees on the outside of the road were taller than the trees in the road. We followed the little road for a long ways when we broke out into this clearing.

Setting at the top of this hill in the clearing was a little church. The front was still there, with the steeple and cross on top. The roof was long gone, and the back wall and a side wall had toppled over.

There didn't seem to be any other buildings around. The clearing was alive with wild flowers, green grass and you could hear some bees hard at work. As we got up to the old church, I turned around and then I could see where the other buildings had been. It looked like it had had about six or seven other buildings at one time or another. The doors to the church were long gone. As we stepped into that church, there were the most beautiful purple flowers where the floor should have been. They were all taller than the flowers out side of the church. Jessie laid down at the doorway and wouldn't go further into the church. I also just stood there.

I had never seen anything like it before and I have not seen anything like it since. It seemed that the sun was shinning more brightly in the church, that it was outside of it. It was so quiet and peaceful. Jessie and I sat there in the doorway of that church for what seemed like hours. The light smell of the flowers surrounded us. I wondered why just the church remained and the other buildings were gone.

After what seemed like a big chunk of the day had passed, we got up to head back to our camp. As we were getting off the porch of the church, I decided to pick some of the flowers on our way back. All of a sudden Jessie started to bark. She ran towards the backside of the church. I hollered at her and followed her around back. I was stunned to see an old graveyard about 30 yards back.

It was surrounded by fence, and where the gate should of been was wide open. I don't know how many graves there were. One stood out from the rest. It had roses . Bright red roses, mixed in with all of these other wildflowers of blue, white, yellow, orange, and purple. I don't know how, but there they were. I tried to read the marker, but it was too worn. The only name I could figure out was John.

We stood there for a bit. I was wishing that I had a camera. It seems that whenever I think to bring one, I never have anything to take a picture of. And when I don't have a camera, I always have something that I wish that I could take some pictures of! (Soon after this trip I had a Kodak Disc camera. I wore it out.)

Jessie and I left, and made our way back to camp. I fished. We sat around camp and made a few more treks around the area. It was soon time to head back home.

I told my grandparents all about our camping trip and how I had even stopped in Glenwood to see if I could find out anything about the little church. Nobody seemed to know, until I stopped to get gas for the return trip home. The guy running the station, was quite a bit older than the other people I had been talking to. I asked him about the little church. He smiled and said that his Dad had been a logger, and that there had been a permanent saw mill camp up there so many years ago that they decided that they needed a church.

The camp ran for about 10 years or so, or until all the available timber was gone for several miles around. They closed up shop, moved the saw mill. Just a few people stayed there over the years. It finally became a "ghost town" back in the 1940's. The grave with the roses was from the last person there, who passed from freezing one winter. The roses are believed to be from a family member who planted them there.

The years have come and gone. It took me about 15 years before I could get back up to that little church on the hill. The trees have grown over what was once the remains of the road. The hill is still covered by all of those colorful wild flowers. And now a few pine trees are growing there. The last time I was there without Jessie, who had passed on herself by then, the remains of the little church were gone. The little graveyard fence is still there, but the markers are gone. The only thing that I could find was a dead rose bush.

A lot of years have passed since that trip. I'm going to use that old pack again this summer. I can't go to a lot of the places where I used to hike, hunt, fish, and camp. They no longer exist or are now owned by some city slicker. And I just can't hoof them hills like I used too. Plus, I'm not all that great at sleeping on the ground any more.

I've done a lot of living in the mountains. As far as hunting, camping, fishing and being on my aunt's and uncle's ranch as a child, I've seen and learned all kinds of things. I wish now, more than ever, that I would have had a camera. There hasn't been a time that Kathi and I have been on a trip up in the hills that I haven't told her a story of being there or doing something in the area we are in.

How many campfires can you have in a lifetime? And how many little churches are there still on the hill?

Quote of the Week: 4/2/12

"It was as true ..... as taxes is. And nothing's truer than them."

Charles Dickens
English novelist, from "David Copperfield"

SMOKE AND FIRE

Note from Kathi: Jim started this post the other day, then found out that the two who were killed in the fire were members/friends at our church. Jim simply could not finish posting. Here is a link to a video with our pastor from the news.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -

I've been listening, and watching the slurry bombers all day to day. And the fire rages on. They have found two people who lost their lives, and that is so sad.

This fire has burned several miles of forest and homes. And with all of the beetle-killed trees it is a wonder that the whole west side of the state has not gone up.

Quote of the week: 3/26/12

"You can only be young once. But you can always be immature."

Dave Barry,
American author and Pulitzer Prize - winning humorist

JUST A LITTLE RANT (I promise)

It's Thursday afternoon, I still haven't had my Maypo for breakfast. But I have had, I think, just a bit too much coffee. And there is still sooo much stuff to get done. And not enough hours in the day to finish things up.

Plus, Kathi and I have bowling tonight. And then, up before the birds, and get to Mom's to set up for the yard sale. We are really hoping that we can sell the big ticket stuff. Like the gun safe, rototiller, snow blower, a 5000 watt generator. And all them tools.

We even put together for the person who is always looking for a bolt, washer, screw, nail, or whatever, by having all of that in a five gallon bucket. The whole bucket..... 3 bucks. Come on, you know you need it. How about some nuts? The kind you eat. Five bucks for a quart jar of pecans. They are something like 11 bucks a pound at the stores here.

Then on Saturday, the sale continues. At the end of the month, we move Mom. What's a fella to do!

After that, I need to tackle my garage. It's time to get the PortaBoat out and get ready to go fishing. (I'm wanting some smoked fish, real bad.) Plus, I have a few places that I want to check out for some metal detecting. Then I need to get the mower ready, and put away my snow blower. And check the ATV. . .

Time for another cup of coffee. We also need to do something with our garden. And and and. Deep breath. All the fun stuff, like firearms and such have been sold. Mom was surprised at the money received. That helped with her new condo. I'm also playing catch up with my blogging buddies. Lots of things to read. And I'm behind.

I will catch things up. I promise. And after we get all of this "stuff" done, I can take a breath or two.

Also, I'm going to go and do a demo ride on one of them three wheeled things they call a Spyder. That's how they spell it. That will give me something to blog about later on .

OK, I feel better. I'm done ranting. . .for now.

WHAT HAPPENED TO THE SAUCER?

As I was having my second cup of coffee, I wondered whatever happened to the saucer? It used to be that if you had a cup of coffee it was served on a saucer. And we don't really use a cup any more -- it is more like a mug.

If you go out to eat and order coffee, it comes in this "cup" that looks more like a little mug. I mean, I don't mind. . . it holds more than a cup, more like a cup and a half. But, as a child, I remember adults having coffee and it was served on a saucer. It seemed sorta classy. And it kept the coffee confined to the saucer if you slopped a bit out of the cup. Plus, it was a place to put a spoon if you like cream or sugar in your coffee.

I remember a grandfather, from my Dad's second marriage, who had coffee with every meal. He would pour some of his coffee into the saucer and let it cool a bit before he would drink it from the saucer. It didn't seem like bad manners. It was just something he did, like eating peas from his knife. There was always a saucer for coffee and hot tea.

If you went out anywhere to eat and ordered coffee, you got your coffee in a cup with a saucer. It was easier to carry. No burnt fingers. My sister has about a million teacups with saucers. They all are pretty and dainty, and she never ever uses them. They just set in a display case. Some are worth money. But the everyday cup and saucer? We hardly see them at all these days.

Maybe it's because of when we started to see flying saucers. They decided to do away with the cup and saucer and just have this mug thing instead. I have a few of my great grandmother's cups with saucers. They, too, set in a cupboard. I get them out every now and then. Maybe for a cup of hot chocolate on a wintery night. Or for a cup of real percolated coffee, and I think back to when families still sat around a table to eat, drink, converse, and be a real family.

I've found a place to eat that serves your coffee cup on a saucer. The cup is a little over sized, like a mug. It's good coffee. And the food is like moms used to make, when we were kids. I can close my eyes, smell the coffee, listen to the voices around me, and the tinkle of the spoon against a cup, and I am transported back to my childhood to a time that brings memories of family setting at the kitchen table, laughing, talking, and drinking their coffee. I hear the sound of a cup being placed back on it's saucer, and the room smelling of fresh perked coffee.

Maybe it's time to bring back the cup and saucer!

Quote of the Week: 3/19/2012

"Let us make a special effort to stop communicating with each other so we can have some conversation."

Judith Martin
"Miss Manners," American writer and etiquette authority

SO MUCH STUFF!!

I spent ALL day Wednesday at Mom's. We will have a yard sale next week. I never knew that my Dad had so much stuff.

We got my Dad's "club house"/shed cleaned out. Tools. . . lots and lots and LOTS of tools. There are two G. I. pot bellied stoves. Garden tools, saws, hammers, car stuff. And then there is all the stuff Mom wants out of the house as she prepares to move to her new condo: pots, pans, dishes, silverware, cups, and a whole drawer of TOOLS. There is the big gun safe. Coleman stoves, lanterns, Coleman fuel, keys, locks. Worm buckets, fishing poles, lures. And TOOLS!

We got so much stuff, that I will have to be at Mom's before the sun comes up just to get everything set up. All I can say is, my Dad better be hiding behind Saint Peter when Mom gets to heaven. She says she is going to give it to him good.

Mom has also found a place to live. She bought a condo. If the big gun safe does not sell, she could always use it as a closet. 'Course, that means that I have to be the one to move it. So all I can say to all of you out there: DON'T HOARD STUFF! Someone has to go through all of it.

Well, unless you have someone in your family who you don't really like. Then they will be the one to have to go through your stuff and get rid of it. If that's the case, then hoard away!

I found all kinds of stuff that I can't do without and I'm sure that my Dad won't mind. So I've added to my own hoarding, by about 20 to 30 items.

Now if we can just get the weather to be nice on the garage sale day. We can sell a lot of stuff and add to other people's hoarding. You can never have too much, right?

DAD AND SON PROJECT

Okay, hush hush, top secret, behind locked doors.

My Dad loved the outdoors. He was always willing to show or help people learn about the outdoors and being more self reliant. That carried over into home life: gardening, canning, storing food, drying food -- all that neat stuff -- along with the hunting, fishing , camping, and just being able to do for yourself and others.

If you wanted to talk about firearms, he would talk your socks off. If you'd want to talk about farming, he could talk to you 'til the rhubarb was ripe. He knew all about canning, fruits, veggies, meat, bread, and who knows what all. (I should have picked his brain more.)

Well, the two of us had a few ideas. (Can you smell the smoke?) One of them, we had almost finished. Things are getting back to normal, sorta, and I am working on getting it done. There are some items that still need to be checked out, then it's about putting it all together.

I think my Dad would like this. It has been thought out. I hope that it will be of use to all of you out there in the blog world and beyond. So hang on. As soon as I finish up some things. I'll be blogging and putting up some pictures about it.

Stay tuned!

Quote of the Week: 3/12/2012

If you're enough lucky to be Irish, you're lucky enough!
~Irish Saying

THE MOVE IS ON

The last two days have been busy. Kathi had two days off from work. And instead of us spending it together, she was good enough to go with me to Mom's house and we spent the time packing up things from her house so she can move closer to family. Kathi helped pack up old quilts and other household things. I worked in the garage.

Man! I never realized all the "stuff " my Dad had. I mean, I know that he had tools and yard stuff. But how many sets of wrenches does a guy need? And what's up with all these pieces of wood? There are sticks, lumber, two by fours, plywood in different shapes and sizes, planks, chunks, slivers, and saw dust that he keep putting in bags. Now, what is a Ziplock sandwich bag full of saw dust being saved for? Well, fire starter, maybe.

And cardboard! Lots and lots of cardboard.

Fishing poles. I counted six that work and are whole, another 12 that are broken to the point that you can't even make them into pocket fishing poles.

One real good find -- well, he found it. Anyone need a kerosene stove with oven? Tanks and everything you need to set it up. He and his friend "saved it " from an old trailer and hauled it to their house when they lived in Arkansas.

How about some Coleman fuel cans? I've found about 15 of those. Some with about a cup of fuel, others completely full and never opened.

And garden tools. He has an old wooden barrel stuffed with them -- I mean, stuffed to the point that it is about to bust at the seams.

Oh yeah, and hand saws. We got a whole box of them also. Like 20 of 'em. Maybe he had a saw fetish. Mom about had a fit when I told her about all them saws.

We got enough done so you now can walk around the car in the garage without getting grabbed by a saw, or a stick, or a 2x4.

Kathi got lots done in the house. So, we are getting closer for Mom to move. Mom keeps saying that she is going to chew Dad's butt when she sees him again.

My Dad, on the other hand, is probably up there fishing, and camping, and hunting, and looking down here every now and then with that grin of his, winking at friends and relatives up there with him.

I'm just waiting for her to find that one item in the house that will make Mom, stop, look, cry, and put that smile on her face that my Dad always would talk about.

She will say, just like a hundred times before, "Dammit, Jim!" And then she would just laugh.
So, she is doing better and working towards moving on.

And I, well let's just say, the more of his " stuff " I go through the more I feel connected to him through those things, and they bring memories. . . lots and lots of memories. . . flooding back.

I'm finding that those memories will last way longer than, say, the material things.

If I kept all those things, I would have to have another house just to store them in. Or to show them off.

Material things will, one day, rust or break and turn to dust, just as we all will also. So, I'm going with the memories. They will last forever.

So, share your memories. It's like living forever with family and friends.

Quote of the Week: 3/5/2011

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.
~Charles Dickens

DID YOU KNOW? Baking Soda

Here are a few things for thought that might even come in handy.

BAKING SODA
It can be used as toothpaste and for foot powder. If you put 1/2 teaspoon in a cup of water you can make an antacid for when you have eaten too much or the wrong thing. And I've heard that it is also good for upset tummies. I remember my grandmother using this remedy.

It is also good for insect bites and stings. Make a paste of a little baking soda and a little bit of water. Put the paste on the sting or bite. Do not put it on real thick, 'cause if you do it will crack and fall off when it dries.

Use it on your body as a deodorant. You can put some in your coolers before you put them away for the winter so they'll be fresh when you get them out to use the next summer. Of course, if you are going to use your coolers all year, that might not be a good idea. You can use this on other food containers also.

Use it to clean your hands after cleaning fish, rabbits, or other critters. You can even sprinkle some baking soda in your canteens to get rid of that stale odor from them being stored all winter.

You can also make a home remedy for insect repellent. The pioneers used this, and Old Joe made several batches of it every summer.

It's called "Nessmuk Juice." It is made of:
3 oz pine tar
2 oz castor oil
1 oz pennyroyal oil
Old Joe use to "cook" this stuff up outside. Simmer over a low fire until it becomes like a paaste, then smear it on your body. Share it with your friends, 'cause if you don't, you won't have many left. Yep, it stinks just a bit, but it does keep the pesky things from biting you.

If your're out fishing and the others have not used this, they will all know where you are at all times. You might even have to move your tent down wind of them.

My sister and I had some of this stuff smeared on us by old Joe when he took us fishing for the day. We never got an insect bite, and we caught all kinds of brookies that day. When we got back to the ranch, though, we were not allowed in the house. We stripped down on the back porch and had to take a hot bath in a old wash tub.

But it really does work.

So, now ya know.

Quote of the week: 2/27/12

"There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound, and the awareness of existence is immensely heightened."

Charles Baudelaire,
French Poet

FEED YOUR FACE: Mountain Oysters

OK now, no belly aching. You should try things at least once, just to say you tried.

My great grandma, my grand mother, and grandfather handed me this recipe a long time ago. I will admit that, at first, I was NOT going to eat Mountain Oysters. But you know what? They do taste pretty darn good. So don't be a sissy! Give them a try.

So, here is how to fix them up.
1/2 cup flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
salt and pepper
garlic powder
vegetable oil
1 bottle of beer
1 dozen (ish) mountain oysters (fresh ones are the best, but you can use frozen if you need to)

Make the batter by mixing the flour, cornmeal, and beer. Season it with some salt, pepper, and garlic powder to taste. Try to make the batter a little on the thick side.

Slice the oysters about 1/4 inch thick, then dip 'em in the batter. Cook them puppies in hot oil until medium crisp.

They are best if served while hot, and with a dipping sauce of your liking. I like to make a little sauce of ketchup with horseradish.

Now, I know that a lot of people won't try this. But, you should really be adventurous sometimes and try something new now and then. Or if you have a relative or someone that you are not really fond of, invite them over to watch a football game, baseball, or whatever and serve these up. Tell them that's all you have for munching on. They won't be coming back to soon to your house.

The first time I had these, was when I was a little kid. It was at Thanksgiving. I heard my grandparents talking about having oysters to snack on before we had our big meal. I had just discovered seafood. I love it all.

But, when they served up these oysters (and they were good), I was a little upset that they were not the oysters on the half shell like I had eaten before. They didn't taste like the fried oysters I'd had at the seafood place, and I said as much to my grandparents. You could have heard a pin drop. Papa and Pappy got up and left the kitchen. Mama hollered at them to come back in the kitchen and explain to me just what it was I was eating.

Papa grabbed his coat, and out the front door he went. Pappy,just didn't move fast enough. He came back into the kitchen, beet red, just about ready to bite his pipe in half. 'Course, I've been munching the whole time on these oysters. Pappy just looked at me and started laughing. Mama, giggled, and grandmother, beet red, giggled. Pretty soon the whole family was laughing.

And I just kept on eating them oysters.

It finally came down to my uncle who owned a ranch. He told me what the oysters were. I didn't believe him for one minute and I kept on eating them oysters. Then he asked me if I remembered being on the ranch last summer, and how they took some of the young bulls and had the vet checking on them. He reminded me that old Joe was there with his pocket knife out and the bucket next to him. I said that I remembered that. Well, my uncle asked, what do you think was in the bucket?

OH MY GOD! Them poor young bulls!

I really felt for them. I think I even cried a little at the time on the ranch. Well, they didn't get the reaction I think they thought they were going to get after eating about a half dozen or so and having decided that I liked them. We had them about every other Thanksgiving after that. I even got Mama to fix some up when I would go to her house. Papa and I would just wolf them down and Mama would have to make another batch, just so she could have some.

So, don't be a baby. As they used to say, "Try it, you'll like it." Whip up a batch and FEED YOUR FACE!

NEW FOLLOWERS

Yikes! I've been remiss on new followers. I want to thank you all for following my blog. It has gotten to the point that I have enough now that it is hard to thank you on a one on one basis. I apologize, because I do really appreciate your reading me and being here.

So, stop awhile, read a few stories and older blog posts. I kind of have a mesh mash of things here: stories (some true, some embellished), recipes, quotes, and sometimes a rant or two. I also have some useful stuff to pass along. There is also some "old" stuff that is new again.

So, thanks for stopping by. Keep on coming around. There are some nice people here. I hope that I can put a smile on your face every now and then and maybe even get you to thinking about a thing or two.

Quote of the Week: 02/20/2012

"We will always remember. We will always be proud. We will always be prepared, so we may always be free."

--Ronald Reagan

DON'T MESS WITH GRAN'MA

We all have loved our grandmas. Some are great cooks. Some can sew and knit. And some, like my great grandma, can do all of those things and more. Her name was Pearl, but we all called her Mama. She married at a young age. Her husband, my great grandpa, was a farmer. His name was Luna, but we all called him Papa. They had a farm in Missouri for many years, before moving here to Colorado.

Papa was about 5'5". Mama was about 5 foot, or maybe a bit shorter. They were wonderful grandparents. They spoiled the you-know-what out of me and my sister. They had a tiny house in the town of Kremmling, with a small frontyard and the backyard was somewhat bigger, with the original homestead cabin. On one side of the cabin, Mama had her garden -- some potatoes, onions, carrots, squash, pumpkins, and a chokecherry bush.

She was really proud of her little garden. My sister and I were happy to help her in the garden. The one thing that really set her off was critters in her garden! Even if it was the cat from down the street, YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE GARDEN! My sister and I got spanked a few times for going into the garden. All we had done was take a carrot or two!

Well, one summer, my sister and I were staying with Mama and Papa. We were waiting to go out to the ranch that our aunt and uncle owned. To pass the time, that trip, I brought along my slingshot. I was pretty good! I could hit a can about every third shot or so. Well, as long as it was a good sized can. Like a number 10 can. And my sister was just about as good a shot as me. That is, when she could take my slingshot away from me.

So, there we were, setting on the back steps, me shooting my sling shot. My sister was wanting to take her turn. I used rocks as ammo. But! -- had just figured out that marbles worked SO much better than the rocks.

We must have shot over a 100 marbles that day. Not a single can or bottle in the neighborhood was safe from us. Mama came out to see what all we were doing and to find out why she didn't have any cans to put grease in.

As she came out the door, she said a dirty word, grabbed my slingshot out of my hands, loaded a marble in it, pulled back, and let it fly! My sister and I had no idea of what in the world she was
shooting at, let alone that she even knew how to use a sling shot.

After she made her first shot, she grabbed another marble and let it fly. We watched as she ran back into the house, then came out with a butcher knife and a big bowl.

She then started towards her little garden as fast as her little legs would carry her. Now, we had never seen Mama run before, and it was quite the sight: butcher knife raised up in one hand and that big old bowl in the other. Her hair net sliding off of her head, her apron sliding down around her hips, one stocking down around an ankle. And this kind of wild look on her face! She ran off around the old cabin to her garden, muttering under her breath about them brazzen little bast***s.

We ran after Mama and caught up with her as she reached her garden. Lying in the garden were two of the biggest rabbits I had ever seen, both of them flat-out dead, one with a parcel piece of carrot in its mouth.

Mama looked at us and said "Rabbit for dinner tonight!" My sister and I just stood there looking at her and them two rabbits. She laughed and said, "Close your mouths -- you're catching flies." We followed her back into the house, never saying a word. We watched as she dressed out the rabbits. We stayed in the house the rest of the day. My sister and I didn't really talk, or do anything. We just kind of sat there and watched Mama.

Later, Papa came home from work. He cleaned himself up and we all sat at the supper table, still watching Mama. Our plates were full, then Papa said grace and they began to eat. My sister and I, on the other hand, just sat and stared at Mama. Papa looked at us, asked if we were hungry, and -- if we were -- why were we not eating.

My sister and I both started to talk at the same time about how Mama had shot TWO rabbits with my slingshot.

Papa started to laugh, and Mama kind of turned red in the face and asked, "Haven't you two ever seen a grown up shoot a slingshot before?" We answered that we had, but we had NEVER seen a grandma shoot one before.

Well that was the wrong thing to say. Her face became even redder, and she kind of puffed herself up. She told us that she grew up shooting a slingshot, and that she helped her dad put food on the table when she was a little girl. She then got up and left the table.

Papa just sat there and tried to keep from laughing more. He told us that he was married to her for over two years before he found out that she was such a marksman with a slingshot. He said he came in one day from plowing and was washing up on the back porch when she came around the corner from the chicken coop carrying a dead raccoon. She had the coon in one hand and a slingshot in the other. He asked her what in the world she was doing, and she said that she was saving the chickens and wanted to know if he liked raccoon.

He told her NO, he didn't want any 'coon. Then he asked where she got that slingshot! She told him she made it herself, and that she and her brother used to make them all the time. Papa said he never knew that she could shoot like that. He had a old single shot .22, but she wouldn't touch it.

My sister and I just sat there, fascinated, and listened to Papa. He told about her chasing some fellow off the front yard with her slingshot. She nailed him several times in the butt. Papa found out later that the fellow she chased off was running for some office, and was making the rounds to get support for himself. Papa said the guy won his race, but never came to their place again.

The next morning, my sister and I got up, ate breakfast, and headed right outside. Mama was on the quiet side and sat there drinking her coffee. After we had been playing for a couple of hours, Mama came outside. She had a slingshot in her hand. It was old, you could tell. And it was a thing to behold. It was shinny, from years of being in someone's hand. You could see the grain of the wood. And it was bigger than my store bought sling shot. Hers had a bigger pouch to hold rocks and such. She had a leather bag in her other hand.

The bands on hers were flat, while mine was the round tube type of band. In that leather bag she had what looked like white and brown marbles. They were the roundest rocks I had ever seen, and some were real marbles. The white and brown ones were handmade marbles from clay. The round rocks, she got from a stream many years ago when she was a child.

Mama sat on the steps with us and we all took turns shooting at cans. She would shoot a tuna can standing on edge from about 20 feet or so, and hit it two more times before it stopped rolling and fell over. AND she could hit a bottle or can tossed up in the air! It was a great afternoon.

We never did make it out to the ranch. We were too busy with Mama, shooting our slingshots. When Papa made it home, he sat and shot also. He couldn't hit anything. But it was fun just the same.

When Mama went in to start supper, my sister and I sat out with Papa, had a Coke, and just kind of sat there. Papa laughed and said, "You know, I'd hate to really make that women mad. The way she can shoot that slingshot, I bet you couldn't get to the end of the street without her peppering your behind a dozen times."

As he got up, he said "Yep. . . don't mess with grandma."

Mama and Papa have long since passed. The memories of them and time spent are still with me and my sister. And that leather bag and slingshot of hers? Well, the last time I saw it, it was in her casket at the viewing, placed there by Papa.

WOW!

What's that saying? Better living through chemistry. Or is it, better life through chemistry? I can't remember.

Anyway, I think I'm going to live. My ears popped today. I can hear the kid next door hollering at his mom. Plus, I feel almost human. No more being in the sick bed. (YAY!)

Maybe I can milk it for another day or two. I kinda like having Kathi wait on me. 'Course all good things must come to an end. I've got things to do, worms to dig, eggs to fry, gold to dig, dirt to sift, things to cook in the smoker, housework. . . wait -- I need to also get the boat ready for fishing. And did I say housework?

Maybe I'm not as well as I thought I was.

Oh well, I am feeling much better. And "thank you" to all of you out there.

Quote of the Week: 2/13/2012

"All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt."

--Charles M. Schulz

GOT A COLD

A roll of TP, a box of Kleenex, numerous napkins. About two gallons of juice. I thought it was a cold. The result's are back.

I have a friggin sinus infection!
Steam. Lots of steam, and maybe a shooter or two of Jack Daniel's. ........ Well it sounds good, even if it doesn't help.

(You all have to read this like, when you talk with a bad cold, and a stuffy nose.)

ONE OF THEM DAYS

Ever had one of them days when nothing seems to go right? Like, when your toilet backs up, and you grab the the plunger and start to plunge away, and the handle breaks. So you head off to Home Depot or a hardware store to buy a new plunger. And on the way you're following a truck with lumber and stuff and the tailgate falls open and a box of nails falls out of the truck and the nails go everywhere.

And, of course, you can't miss the nails and you end up with two flat tires. And you only have one spare. When you go to change the tire, you find that you have no jack because you used the jack the other day helping a friend change a tire and left the jack at his place. So you call the auto club, have your car towed to get it fixed, and you get some smart a$$ kid who is going to fix your tires and he gives you the third degree about how you should always carry your jack.

Then the wife calls and would like you to stop at the store for some milk and eggs on your way home. So your car is fixed, the smart a$$ kid reminds you to get your jack back, your wife calls again and adds flour and pot pies to the list of things from the store. So, you pay for having the tires done and you leave for the store.

On the way to the store, you remember that you need to talk to your brother in-law about the tools that he borrowed from you last week. You then notice that you are low on gas. So you stop to fill it up and the nozzle doesn't shut off in time and you dump an extra five dollars of gas onto the ground and two dollars worth on your pants. You go in to pay and you reek of gas.

As you drive off, just a bit ticked off, you head for home. The smell of your gas soaked pants is making you woozy and your crotch is starting to sting. But wait! You still need to go to the store!

So you turn around and head for the store. Once at the store, you reach into your pocket for the list you made of what the wife wanted and instead you pull out this gas soaked paper, the ink smeared and you can't make out the list. But you think that you can figure it out.

You proceed to get flowers, a couple of pies, bags, and a cake. On your way out of the store, you notice that everyone is looking at you and holding their noses because of the smell of the gas. You jump in your car and head home. You just have to get out of them pants! You arrive home, carry your store purchases to the door and find you have no keys.

They are locked in the car.

And, of course, you don't have a spare anywhere around. So, you set and wait for the wife to get home. As you set there, you get a bit hungry so you get into one of the pies. You have nothing to eat it with, so you use your hand and take a chunk. It tastes pretty good. So you have some more. While you are enjoying your pie, your wife drives up.

She walks up to you. You have pie on your face and your shirt. You reek of gas. And you try to tell her why you smell, and can't get in the house. And you have pie smeared on your sleeve, because you didn't have a napkin. As she lets you in the house, there is a message on the phone that you left your credit card at the store.

Your wife then makes her way to the bathroom and sees the mess and broken plunger. She throws up her hands, and heads to the kitchen to put away the things you bought. She looks in the bags, and asks what in the world you bought and asks why you didn't write down what she wanted.

You tell her you had, but after the gas soaked your pants you couldn't read the list, so you just bought what you thought the list said. She throws up her hands again. You go in to change your pants in the bathroom and step right in the mess on the floor, slip, fall, and now you smell of poo, gas, and have pie on your shirt and face. Your wife is muttering in the kitchen about sending someone to the "home" or putting something or someone away.

You change clothes and take your wife's keys to unlock the car. You find that you now need to get the smell of gas out of the front seat, but it is past 6 p.m. and everything is closed.

So, for tomorrow, you make a list of what needs to be done. You tell your wife about all that will get done and she looks at you kind of funny like and tells you to not worry about it, she'll have it all taken care of.

The next day after you get home, the wife is there ahead of you. A plumbers truck is in front of the house. You don't say a word.

There is a meal on the table ready to eat. You don't say a word.

There is a new plunger by the chair. You don't say a word.

She has also been to the store. You don't say a word.

As the night gets later, she asks if you are alright. You say you are fine. She says good.

She gives you a little gift, one of them new gadgets. It is for tweeting or something like that. And it has a list for things that you need to do.

You try to explain about yesterday and tell her that it was just one of them days.

I don't think she believed me.

GETTIN' OLDER

You know, sometimes life can be a real bugger. When we were younger, we had all kinds of energy. But not a lot of brains. As we got older, we got some wisdom along the way. 'Course some of us didn't follow that wisdom. We were "busy" going out, working so we could have a few dollars to go out, or just kind of bumming around.

Then there are the ones who were "over achievers." Those people busted butt, went on from high school to get degrees and such. Sure, some of them made some money. But, I don't know of a single one today who is doing what they got the degree for. Life interrupted along the way or they decided to do something different. Things change. And so do people.

Like me. I've changed. I always thought that I would always be fit and trim. Well, I'm hard to fit now. And the only thing I trim now is the grass in the yard. I always wanted to be in shape. I am now round. Round is a shape!

This is some of the wisdom I have gleened over the years. One of my friends now has a job at an ice cream shop. His degree was in engineering. Another works driving a truck. His degree was in mining engineering.

My friend who works at the ice cream shop was on the hefty side when we were in school. He is now skinny as a broomstick, married, and has three grown kids and a grandchild. His wife is a fantastic cook. I try to avoid eating at his house. All I have to do is talk to him on the phone and I gain like 3 pounds each time.

The other guy? Well, he has been married three times. Has two kids from his first marriage and one grandchild. His present wife is also a great cook. Thank goodness they live out of state. I'd look like the Goodyear Blimp!

My wife Kathi is also a great cook. And it shows. I'm needing to get bigger expando pants. 'Course, I'm lucky. I get to work from home. On some days, I don't even get dressed. I can work in the lounge mode. You know, sweats, and maybe a hat. And when you work from home, well, you sometimes go over board and forget to cut back on what you eat. Like cupcakes or brownies. And now them damn Girl Scout cookies!

So, the wisdom I have found as I get older is to eat in moderation. Chase you significant other, as best you can, around the house every now and then. Spoil your grandkids. Give them some sugar every now and then, then send them home to their parents. Love yourself and others. Say I love you more often to family and your friends. Quit worrying about things that you can't change. Remember that you can't fix stupid, so don't even try.

Watch a sunset, watch a sunrise. Catch a snowflake on your tongue. And, as I was told by a friend, maybe go out and fly a kite. Or listen to the sound of a train in the distance. or of kids playing. Smell the coffee in the morning. Smell the fire in your fireplace. Close your eyes every now and then and just listen. What can you hear?

Now if I had the energy I did all those years ago and the wisdom that I now have, and could just slow life down a bit: just think of the new things that we could accomplish in the years that we have left to us.

Oh yeah, those two friends of mine? They both are thankful that they didn't stay with the jobs they were supposed to be doing. They both have said that they are so much happier now than they were. Me? I've never been happier. I've traveled around. Camped, hunted, fished, and seen things that a lot of people will never get to see. And, I finally married a woman who does not mind that I get a bit wacky at times. I have family and friends, some close, some not so close, a bunch on the computer, and a bunch in person. As they say, a stranger is a friend that you just haven't met yet.

So gettin' older really isn't that bad. I just wish every now and then I could just go back in time, with what I know now. . .

Quote of the Week: 2/06/2012

"To read without reflecting, is like eating without digesting."

Edmund Burke,
British politician and writer

FEED YOUR FACE: Zucchini-Tortellini Harvest Soup

Kathi here. I had eaten an Italian soup recipe from a meal-prep company -- you know: the places where you go and assemble meals that you will store in your freezer to cook later?

It was good, but I thought it could be even better, so I invented this version. It makes a crockpot full of soup, and helps use up some of that end-of-the-season zucchini that those of us who grow it have around.

We slice and freeze zucchini, and then we can eat this even in the middle of winter (which we did today!).

It's a very forgiving recipe, so you can add or subtract a bunch of ingredients and it's going to be good, no matter which way you make it.

Oh! And I entered this recipe at Gooseberry Patch. It was selected it to appear in the Gooseberry Patch Fresh from the Farmstand cookbook, so they sent me a free copy of the book.




Zucchini-Tortellini Harvest Soup

• 1 lb. Italian pork sausage links, browned and thinly sliced (I usually place these in a skillet with water and boil them until they are done, which helps cut down on the grease; then I cool them, slice them, and brown them along with the onion in the skillet)
• 1 medium onion, chopped
• 1 or 2 carrots, peeled and chopped
• 2 cups of tomatoes, diced (you can use a can of tomatoes if you don't have fresh)
• 2- 14 oz. cans of vegetable broth (or you can use beef or chicken broth)
• 14 oz. can/jar of pizza sauce
• 2 cups of water
• 1 bay leaf
• 1 or 2 small zucchini, sliced or shredded (I like chunkier, so we slice)
• 9-oz. package of refrigerated cheese tortellini (left uncooked)
• Parmesan cheese, fresh or sprinkle, for flavor and garnish

Add everything to the crockpot except for the zucchini, tortellini, and cheese. Cover and cook on low for 5 to 7 hours. About an hour before you want to eat dinner, add the zucchini and tortellini, then let it cook one more hour. (Discard the bay leaf)

Ladle into soup bowls, and garnish/flavor with parmesan cheese.

So, load up your crockpot, get out your napkins, and get ready to FEED YOUR FACE!