Growing up on a Farm

Growing up on a farm was all I ever knew. We lived in the country on various farms, as the family moved frequently. My dad's job was working with GLF, later AGWAY, primarily a company that provided feed for local farmers. In his early adult years he took whatever job he could, since it was the Depression, and jobs were hard to come by. Mom said that they moved eleven times in ten years of marriage. The first farm I really remember was outside of Ithaca, NY, where we kept a Gurnsey cow who provided milk and butter, and where we also had an enormous garden for the vegetables. We had to stay out of the barn because someone else raised chickens in it. Two moves later and we were in Newark Valley, NY, on a farm which we owned. All the previous places had been rentals. At the time I was in junior high school.

Being on a real farm meant chores. We continued to have a large garden and at times raised pigs, turkeys, cows, and pheasants. Turkeys are really dumb. They literally do not know enough to come in out of the rain and will stand looking up at the rain with open beaks, drowning. Stupid, huh? I enjoyed raising the pheasants, though. Every spring we would get 35 pheasants for each boy through the county extension program. Maurice didn't want his, so I got 70 to raise. When released as adults into the countryside, they were counted by an extension agent, and I received one dollar for each pheasant released. This provided me with some "hard to come by" cash, and I worked hard to make each of the 70 chicks live to be released. We were restocking the wild pheasant population, which provided additional sport for fall hunters. I like seeing the birds in wild but am unable to hunt them. Pigs are messy, stinky, and, when raised, are slaughtered and then you have to eat them. We would ask out loud at the dinner table, "Is this Sylvester, Porky, or Petunia?" That went over real well.

One of my daily jobs was to take care of the young stock, which in the winter meant cleaning out the manure, as well as feeding them so that they could make more manure. Mom said the I came in each morning after this job saying, "I hate cows and cleaning up after them and am never going to do this again!" However, the next morning I was back in there, cleaning up more manure. Did I want to grow up and be a farmer???? Maurice did, and he finally moved across the road where he had purchased a farm from a cousin. He made a good living from farming. I wanted to get out of Dodge and surely did not want to farm.

Beer

Beer should be one of the four food groups and at the top of the food pyramid. I recently read in the local paper that there are two kinds of beer: cold and free. This past year son-in-law Tim and I took up making our own beer. We made nearly ten different kinds between the two of us and shared our brew-making results. It was all good, and we both learned much about the process of making beer. We stashed cases of the various brews in our coal bin and brought it out for any and all who wanted to try our our efforts. Either we made good brewskies, or none of our victims complained.

Many years ago brother Maurice, his wife Anne, our mom, and I traveled to Europe, and we knew that we were going to have a great vacation when the first B & B where we stayed in Holland, was a place where our folks had stayed when they had traveled in Europe. Mom even remembered the lady who ran the B & B. Anyway, we had a lovely time and frequently tasted the local brewskies. One day we were in Munich having lunch, and we had ordered "Zwie Bier" to be enjoyed with our lunch. Now at this time we were in our late 40's or early 50's, and Mom announced, "Boys, don't you think you have had enough beer?" Our response, given to the waiter was, "More beer!" To this day we can say, "more beer" to each other and begin laughing. Now in our late 60's and early 70's, I suspect that Mom thinks of us as BOYS, but knows that we will still order MORE BEER.

Wild Turkey Flock

For the four years that we have lived in this neighborhood, we have enjoyed watching a small turkey flock roam about. A couple of years ago one of our neighbors, Mary Alice, asked us if we had seen the one-legged turkey. We hadn't, but almost immediately spotted it. Yesterday we were looking out and saw the flock moving through another neighbor's yard and started to count the size of the flock, five I think. Best of all, the one legged turkey was still with them, hopping along and being looked after by the others. He had stopped. and one of the other turkeys came back for him as if to say, "Are you OK? We need to get on with our roaming."

We have other wild critters here, too, and have several raccoons, opossum, skunks, rabbits, and many squirrels, including black ones. The squirrels have been eating the bark off small branches of the trees, since a late frost in the spring did in much of their food supply. Now they have the early apples and are leaving the branches alone. The rabbits enjoy the neighborhood gardens and are a nuisance. We caught several last year in a trap/cage and transported them to other neighborhoods to help with their animal populations.

Son Jerry's Godparents

When Jerry was born, we selected long time family friends, Dot and Bob, to be his godparents. Dot was always full of life and great fun to be with. Bob had earned his doctorate and worked for the NY State Government, but he felt unappreciated and could get a bit tedious at times. However, they were splendid examples to others and great godparents for Jerry. Shortly after Jerry was two years old, we moved to Hawaii to teach school. Of course, in the early sixties Hawaii was a very popular vacation spot, and since it had been recently declared a State of the Union, even more so. We had lots of visitors in the three years spent teaching there. Dot and Bob even came for a visit, and we eagerly looked forward to showing them around this beautiful island state.

On one trip to the windward side of Oahu, Bob got into the swing of pronouncing Hawaiian words. We passed a sign for a road: Like - Like. Bob wanted to know why a road was labeled like - like and pronounced it that way. I replied, "No, it is a Hawaiian word and pronounced leekay - leekay." Bob got the idea and very excitedly soon saw another sign and said, "Let me pronounce it, Peepay Lean-ay" "No," I said, "It is pipe line." How we laughed.

Catching Up

I have been working for the past several days on a stained glass rendition of a scene from Tuscany, Italy. This proved to be quite challenging, and I learned several new techniques in the process. I hope to get a picture of this work onto my blog soon.

Saturday evening we had a birthday party for our son-in-law who was about to be 42 years old. We had his whole family and two sets of mutual friends. Conversation never lagged, and the food was excellent. HW2 had made Mexican food, and this was complemented by salad, fresh tomatoes, wine, and birthday cake provided by others. Everyone seemed to get enough to eat, even if they had to make several trips to fill their plates. For me, 42 seems quite young, and I can almost remember being that age.

Today we went downtown to a courtroom to observe a sentencing of a man who broke a window of our car, stole HW2's pocketbook, hidden under the front seat and within thirty minutes of the crime had charged over $600 and was attempting to charge $400 at another place when the credit card company put a hold on all charges with the card, since we reported it as soon as we learned of the crime. Getting reimbursed for the charges was time-consuming, but getting another driver's license took nearly a month. It turns out that the man had been stealing credit cards for almost 30 years and had been incarcerated several times. Now he will be returned to jail for another period of time. One can only hope that this time he will see the error of his ways and upon being returned to society will turn over a new leaf. The whole experience turned out to be a learning situation for us, and now we do not leave pocketbooks in a car to tempt someone else. The worst thing though was that they also got HW2's favorite lipstick. That was bad. REPENT! REPENT! REPENT! (Please see HW2's comments!)

Why Stained Glass?

When HW2 and I moved to this house several years ago, we were particularly taken by the Frank Lloyd Wright type prairie style that this flat-roofed house seemed to be. It was built in 1925 and probably reflected that era of house building. There are two large glass panels on either side of the front door that seemed to me to beg to have stained glass inserts. By accident I discovered that the local community college offered classes in making stained glass. Imagine my delight when I also discovered they were given at half price to seniors! So I embarked on my quest to learn how to make stained glass. Good friends Beth and Harold encouraged me in this endeavor and gave me materials left over from Beth's stained glass work. Being a type "A" personality, I went faithfully to work and produced three panels instead of one since, I planned to hang them in front of a three part window for my first class project. This class was on stained glass in the copper foil style developed by Louis Tiffany around the turn of the last century. My second class was in leaded stained glass where glass is inserted in pieces of lead that have the cross section of an H, and the pieces fit into the lead. Here is where I began my project to fill our two window panels with some stained glass. In both classes I adapted designs of Frank Lloyd Wright, which seemed to fit this style house. My windows were about seven feet by 15 inches, so each took a considerable amount of glass and finally were filled by four panels for each window. Again my type "A" personality took over, and for this class I completed a window for the left side of the door. In the following months I repeated the design for the right side, and you can see by the picture how it all turned out.

The unexpected part for me was that I have really enjoyed making stained glass and have tried to extend my abilities as I make new things. The pleasure of selling completed works or giving them to family and friends is the icing on the cake. Maybe I have finally found my vocation, and like Grandma Moses, I hope to be able to make stained glass pieces into my nineties.

Grandma Hid Stuff, Too

My grandmother was a character, tough, and no nonsense, particularly with grandchildren. She was widowed at an early age around 1916 when she was in her early twenties and left with two small children. She had to go to work to keep the family together when most women only worked in the home. She got a job working in a factory which made gloves, frequently doing work at home and paid by the piece or work completed. Money was tight, and the family went without all but the essentials. When the glove factory closed, she cleaned houses for other people and ironed. We grew up knowing that Grandma did not have it easy, and as an adult I used to send her a little money to help her out on occasions, and once I arranged for her to come to visit when we lived in Hawaii. The family pitched in for her airplane ticket, and she was able to take her first flight. She was nervous, but she did it and loved the time spent visiting Hawaii.

During her last illness she announced to her two children that they had better go through things carefully, but they would never find it all. After she died, the arduous task of going through her things and getting her house ready for sale began. They began to find money. It was in every pocketbook, so that which ever one she took with her was ready to go, and she would have the necessary money for any purchases. They found money in drawers, shoe boxes, and other hiding places. They had to go through everything, including books, and kept finding money. They found small, brown pay envelopes from her days at the glove factory which would have the weekly amount earned typically $3.85 and left in the bottom of the envelope would be a few pennies or maybe a dime. One envelope contained several 1909 VDB pennies which are really valuable to collectors. VDB was the initials of the artist who designed the new Lincoln penny in 1909 changing from the previous Indian Head Penny. Good pennies of this type can cost a collector quite a bit of money. I think that while much of what had been hidden was ultimately found, the money hidden in the barn was never found. Grandma had the last laugh, 'YOU WON'T FIND IT ALL."

Other Family Members Hide Things, Too!

I mentioned in yesterday's blog that hiding things is a family trait. When my dad died nearly thirty years ago, Mom got into the habit of hiding things, since she was left alone in a big house and concerned about her safety. She kept the alarm system on, and if traveling, she would hide stuff, knowing that when she returned, she would remember where she hid the item. I think my favorite story was her hiding her sterling silver knives. Now, why she hid the knives and not the rest of the set, I cannot account. Once they had been hidden, and she returned from her travels, she could not remember where she had hidden her knives. When we would visit, we were enlisted in the effort to find the disappeared knives. For several years the knives resisted one and all efforts to locate them. We checked closets, boots, drawers, chests, under the bed, and many other favorite hiding places but with no luck. Finally, we decided that she must have hidden them in her basement, which was full of a lifetime of collecting. This proved too daunting for all of us. The good news is that one day she was checking again the closet located under the stairs and on the back of the top shelf found her missing knives. Imagine her delight, and as she spread the news, the relief we all felt! The sterling silver knives had been found! Lately, I learned that they had been hidden again. I can only hope that when we look on the top shelf in the closet under the stairs that the knives have been placed there again, or, the hunt will be on.

Hiding Stuff

I come from a long line of people who hide stuff. It seems to come naturally. A while back we got a small safe which came with instructions, including a card on which was printed the combination. Now that is an important item to keep, preferably not in the safe. Combination is committed to memory, and the card is put in another safe place. Time goes by; la la la la la la (thought you might want music as time went by). "Do you remember the combination to the safe?" I asked HW2, "No!" the firm reply. Where did you hide the combination slip?" By now she is aware of my tendency to hide stuff. So began the odyssey of looking in the usual suspect places for hidden things. This time no luck at all, and we needed to get into the safe since we had sold a car, and the title for the car was in the safe, naturally. Ultimately, I lugged the safe to another car, took it to a locksmith who looked up the registration number of the safe and then opened it. So, problem solved, but where did I hide that pesky card with the combination? As months pass by we kept searching with no luck. Finally, we were doing some spring cleaning, which in our bedroom required washing the curtains. I called them the puffy curtains, as they were stuffed with paper to make them puff out. Clever, huh? I innocently asked if the stuffing needed to come out and got, "What do you think?" Apparently thinking was not part of my intention. So, I pulled out the stuffing, and you guessed it, out came the combination card. Now when looking for something, I frequently get, "Have you looked in the puffy curtains?" Add this place to the places you search if you hide stuff, too.

"I need that for my business!"

My mother is really a remarkable woman. She is currently 94 years old, lives in her two story home of many years, drives, and prefers to mow her acre of lawn herself. She has begun to slow down a bit, but she still manages to tire out all of her four children and still be ready to go or to play cards. We enjoy playing cards, but Mom is a formidable opponent and takes her card playing seriously. None of us even tries to play Bridge with her, so she plays that game with her friends on a monthly basis. We do play Shanghai Rummy, though, and in this game a player will ask to take a card out of turn and also take a penalty card. When mom is in the game, and it is up to her whether you can take a card out of turn, she frequently replies, "No, I need that for my business." She also has an expression that she uses, "It would be all right with me ....." This usually occurs when we travel together, and she could use the restroom or thinks that it is time for a meal. Usually exactly at noon we will hear, "It would be all right with me if we stopped for lunch." The funny thing is that she has an internal clock and knows exactly when noon is no matter what time zone she might be in at the time. So, we stop and eat, of course.

Venus and Mars

Now, you need to know that in our household, Mars loves Venus, and Venus loves Mars. However, it has gradually dawned on this Mars that my Venus is wired differently from me. Generally, that is a terrific thing. My Venus loves to shop, and her favorite four letter word is "SALE!" She will be gone for hours looking for just the right thing. Also, when she gets home and finds it not to be exactly what she wanted, she will then return the item to the store and continue to shop. I try not to go shopping since I know that she is happiest trying on a series of clothes and does not really want to keep me waiting; so if I stay home, she can try on or search as long as she wants. When she gets home with her purchases, I get to hear all about the bargains that have been found. The fun part is the delivery. It is just the right color and will go with so many other parts of the outfit and will be perfect for the upcoming event. Even though these were on SALE, the first item mentioned will always be for the least amount and a terrific buy. Other items may not get mentioned. The interesting thing is that "it is a terrific buy." Once in awhile there will be an item bought for me. This is always in good taste and reflects on the fact that I would rather not shop. My idea of shopping is to know exactly what is needed, to go the specific store that sells that thing, to buy the first one I see, to definitely not try it on, and then to get out of there. I can see that I may have to comment on other Venus traits in future blogs, but another specific one needs commentary. My Venus loves lipsticks. She uses them frequently (I'm not to use "a lot" according to Grammar Woman). One time I counted seven lipsticks in her purse. This seemed like enough to do the job. Another time we were doing our stained glass booth at an outdoors arts and crafts show, when my Venus discovered she had no lipstick at all. You can imagine her horror. Well, to set things straight, off she went in search of the necessary lipstick and found one for seventeen dollars. She was happy, and Mars was ........................

Hats

I love hats and enjoy seeing them on other folks, too. I think that when you put a hat on your head, that in some way you are transported. This is similar to the way you get lost in the story you are reading in a book or when watching a really good movie. Now with hats, they are specific to an activity. You have to put on your gardening hat to garden, hunting hat to hunt, digging hat to dig, and baseball cap (worn correctly with the lid facing forward) to go out into the world on your daily travels and, maybe, if you are lucky enough, to attend a ball game. Ruth, a cousin, came to the anniversary party wearing long white gloves and a wonderful flowered hat creation which had belonged to her great Aunt Mildred Brown. Now Ruth did not wear a dress, since she does that only for special occasions and has reputedly worn only one dress one time in the last thirty-five years. However, this hat was a beauty, and I could not resist having fun with it. Like a little kid would, I tried to pick it off her head, without her knowledge, of course. But, alas, no success there. When a picture was suggested, I could resist no longer and briefly got to wear Mildred's hat and be transported????

Home Again

After 2600 miles we are home again. It rained most of the return trip, but we figured the farmers needed the rain, although most of the country we went through seemed green even though many rivers were low. Last night we has a tornado alert here in Omaha and though some trees were down in other parts of the city, we seemed to have escaped any serious damage.
We had a wonderful time at both celebrations. Ashley and Tom have returned from their honeymoon-camping trip and shortly will be back in college as both are close to finishing their degree programs. Their goal is to move to the Carolinas after mid year. Then Tom will finish his elementary education certification, do his student teaching, and begin his teaching career. We are not sure what Ashley plans to do.
Maurice and Anne celebrated their 50th anniversary with many life-long friends. Their wedding party only missed one groomsman. We were able to see lots of family and friends, and conversation seemed never to stop. This was the first time in fourteen years that Mom and her four kids were together. A happy moment for all. We left before the end of the party to begin our trek back west stopping for the first night in Olean, NY.
The next night we met Kim and Chuck and boys for dinner which you can read about below. It is good to wander and also good to be home.

Serendipity in Indiana

Daughter Kim thought that "Serendipity....." should be the title of this entry, and who can turn down such a good idea? I was thinking Happy Wanderers Cross Paths," but that is much more boring. We were on day two of our return home trip from New York and called Kim and family, who were returning from their trip to New Mexico to their home in Ann Arbor. We discovered that we were within fifty miles of each other and actually on the same freeway, I-80. So we decided to meet for an early dinner and catch up. How cool is that? Needless to say, we had a fun time, enjoyed the boys, and laughed and laughed and, of course, got caught up. So now we have more pictures, and some may make it into this blog. Dave the waiter was delightful, also, although he did seem to be a cross of two characters from "Friends," Joey and Matt. He even helped Kim with directions to the restaurant!

Weddings

We all go to weddings, and most of us celebrate our own. Since weddings have been the focus of this trip, somehow I have been reflecting on various ceremonies which I have been privileged to attend. When our daughters were married, they were given away by their dad, which is appropriate but, since I am the stepdad, there was little for me to do except to be supportive. However, both girls involved me and their mom in picking out their wedding dresses. I think they knew that I would like whatever was picked out, and of course, I did. Other than that, I just hung around and smiled. When friends Cal and Susan were married in our back yard, I helped clean out the house so we could hold a reception after the event. I did get to put in an arbor in the site where the couple was married. I hope the arbor is still there. Between the arbor and the flowers in the garden, the setting was very nice. It must have been a good wedding, as they are happy to this day.

When our close friend Phyllis married Pat, we were invited, and we returned from France just in time to attend and be a part of that wonderful wedding. I even was privileged to say a few words on behalf of the bride and groom. I also made them a stained glass window with their initials intertwined, and that is the picture added today. They were happy weddings, all. If you are like HW2, you are very sentimental and will probably cry at weddings, which adds to the enjoyment. We are looking forward to another happy wedding today!

First Wedding of A Granddaughter

First wedding of a granddaughter seems to me, that then the grandparents must be OLD. We don't feel old ,though, and are determined not to ACT old, either. However, Ashley and Tom are getting married on Sunday at a park near Grand Rapids, MI. Today we motored from the Heartland of America to Grand Rapids, caravaning with our daughter and son-in law and their five kids. They are much more involved in these festivities, as they are the parents of the bride. Grandparents just hang around and smile a lot.
Anyway, we are back on the road, wandering and happy to be able to do it. So, three days here, and then back on to the road to the East to help my OLDER brother and his wife celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. Such fun to be on the road and to have such happy reasons for this trip. So Happy Wanderer 1 is in his element and beginning to live up to his name in this blog. I did find out that blog is a shortened form of web log. Did you know that? Happy travels to all.

You Can Be Right - ALL DAY!!!!

Apparently, some folks who join our family think that they have discovered a trait that is rampant. This trait can be categorized as THINKING we are right and then discovering maybe later, that, indeed, we WERE right. Apparently, it can be difficult to live all the time with someone who is always right. One daughter-in-law, I'll call her June, seems to have discovered this trait in her husband. It beats me where he inherited this trait. Not my side of the family, I am sure! Anyway, June announced one day to husband Jack, "OK, you are right! You can be right for the rest of the day!" This attitude adjustment on her part seemed to help, and she passed this approach on to me, mentioning to me that Jack did not seem to want to be always right for the rest of the day.
I thought that this approach was terrific, as did HW2, and we have used it effectively with each other. However, one day while we working in an antique mall where we had a booth, we had an encounter with another antique dealer who had inherited this same trait, and I positively swear she was not a family member. Finally having had enough, I told Cherie, "OK! You are right. You can be right all day!" Cherie said, "But I don't want to be right. I don't want to be right all day!" I replied, "It is too late, and you are right all day." She followed me around and kept coming back to me with this lament all the rest of the day.She NEVER tried that attitude on me ever again and almost became likable. If this happens to you and causes you some frustration, try June's solution, and let me know if it works for you.

Cigarettes

When I was growing up, many of the adults smoked. Dad preferred cigars or pipe but would smoke the occasional cigarette. So, by the time I was ten and in the fifth grade, I thought I was old enough to try smoking, too. Several of us boys would sneak overtown at lunch time and for a quarter would purchase one pack of cigarettes, which would be then smoked in the ravine behind the school. We must have smelled delightful when we got back in the class for the afternoon session. Later I graduated to the occasional cigar but ultimately preferred pipes. To this day I enjoy the smell of cigars or pipe tobacco. Somehow, I never quite got the trick of inhaling down, and so by the time I was twenty five, I was ready to give up the habit. Perhaps the one thing that stands out most to me was my favorite uncle's special way of holding his cigarette. Most people had many ashtrays around to hold the cigarette when not in use, and my grandmother had a fun one that looked like a man's head. You put the lit cigarette in his mouth, and the smoke would come out his nose. Fun to watch for us kids. But my uncle beat that hands down. He was born with four fingers and two thumbs on one of his hands. This is a true statement! The second thumb grew out of his wrist, and (are you ready for this?) he held his lighted cigarette there between puffs. Fascinating! I almost entitled this section, Four Plus Two Makes A Hand, but felt that would be confusing to you the reader. Which title do you prefer?

Hand Me Downs

You are likely to have been a recipient of hand-me-down clothing, unless you are the oldest child in the family, your family is rich, or some other accident of nature. In my day we barely even had that luxury, as we were poor, as was every one else we knew, and clothes got worn till they were thrown out, not handed on. However, having an older brother, I certainly was a candidate to be victimized by this overwhelming trend. My only escape proved to be to grow so fast that eventually I caught up to him in size and then got even bigger, so he was in danger, except that I always wore my clothes out. Besides he would NOT EVER have worn anything of mine!!!! I can't say I blame him because it probably would have been disgusting anyway. But in this proverbial woodpile, we had cousins that were better off than we were in; fact, we secretly thought that they were rich. Being sons of Dad's favorite cousin, the families kept in touch, much to our dismay. The first hand me downs turned out to be "long pants." Now if you never had long pants, this should be a treat. However, these pants turned out to be jodphurs and buttoned just below the knees with enough material in the leg to be able to curtsy, if so inclined. Also, since we were not jockeys, we carried on and hated, really hated, these "pants." Then, as if to top this off, we received wool suits that had been lined. Wool itches little boys, and lining does not stop that problem. So two little boys got to wear these uncomfortable things to CHURCH and itch. Now our parents were grateful for these fine additions to our scant wardrobes, but the lesson for me was NO HAND ME DOWNS EVER.

My Dad Was A Hunter

When we were growing up in the forty's, my dad enjoyed hunting with his friends. I think that he enjoyed the sport and that he could add the daily catch to whatever we were to eat. In those days there was little money, and what there was went to buy only necessities. So we grew and preserved most of what we ate. Dad was a good shot and frequently brought home rabbits, squirrels, pheasants, and, once, a deer. Mom would then boil and then fry the dressed meat, and we had a great addition to our meal. Of course, you had to look out for pieces of buckshot in the meat when you ate the game, as they are hard on your teeth, and lead is not good in your diet. The year he got his deer was the year that his friends first set up some rolling targets and practiced by leading the rolling target with the shotgun and then anticipating where it would be before firing. Apparently, the practice helped, as most, if not all, of the men got a deer that year. Usually though, he would come home with only small game for us to eat. My mom always told Dad to wait at the house, and about a half hour after the men had gone hunting, he could shoot a deer as it ran by, having been scared by the other hunters. He never did listen to her though, as he wanted to be out hunting with his friends. However, on most years Mom would be proven right, and a half hour into the hunt, a deer would safely run by our house.

Starting A New High School

Before we were married, HW2 and I were fortunate to be able to help with the opening of LaCueva High School. She was the chairperson of the social studies department, and I was one of three assistant principals. This turned out to be a tremendous amount of work and a great deal of fun as camaradarie quickly developed among the staff, which had been drawn from all over our school system. We managed to open our doors on time and welcome three classes, ninth through eleventh, to their fall semester. We each had secret pals and that meant putting things in their mailboxes to brighten their days, remember birthdays and other events in their lives. That year our Spring Break was late in arriving, and we kept looking for fun things to do. Louella read an article in the newspaper one day that involved a teacher in another state keeping a plumber and two others as love slaves, with a pictures of all persons involved in the sordid tale. She posted it on the faculty room bulletin board but with a change, as my picture had been substituted for the plumber. Since, generally, I was one of the first people to get to the school each morning, I saw the posted newspaper article before most of the rest of the faculty. Not to be outdone, by noon, I had taken the article to the library, found pictures of three of the faculty including HW2, copied them, and placed the newly adapted article back up on the faculty room bulletin board and went about my work. No one ever found out who put the article up there, and since it was about me, it just could not have been my doing. HW2 is my love slave still to this day, only I'm her love slave, too! Ain't love grand?

Mushrooms

One night at Duffy House on San Juan Island, HW2, Arthur, and I sat down to one of our favorite meals of spaghetti, after a hard work day at the inn. Arthur inquired whether there were any mushrooms in the spaghetti sauce, and HW2, knowing that he did not like them, assured him that indeed there were none in the sauce. HW2 then said, " Why don't you like mushrooms?" Arthur replied, "Well, it is the way they are grown in the dark and all." "So what if they are grown in the dark, underground, or caves. It is just dirt," she said. "They don't grow them in dirt, they grow them in manure," came Arthur's response. "I have never heard of that. That is disgusting. I don't believe it," said HW2. I piped in that Arthur was right and got back, "You guys are putting me on. I like mushrooms, and I do not believe that they are grown in manure." We frequently looked for information on the web, and this discussion proved to be no different. HW2 and Arthur removed themselves to their respective computers, and the discussion was dropped for the moment. That night HW2 gleefully reported an article she had found on the web which supported her side that they were grown in organic compound. She promptly emailed it to Arthur.
The next morning as we were getting breakfast ready, Arthur had printed his article found on the web and left it on the counter for HW2. When we arrived ready to serve the guests at Duffy House their breakfast, she of course found his mushroom article and quickly read it, only to find that indeed they were grown in horse manure. "That's disgusting. I have been ruined and may never eat mushrooms again," she said. Arthur turned from making breakfast and said, "They are called Shitaki, you know."

Married People Games

HW2 and I have been married eighteen years this week. To me it seems like we got married yesterday, or that we have always been married. Now we finish each others thoughts, which could be scary, I guess, and makes me wonder whether we need to talk at all. But as most couples do, we carry on a continuing conversation, in spite of knowing the other had just thought of the same thing. When we lived in NM and were out and about and would finally get home, we would compare numbers of people we saw that we knew to see who the winner was for that day. It would go like, "I saw 5." "Well, I saw 7." Or, "you can't count so and so because..." Then the adjusted tally was made, and the winner announced. Our best friend in CT was visiting us one time when the fall balloon festival was taking place, and so of course, we went early in the morning to watch this colorful ascension of balloons. Phyllis finally asked us what our calling out numbers meant, eg., "There's 1," or "I am up to 3," and we explained. Pretty soon she wandered off, saw the President of the University of NM, whom she had met, and went up to him announcing that she now had one, too. Whether this mystified the man or not we never knew ,but we were delighted to add Phyllis to our game. Last week, coming out of a mall we saw a friend. Both announced one and in unison, "We have been here too long." Guess it is time to wander on.

The Governor of New Mexico

For me, Bruce King will always be THE Governor of New Mexico, even if the person in the position seems to change every four years of so. While we lived there, Bruce was elected to this position two different times. He had a special way with words, and they always were spoken with his Tex-Mex accent so common in the eastern part of the state. His comments always seemed to me to be scripted by Yogi Berra, who was equally famous for his . My favorite was Gov. King talking about boxes, " Ya'll gotta be careful about openin' boxes because ya'll nevah know how many of them Pandoras 'll get out."
Whenever he met you, you knew that you were seeing your long lost best friend and that you would need to vote for this man the next time he ran for something. The fact that he had no idea who you were never seemed to enter in any part of the conversation.

Digger Is My Nickname

Did you know that Digger is my favorite nickname? About five years ago HW2 and I helped a friend run his Bed and Breakfast Inn located on San Juan Island in the Puget Sound off of Seattle. How we got there is another story which will get in this blog one of these days. There was a feral cat who would risk coming into the Inn to eat the food of our house cat - Duffy. This irritated the owner enough that he decided to hunt and finally kill the feral cat. One morning as we began our breakfast chores he said, "Did you see it?" Now at 5am I seldom see much of anything except the way to a coffee cup and replied, "No! See what?" "The black cat," was the reply. "Where is it?" I asked and heard, "Outside the door you just came in." "Oh! We had better get rid of it before HW2 gets here," I said and knew that meant that I had a quick job ahead. I removed the stiff corpse and buried it along side a dirt path on the property. Later when HW2's brother heard the story, he asked where it was buried. He got a reply,"Amongst the cattails up by the path,of course." Then not to be outdone he started calling me DIGGER, and it stuck. I love the name and think that feral cats should get to lie among the cattails, don't you?

Stained Glass

For several years I have taken classes to learn the art of making stained glass windows. I started this in order to make some windows to be placed on both sides of our front door. Three classes later, and now friends and family are been the beneficiaries, maybe. They may not see it that way but have been remarkably kind. I have tried mailing them and am batting 500 on getting the glass unbroken to the recipient. So now I either take them or mail only if wrapped between two sheets of plywood. I am trying to up my batting average on successfully getting the window to where it needs to be. Anyway, I plan to continue to add pictures of stained glass to this blog that either I or HW2 like and share them with you the reader. I welcome your reactions and comments on my stained glass and of course any other suggestions about the blog.

Bridge Collapse in Minneapolis

When we traveled to Canada to meet our friend whose family has a camp on an island in the French river, we had a wonderful time. On the way home we crossed that very bridge that collapsed yesterday. Makes you wonder. Several years ago we had taken our youngest daughter to see the Liberty Bell in Philadelphia and it was magnificent. Later as we left the city we were in bumper to bumper traffic with many long pauses in traffic when we were stationary over a curved bridge that probably went over another freeway when we noticed it shaking even though the traffic was at a standstill. I finally asked my two ladies to get out and to walk off the bridge and I would pick them up if/when I got off of it. They decided not to do this and finally we got going again and were very glad to be off of that shaking bridge. Sure makes you wonder as we prepare to travel full time about the infrastructure of our roadways. Our hearts go out to those injured and to the families of those lost.

Working on My Profile

Well, finally I managed to work on my profile. It took me forever to locate this stuff, but persistence paid off. I will post some finished stained glass pictures probably soon and with considerably more persistence on my part. My partner in this endeavor, Happy Wanderer Two (HW2), is a great help as she works hard to be a computer geek.

Starting Out

Well, this is a beginning and to all future readers I request that you be forgiving about less than perfect spelling. If I get this going then I will give up writing my daily log which I have been doing/keeping for many years and try to use this vehicle instead.

Please wish me well on this endeavor.