Memoir: Last Full Day @ The Farm

Memoir:  Saturday, August 8, 1987

Final impressions...

Looking out across the big back yard to the fields and creek beyond.  All of it shrouded in a surrealistic light beneath a cover of pewter gray clouds, fog snaking its way along the creek banks, hugging the trees.

To the west-- large groves of trees surrounded by gray mist.

Sitting on the front porch, on the cool pavement, squatting between a plush lilac bush and an overgrown evergreen tree:  rain drops hanging precariously from the needles of the evergreen tree.  Suspended and still.  Not falling.  Mot moving.  The big white barn-- hollow, still, quiet, empty.  The stalls-- no sounds of horses moving around, restless.  No sounds of them feeding on grain, or the clomp of their hooves on the pavement as they're led in and out on the cement paddock.  The barn seems enormous empty.

The house looks funny, too, with almost everything out.  A kind of barren shell.  No longer really home.  I'm glad my last day here is gray and cool and misty.  My favorite kind of day.

I look to the south, out to the big open pasture and half expect to see the quiet forms of horses, grazing.  There is nothing but empty green expanse.

Technology is Not My Friend

The Witch's Diary, a diary in general, and I guess this means keeping tabs of goings on, whether they're cheerful or sometimes not.  On this day, I was rudely awakened to the fact that a Sony video camera I had spent good money on was not compatible with my new laptop computer and Windows 8.  I've since been working with it, but I'm not sure I have all the kinks worked out.  I'll let you know.

This is Amythyst, when she's upset :) ...

"Let's Keep the 'Christ' in Christmas"....Ummmm, Whatever

The other day, while looking for a friend here on Facebook, an old acquaintance unexpectedly popped up-- same last name, different family.  I was delighted!  I hadn't seen this person in forever; we had lived beside her parents for *Years*.  My kids considered her mother 'Grandma' at one time.  Anyway, remembering the pleasant conversations we had whenever this woman was visiting her parents, I left her one of those "Hi, long time no see, how are the folks" messages, along with a friend request (just for shits and giggles).  I went back today to discover that this woman must have blocked me out and privacied up her Facebook page, all except for one post:  "Let's keep the 'Christ' in Christmas, if you agree, repost."

Wow. I'm so amazed at the narrow-mindedness of the mid-west in the first place; how absolutely scared shitless they seem to be of anything that is not an immediate part of their world, anything outside the box, anything that is a new concept, or anything that is just plain 'different' than what they're use to.  They are all *Pussies*, sez I.
 
Come on, you mid-western people, grow some balls, learn some manners, discover tolerance, and start practicing some of those supposedly wonderful attributes that your Christ taught you.
 
PS...and here is where I transgress:  To my few Christian friends who realize that one's spiritual path is a personal choice, to my few Christian friends who show an amazing willingness to accept others without trying to change them, to my few Christian friends who have actually absorbed and fully embrace the Buddha-like teachings of their Christ-- go find this woman and throttle her for me, will ya'?

 

Baubles-- Only Play with Your Own

I received a call from a dear friend this afternoon, a writer.  She was all upset and flustered.  It seems that she missed a magazine deadline that contained a merchandise review-- she had been undergoing unexpected major surgery at the time of the deadline.  Anyway, the vendor in question was naturally ticked off, expecting to find her precious baubles featured in this brand spankin' new e-magazine, in the second only ever edition.  I can understand Miss Vendor's angst...up to a point.  But the writer had one of the best reasons I can think of for missing a deadline.  I know that I wouldn't write well under anesthesia.

So, let's solve the problem...the writer told Miss Vendor that she had the reviews ready to go, and that she had contacted another publisher-- not just *Any* publisher, mind you, but the publisher of a very successful well-known and popular Pagan magazine.  Now Miss Vendor's baubles would be seen by a lot more people in a more prestigious publication, one that you can actually buy in a bookstore, not just download on your computer.

Was Miss Vendor thrilled?

No.

Miss Vendor was more pissed off than ever.  She threatened to sue the writer, and she told the writer to throw the pretty baubles away and to never, ever, *ever* come play in her sandbox again.  She also decided to spread her seething and prickly fever to everyone she could get her hands on who was connected with the writer, including the editor of the e-magazine and the editor of the other "I-am-more-prestigious-and-important-publication".

Is there a moral to this story?

Yes.

"Don't play with other women's baubles...Ever!! 

 

 

The Wee Hours

It's 4:10am as I write this.  I'm writing, writing, writing, furiously, working on my book.  I'm writing and intense and staring at the computer screen, until I suddenly realize that I'm forcing my eyes to stay open.  I'm so tired; I haven't slept yet, at all.  But my mind is whirring with ideas and images, inspiration, and revelations-- so much so that I wonder where they come from, certainly not from me.

I'm restless and unsettled.  I'm not satisfied with life-- I'm afraid of it, amused by it, alarmed with it once in a while, perplexed by it, angry at it, but savoring it all, just the same.  I'm trying to figure out how all the people in my life fit into the tapestry of my mind.  How do I weave them all in-- especially the ones that don't seem to fit the design.  How do I make it all come together with balance and symmetry?

My children, all of them-- love you, love you, love you.  I learn from you, I do, though you may not realize it.  I watch you, I listen to you, I look at you, I savor your image and the sound of your voice.

My husband-- I love you, I love you, I love you-- I do, I do, I do...You inspire me, perplex me, you make me angry, make me irritated, make me laugh.  When you are gone it leaves an empty space, a hole in the air beside me that's just waiting for your return, so you can fill it up, and fill me up again, with you.

I can't keep my eyes open any longer...it's time to sleep.

The Witch's Diary: What's in My Great Pumpkin?

A new episode of my video blog: "The Witch's Diary"...what's in my purse (called "The Great Pumpkin"), up close and personal.

The Witch's Diary: Hair, Hair, Hair

This is a new series of video blogs, "The Witch's Diary", which I'm having a blast creating.  The contents may or may not be 'witchy' at all.  This one isn't.  I've had so many people ask me what I do with my hair-- Is it naturally curly?; Do you color it?; How long is it, really?; What products do you use?-- that I decided to make this my first blog topic.

If anyone has any suggestions/questions for future video blogs, let me know.  Either leave a comment in the box below, or you can email me at witch_of_endore@yahoo.com

Eenie Meenie...Which "Office" Do I Use??

When my computer crashed a couple weeks ago, I was right in the midst of working on a book manuscript, using the Microsoft Word something-something that went with the computer (the free stuff, not the Microsoft Office that I would of had to pay for-- who are they kidding :) So comes the new computer, courtesy of my ever-generous kids, and with it came Microsoft 8.  Wow.  I'm still in the midst of adjustment.  It's prettier and more pleasing to the eye, but it doesn't work just like the other one-- emphasis on "just like".  Not only am I in the midst of the realization that I have to re-figure everything out, but I got a chilling revelation the first time I brought up my book manuscript from my handy-dandy USB device...Windows 8 was not compatible with Windows 7.  (Wouldn't you have thought that the creators of this would have taken this into consideration??)

I 'bout keeled off my chair with a stroke when I brought up my next (and future) book, and was greeted with what looked like Egyptian hieroglyphics with some English words dispersed here and there...mind you, this is a book manuscript of almost 25 thousand words, at least a third of the way done.  It was a moment of sheer panic.  To make a long(er) story short, I wound up being so frazzled that I 'moved' the manuscript from my USB device instead of 'copying' it; but we finely did get it figured out, and I didn't lose anything in the end (that's the short version).

I have tried to use the cheap (aka free) version of Microsoft Word (or whatever they call it in Windows 8), only to realize that there are lots of things I don't like about it-- most of all the fact that I could not automatically add page numbers to a 200 page manuscript (which is only a third of the way done *she repeats*), but I would have manually had to add the page number to each page. (No way).  So I took the advice of two people and have downloaded (free-- they told me) two programs that I'm playing around with:  LibreOffice and OpenOffice...I managed to number all those pages simultaneously using the option of a "header" (don't ask, I can't re-explain it, I just know it worked).  And I've managed to re-save this new version to my handy-dandy USB device. :)

If anyone out there more computer savvy than I has any input, I would be more than happy to hear it-- I will also accept pats on the back, sympathy hugz, and personal computer horror stories. :)

The Foot

July 27th my husband, Joe, broke his foot when he dropped from a tree at the Desoto Wildlife Refuge (don't ask).  He broke two metatarsal bones in his foot, one in four places.  Last week he had a CT scan to find out how things are healing, because there may be some issues with the badly broken bone.  He has an appointment today to get the results of this scan, and to find out if he can stay in an air cast, when he'll be able to return to work, or-- worse case scenario-- if he will need surgery.

Healing energy would be very much appreciated.  This is a particularly painful injury (not that any broken bone isn't painful, but this one especially sucks).  He's been on temporary disability through his employer since the accident, and he is very anxious to get back to work.  I have to say that when that day comes, I'm going to miss him terribly.  Since this summer, we've gotten use to being with each other 24/7...and I must say, we must be a pretty good match, 'cause we haven't killed each other yet. :)

Thanks to everyone who sends healing/positive energy...

Photo Blog: Monday Mornin'

 

It was a peaceful " goin' fishin' " morning, with my husband and two of the girls.  While they were on the dock, I spent my time wandering around taking photos, stumbling off the beaten path through a shelter-belt (which I videoed, and I'm editing it), and I worked on a lady's tarot reading on a picnic table by Victory Lake.

 

Life is good. :)

 

My Lack of Will-Power

I do not have the will-power to give people the cold shoulder.  It's tremendously effective, if being insulting, spiteful, and boorish is what you're aiming for, but I just don't have the will-power to pull it off myself.  The best individual I've ever seen at this stunt was my ex-mother-in-law.  Honest to gawds, she was so good at pretending I wasn't there, I almost wondered myself a few times (maybe I'm not really sitting here in the same room with this woman, maybe I'm hallucinating). 

I tried it, this cold-shoulder tactic, like once when I had to go to my ex-husband's aunt's funeral, but it is *So Hard* for me to do this.  There I was, in the middle of enemy territory, surrounded by oodles of people who either despised me or didn't know me, and I had to keep saying to myself, "Don't look!...Don't do it...no, no, no. Look at that spot on the wall, keep your eyes on the bouquet, look at your plate-- head down...Don't look over there!"  It was awful.  I'm really lousy at this type of thing.  I think I just basically don't understand it.

I'm just too damn curious to ignore anyone.  I want to look at them; I want to ask questions; I want to know how life's been treating them, what they're up to, how they're doing.  I'm amazed at the way some, ummm, what should we call them?..."Ignorers"?...Can suddenly, completely, without warning, just cut someone out of their lives, never to hear from them ever anymore.  Not me, uh-huh.  By gawds, if I know you, I'll be thinking about you until the cows come home.

Photo Blog: Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jog

This is one of the walking trails at Fremont Lakes-- the morning I took this, it was just Joe and me, the hot sun, Sophie (the dog), and my camera.  Joe couldn't walk the trail (broken foot), but was sitting on the dock fishing-- heavy metal music blaring away.  Even though it was still pretty early morning, the temperature was in the 90s, humidity in the 80s, and the only thing keeping me from a hard sweat was the shade that you see on the trail.  After I rounded a bend, the shade was gone, and I said to myself, forget this crap (truth is, I don't like to sweat, and I don't appreciate the hot sun on my little white girl skin).

Our apple trees are loaded, and I mean *Loaded*.  I've never seen this many apples on the trees before.  The limbs are hanging to the ground, moaning with the weight.  The girls love to take a blanket out and spread it beneath the canopy.  They feel like they're all cloistered in the middle of a woods, hidden in the leaves and the cool shady spots; and the dog and the cats come to them there, slinking onto the blanket, gathering together. 

As I look at this picture, I'm thinking, "It's all about getting all your ducks in a row."...that's it.  This isn't what I was thinking about the day I shot this photo; I was simply concentrating on getting the lineup in focus, but now, this makes sense.  As a pagan, an occultist, a spiritual feminist, I'm always looking for divine messages in the natural mundane things of the world.  That's what this is about, for Joe and me, with issues and responsibilities coming up-- "Make sure you've got all your ducks in a row."

The message here?...Even out of something rotten, good things will grow.

And that's the truth.

Mundanely speaking, I know people who go mushroom hunting, but I'm not among them.  I couldn't identify a poisonous mushroom from an edible mushroom if my life depended on it...and yes, that pun was intended.  But I think they're pretty.

There's cactus scattered all over the grassy areas along the walking trails at the lakes.  Our neighbor was surprised by this, stating that he thought cactus only grows like this out in the Sandhills.  And the moral of this story?...with enough stubborness, strength, and determination, you can plant yourself anywhere and thrive.

 

 

Thumper, oh ya...silly thing is so use to people that I was fairly close to it, and it could've cared less.  I see so many dogs out at the lakes with their owners, I'm surprised this rabbit wasn't a little more cautious than it was.  Lessons? Ummm-- finding a balance between predator and prey; a shaky truce; learning to trust after being taken for a ride; throwing caution to the wind...but the most important lesson-- be still and listen.

 

 

Hibiscus, blossoming in one of our flower beds this year.  Beautiful, isn't it.  I save the dried blossoms to use in mojo bags, oils, spell crafting, and the like-- for love and passion.  Did you know that in some parts of the Orient it's illegal to serve women hibiscus tea because it's believed to be a powerful aphrodisiac.  I have yet to personally test this theory.  I think next year I'm going to transplant the hibiscus to the flower bed in the front yard-- more sun.

This is what's been blooming at our house...

My husband loves the morning glories that grow up and around the back-porch deck.  He told me that as a child he walked to a babysitter's house after school.  He said that the house was easy for him to find because it had morning glories growing in the front yard, and this is what he watched for.  He told me that when he saw these flowers, he knew he was home.

 

(A photo taken the beginning of the summer season)

 To market, to market, to buy a fat pig,
 Home again, home again, dancing a jig;
 To market, to market, to buy a fat hog;
 Home again, home again, jiggety-jog;
 To market, to market, to buy a plum bun,
 Home again, home again, market is done.

 

~ Mother Goose

 

Memoir: It is what it is...Vacation (June 1991)

(Saturday, June 23, 1991)

Terrible vacation.  Started out so hectic.  left at 11:30am, after spending all morning making trip after trip to the van loaded down with clothes and food and all the paraphernalia that goes with two small children.

Overcast and cool, hazy.  Stands of tall trees, mushroomed with green leaves.  John screaming in the car seat.  D won't pull over so I can take him out and nurse him, so I nurse him while he sits in the car seat! (He's sleeping now.)

Anne threw a frightful tantrum before we left.  It began in the front yard when she saw a little boy's kite.  She is transfixed with it and wants one, has talked of nothing else for two days.

Everyone piled into the van.

12:26pm...Both children resting quietly. D's mother in the last seat.  Pillows for Anne to lay her head on-- still strapped in to her youth seat, though.

2:22pm...Delicious lunch in Yankton (SD), green salad and sandwich.  The sun trying to break through now.  I changed John and fed him.  Everyone feeling much better.

 

Monday...went to Madison (SD) to Lois and Loren's. 

Different impressions:  on the way, both children sleeping in their car seats, heads tilted to the side.  D's mother in the last seat again, behind them.  Narrow, two-laned highways, occasional curves, expanses of green pastures with an occasional small herd of cattle clumped together, tails swishing away at the flies.  Clumps of trees at shelterbelts.

Lois, looking very tired around the eyes, but happy to see us.  Soft as always-- soft blond hair, soft blue eyes, soft white skin, and her lovely gentle soft voice.

Quaint house:  harmonious, something about it making me think of an earlier era-- the oval, beveled glass in the front door, the wood trim running around the living room wall a foot from the ceiling, the small rooms coming into and out of one another.

Loren and the college campus...Loren in tie and shirt.  The hum of computers, the rustic old  buildings, the beautiful library, the nudes in pencil on the wall.  Walking across campus-- tall evergreen trees and flowers and neatly mowed lawns, and I thinking the whole time of John and Anne, who were crying when we left them.  (And when we got back, they were quiet and serene and perfectly content!!)

The drive home in the evening:  lovely green fields, different shades of green, and haze and mist laying in the little valleys and shelterbelts.  A haze and far off on the horizon a lavender ridge, separated from us by vivid green valleys.  The sun going down, one minute hiding behind bands of clouds, the next emerging again, a vivid large orange, almost a Harvest Moon quality to it, lovely.  Anne enthralled.

Almost dark when we got home.  It was a beautiful drive, a lovely evening.

 

 

Aunt Laura's & Uncle Ed's:

The table was beautifully set-- dainty bowls of salads, and clear pitchers of red juice, and strong dark coffee.

Aunt Laura, immaculate as always, earrings and necklace, and white slacks, and hair freshly permed.  Uncle Ed standing at the stove stirring gravy!...tall, and his eyes bulging a bit, giving a startled look to his face.

The children were pretty good, between D and I we kept them fairly content and out of things.  It helped that Aunt Laura had the house swept almost completely clear of knick-knacks.  Anne sat up to the table and ate beautifully. I was very proud.

 

Ernie & Irene's:

Irene, nervous and shaky as usual.  The lovely living room *Cold* from the air-conditioner.  The children best kept in the kitchen.  Their German Shepherd pacing his pen.  Irene showed us the upstairs...five lovely bedrooms.  The upstairs *Very* hot.  Ernie the same as always, obviously delighted with the kids.

Roger & Debbie:

Debbie very pretty and summery looking with short, cropped hair.  her look of surprise when we drove in, red bandana on her head.

John played quietly on the living room floor with toys, Anne with Colton and Mandy (Roger & Deb's children)-- upstairs and then outside for a while.  I get Anne to come in and cool off.  My white shoes get filthy traipsing through the weeds and dirt, looking at horses and dogs!

There is very little real "girl-talk".  I am disappointed.  She talks horse with D, "man" talk, breeding and prices and sales and bloodlines, etc.  And they are going to be building a new log home and selling their farm.  So more (of what I call) "man" talk-- lots and prices and construction and pole barns, etc.

We come and go to these places so quickly, an hour and a half at each place.  I feel that a connection is barely made, something almost left incomplete when we leave.  Strange feeling.

Tom & Janice's house:

It was a 'lost' evening.  Janice had wanted us to do something as a couple and leave D's mother there with the children.  Her house is wall to wall knick-knacks and crystal!  John turned out to be crabby, and I spent the evening giving both babies their baths in her tub.  There was a gas leak, and Tom was gone downstairs with the repairman most of the time.

Almost all I can say of this visit is that we got to see Tom and Janice before we left.  I really didn't get to talk to her at all.

Vern & Tracy's:

It begins noisily.  Anne crabby and crying and wanting on my lap, John wanting on my lap to nurse at the same time!  Very, very hot.  One small fan, no windows open, no air-conditioning.  Very soon Anne's head looks as though she's had a bucket of water poured over her hair.  I suggest we go out and see Vern's new horse-- more to get some fresh air and the breeze.  Even though it's very hot outside, it's still cooler than in the house, and it perks the children up.

The horse, a lovely dainty sorrel mare.  Cows in the pen beside her, aloof.  Vern's little golf cart, shiny and silvery blue, and the plastic seat is very hot!

The visit ends too quickly, as usual, but on a pleasant note-- a lovely lunch...iced tea; potato salad; and ham sandwiches; lemon jello with pineapple; and home canned pickles; afterwards hot coffee and homemade cookies (even in the heat, Tracy's coffee was good).

I think they are remarkable, Vern and Tracy, to be 85 and 86 years old, and still so independent and healthy and active.

____________________

 

This post has been taken, literally, from my diary pages, with very little or almost no editing.  It was written on the fly, at still moments during the experience, and I didn't want to lose this feeling.

 

 

Memoir: The Electrical Storm

(Sunday, July 27th, 1997)

Very early this morning we had a terrific electrical storm.  When the electricity in the house went out, I grabbed my flashlight and went downstairs to help Anne and John come upstairs (it was pitch dark down there).  They were pretty frightened.  The storm was pretty impressive.

I put them on the floor with pillows in Beth and Laura's room.  All 5 of us (me & the kids) were in there.

At one point the lightening triggered a battery operated toy in the hallway, which played a little tune...then silence.  I could feel the hair on my arms beginning to stand on end (weird sensation).  There was another hiss of thunder-- and it really "hissed", like something hot or angry.  A brilliant bolt of lightening triggered the smoke detector, which gave a few surprised little beeps.

In the darkness, punctuated by bright white streaks of lightening, I heard Beth's little voice speaking to Anne:  "I sure am g'wad you're laying beside me, or I'd be scared."

This Is Where We're Sitting Right Now (Part 2)

It was towards the end of winter or early spring.  There was a casting call for a real live witch wanted for a reality tv show.  I thought for about two minutes and then contacted the casting director with my information.  Time is a fuzzy thing for me, so I don't remember how long it was exactly before he contacted me, or at that point it was actually his assistant, but it amounted to two or three weeks.

(We're still sitting in limbo on this thing, so I don't know how much info I can divulge, or would be allowed to divulge.  Just to be on the safe side, I'm not going to name the casting company, the casting director, or the network.)

Anyway, we received a call from the casting company, who seemed very interested, and we set up a time for the whole family to participate in a taped interview.  This was done over Skype (gotta' love technology).  It was a hoot.  It went on about four hours, one after the other of us sitting down in the chair, ahead of the camera, facing the director..."Don't look directly at me," he said, "Look directly into the camera when you're answering a question."  We were also not suppose to use pronouns, but to answer the question in complete sentences so when he edited the tape it would be very clear what we were talking about.  He also taught us a few hand signals-- the motions for 'wrap it up', more enthusiasm, cut, etc.

He told us that they usually don't allow other family members around when one is being interviewed, but they wanted to see how we interacted with each other.  It was actually a riot.  Little Emma was really shy and didn't want to talk to the director at first, until my daughter's boyfriend (whom Emma adores) picked her up, sweeping her off her feet, sitting her in the chair ahead of the camera; I handed Emma her cat, which she held during the process. (The casting director was absolutely terrific, he put Emma at ease within minutes.)

John (my son) came to the table for his turn, all 6' 2" of him with his super long hair and waxed mustache.  The director:  "There's a lot of girls out here (California) who would appreciate you."  "I'll keep that in mind." John shot back.

Beth (one of my daughters) was asked how honest and open we are with communication.  Can we talk about intimate things?  Give me an example of something your mother has told you.  Beth:  "My mom told me never to brush my teeth with mint toothpaste and give my boyfriend a blow job."...at this the director had a shocked looked on his face for a split second, burst into laughter, threw his arms in the air, and literally disappeared off his chair.

It was several weeks later that I received a call from the casting director.  He was over-the-moon excited.  He told me that the network loved our interview and we were in the top running against two or three other families for a new reality show.  There was one more hitch-- when the first interview was taped, Joe and my daughter Laura were working.  They missed out.  The casting director set up a date to tape them.

Joe had finally agreed to the interview (which at first he didn't want to do), the day came, and he went through it like a pro.  Then there was Laura-- she was in a bad mood that day and decided she wasn't going to do it.  The director was aghast.  It took us over three hours to persuade her to sit down for the interview-- the director was beside himself, running his hands through his hair, cajoling, convincing, pleading:  "She has no idea what's at stake here," he said.  "Financially, this has the potential to be big, really, big; it could change your life."

She finally agreed.  They talked.

The interview was completed.

Now we wait.

We've all said that if nothing comes from this, the experience itself was really cool.  How many people can say they've been interviewed for their own television show, it was a hoot.  We had fun, and it will be something to tell our grandkids about.  Life is full of surprises...but, just in case, we're keeping our fingers crossed.

This Is Where We're Sitting Right Now

This year has been a hoot-- you have no idea.  It began with Joe and the wild-boy untamed energy that he brought to the table, which culminated in our unexpected elopement on a whirlwind Friday afternoon, June 7th.  It started with a 'to-do' list for the day.  Things like 1) stop by the insurance office 2) pick up marriage license 3) pick up Joe's wedding band at Zales 4) stop at Next Millennium...there were two or three other 'things-to-do' that I can't remember now, but I do remember that Joe had to go to work that day at 3pm, and we were on a tight time schedule.

We were finally through the stuff to be done in Fremont and had picked up Joe's ring at Oakview Mall in Omaha, when we looked at each other-- we had the rings, we had the license, I knew that Charlie (the owner of Next Millennium) was legally ordained to do weddings.  We were laughing most of the time, stopped at a gas station for some energy drinks, and then said, why not-- we headed to NM to see if Charlie would be able to perform an impromptu ceremony.

"Charlie," we asked, "How short is the short version of a wedding and would you be able to do it now?"

We were standing nonchalantly in front of the store counter, laughing and talking with Charlie and Nikki and a customer.  Charlie asked us several times if we were marrying of our own free will...yes, we assured him...and he would ask again, two or three times.  Finally he said, "Okay, you're married!"

I clapped my hands to my face in utter surprise and said, "Are you serious?!"

Yup, he was.  And that's how easy that was.  Nikki and the female customer were our two witnesses.

 

Memoire: Golden Child

(May 1997)

Laura Jo…she is our little “golden child”. She is almost unbearably sweet. Green eyes always twinkling, a ready smile, quick to laugh out loud. Her fuzzy blonde hair glistens in the sun.

I look out once this spring-- she is silhouetted under the apple tree in early morning sunshine, bent down, ready to pick a dandelion, her hair a golden halo.

I try to mentally ‘imprint’ the picture in my memory so I won’t forget.

4th of July Weekend in Photos

The following are slideshows I created at Smilebox with photos taken this weekend:  Friday, July 5th; and photos taken this morning...Sunday, the 7th.  This is our first fourth of July together (Joe & I & the kids), and this is the first time these kids have ever gone fishing-- they *Love* it, including little Emma.  Admittedly, there's a lot of screaming going on when a fish is actually caught, but it's getting better; and not everyone has nerve enough to bait their own hooks-- which keeps Joe busy.  But it makes for a peaceful and wonderful way to spend time together...

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