Bronco

It is a happy hump day, middle of the week day and last day of July.  When I was about 5 years old my Dad came home from work with a little Spanish goat.  He told Mom he got him to help keep the grass trimmed.  I do not think Mom was buying it but I was so excited she just gave Dad that furrowed brow, pinched lips look which I think ment Dad was in trouble.  Years later he confided in me that he saw 2 men bargining in the parking lot after work. The poor little thing was being sold for a barbecue.  He said he knew I would want to save that black and white baby goat so he did it for me, payed all of 10 dollars to save his life.  He named him Bronco and I loved him.  Flour Bluff was country rural back then and it was not unusual for neighbors to have chickens or even a horse in the yard but I was the only one on the block with a goat.  Bronco was great fun. He loved attention and would climb up on rocks, jump off and do a big twist in the air.  I think he must have been kidnapped from a family of circus goats.  One sad Summer day AnnaMarie, she lived next door, said Bronco was on the ground not moving.  He had passed on to the place beloved neighborhood circus goats go when life on earth is done. I cried and cried. All the neighborhood children gathered when Dad got home, for the funeral and burial.  Bronco was a good goat!  I hope you enjoy today all day long.  kisses

Free to Be Me

It is just another Manic Monday.  It was kinda rough going the last two weeks.  More changes just when I thought I could settle in and cruise a bit.  Silly me.  I was thinking about how life over fifty is so very different from how I had imagined and tried to plan for.  What is it that keeps me feeling a little off my center, perplexed?  I have all this alone time now and while I do enjoy my privacy I have this feeling or sense of quiet urgency, like there is something I should be doing but I do not know what it is. It struck me after a conversation this morning. I am finally free to be me!  Free to pursue my passion. Wow, what an epiphany, light bulb over the head, the puzzle piece I was missing.  Now I just gotta figure out what my favorite passion is cause I love doing lots of stuff.  Deep thoughts! Just has me all worn out.  Sweet passionate dreams to you full of fun stuff and new horizons. kisses

West Texas Driving

It is a cricket chirping, song bird singing, blue sky beautiful, sunny Sunday morning.  My digital flat sceeen TV connected to rabbit ears balanced on a wooden bar stool on top of a table has a great picture to watch my favorite weekly show, Texas Country Reporter.  Bob Phillips is talking about Van Horn, Texas.  I have been there! Well, driven thru it lots of times.  Every now and then I hear someone speaking with dread about the drive thru west Texas. I love driving thru west Texas!  I never get tired of the wide open spaces, hill country rocky terrain and all those ginormous windmills that seem like something out of a science fiction film.  Scattered miles between small towns and so far off the road a single home, surrounded by brush and boulders gives me that wistful, far away feeling. Since the speed limit out there is 80mph wistful does not last long. One of my favorite distractions are all the small towns so full of history and charm.  I spent a whole afternoon once in Pecos going thru the West of the Pecos Museum.  The only thing I find really upsetting about driving thru west Texas is the massive number of dead deer, in various states of decay all along the highway.  Can't they tell their friends?? Do deer absoutely not communicate with each other?  I gotta get busy outside before it gets too hot. Hope you have a great day. kisses

Granny's Sweet Peas

I have heard 'sweet pea' used as a term of endearment, one of those pet nick names your Aunt or your Mom's best friend might call you. Popeye, if you are old enough to remember the cartoon, had charge of a baby he named Sweet Pea.  Well,  my Granny planted them every year in the carefully prepared soil along both sides of she and PawPaw's backyard chainlink fence.  Granny's annual sweet pea crop was a source of great pride for her and the meticulous preparation, planting all the way to harvesting the seeds was a family event with Granny as the unquestioned director.   I  remember my younger sister, brother, and I digging little holes,  dropping in seeds and how it was so amazing to see green vines push thru the soil, wrap around and climb the chainlink fence, to finally  change into the colorful fragrant flowers.  Every Sunday while the sweet peas were in bloom,  Granny had us out in the yard wearing our church clothes, cutting fresh bouquets to take to 'the shut ins' after Sunday Services and give to our Sunday School teachers, and the list went on and on. I thought Granny was famous  because strangers would even walk up to us in the yard or knock on the door wanting bouquets of sweet peas.  If you have never seen sweet peas they are beautiful very brightly colored flowers. One bouquet will fill a room with its sweet pleasant aroma.  My Granny grew them as she loved beauty and sharing with others.  Hope you are having a super sunny Summer.  kisses

Blackey

Good Morning! I hope you are having a Sunny Sunday, church day, first day of a new week day. When I was 6, or 7 maybe even 8 years old I begged and pleaded with my parents to let me keep the stray, jet black, do not let it cross your path, half grown cat I had been sneaking food to for weeks. I never thought she was an ordinary feline as we connected on some telepathic,  short haired,  kitty cat to young, human girl child born with enormous empathy for all God's creatures, level.  My practical parents were in agreement-no cats!  I started praying as surely the Almighty would want this extraordinary kitty to have a good home. I believe my plea was heard  and God sent a flood just short of Noah's Ark epic proportions, truely there was a small boat trolling down our flooded street.  My practical Mom, pulled on a raincoat, tucked her baby fine pin curls into a rain bonnet, snaped on her galoshes, grabbed an old towel and bravely went out in the torential rain storm, sloshing in our flooded back yard to save the stray kitty.  Now I was scared for my Mom.  No worries, she rescued the soggy, half drowned, fur ball, who had taken refuge under the backyard playhouse, the space she occupied rapidly filling with muddy rain water.  When I excitedly rattled off the whole story to Dad he and Mom exchanged 'that look' and he said "Well, I guess we have a cat now".  Blackie lived till I was 21.  I am not sure how old that is in dog years but I am thankful for all the years our family got to enjoy her. Hope your day is the cat's meow. kisses

Family Vacation

Happy sunshine, cricket singing, frog croking Friday.  It is prime travel and tourist season here in Texas.  My Dad took our family on a vacation every year.  Sometimes winter trips to the mountains of New Mexico or Summer in Colorado.  Not that we had much money.  Mom was an expert travel planner and Dad picked up overtime, did his own vehicle maintance, just whatever it took for our annual travel adventure to happen.  My Dad was so smart and practical and always made sure his family was comfortable. Us kids would crack up when he took the Family size Banquet Frozen Fried Chicken out of the ice chest, wrapped it in foil, popped the hood on the Rambler, placed it on the motor and down the road we went.  Texas has some beautiful rest areas and I think I have eaten Banquet Fried Chicken at most of them.  I was on a day trip recently and we stopped at a scenic view rest area off  US Hwy 83 just outside Leakey. Standing under the tin roof that reflects at least some of the Texas Summer sunshine heat from the concrete picnic table, I was transported back to the 1970's.  My brother, sister and I tumbling out of our family camper, wearing homemade cotton shorts and cowboy boots, making a bee line for the guardrail, ignoring for a moment the 'Mommy noises' muffled by highway traffic and childhood selective hearing.  The view from that ledge of the Texas hill country took our breath away and still does for me.  Lots of vacation memories I will save for another day. Have a super  sunshine Friday. kisses

Not Broken

It is the end of my Wednesday, hump day, middle of the week day. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with what I wonder is just usual life stuff for others. I know I do not handle emotional turmoil very well. I like to see the good in everyone. If I only acknowledge the positive, that is what I will get in return. I feel like I am getting 'centered' and focused on my future.  I spend time trying to understand cause if I know the 'why' then I can fix it. It is slowly dawning on me I cannot fix anyone, even if I love them because maybe they are not exactly broken. Maybe, there are just some people that do not belong in my world, in my space, or in my heart. Let them go. I need my peace, happiness and trust. Life is what you make it! That is my week so far. Hope your rest of the week is super awesome. kisses

Questions Unanswered

It is another Manic Monday, work day, summer school day and I hope a great day to start the week for you.  When I was around 12 or 13 my Mom payed the nice hippie college student next door to teach me how to play the guitar. She figured he could since the whole neighborhood was treated to his electric guitar solos most afternoon's. It was the 70's and I thought he was so cool with his long straight hair, peaceful demeanor, and his use of words like 'man', 'groovy', and 'far out'. He was a great musician and a patient teacher as it turned out. He was home for Summer break from the University of Texas in Austin. His Dad was lifetime military and his parents only child. I of course had a little crush on him. He was just great at teaching my awkward fingers where to go, made it fun by making up tunes and never once showed any impatience. I became friends with his Mom and she would let me know when he was home for break so I could go say hi and look all starry eyed at him. He would grin at me and call me 'Snake', his pet name for me although why escapes me now. Then one day I was told Mike was missing. He shared an apartment in Austin and had not been seen for days. That was 1975. His Dad retired from the military soon after and moved he and his wife to San Antonio. But how will Mike find them now I worried? I prayed for him every day. I saw his Mom in San Antonio for the last time in the early 90's. Husband had passed away and she still wondered what happened to her only son. She said to me in her living room gazing at his picture, "I know Mike must be dead. He would have come home by now if he were still alive".  She said his then girlfriend still sent her a Christmas card every year and I think that was a small comfort, to sort of have that connection. I told her a Texas Ranger had come to our door in 1979 asking questions as a body had been found in Louisiana close to where his truck had been recovered. She had no knowledge of this, curious as we gave the Ranger their address. She passed away in 1996. I googled his name night before last, not expecting to find anything but there it was-an article from a Louisiana newspaper dated 2007 about DNA helping to identify John Doe's. It was Mike's travel partner the article was talking about, Mike was mentioned almost as a foot note as his body evidently from this article was identified not long after it was found. They were murdered, drug deal gone bad.  I still have this weird empty feeling. How could anyone be so violent to the nice, peaceful, guitar playing, hippie college student? Why was his Mom not given the opportunity to bury her son? Questions unanswered but I do feel a little better knowing he was found. RIP Mike musician peaceful hippie, you were a beloved son, boyfriend and my guitar teacher. If there is a rock and roll heaven ....kisses