tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70027260940917645782024-03-19T04:10:41.812-04:00Dream of Consciousnessmisticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.comBlogger46125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-70088718943295854942014-08-15T09:58:00.000-04:002014-08-15T10:05:02.462-04:00Six weeks in the life of....Its been quite a summer so far! We have already spent many weekends with family and friends.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEzbxm9SXf4dzj_O4DrDEVydUzjrSxR0Qhz0JmFdGxHFbDmHeJZ-CDvQr2LNSWj9hGKullbHpfv9CMskA6DQY7U0cYU1xnyFKPoMSsEUd9VaY-OGTHLD067NvCYOK6ucQtcW4K5-dr7Q/s1600/2014-07-20+15.23.34.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEzbxm9SXf4dzj_O4DrDEVydUzjrSxR0Qhz0JmFdGxHFbDmHeJZ-CDvQr2LNSWj9hGKullbHpfv9CMskA6DQY7U0cYU1xnyFKPoMSsEUd9VaY-OGTHLD067NvCYOK6ucQtcW4K5-dr7Q/s1600/2014-07-20+15.23.34.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
We open our house at least every other weekend to anyone who wants to come play.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Those sweet times are almost enough to get me through the changes at mah day job. Day job has been very unpredictable due to strange forces. Some one must have heard my screams of boredom and placed me on a project merry go round. The ride has been bumpy but have finally settled out (I hope) on a long term project. For several months prior I have been <strike>flexible</strike> bounced around by a very <strike>engaged</strike> micromanaging administrator. That's cool, though. It gave me chance to show off my skillz.<br />
I took this opportunity to document the changing conditions of a construction inspector. Do not run so fast to get that cheese for my whine, I am more than aware that the ACTUAL construction crew performs the work, but I must be aware of their actions, predict their next move and reason with them when I think they are wrong. All of them, across multiple projects, from day to day.<br />
So I'm minding my own business on this little state route widening project, placing some pipe and moving right along. That means we are developing a relationship of trust and information exchange. Suddenly I am called away.<br />
The first surprise was a nice little overlay project.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyFq4AobTspxLVGMusJDboikJkseJoFNzpBJkGwSD75juzjcc1E1NSlSvV0fu6CjkWyRkc1CNflENBODFkvqbkRJFefx4gJGJa-2KOA8tMfXQhS0tBX8n3YUSm7F8zQUL2_Ti2IA8J_8/s1600/20140528_113140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdyFq4AobTspxLVGMusJDboikJkseJoFNzpBJkGwSD75juzjcc1E1NSlSvV0fu6CjkWyRkc1CNflENBODFkvqbkRJFefx4gJGJa-2KOA8tMfXQhS0tBX8n3YUSm7F8zQUL2_Ti2IA8J_8/s1600/20140528_113140.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
These are good to practice not getting run over.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y82hvq-Axxw&feature=player_detailpage">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y82hvq-Axxw&feature=player_detailpage</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Next I was sent to monitor some more pipe shenanigans.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrVaU2TCLitMdlgkIv9hPXIfjBCsF7QyUUYCwRlL6fjZcVKVDQuZtdv6b4N19GeNbUmJtQ4TwD6YJ_yeflOH0ELDOXpz2TDVKdeWqDs_4LciFdsbRIVsbgY_BS-5EuY1V62Mhep9ffWs/s1600/20140609_154915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgrVaU2TCLitMdlgkIv9hPXIfjBCsF7QyUUYCwRlL6fjZcVKVDQuZtdv6b4N19GeNbUmJtQ4TwD6YJ_yeflOH0ELDOXpz2TDVKdeWqDs_4LciFdsbRIVsbgY_BS-5EuY1V62Mhep9ffWs/s1600/20140609_154915.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Then we next leveled things by hanging with a night crew on my original project. And we sharpened our not-getting-hit skills in the harsh shadows of light plants and nonstop traffic. This was an awesome crew that took anything thrown at them (fixed everthing that broke down quickly).<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEY98KR0FnXd0wvCV40GnSGFGlWJ1hXwjVt5bPd1U5AjsjAC2yxsUkv_B2q31VzTn2RtJJfh0cShnZ1hMIzTohiNv2wBdk0KyUGdcwfaW0l1kObz0wGipAft8fJmTag8Sp2nljsAiezM/s1600/20140619_220010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEY98KR0FnXd0wvCV40GnSGFGlWJ1hXwjVt5bPd1U5AjsjAC2yxsUkv_B2q31VzTn2RtJJfh0cShnZ1hMIzTohiNv2wBdk0KyUGdcwfaW0l1kObz0wGipAft8fJmTag8Sp2nljsAiezM/s1600/20140619_220010.jpg" height="180" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Next, I am rudely awakened one day and told to report to a bridge project. Finally. That was like an invitation to come home.<br />
But kind of like childbirth, one forgets the pain involved and can only remember the delight and satisfaction of the process. I am a little put off that there is no field office provided and we are 10 miles on the other side of a cotton field that's 10 miles from a store, and even then bathrooms are sketch. I have been known to take my leave under the existing bridge. Laugh if you will.<br />
<br />
Then there's this:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://youtu.be/hdlMJdlfg74">http://youtu.be/hdlMJdlfg74</a><br />
<br />
<br />
Ear protection is a must during this stage, which lasts about a week. Oh but the train still comes by every 20 - 30 minutes.<br />
<br />
Even with all of that I am grateful to have a challenging job and hope I can do this for many years to come.<br />
<br />misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-78244809025377624192014-06-12T12:44:00.001-04:002014-06-12T12:44:43.357-04:00Humanist in a HardhatWell, not so much a hardhat anymore. My surroundings are different now. It's been summer of '12 since I've set foot on a bridge project. Projects such as my latest, interstates and state routes, only require reflectivity about the head. Hardhat wont stop a drunk careening towards you at 70 mph.<br />
So with the title I am out of the closet. In the past years I have found myself using some version of the word human in conversations. For example, in discussions with a friend i found my exclaiming "I'm not racist, Im not sexist, I love all people and humans!! I'm not methodist or baptist or any -ist, but if i had to put a label I'd say Human-ist."<br />
What a revelation!!<br />
Well not right that moment, as i was just pleased at myself coining a word in my mind. But in future days I did look up the word and found my suspicions were correct: that there were others like me........Other people, too, wear hardhats.<br />
Wait, no. We were talking about the other H.<br />
No, not Hell, where some of you think I'm going, but the most important H word: Humans.<br />
I use the word when stating my belief that mans law should not prevent humans from migrating to areas that provide more opportunity for survival, for whatever reason and especially the most extreme. That belief governs my political stance on immigration, which i dont discuss often, because I am in the deep south for goodness sake. I would not shout "Send them all back..." as the farmers would have my hide. Niether do i dare speak too loudly of their plight and exploitation because, again with the south thing.<br />
Moooooving on....<br />
I found myself in a sticky wicket one day on a project. The contractor needed to do something quickly and outside the scope of the contract that involved interfering with traffic. I could not tell him yes or no I did not have the authority, I knew he was moving ahead so I told him in terms of traffic control "Man, just be human and help people get where they're going without violating the contract."<br />
It made sense at the time. I figured I could defend that in a court of law.<br />
*sigh.<br />
With this new found defintion, I felt as if I'd come home. And just in time to answer or point to answers for some hard questions from my offspring.<br />
I am happier, better informed and more relaxed with my lifelong beliefs. I better understand my mother's subtle and father's not so subtle influence and how this wonderful ride of life is yours and yours alone. We must make the best of it here and now, because of here and now.<br />
Peace.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-26652753717187400562012-01-23T09:21:00.000-05:002012-01-23T09:21:18.582-05:00Where's the remote?<span style="font-size: x-small;">Well, well, well. Hit me in the head with a laser mouse if I’m the last to notice this but I am seeing mainstream news is now more focused on the internet than ever. I used to utilize the internet for news updates. Now I can go to the news for an internet update. All I need to know about the latest "viral" videos. *wide eyed reporter* "Over 10 million hits in 6 hours, Ya gotta see this!". Really? Do I? Because .5 million people clicked 20 times on a silly/heartfelt/remarkable video, you gotta take up valuable newstime on this? Shows like Tosh.0 and Ridiculousness overfill this gap. If not prone to these types of shows then I/you/we/everybody will see it on twitter/facebook/accidental google search. It will be shoved down our face on our home page, our email news/any inbox we own and then endorsed/debunked through numerous other sites.<br />
<br />
Can you save the time I cordon off for "news" for things that I might not have heard? Can you get off your duff and go talk to people about real things and by people I mean REAL people not just fringe stereotypes.<br />
<br />
Thank you.</span>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-66662826886243835212011-12-30T08:17:00.002-05:002011-12-30T08:17:23.639-05:00What it's all aboutWeather<br />
<br />
...doesn't feel like it should. Temperatures are approaching record highs and while the trend of wearing cowboy/work boots with shorts is soaring at the mall, I will only attempt that look around the house. Folks 'round here are grumbling about not being in the shopping mood due to strange weather patterns. Yea whatever. I am glad to be working in these conditions, it is less tiring than shivering all day. <br />
<br />
Holidays<br />
<br />
...have been awesome. Three straight days of family gatherings, and so much more special with Gbaby to spoil. She was quite entertaining! The unexpected hit at one gathering was the HexBug NanoBot... If you have small pets or children they are a hoot! Not even sure what they were but they both frightened and delighted Gbaby and when she tried to express such, it was hilarious! She was everywhere all the time, proven below.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GBrE7zil5d0/Tv2z-8wg3bI/AAAAAAAAByk/MDIkkPa1H3s/s1600/111224+%252820%2529_stitch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="81" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GBrE7zil5d0/Tv2z-8wg3bI/AAAAAAAAByk/MDIkkPa1H3s/s320/111224+%252820%2529_stitch.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="left" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
THAT WAS FUN! Dad shota pano with each of us holding Dylan and this is what he was able to produce, called 'Follow the Bouncing Baby'. It was a hurried frenzied thing and she got a little antsy and probably confused as she was lierally tossed from lap to lap. Dad says he will figure a way to get everybody next year, but i think it works better like this. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Family</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
.... is who ya make it, and then some. Dad recently found his birth mother that we have been looking for since the early nineties. When I joined the matrix in '94 I added him to an adoption website, but that was just the start. I dont think we got many hits from that but it stirred an interest to look harder. There was a missed opportunity to have a search doen through the Catholic Diocese in New York, a missed clue on the final adoption decree, and a misspelling of a married name that slowed the process over the years but when things started in that week before Nov. 20, they snowballed quickly and the puzzle filled itself in and suddenly he was 4 siblings and a birth mother richer!(I had given up years ago believing she was still alive, citing average life expectancy)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
One of those sibings found their way to the middle of the Piedmont on Christmas eve and what a delight to meet family you did not know you had. There was resemblance and questions and staring and more questions. We left dad to visit with his half brother, which he did through the next day! Turns out that there are too many similarities to list between dad and his BM, besides looking dramatically like her, their interests throughout their life are spot-on. Photography, flying, science...... Yea I want to meet her. She is touched with alzheimers but confirmed quickly his birth and family is timid to press the issue as it makes her defensive. Still, one day... maybe just to see her.... would be awesome!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
All in all, it was a beautiful holiday and back to hunting this weekend, only a few more weekends left before season is out and I gotta bag something for the freezer!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-27514472380879950002011-12-01T09:12:00.001-05:002011-12-01T09:47:55.607-05:00<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back again to update life as it races by. It is not surprising that I have little time to document life as I am so busy living it! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Winter is close, though, so more time indoors means more time for writing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">It was another awesome summer, catfish were not huge but we found them wherever we went, and aside from the drama of having our tree lines being cut and stolen right out from under our noses, it was quite fun.</span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Actually that was fun, having the thieves busted at the boat ramp as they tried to make off with all of our lines and quality hooks. We got everything back and taught two young men a lesson about life and the river.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">There was an impromptu run to the beach where <b>* sigh *</b> a question was popped. It followed the ring by 4 months. No date yet, just happy.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">When summer had had enough of us, it was time to prep the Hunt Camp for occupancy. There was bush hogging, harrowing and planting to get done. There’s also the rearranging of stands and feeders ( it is legal to feed deer here) There were campers to clean out and wood and water to haul. All of this was to be completed by opening day eve. In the midst of a weekend outing (9/11 to be exact) to improve a wooden stand, in the middle of 500 acres my KISA (Knight in Shining Armor) experienced some profuse sweating and weakness. It took about one full minute for me to realize he was in trouble. It WAS hot out, but he was talking funny. I was blessed to have one other soul there who had just ridden off. I called him back and with his help moved dead weight from drivers side to passenger side and drove light speed to Eroom on phone with dispatchers giving info as we approached.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">He was conscious enough to hear what I heard. "You are having an acute heart attack." </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Dejavu.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Yes I have been here before so I shakily kick it into gear calling family and filling out forms, " maam are you his wife?" I reply yes, out of earshot of him. While I am whisked off to answer a million questions he is being treated w the full force of the whole hospital, small in a small town. Closest heart center 40 miles out. Life-flight or get him stable?? WTH? IDK! So we go to get his opinion to find them trying to calm him as he is proclaiming " Where is she? She’s not my wife but will make all my decisions, write that down now!" And my cover was blown. In these days of HIPA he was terrified that they would shut me out, but they were very understanding and relayed this to heart hospital. He received 3 stents and is recovering well. One month off of work just gave him more time to get camp ready. New rule says he cannot be at camp alone. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">Opening weekend offered an 8 pt to the household. It was magically turned into smoked sausage. I saw nothing until two weeks ago when I let a spike walk. Here he is walking….</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3-_B2J2mwycp5DQ6XE5TyXZesInCyva75DrfKfuEnXtsdxqVDUwIe2F3BRp3DLTb29Hg12E6UTT8wDJ1bsG1S7IGyW_1y9p5Da-P02ZnNBLYkk872F6Vvj9oJbJGKbxbmq_ZXjVlG2Q/s1600/spikewalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr3-_B2J2mwycp5DQ6XE5TyXZesInCyva75DrfKfuEnXtsdxqVDUwIe2F3BRp3DLTb29Hg12E6UTT8wDJ1bsG1S7IGyW_1y9p5Da-P02ZnNBLYkk872F6Vvj9oJbJGKbxbmq_ZXjVlG2Q/s320/spikewalk.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">And my pseudo step-son shot it. Dammit. Keep in mind that hunting, for this household, is a lifestyle. Every stop at martmall starts and ends in sporting goods. There is a reason to stop by some super sporting center once a month. And every weekend plus the week of Thanksgiving are spent at the camp. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I love it. I embrace the 35 footer (it’s a year older than it is long but well maintained), the camp stories, the way I look in camo. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have not actually physically cleaned a deer, more like offer support and gloves. It’s just that he’s so fast and efficient. I will however do a European mount on anything I am lucky to bag this year. Stepson tried it out and with my internet research, it was a semi success. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I have sat somewhere around 60 hours in various stands. This is the reason I keep going out there.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0JYA_g3zQFtC6dfG06Tbp458k5hCKH2O2pG_RwbfhwIuQgeJZ-Y3-GbqBEjghey5ZHSwRlyRVetwlHTkB9l-jYywHfZ8VosOtxPQA7U5Hdf-S39h5M596xoMBsQh6mIIBHgj9KHJY_I/s1600/moon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI0JYA_g3zQFtC6dfG06Tbp458k5hCKH2O2pG_RwbfhwIuQgeJZ-Y3-GbqBEjghey5ZHSwRlyRVetwlHTkB9l-jYywHfZ8VosOtxPQA7U5Hdf-S39h5M596xoMBsQh6mIIBHgj9KHJY_I/s320/moon.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">And this.....</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB7MUpSwtwYSHLpbdCIDDeRRzPbdNRxopzhlnIsyqVg1PngnrakT8NMTUk_Fzw8n6Vp-xwzcYaN4XkiKQKgkkNae3SJOBSlRYUyZzz-DUQT95gq2xRPLf0Do1MNiIDlRVlDaJSvH2exI/s1600/sunset.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFB7MUpSwtwYSHLpbdCIDDeRRzPbdNRxopzhlnIsyqVg1PngnrakT8NMTUk_Fzw8n6Vp-xwzcYaN4XkiKQKgkkNae3SJOBSlRYUyZzz-DUQT95gq2xRPLf0Do1MNiIDlRVlDaJSvH2exI/s320/sunset.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> I begged enough and got Minime in a stand with me (her better half was more than glad to stay w Gbaby). We saw nothing.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">This hawk teases me about every other weekend. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdYHViJvf9wA6Toc1hcIgITtjJqXJOcnoPu1_uoqpspDxghx0ahWoq1YPmrXY2lh7nyODs0Uik44HgcuDHcuLdopNDSUC_Q9_xvg3MHqxbITqiO1-0I8zbiIH2XVNNNq941JcPPPejSw/s1600/hawk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdYHViJvf9wA6Toc1hcIgITtjJqXJOcnoPu1_uoqpspDxghx0ahWoq1YPmrXY2lh7nyODs0Uik44HgcuDHcuLdopNDSUC_Q9_xvg3MHqxbITqiO1-0I8zbiIH2XVNNNq941JcPPPejSw/s320/hawk.jpg" width="320" /></a></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">I hope to have more hunting stories soon!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-23912964320564219222011-07-12T13:54:00.000-04:002011-07-12T13:54:59.469-04:00Hello.....again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P6KLtIIhdQprsFz_FjqANDG5oGDG7_cIjiUxRl_gLC5IttIC4Q7hjIFIceJGxochcV7IjPp3gOMkVEoM6Q5WuXZx_EVfKrvhyvzOSCE7i489LHXvgl9FGzZQd6pleo6O5Md6ryYWMao/s1600/_DSC0116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3P6KLtIIhdQprsFz_FjqANDG5oGDG7_cIjiUxRl_gLC5IttIC4Q7hjIFIceJGxochcV7IjPp3gOMkVEoM6Q5WuXZx_EVfKrvhyvzOSCE7i489LHXvgl9FGzZQd6pleo6O5Md6ryYWMao/s320/_DSC0116.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
After almost a year and a half hiatus I am back to document life, now for slightly different reasons. When here before I was a busy household hiding here for comfort now and again (who am I kidding? I was addicted for more than a minute.) I return, a grandmother who in a whirlwind, drastically changed life for the good and is intent on sharing the stories. <br />
The change was domestic, social, geographic and mind altering.<br />
Divorced and in a new relationship, I now LIVE! <br />
It was intiated by simple words...."Life doesn't have to be so hard." These words, at first whispered were eventually written in stone. The phrase insisted on possibilities that had seemed lost. It suddenly seemed possible to change my reality. As a student of Jonathan Livingston I was determined to question my boundaries.<br />
Since MiniMe was living her life between full time school, work and parenting classes and young daredevil was spending all free weekends with his gf, I had much time on my hands. I tired of being THE ROCK. I tired of spinning my wheels emotionally and financially and finally asked myself did "In sickness and In health" include MENTAL health. Just short of a commital (mine or his), I chose divorce. Hard and fast, had pussyfooted around for too long. Raising my children in a longterm rented country home, i truly had no ties and up and moved out a month after my last post here. I relocated a little over an hour south, coming home to farmland and big water within earshot. <br />
I have made many memories in this short time. Gbaby will be ONE YEAR OLD this coming Wed.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JpRDCpNNCOHDm-b684x2nK2u8T1dtxdT188YoMI_X2RF0BAlO0UsdWO-wyFdZQSwlSWz9KMNBIeRXk1LSoCa1YbEDGx_VbIufO6R907cBN3ubVXDdu0E68TAEvrkPs1r2ACHFKowupE/s1600/FacebookHomescreenImage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2JpRDCpNNCOHDm-b684x2nK2u8T1dtxdT188YoMI_X2RF0BAlO0UsdWO-wyFdZQSwlSWz9KMNBIeRXk1LSoCa1YbEDGx_VbIufO6R907cBN3ubVXDdu0E68TAEvrkPs1r2ACHFKowupE/s320/FacebookHomescreenImage.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I shot my first deer this past Thanksgiving morning, a three point thankyaverymuch.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku8JydWIV9r9ded5Rw_SVCzj04Sl7yAOfoMrIxvNdnfNV1xr3vuNbdEpkc06dWq72PCMgSjjcPWw13CY7rTt0RwmukhLQm1m8DyITWyIjBo55XIw0Zli6-HXXULI4lCpYpQO1CbZHsbs/s1600/IMG00020-20101125-0900.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgku8JydWIV9r9ded5Rw_SVCzj04Sl7yAOfoMrIxvNdnfNV1xr3vuNbdEpkc06dWq72PCMgSjjcPWw13CY7rTt0RwmukhLQm1m8DyITWyIjBo55XIw0Zli6-HXXULI4lCpYpQO1CbZHsbs/s320/IMG00020-20101125-0900.jpg" width="193" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><br />
I have seen rabbits bagged and pulled monster catfish from the river. Who thought I could ever enjoy dove hunting as I have hand raised several types of birds? Conflict was resolved by wrapping in bacon and grilling til done.<br />
The vegetable garden from my childhood came to life as did flower beds and herbs.<br />
Still can't wipe the smile off of my face.<br />
Every day is an adventure even the days 5/7 that i drive the hour north to work. The route is beautiful, I am a reincarnated farmer. I encounter the Bee people a time or two as they maintained hives for massive pollenation efforts. The symmetry of the fields and their constant changing colors soothes me and I usually arrive home completely decompressed from the day.<br />
Those days. They haven't changed much, relaxed slightly but still same old politics that I won't play so I avoid and am avoided, pretty much left to do my job. Yay.<br />
<br />
I am back to leave treasures for Gbaby by sharing the fun and hard work that is my life now.<br />
I will return to detail some highlights of this experience, from the childrens' "How can you leave OUR home?" to the six month move out of the monster schoolhouse to the drastic change in environment or how I turned the focus from pushing everyone else to do their best to demand more FOR myself.misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-42435793908096340412010-02-18T05:37:00.000-05:002010-02-18T05:37:30.265-05:00Welcome to Doll Land<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdI6jXQVP79VmvZkzD6d2xR5bxevTD0nadBWsTjLdQ3OKwCqnL7SAtbNVLsCdT2LTs7Cd25beUu1QkaZXqnR-E3Xrc3bU1dV3hWIuCMmA9IQ2rnfmo9jGz_YT8FWH8XzF2aAau__a618/s1600-h/sugarcookies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfdI6jXQVP79VmvZkzD6d2xR5bxevTD0nadBWsTjLdQ3OKwCqnL7SAtbNVLsCdT2LTs7Cd25beUu1QkaZXqnR-E3Xrc3bU1dV3hWIuCMmA9IQ2rnfmo9jGz_YT8FWH8XzF2aAau__a618/s320/sugarcookies.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My mother's latest creations! Precious, No?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Many other dolls of all shapes and types, always with the hand painted faces.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">One of these will be perfect for my.... first... (cough cough)....grandchild.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Yea.There it is. My daughter is pregnant. Which is not the same as me becoming a grandmother mind you. And, as if on cue, the three gray hairs in my temple that I had been successfully plucking/covering with mascara for several years suddenly became a 3" patch. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Second year college student with so much ahead of her, attacking it head on, working more than part time and full time school. I would not have chosen this for her, of course, but it is what it is. I have had weeks for it to sink in, can you tell? She is 17 weeks, so I better get busy crocheting something.</div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-59301043708022092722010-02-13T10:02:00.000-05:002010-02-13T10:02:48.179-05:00Hearts and Flowers for my Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxEnSkuVFhbSLIiGXZUmyAfiuEvqk8032WYIVKGDupX5jjWFStP5iOojNpfaE0woZiKrQo2JDctlLkIZkX8APM0EZbnrGN_W2oB7HUuq2Vt2-tq4w0L0ugREWDm2Fe8MtedJ6dYpikpc/s1600-h/DSC03648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHxEnSkuVFhbSLIiGXZUmyAfiuEvqk8032WYIVKGDupX5jjWFStP5iOojNpfaE0woZiKrQo2JDctlLkIZkX8APM0EZbnrGN_W2oB7HUuq2Vt2-tq4w0L0ugREWDm2Fe8MtedJ6dYpikpc/s320/DSC03648.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I see a canvas out there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wOXjGXXmc648Qr5rKf-pJYgBXvZGV6wioQcOm_pgb9j28uiGFmTy-ZQVZmxQDvHgD-tFqkYOnistIEizFEBOiOhTcOyVZ8sMl4HRUD2CmrC9M8oQgN2-qCGnH2msIBnLlvOyqqzA8yo/s1600-h/DSC03633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-wOXjGXXmc648Qr5rKf-pJYgBXvZGV6wioQcOm_pgb9j28uiGFmTy-ZQVZmxQDvHgD-tFqkYOnistIEizFEBOiOhTcOyVZ8sMl4HRUD2CmrC9M8oQgN2-qCGnH2msIBnLlvOyqqzA8yo/s320/DSC03633.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Tie dye the world!!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPgFHKX8C7kqrS4q2kgEwBimDbhKOhuKZmD5hpTneLgH08ybQShuQ0B8ui7aA1Fgso98t7ueEr4WoSc6qJU3rXN7fHxeBwaw-fF59BHezdTFSB49xJ9xRZCIrDwuUCvf2ViJ-cfvl5F0/s1600-h/DSC03642.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ct="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzPgFHKX8C7kqrS4q2kgEwBimDbhKOhuKZmD5hpTneLgH08ybQShuQ0B8ui7aA1Fgso98t7ueEr4WoSc6qJU3rXN7fHxeBwaw-fF59BHezdTFSB49xJ9xRZCIrDwuUCvf2ViJ-cfvl5F0/s320/DSC03642.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But seriously, this is insane. Three + inches in most areas south to Valdosta. Snow in Savannah?? I don't think we came inside until dark and even then went back out every hour or so to revel in the awesomeness!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-91406921330282939932009-12-28T21:26:00.002-05:002009-12-28T21:29:52.221-05:00Old Man Mac<div style="text-align: left;">With everything buzzing around in my head to write about, I get overwhelmed and don't write at all, but when mother asked me to write about Mac for a book that was being put together I knew I had to find the discipline to do it.<br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div> "The Man Who Shot the Tractor and Other Stories from Wayside" is being written by Mac's widow, who's age I can't quote but must be late 70's. She only recently "retired" from her post as activities coordinator at a local nursing home, I hear she still goes in two days a week! An icon in her own right: a former teacher, clogging afficiando, a pianist, event coordinator, she is pressing those of us who knew her beloved Mac to write of our experiences with him. I spent more time with Mac than my own grandfather, Loved them equally but Papa worked running his construction company during this time.<br />
<br />
Mac was a tree farmer in my lifetime. He owned so much land that we would drive around all day and not see all of it. Between 14 and 17 years old I worked summers and weekends around his farm and sawmill, riding tractors, picking blueberries, muscadines and other veggies. Some days were hard and we were glad to see mac drive up at lunch to take us for "belly washers". On extremely hot days, he would knock us off early and head to the creek to swim for a while to cool off. Some days it seemed he had forgotten us, but would always be there eventually. I worked with other neighborhood boys, all older and in college by then, who we called "Mac's boy's". I LOVED working with them. Mainly because it was as close to boys as I was allowed to get. I worked hard and according to Mac they worked harder when I was around. I remember once Mac came to get me one Sat morning and told me "Go get your swimsuit, we going to the creek later on." So I ran back and put on my suit and work clothes and we took off to the sawmill. Upon arrival, the mill in is full swing, Mac's boys working hard. Mac tells me I got an easy job this day.... taking lemonade to his boys. I remember being slightly miffed to haved to stand around and hand out lemonade since i usually stacked lumber or rolled logs, but I played along. Turns out Mac knew what he was doing as they finished early that day and we all went to the creek. <br />
<br />
Not every day was all work. Some days we would ride around and see various people in the neighborhood. He would check in on a widow, drop off some homemade goods to a friend, and deliver garden goods to another each time waving off the thank you he would always receive. There was some weird rule that you just didn't thank Mac. One did not dare mention a need of something within earshot of Mac, or one would find it literally on the doorstep upon arriving home. Once he pulled right up into "Big O Ranch", Otis Redding's home here in Round Oak and we strolled up to Mrs. Zelma Redding for a chat about something. I was in awe. <br />
<br />
Somehow he would fit in collecting used eye glasses and selling brooms to raise money for the Lion's Club that he so loved, all the while managing his trees.<br />
<br />
I will not forget the lunches, with an occasional treat of fried okra or peanut brittle that he would just whip up in a cast iron skillet. I still call Mom for his best recipes. Fall would always bring the question of "When is Mac's squirrel stew?", which was probably always on opening weekend, since it was he that would host a gathering for all the out of town hunters that came to hunt on his land. These were cool evenings with a bonfire, music, clogging and of course stew. For several of these events I was blessed to have helped cook the stew out behind his house over a fire. It was no secret that stew consisted of whatever was in the freezer from that year... rabbit, squirrel, possum and all the tomatoes and potatos you could fit in that huge cast iron pot. <br />
<br />
When there came a time that I took clogging lessons at the Lion's Club, Mac was there. A Lion's Club lifer that would open the buiding for clogging classes and the like. He would be found in the corner with his bag of gum to hand out while watching the ladies dance. While other husbands might not be caught dead up there, Mac was no fool.<br />
<br />
Mac taught me about a little about trees, muscadines and tractors and even sparked my interest in welding for high school shop and beyond ;) but he taught me more about friends, family and community and that might have made him as happy as my knowing the difference between a paper oak and a water oak.misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-56814228142970295812009-12-15T20:01:00.001-05:002009-12-15T20:09:57.191-05:00Lunchtime Tie DyeI don't normally break out the tie dye mess in the middle of winter, but a special request was made and since it was small scale, I decided to do it.<br />
My mom called and as usual, wanted to suggest a gift for my father. It seems he liked the "do-rags" (tie dyed bandanas) I had made Mom for her hairless phase and had adopted them. She advised that since he disliked using "old man white" hankies, I could tie dye some special for him.<br />
I bought a pack of 12 and sat up late one night folding and tying, so I could dye at work during lunch the next day. It was fun working on such a small scale, much less mess. And as with every experience, I learn something new.<br />
<br />
The result is Tie Dyed Office!!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhUPKxcfHPyNUSBYLuE43EpCxsX2zvLK0O0lgdG_uEoba5HND3HvYnMZakNtweK9FU3NjM11ZR8mWkuwtptt_TR09Buv9faHa2kW7tcnj01E8qXTjvClgTQnudarZ7BGe4WEnSws2iRY/s1600-h/DSC03346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYhUPKxcfHPyNUSBYLuE43EpCxsX2zvLK0O0lgdG_uEoba5HND3HvYnMZakNtweK9FU3NjM11ZR8mWkuwtptt_TR09Buv9faHa2kW7tcnj01E8qXTjvClgTQnudarZ7BGe4WEnSws2iRY/s320/DSC03346.JPG" /></a><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-45796517412832693242009-11-16T05:31:00.002-05:002009-11-16T05:36:29.042-05:00Exposure Rocks!Three weeks ago it seems the phone started ringing with requests for the mister to sing/play with various new groups around the area and even a band he used to play with years ago. Since he has been feeling somewhat better, he has taken every opportunity offered. It seems that his morale is improving with every gig. He was invited last week to the local *insert large furry animal with antlers* lodge to meet/jam with the house act. <br />
<br />
We were there as guests of the "band" which turned out to be an act similar to David's- one guy with backing tracks- except with about $5000 worth of equip incl BOSE speakers that fit behind the seat of his truck!! There were maybe 10 folks in the bar, ~25 in the ?ballroom? and yes, I was the youngest one there. As we got acquainted in the bar area I looked around and tried to imagine how old all these fellas might have been when Gramma & Papa were members. <br />
I tried to imagine it a different time, like when G & P would go, which seemed like alot. I remember when I was a young child seeing Gramma in fancy pleated skirts, shiny jewelry and perfect hair leaving to go dancing. Of course they never said that. It was just "We are going to the Lodge." As I got a l little older, I can remember Pop saying they were going to "Paint the town red". As i got even older it became evident what they were doing, it was DANCING!<br />
Tonight, I saw them. I know not them exactly, but in that atmosphere. There were three couples that danced every song, including 'Up On the roof', 'Pink cadillac', and even a Kid Rock song. One couple in particular was trained. I mean they paid money to learn to dance like that. They took the floor first song, David asked me if I wanted to dance and I was appalled at the thought. No Way, I said. For one thing we would get run over by them, they were waltzing, shagging and foxtrotting and some things I dont even know and had never seen. He was as ?elegant? as her, I would have placed them between 60 & 65. OMG they did not stop except for a glass of wine. They swapped partners often, seeming to be teaching some. They line danced. How did I not ever learn that?<br />
At some point the inevitable happened, a man came to us and asked were we guests and musicians, we said yes. He introduced himself (my mind drifted to local businesses with that name...) and asked if we knew any Lodge members and we said no. He was nice and of course said we should consider filling out an application. He returned with two. He, too danced the night away with his wife ( I highly suspect highly botoxed, i put them late 60's and Jack Lalane fit!) I look around and see mostly they all are. Trim and fit that is. I mean there was still arm flappage, hell I contribute to that, but the calves on these ladies were enviable!<br />
<br />
[So me thinks here that this is either some weird *recall furry animal name* cult where they stay youthful draining the blood of young inductees OR maybe it's just that they dance their arses off 2-3 nights a week!!! Putting 2 + 2 together, I shall surf the net for ballroom lessons I can find for free. Plenty of room in the back room to practice.] <br />
<br />
David was called up to sing several songs and they seemed to loove the new blood. He sang Sweet Melissa, Margaritaville and a few others.<br />
<br />
We also had a friend sitting in with a house band at a club adjacent to the Lodge. Fortunate coincidence . We wandered there eventually and he took the joint over for a few songs. We saw some old friends and made some new ones. Overall it was a very productive night!misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-2623067391763878222009-11-09T21:56:00.010-05:002009-11-09T22:28:44.998-05:00Smashing Pumpkins<div align="left">I am behind on blogging but I wanted to write about Halloweek and years past.<br /><br />It is usually a busy week with a day or two for costume compilation, a day for the pumpkin, another for the pumpkin pies. I was the mom that would NOT buy a costume. EVER. My mom had always made mine, and I vowed I would do the same. I can remember so many evenings spent hot glueing, stapling, sewing, painting, stuffing, ironing and pinning our way to first place costumes.<br /><br />I should dig out the photos of the wee ones as Little Miss Muffett and her Spider, or the next year as a large sunflower and bumblebee (utilzing same frame as spider for the boy). There was the year I rallied at the last minute for Carrie and in a fit, threw her to the floor on top of a doubled up white sheet, and forgetting everything my mama taught me about sewing, cut around her body, sewed it up and proceeded to dye large dots with food coloring. When it dried and she stepped in !voila! a clown! It rained that afternoon and one of the activities at the local<br />party included diving in the abundant fall leaves to find prizes. The leaves were fairly wet and by the end of the night so was she. When we got home and she stripped down, she was at first horrified then amused that (because i had cheated and used food coloring) SHE was covered in colorful dots. I regret not taking THAT picture. Mom would sometimes help with costumes and one year she came up with Mickey Mouse (The Apprentice) and the Sorcerer. Then there was the time we tried latex. Worked great. Latex remover, another story. She was a gypsy hag among pricesses and ballerinas and walked away with first place but slept in her make up.<br /><br />Young master graduated to boyish scary things that were easy to do and I would always result to turning a black shirt into cat ears and tail for myself.<br />During all of this we would squeeze a pumpkin in somewhere,along with home made pies.<br />THIS year there were no children to dress and I was sick almost the entire week. I was NOT in a Haloweeny mood. I did muster the strength to carve a pumpkin on Wednesday evening and 2 pies on Thursday night.<br />Interesting that, since there were no competing ideas for the pumpkin, I carved what I wanted:<br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402305764032006146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBeNI_X4Zhvy18OBeHysTx7W_Z7FV1RNxnowK_m-x0lp6o0Tjv8n-cSY7Cu5uf-8S0KBzucqsfTLDOI5I6PL6Bq3fUTUVBpahQdedV4TzmG0ZUW1FfU2Mpi9_w8aWgpRnJUAWC5f7z1Q/s400/DSC03049.JPG" /><br />When mini-masculine (now living with his father) visited on the weekend, he did get to enjoy a time honored family tradition of diposing of pumpkin. This non-event was executed expertly and we watched happily as it carved an arc in the sky just before exploding in the pasture behind the house.</div><p align="left">Memories........ I'll take 'em where I can get 'em.<br /></p>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-49681232693335582492009-10-12T06:19:00.008-04:002009-11-09T06:56:08.112-05:0042 & a New 'Do<div style="text-align: center;">Strange breeze on my neck.<br />Reaching for that which is not there.<br />"It was time." they said.<br />Silent tears and clenched fists.<br />"But look, hon" he said as he spun me around.<br />Audible gasp. (<span style="font-style: italic;">Is that a desperate house wife looking back?</span>)<br />It is 42. I see it, embrace it and smile.<br />Everything is ok.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><br />Yeah, it was time. That translates to "Can't you do something with that mop?". I have favored shoulder length or longer hair since age 13. I fully did NOT intend on lightening my load to this degree. And even though I clearly stated to at least leave me a ponytail, he seemed to know better. I guess that's what I pay him for, albeit it only once a year or more.<br /><br />Combine this new do with the contacts (first timer) replacing glasses and I feel like a new person!<br /><br />The birthday party was a blast. I ended up dyeing 6 sheets in all.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ud0xYu3u14JoBjg2U4gmRLpilVGuwFKFk6GDxjeGBu-KnRslgkWIOyJhXJvRM63XU5gW5Mj5bo537ACSEsTu90FfM_XBAB3EMtmkLAmRqTytjBa41rSObP6qiPQfiuEDr7yw9VShkdc/s1600-h/PA100266.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8ud0xYu3u14JoBjg2U4gmRLpilVGuwFKFk6GDxjeGBu-KnRslgkWIOyJhXJvRM63XU5gW5Mj5bo537ACSEsTu90FfM_XBAB3EMtmkLAmRqTytjBa41rSObP6qiPQfiuEDr7yw9VShkdc/s400/PA100266.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391667246392977858" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QdXTqgalYUL1OHpM90ZLBMCgRzmXQS8OPJBLg-SE4wXQVQjfZxrPddDIupaDbyhs8v70asku1qItdFxnDLAmlNKXn2RZLo9EDiD7qGUw8RThZ4lMqdnQgmmvAzyXtOPGAcd5BCwo75g/s1600-h/PA100236.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1QdXTqgalYUL1OHpM90ZLBMCgRzmXQS8OPJBLg-SE4wXQVQjfZxrPddDIupaDbyhs8v70asku1qItdFxnDLAmlNKXn2RZLo9EDiD7qGUw8RThZ4lMqdnQgmmvAzyXtOPGAcd5BCwo75g/s400/PA100236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391666130699322242" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZZiSp4zjk7QxyX4yg8I-aBhFEOhyphenhyphen_ofXmKUiRzpLbkN4dGYgdkstGi65h_E5TC4vPTlaSGCeja__UoippU5jz9r5QoQlFhqjxigkcVifbPCM-chJYsHa3A9aH-lmqkcvDA1KXapzm_A/s1600-h/big+room.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHZZiSp4zjk7QxyX4yg8I-aBhFEOhyphenhyphen_ofXmKUiRzpLbkN4dGYgdkstGi65h_E5TC4vPTlaSGCeja__UoippU5jz9r5QoQlFhqjxigkcVifbPCM-chJYsHa3A9aH-lmqkcvDA1KXapzm_A/s400/big+room.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391664607412268402" border="0" /></a><br />My husband reaaaaaaaally loves me because he went out of his way to find the exact Leatherman tool to replace one I lost recently. I love it!!<br /></div></div><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkvw5-5U9nHOqcvLcNQ2In1O0TP8cSlJoyjs4hBwsRh3z8a0Dj3InQk2XKdIEcVhapcs8r1p5sb_MWeotTl_4qiLyKIFFk2hcE3wQtEAaNr1Z4Adfi7w6Dn9JXOBQIH9L4UHv7lr_sDA/s1600-h/leathermanstore_2070_11025372.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYkvw5-5U9nHOqcvLcNQ2In1O0TP8cSlJoyjs4hBwsRh3z8a0Dj3InQk2XKdIEcVhapcs8r1p5sb_MWeotTl_4qiLyKIFFk2hcE3wQtEAaNr1Z4Adfi7w6Dn9JXOBQIH9L4UHv7lr_sDA/s400/leathermanstore_2070_11025372.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5391663630928329090" border="0" /></a><br /><br />So far 42 doesn't stink too bad.misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-31518766710693426892009-10-09T06:49:00.007-04:002009-10-09T07:17:12.122-04:00Once I get started....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAcJmZgK5u258QrfXuLzjQ26f_dlw6xmEvxwU_phyphenhypheni4KpKDF5gGFjUIETlVLXfzgNEDyg5lnA0luHMplGmB8H-SPXJMx8mYJwa-4It5zgOSbOfoPFZBtISNlRL5XsleDicGOzVZmCs7Q/s1600-h/DSC02778.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijAcJmZgK5u258QrfXuLzjQ26f_dlw6xmEvxwU_phyphenhypheni4KpKDF5gGFjUIETlVLXfzgNEDyg5lnA0luHMplGmB8H-SPXJMx8mYJwa-4It5zgOSbOfoPFZBtISNlRL5XsleDicGOzVZmCs7Q/s400/DSC02778.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390551371128525778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNDk83R7nY1wTcgizZKmPaU6mniIxa6v6OIwIYawBBmn4qJS6Gu67ki0aGDr8lp4aamKwmuR2Gt59zfw9zOofkRC7uMxgMrumgCxxBIxoEC6kUKCkWzjomn5AlzB1RIaNiroei5CieeU/s1600-h/DSC02801.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQNDk83R7nY1wTcgizZKmPaU6mniIxa6v6OIwIYawBBmn4qJS6Gu67ki0aGDr8lp4aamKwmuR2Gt59zfw9zOofkRC7uMxgMrumgCxxBIxoEC6kUKCkWzjomn5AlzB1RIaNiroei5CieeU/s400/DSC02801.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390552245371275474" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfuPyppoDOViQScL57ccxcjJrsWpigQFpj_VaUu9oPi5n6A7PEREnWlyy4NBtuVEjogFRkLKgJQ70d3XfaI3DaGYxPIBiyP3Wvp3xgRwrpxda7LwXGvrmJCsU2QieTNwijm1iwL45Hv8/s1600-h/DSC02785.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfuPyppoDOViQScL57ccxcjJrsWpigQFpj_VaUu9oPi5n6A7PEREnWlyy4NBtuVEjogFRkLKgJQ70d3XfaI3DaGYxPIBiyP3Wvp3xgRwrpxda7LwXGvrmJCsU2QieTNwijm1iwL45Hv8/s400/DSC02785.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390551831612321010" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm6b5rXK2XNa_UBm4vgWJCG5G-knDvVV-AaiwBjGibKTsGkMxyW9cXi6sIoSLd3TWKDTn6ZZBEBo0R3ZhH6JSzB28cqcFn1V38Gd1QpYGGTCqh6WD6FZ66yf_0f5ySHSJvupdCtkh77I/s1600-h/DSC02804.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWm6b5rXK2XNa_UBm4vgWJCG5G-knDvVV-AaiwBjGibKTsGkMxyW9cXi6sIoSLd3TWKDTn6ZZBEBo0R3ZhH6JSzB28cqcFn1V38Gd1QpYGGTCqh6WD6FZ66yf_0f5ySHSJvupdCtkh77I/s400/DSC02804.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390553503414356978" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I just can't stop.<br /><br />Since last weekend the chance of rain for this Sat has increased everyday so we decided to commit to being indoors.<br />I must explain that our house is close to 100 yrs old, and was constructed as a school. We actively live in the front half (2 large bedrooms and music studio that is our bedroom). The back half of the house which was the auditorium, lunchroom, lecture hall has been used for years for storage by our landlord's family. Over the years I have consolidated the crap to give us ingress and egress through the back of the house. I took this a little further and decided to clean half of it for our gathering.<br />I then decided that I needed to cover the walls that show some peeling plaster, some boarded up windows, some bare plaster backing.<br />With help from a friend, and one busted toe & one sliced finger later we seemed to be successful at clearing the floor and covering the walls.<br />Let it rain!misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-23329590832045605112009-09-16T18:48:00.005-04:002009-09-16T19:33:06.183-04:00Just call me the Okra QueenLet me preface this by saying I haven't had a vegetable garden in 10 years. Well, I tried the first year we were here in this house, but had very little luck in the location i chose. This year, i borrowed a dear friends tiller and thought I would till a small plot for tomatoes. He also has a garden every year, but incessantly battles deer and rabbits.<br />I chose to plant tomatoes, okra, bell peppers, zuchinni, green beans,cucumbers, crook neck and butternut squash. While he battled deer i was blasted with butternut, bowled over by green beans and have now been overwhelmed by okra. I lost the cucumbers to a heat wave while we were confined to the hospital and my tomatoes were destroyed by the large green tomato worm.<br />I was, however, treated to a "volunteer" tomato plant that is just now starting to produce. Honestly, how do you get a volunteer tomato where you have NEVER had a garden in that location?? I figure it came from eating hamburgers adorned with tomatoes during many of the times we have grilled and eaten in that general area.<br />Back to the okra! It is quite prolific, over head high and with the frequent rain showers I have had to cut EVERY DAY, a meals worth at a time. The Mountaineer White Half Runners ( green beans) are doing the same.<br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382201465926319122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpzrRV3As7QIpcYETMn_CjzV16ITUVK6P0QMLDBuWJCntGjli6lYqfsIu19h2XCS-GhkE66Pnu4iLKY5D_1nh90hv_tsu4e7AIFMEGyTh_OH0paZqsjtcMaJWCPip-xxEf-6G2zbQ5usc/s400/DSC02611.JPG" border="0" /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSr1EDyW_iLtlmlJ9aasDBdEudyhIgqctF9yPChEQwJTwuDNrNaoO85W77Qy2SnjqgOSaDeK84RIwA8tzePJZv-iUZXqy18CEMQZUypmCdVPKZsU_qOW-VfKGXHXmXqAXL0N7cMYDc50/s1600-h/DSC02612.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382201836739744226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTSr1EDyW_iLtlmlJ9aasDBdEudyhIgqctF9yPChEQwJTwuDNrNaoO85W77Qy2SnjqgOSaDeK84RIwA8tzePJZv-iUZXqy18CEMQZUypmCdVPKZsU_qOW-VfKGXHXmXqAXL0N7cMYDc50/s400/DSC02612.JPG" border="0" /></a> We have eaten enough for the year and given away more, so the next weeks haul will go to the freezer dusted with cornmeal and ready to fry (the heart smart way, of course, in several tablespoons of olive oil) with just a little left whole for stews. </p><p>While I praise the okra, beautiful bloom, blah blah blah, I cannot NOT mention the horror of picking it. I should have included a pic of how one must dress to accomplish this task. I usually go at it right after work while still in jeans and I have a longsleeved shirt by the back door (my okra shirt) to protect the arms. Too much contact with the leaves of the plants can cause extreme itching that only a cool shower can calm. Even more of a challenge, I contend with ants swarming the unopened blooms that don't seem to be hurting the plants or production. I picked an hour ago and am still finding ants.</p><br />I understand okra originated in Africa and came to America via slave trade but is enjoyed by many cultures mostly in stews. The frying part, well that's mostly a southern thang, i reckon.<br /><br /><br />I would be glad to share!misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-36545859593580623502009-08-19T08:06:00.003-04:002009-08-19T08:16:14.922-04:00I'm tired.......Not that i belong to the oldest profession, unless you consider being a dedicated wife the oldest profession. Wifely duties sometimes require us to "prostitute" ourselves to get what we need. This could be as simple as as the batting of eyelashes or pushing out the chest (some of us more than others) if it will get what ever need. Doesn't work well with nurses but try it next time when the old man behind the pharmacy counter is giving you flack..........<br />Let's face it, I am tired......<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/cQU0_PHUB2E&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/cQU0_PHUB2E&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-18231987503731092702009-08-07T21:37:00.006-04:002009-08-07T23:07:53.484-04:00Keep on the Sunny SideThe sunny side is that, since i have been <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">laid off</span> ("temporarily"), I will have plenty of time to take care of ailing hubby. Thursday night he was rushed by ambulance to Luce Heart Center with very high blood pressure and chest pains. After much consideration it has been determined that he will have a defibrillator/pacemaker implanted. Although I can TYPE "implanted", I keep saying installed, as in "We installed pipe and slope mat today."<br /><br />Yes, I should be sleeping, but I am just about to search out this thing they are going to put in my husband.......<br /><br /><br /><br /> I searched these out and they made me feel much better.<br /><br /><br /> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lY12Q-foRRc<br /><br />I loved this movie for Turturro. Seriously.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tlHbjEHWLekmisticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-36955154004313093312009-08-04T17:24:00.003-04:002009-08-04T18:06:33.988-04:00Spontaneity Vs. Common SenseSeeing as I am someone who has issues with putting socks on standing up, and has even been accused of being dyspraxic, you would think I would learn to say NO to the river, but I can't.<br />Although I did protest and rant about being the bread winner and making good decisions, all the while I was leaping from slippery rock to moss covered rock and even had to scale 6' up and down over head gates to get to the desired location of 'below the dam'. Turns out that I developed confidence on the way TO that was overwhelming on the way back. Upon trying to pull myself up the 6' concrete wall, my right shoulder gave way and I heard a simple pop. I did not make a big deal about it.<br /><br />We reveled in how brave we were and young we still are and went home to sleep hard.<br /><br />When I awoke Monday morning, my first thought was "who is stabbing me??". When I gained full conciousness I was overwhelmed with the thought that I might have REALLY done it this time. My right shoulder screamed for relief and no amount of pulling, twisting or movement could give me less pain. I found the boys arm sling and put it on foolishly expecting immediate relief. Not so lucky.<br />Commenced the ride to work, inadvertently honking the horn every time I operated the gear shift with my left hand, took off the arm sling to avoid all ribbing at the office check in, then continued to the project. I should have put a sign on my forehead to avoid retelling the story all day, and finally found a place to hide out for the rest of the day. I awoke in the same shape this morning and had to make a hard decision: tough it out at work or admit my foolishness and go get x-rays.........<br />I have now just returned from the doc-in-a-box who advised after x-rays that it is probably a torn rotator cuff.<br /><br />ARGHHHHHHHH!<br /><br />He advised that to save money, I wait a week to do the MRI. judging the need on pain levels(which are now diminished thanks to NSAIDS, a butt shot and small doses of narcotics-wheeeeee!).<br /><br /><br />Is it at all worth it to get a crummy cell phone shot like the one in which i am pictured below?<br /><br />I'll let you know in a week.<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDk7kK2BnOu9bx3WDRFnPXH0YcTpzJkyaywazMYBbJGF0y-Qw1z6km5FR9TQl4I0SOu2s-vf2itfFz0Fp6GKa7MoHS6b4f227GqPbThyuWQ_TrEDxabxJpp3Ej5CFNiodQpIPTkizmsA/s1600-h/juliette+dam.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366222750155051890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDk7kK2BnOu9bx3WDRFnPXH0YcTpzJkyaywazMYBbJGF0y-Qw1z6km5FR9TQl4I0SOu2s-vf2itfFz0Fp6GKa7MoHS6b4f227GqPbThyuWQ_TrEDxabxJpp3Ej5CFNiodQpIPTkizmsA/s400/juliette+dam.jpg" /></a><br />On the up side, work has slowed since northbound and southbound traffic have been shifted the final mainline configuration, with 1 1/2 lanes left to construct on the outside of traffic.<br />I will be transitioning to my next bridge project which will mean a lot of paper work and file set up. Small miracles, since I would be hard pressed to test a load of concrete right now.<br /><br />Please send common sense, prayer and happy thoughts my way!misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-51087556403917348022009-08-01T08:54:00.008-04:002009-08-01T09:25:12.610-04:00RIP Cory<div style="text-align: left;">I believe I have just realized the basis of my fascination with the Hispanic culture.<br />Corazon "Tita Cory" Aquino died this morning of colon cancer.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN17kTCS7JOM1POzr71K1FezhTpA7hMCb9_Ogp1Qz_PuizU3Fa7gI8I_Ml3AmLQd55pAsu4wcFnmoQtjvskPpXK8teVkaxoC6UdI63cEKBVFNrGOPM6bKLKzJ40itV-8Jx-x_-HjU9E8s/s1600-h/coryaquino.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN17kTCS7JOM1POzr71K1FezhTpA7hMCb9_Ogp1Qz_PuizU3Fa7gI8I_Ml3AmLQd55pAsu4wcFnmoQtjvskPpXK8teVkaxoC6UdI63cEKBVFNrGOPM6bKLKzJ40itV-8Jx-x_-HjU9E8s/s400/coryaquino.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364982191658144962" border="0" /></a><br />Even though the Philippines are technically considered as Asian they have a rich Hispanic culture, being ruled until the 1800's by Spain and I guess, as a child, I believed it was a Hispanic country from hearing the Spanish sounding monikers.<br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/Misty/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><br />I can remember when we lived without television (6 yrs, the formative ones) I would listen to much news and even local channels on my stereo. I followed from the assassination through the coup and knew that this was major history. A woman could do this??<br /><br />I can also recall finally seeing her on tv somewhere and being surprised. I had envisioned a large stern looking woman, but she seemed more slight and bright in her yellow dresses.<br /><br />Already daddy was hard at work toughening me up for this world and making me believe anything was possible but here was proof. Add the Ferraro selection by Mondale and, man, I was certain that soon the chauvinism crap would soon be over.<br />Then for some stupid reason I joined the cause and strove to change attitudes. It has been a long hard, bruising, exhausting, enlightening and bumpy road.<br />I had a contractor once ( 'bout my grandaddy's age) threaten to put me in that concrete truck if I did not approve the load.<br />I have trained individuals only to encounter them 2 yrs later as my boss.<br />It has been assumed that I could not push a wheelbarrow full of concrete to it's desired destination.<br />I have been shadowed while inspecting steel 3 stories up since i would surely fall. And so on and so on.......<br />Of course none of this compares to the suffragettes, I would not even BE in a hard hat if not for them and women like Corazon Aquino.<br /><br />Rest in peace Cory.<br /><br /><br /><br /></div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-25051217258821293362009-07-14T22:20:00.017-04:002009-07-15T07:52:46.524-04:00Pick a happy adjective...<div align="justify">..... and it would describe our mountain getaway with parents and sibling & family. I think that mountian getaways should be required for yearly soul cleansing. I just THOUGHT the ocean was revitalizing, and it is in it's own way, but the Appalachian mountians just do something special.<br /></div><br /><div align="justify">The cool, sweet smell of of the trails was overwhelming and brought flooding memories of hiking these mountains as a child. Our parents dragged us up Blood Mountain and down Standing Indian, through Rabun Gap and under Anna Ruby Falls. Back then a family of four could easily hitchhike back to the car after tackling a mountain. Living for days off of reconstituted meals, berries & mountain water, we explored those trails in every weather imaginable. We would log in at check-in stations at various points along the trails. At some point my brother and I received a letter from our then-governor Jimmy Carter commending us as the youngest to have hiked the Appalachian trials in Georgia. Kinda cool.<br /></div><br /><div align="justify">While there was very little roughing it this past weekend in the 5BR 3 BA cabin we stayed in, we did try to spend a lot of time in the woods along the Chatahoochee River. We fished, floated the river and picnicked along the river. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">On a sad note, Nikki (my D-70) may be terminal as she took a plunge with the mister who was trying for a daring shot on Dick's Creek. </div><br /><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify">Here he is seconds before, snapped by one of the kids who was, at that moment, verbalizing the thought that he might fall. She raced in to him, not knowing how badly he may be hurt. I was being taunted by trout up creek and thought the hooting was all about someone finally finding a fish hungry enough to bite. Imagine my surprise when i emerge from the bushes to see wet-headed husband and lens off of camera (*gasp).</div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"></div><br /><div align="justify"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358649270262571730" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 305px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia-OPwm-lscZZDgwIy34Sa8sBEO2gr_z16XxR6PAR-V8K0Oi0-SJoSxVgRxLpIXWrsp-jD5TiEsssy9kVb1gQWN4TJqsKP9WL1AkePCk5Q7mkWZA7fOQmOd1a66zUPtMfpSYCqyH0akRg/s400/David+Falls.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="justify"></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:85%;">What was he thinking?</span><br /></div><br /><p align="justify">Other family members who were set up across the creek with heavy duty glass and tripods seemed to have blinked and missed it, but are comparing their shots and sending me the 'after' shots. He was somewhat injured; trying to protect the camera, he says. Even though most of the creek is ankle deep , it seemed to have no bottom where he went in at the falls. Nikki was under for probably a second and a half and he had the sense (since everyone was screaming it) to snatch out the battery.</p><p align="justify">The body has a better chance of survival than the telephoto lens that was on it but we shall see. I will be purchasing 10lbs of rice and some panty hose tomorrow for the prescribed re-hab. Card compartment was dry and dad will try to recover the days shots.</p><br /><p>Other than that, we had a great time and the only way to decribe the view is to show you.</p><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358518634152279170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia9L64c9ICzWBLOmkdLw9wGMDvd5LPbGtd-j3pZhED0kVlwEkmdr_Z7F3gJj096goj1cowiVU5EYwz_W9_aXTpiTmJNWb5oN1_FHdMzalB8lEiUf-kAhiUSZECxuI-rcWfUK_87RLs5HI/s400/DSC_0257.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358519335829323506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4SOtW7WX5G6CMCUQO1XMeIW5mxQue_nkMsqNBODjCyjwbQ1LS4FtOB1T6PBeWjt2nbZbtw-4Q6nDf7QTJ0-mk4jrJJx9aFtQyMnxFIDmCf8tXJMD6ofAomCCRkhScsDbipuuqxU9TO0I/s400/DSC_0254.JPG" border="0" /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358524906435695330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 265px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Kc7YvNXBw-9OWXRgbdlI4g2NzfeXNiEO2ha9pa-PBMK1r3mSuBGljlY9YD8KV6H7BZHD9-wt0srEa5P7vyrtQQW3T41paedXTmOzeBpIPWVZDgxsSN9ukCuOs-SHvPUQh10GgS9Y9R4/s400/deck+view.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5358522841082567490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 266px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSU8yAITL45hyphenhyphengrSOEdgGB-BfEw0weUjlhCEJ1oGr0nUzS5aKayOYuVzk-A1wJsXMtupT4uQClGsFTl8IEUHhi8Sl2ZbtLLQzPZshySoS3-KI_o1vukxdgAn8D4hbOiQtiL30rCpQDGW0/s400/DSC_0179.JPG" border="0" /></p><br /><p></p><br /><p></p>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-78072084271807792012009-06-30T20:41:00.000-04:002009-07-01T06:45:21.969-04:00Weekend ShenanigansWeekends must be the exact balance of fun, work and rest. A good Satuday morning house or yard cleaning, followed by (insert fun here) with the required rest on Sun. Too much rest fills one with guilt that nothing got done. Too much fun, the same. Too much work, well you get it.<br />It is just this balance, that when upset, can send you careening into Monday unprotected from the eye daggers, back stabbing, mind f******, leg pulling, knee jerking, gut wrenching, heart breaking assholes.<br /><br /><div>I thought I had planned for the correct balance this past weekend with out-of-town friends visiting and the monthly Sat night jam. I raced throught the work to get straight to the fun, keeping rest in the back of my mind as something i would get to later on Sun. </div><br /><div>Saturday went great with the invention of 'splash dye' in the yard. The stage backdrop had become faded in the sun and needed rejuvenation. We were determined not to have to take the sheets off of the frame so my friend and</div><div>I grabbed the ketchup bottles (regrettably no gloves) and went to town "splashing" the dye, working from the outside in. We gained some form (?!) halfway through and started rolling the frame around to direct the flow of dye. Looked great in the 100 degree heat between blender breaks. As I look at it now it kinda looks like first grade artwork, but who doesn't love that?? It rises proudly from the cow pasture. </div><div></div><br /><br /><div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353292935237876786" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp3f9OMIwtPIrPVvKH8cc3wyB-XpjrUAJKTXPGxERJtSra95_GbNK3bevGrc1AIh32O2EiKqPKTe5MXXjQuKayQL3Uno6YNeRxqQzeUQ588QAwDzA9616oq4v5rRZ35FVn37GfEYDbfAM/s400/DSC02244.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><br />The squiggly dark lines were some rit dye that did not fare well when rediluted after concentration in dry back room for a year, for some reason it doesn't like reconstitution like Dylon.<br />That night produced great music and reconnecting with old friends.<br /><br /><p>It was that night that evidently I agreed to float the river ("c'mon we'll just do the ONE HOUR float") with another friend and his niece/nephew and their friends the next day (mostly 20 somethings, note this).</p><p>Mister begs off with the expected bad heart, can't stand the heat, are you kidding me answer. </p>Something about losing 5 pounds makes you feel unbeatable and able to conquer the world, so I was ready. Packed a cooler in an available baby float (guaranteed not to flip, note this) grabbed my raft with a bottom and headed out around noon.<br /><br /><p>Spent 2 hours in the heat waiting on teenagers. Thoughts like, why am i here and not on the sofa balancing my weekend? Surely i will be home by 4. Somehow I was talked into giving my raft up for coolers sake and taking a standard river tube with no bottom. </p>The ride started innocuous enough, vaguely thought about calling dad to take pictures of the huge crowd having the same thoughts of cooling off. I thought he would be tickled to know I was reliving childhood (note this). As a child I remember thinking the river belonged to us since we seemed to be the only ones that ever used it. With subdivisions nearby now, those days are long gone.<br /><p>The subdivision located on this river is appropriately called Tumbling Shoals. As I heard the hoots and hollers behind me, because i was inadvertently traveling backwards, I did not see the 5' drop to strong current and separated from my ride.</p><p>I came away with this, and more.<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353303111543388146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 316px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 192px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2U4kh29EpVWh6NOkUlOg63SSRwWM6g94it2cM2Rbklx-N6L59ySV7GTp0LWo4ulymNqjfD7XQO0VhpweYXIDdjlsVe2WXXfNtVUt1TMpJP3Zb3-YjC_8H-buASFPv669Ee_0kxBe79W8/s400/my+back.jpg" border="0" /><br />My elbow turned out to be the worst with a large hematoma that wasn't as impressive to the teenagers as the strawberry on my back. </p><p>These are the massive shoals that did me in.<br /></p><p></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5353304467769593954" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiadt8xji8QAuk6S7hyiHWEpBwbtgNEWiNPmX2MrUA_LdqY7bBh1w5iyw_C8ea-lrtKteUx2k9U5pz0UqXkhBet7vxwTSksyb2NJbfGyXDjzkwoTdFE4xKK1T3u4kyp9fJNSWfx5MQddVk/s400/DSC02343.JPG" border="0" /><br />I realized I should have used the baby float.</p><p>Dad pointed out I am not 20 something any more with out even knowing I was hanging out with 20 somethings. I was kinda insulted.</p><p>I was deposited at home sometime around 6 and I collapsed to be doctored by my smirking husband. </p><p>By this time i realize I have mucked up. Not only did I not rest, I seriously put at risk my ability to work and take care of family. WHAT A DOWNER! I wasn't really sure until Mon morning that I did not break anything. Carrying that weight and my wounded pride I went to work to make the best of it, and was faced with...... more crap. After debating for some time how to word what I am going through, I reread my post and realized I covdered that in the first paragraph.</p><p>Trying to be thankful I have a workplace to go to even if it is with fraught with degradation, discrimination and favoritism. </p><p>This weekend there shall be no problem balancing the equation. With an extra day off I will be able to store enough energy, willpower, superpowers and the motivation I will need to return to enslavement on Monday.<br /></p><p></p>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-53934799071862447432009-06-15T15:47:00.000-04:002009-06-15T16:44:24.939-04:00Well Deserved BreakSeeing how the only time I have had off in a year has been three hospital stays (recap: Mom-Tcell transplant, mister- heart attack, son-neck surgery) I took my parents offer of help to attend a family reunion in Florida. It was a whirlwind trip leaving fri and returning yesterday, but refreshing still. Refreshing more because (sniff, sniff) kids wound up not being able to go. I was very disappointed. I did not gloat.<br />The boy had a 4wheeler accident that resulted in a broken collar bone. This would cause panic for the average person but it caused rage in this mom. He wasn't even supposed to be riding, as anyone who knows me or him KNOWS. Note that he lives with his father and obviously wore him down to get permission to even be on one before his year of healing is up. I will not bore you with the obvious conversations that ensued but needless to say i was as mad as a wet hen and wasn't taking a broken/not-yet-set child to Florida. Minime chose to work the double shifts that were offered to her and opted out since bubba wasn't going.<br />My diabolical plan ( ?!) to have an all adult weekend was falling into place. I packed a blender.<br />We stayed in the same area as we ever did when I was a child, at Fernandina Beach. Not crowded, one of everything you could need and family on every corner.<br />Bittersweet for my mom who spent her very young to teen years there and it was sad to watch her need help to walk on the loose sand to get to the tight, flat beach. Chemo left it scars in the form of severe neuropathy in the feet and hands.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcDghmU7rHUPYGPancjqHQR2HL-cMVvdpRdg28QRyjOR1Ch693v0c2V6UE5qY7ySVOV5EDuVIsM8IGpxChgxS4t4Mgj0nVwkRg5JuShzc24dWQkcNzDYXYMFAjMDgAciAUWHe6GYjCWNg/s1600-h/DSC_0012.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcDghmU7rHUPYGPancjqHQR2HL-cMVvdpRdg28QRyjOR1Ch693v0c2V6UE5qY7ySVOV5EDuVIsM8IGpxChgxS4t4Mgj0nVwkRg5JuShzc24dWQkcNzDYXYMFAjMDgAciAUWHe6GYjCWNg/s400/DSC_0012.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347645636732559666" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">My mom, on the right with her younger sister.<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Fun was watching my dad at work with his new lens, don't ask me what it was, but it was way more powerful that what i have. I managed a few shots on my D70 with it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZ3dMte9WFpXt0LOd1F6LufvZwVWdNZ3jfY0XFCsru_1igwdTHLNUPWYxdYVkSXwck8Tag144G97Sn4kYElA7JWRItiVSW1Y8wFAJxTRDsSyZbX_G8jwEHYFW_pMR16mGtxKl0CsSOXs/s1600-h/DSC_0017.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZ3dMte9WFpXt0LOd1F6LufvZwVWdNZ3jfY0XFCsru_1igwdTHLNUPWYxdYVkSXwck8Tag144G97Sn4kYElA7JWRItiVSW1Y8wFAJxTRDsSyZbX_G8jwEHYFW_pMR16mGtxKl0CsSOXs/s400/DSC_0017.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347650757209906386" border="0" /></a><br />Mister thought it was a great backdrop for an album cover so i went at it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOyrqNEVJBAmudF8kMGsHriXRn6ne5uBiE6tX3CbgckU-d0P4RPNCLD5mEz6qZeXxUXFPsOpNhOEGTiKv7GMZN6JkMa_Y0m-UBa-D9rqKaVNF-Cp5OknYDtVIV5D8YwF2N0DIWTIuS5U/s1600-h/DSC_0024.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnOyrqNEVJBAmudF8kMGsHriXRn6ne5uBiE6tX3CbgckU-d0P4RPNCLD5mEz6qZeXxUXFPsOpNhOEGTiKv7GMZN6JkMa_Y0m-UBa-D9rqKaVNF-Cp5OknYDtVIV5D8YwF2N0DIWTIuS5U/s400/DSC_0024.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347649105849579762" border="0" /></a><br />I though about you guys really...<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNJXWBp3F0IZj9RjKlHOQRBOKYdDYqbqqy1u8T1fIymdZw8BDuzlNWFa1DBnE9rE0K3iMRQTflysoENQENGw4ps0ATGp_rMygCLEzeLQMecj7QlnhPvVns0rMyTr2MqEZ_4ZCXEBkXqQ/s1600-h/DSC02086.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXNJXWBp3F0IZj9RjKlHOQRBOKYdDYqbqqy1u8T1fIymdZw8BDuzlNWFa1DBnE9rE0K3iMRQTflysoENQENGw4ps0ATGp_rMygCLEzeLQMecj7QlnhPvVns0rMyTr2MqEZ_4ZCXEBkXqQ/s400/DSC02086.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347651038411214546" border="0" /></a>Somewhere on Amelia Island/Fernandina Beach<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Things that made me want to stay at the beach and not return:</span><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /><ol><li>The beach</li><li>Mister getting his groove back</li><li>Did not want to see another bridge....ever</li><li>convinced myself that i really COULD make a living with an umbrella business<br /></li><li>the palms</li><li>the way anyone can wear damn near anything they want, at the beach</li><li>The way humid, salty air makes my hair act ( think 80's big, sexy beach hair)</li><li>Could not get cell phone signal on the beach.... YAY</li><li>Crab anywhere, anytime.</li></ol><br /></div></div></div></div></div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-56651650902488667702009-05-03T18:56:00.000-04:002009-05-03T21:33:36.681-04:00History comes aliveAn interesting phenomenon in the south is that some of us LOOOOOOOOOVE to live in the past.<br />I was raised near a state historic site, <a href="http://www.gastateparks.org/info/jarrell/">Jarrell Plantation</a>, where i volunteered as a teen, and subsequently worked as an older teen. In that time I learned the required arts of the time period: spinning, weaving, dyeing, shearing, wood-stove cooking and dulcimer playing. (I am stashing those skills for the inevitable "survival of the fittest" that I sometimes think this world is coming to.)<br /><br />In that time of my life I became attached to a rogue group of civil war reenactors that ate-lived-breathed the lifestyle. I joined the group, falling into place as a living historian. Dressing the part was enabled by my seamstress mother who made every day dress, pantaloon, chemise, ball gown that I salivated over. Some patterns were a premium, she once made me Scarletts' barbeque dress from Gone With the Wind. I traveled the the state to participate in various battles, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Chickamauga">Chickamauga</a>, <a href="http://www.nps.gov/history/hps/abpp/battles/ga008.htm">Resaca</a> & Andersonville. Some, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Griswoldville">Griswoldville</a> & <a href="http://wikimapia.org/8296589/Sunshine-Church-Battlefield-July-31-1864">Sunshine Church</a>, were closer to home.<br /><br />We were in deep.<br /><br />The following photo would have been in my hey day( 21 or 22 yo), we won first place for authenticity that evening. The judges would even pull up our dresses to make sure we were authentic to the bone, guess they chose to overlook my braces.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKVW_SjruCqP-abbiAvHQBnq7pycuPGDVXTonDoyvpQ1Y1q0zvkj5jHi9m0ppfrnMDAsZ-naJyBh4nIsZ-aWEqAxyes_bZaiFJZO_1DuM2BC9G9_GpycJb3owj15M2YU_COJz-cC_www/s1600-h/1880.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 256px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHKVW_SjruCqP-abbiAvHQBnq7pycuPGDVXTonDoyvpQ1Y1q0zvkj5jHi9m0ppfrnMDAsZ-naJyBh4nIsZ-aWEqAxyes_bZaiFJZO_1DuM2BC9G9_GpycJb3owj15M2YU_COJz-cC_www/s400/1880.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331742223785642898" border="0" /></a><br />I introduced my first husband to the group and after being punished for being the yankee that he is :) , we were allowed a civil war wedding in the local historic community, where we lived, <a href="http://jonescounty.georgia.gov/03/home/0,2230,8967639,00.html;jsessionid=E6A9A51CB828FCBEF643AEBB0A4AA642">Clinton</a>.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZh-cLlqEQqYetTiDNWd3bYesQZXLsHrsXr4G56QIJcDp8FbkpLuTfl0I2TvXQo8iAt9bkSEBRyWZlgypCrXpfcnT6gHDEv4ztfYLZK14qrbMcRZW-9yGqV7Km_OzcslW_ewlQ72GONBM/s1600-h/clinton+wedding.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZh-cLlqEQqYetTiDNWd3bYesQZXLsHrsXr4G56QIJcDp8FbkpLuTfl0I2TvXQo8iAt9bkSEBRyWZlgypCrXpfcnT6gHDEv4ztfYLZK14qrbMcRZW-9yGqV7Km_OzcslW_ewlQ72GONBM/s400/clinton+wedding.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331756733020728962" border="0" /></a><br />The best picture, that I could not find, is the regiment dragging up a wooden coffin & asking him to get in, just to see if it fit. This is where he would reside in the event the he did something to hurt me. My great grandmother loved that.<br /><br />Fast forward past years that I spent roaming the state, estranged from the camps, the lifestyle, the fellowship, the familiarity. When we moved home, i made a point to get Minime to Jarrell Plantation where she, too, volunteered and got a small taste of my childhood. She learned about cotton fields, textile arts, animals and history.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrAgsiIWmawhkOjQG9NUpuwwGJ0ulN3t4EbrwiihWEvRzBY5coUxlI6CvExWWEP395atwsSnFwHCIdBrOcq1W_PymPbRGOLAhYp4C6zo-FnYCLQMhetFglPbkL0Xk8RjiiCRo-stnH0M/s1600-h/carrie+jarrell.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYrAgsiIWmawhkOjQG9NUpuwwGJ0ulN3t4EbrwiihWEvRzBY5coUxlI6CvExWWEP395atwsSnFwHCIdBrOcq1W_PymPbRGOLAhYp4C6zo-FnYCLQMhetFglPbkL0Xk8RjiiCRo-stnH0M/s400/carrie+jarrell.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331759779147036850" border="0" /></a>Several years after the photo above, she worked as and ice angel ( for girls under 16) on the battle field in Clinton, carrying water and ice chips to wounded soldiers. We have stopped short of dressing her up as a soldier and sending her out on the field. I was know to do that to be in a position to set off pyrotechnics for the artillery.<br /><br />Fun Times.<br /><br />Minime doesn't care too much anymore except to go see the folks that we have visited with over the years, but we went down today to see the Battle of Sunshine Church with some friends. It is an emotional trip for me, 5 minutes from the house. I drive by it all the time, but when it is seething with blue and gray, i get a little verklempt. We noted that some pictures had been added to the memorial wall, "Mountain" and "King", both long-time familiar characters at any battle. I remembered them fondly as each had their ashes blasted from a cannon at the end of a memorial volley, seen below.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh316HuHrsW7X5m2otOxiHDcYZ9P80CPBLOA9PA4TTHoAjnS2oq3rP-owc7fsY3bmQllNuxcO2KjuXNE1O8m1qhrCOdqV8qTDr5mC3BJFV9VnesZKSA9yLgbQntVBxbnoYhXMeWgoZYW58/s1600-h/DSC_9760.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 376px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh316HuHrsW7X5m2otOxiHDcYZ9P80CPBLOA9PA4TTHoAjnS2oq3rP-owc7fsY3bmQllNuxcO2KjuXNE1O8m1qhrCOdqV8qTDr5mC3BJFV9VnesZKSA9yLgbQntVBxbnoYhXMeWgoZYW58/s400/DSC_9760.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331766516645081634" border="0" /></a>I am not sure if this was a health violation.<br /><br /><br />Things have come full circle, I am home, close to Clinton. Below is the man in previous photos (as my escort and then the minister at the wedding). He is a driving force behind Clinton battles, which ultimately are to raise money for the Clinton Historical Society.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicS1Em9AdmsSx6ESlSfsz_zI8myEV-lAtq6iSpmDmfdKkWOKfr14SoIFn91qgAvReu27xwN2E8cpkXZjeUS9I4leApXP8uNFVoL7l5IBMmW22kzcOsiRjaEamHLNTP9AxQn5gl8fgNedM/s1600-h/DSC_9758.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicS1Em9AdmsSx6ESlSfsz_zI8myEV-lAtq6iSpmDmfdKkWOKfr14SoIFn91qgAvReu27xwN2E8cpkXZjeUS9I4leApXP8uNFVoL7l5IBMmW22kzcOsiRjaEamHLNTP9AxQn5gl8fgNedM/s400/DSC_9758.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331767090931253906" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />Here are a couple of battlefield shots.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XAdDp0aIRnovGFq6wBMnJ66KHMrGQ9YnHaOnRPZthKwGpVI_GXI-rlN-IOz5XrC36aqD33PKKCcnRrsGUnI8leMVZ2ifi5CpGv6WOYVmyxjZ9UEa3zSaxRXdDbllFXPpkJD3bvZaw-c/s1600-h/confederate+line.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2XAdDp0aIRnovGFq6wBMnJ66KHMrGQ9YnHaOnRPZthKwGpVI_GXI-rlN-IOz5XrC36aqD33PKKCcnRrsGUnI8leMVZ2ifi5CpGv6WOYVmyxjZ9UEa3zSaxRXdDbllFXPpkJD3bvZaw-c/s400/confederate+line.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331770633186294002" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkwQPO_Tr_mU_Ln8y3uywmJqlxEtdWihgVixxCm7Tk8B9tUPYz5Va3DriuPUaTjaHgRXjazTiKN-Ic-mvDYHTzON84_vHH3SGAFlOhJvIh_BVKgsKi7lT6RIvA4UOg5TPQ3OpuTzHhXE/s1600-h/union.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 327px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkwQPO_Tr_mU_Ln8y3uywmJqlxEtdWihgVixxCm7Tk8B9tUPYz5Va3DriuPUaTjaHgRXjazTiKN-Ic-mvDYHTzON84_vHH3SGAFlOhJvIh_BVKgsKi7lT6RIvA4UOg5TPQ3OpuTzHhXE/s400/union.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331769530979941362" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FBYU6T1tIwfnsyJTvAAukb4JMo45vK4tZxd6U6zWai3mF64QOVET6nkeg5KcymaVgmI2QEYAexIoxK2yfZFb-IU813EP27TKkNYKKtd1mptlwUNzZF_1fQ0DqnKOZoKuyEw26icKcGw/s1600-h/union+line.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-FBYU6T1tIwfnsyJTvAAukb4JMo45vK4tZxd6U6zWai3mF64QOVET6nkeg5KcymaVgmI2QEYAexIoxK2yfZFb-IU813EP27TKkNYKKtd1mptlwUNzZF_1fQ0DqnKOZoKuyEw26icKcGw/s400/union+line.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331770135608880642" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2WirKgc9SlE5i6k_PSGOPhM2zwY4uzP54Bx-ai7gEwbijmnShEQhhJOVxgGJBsA9A7oFdd204RCY_bg5_b4H7xNa0-eciaQ-2W0Wjx1SSvzFbb2MqmBbREMX9Nq2PnI28EJmmekuO88/s1600-h/artillery.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo2WirKgc9SlE5i6k_PSGOPhM2zwY4uzP54Bx-ai7gEwbijmnShEQhhJOVxgGJBsA9A7oFdd204RCY_bg5_b4H7xNa0-eciaQ-2W0Wjx1SSvzFbb2MqmBbREMX9Nq2PnI28EJmmekuO88/s400/artillery.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331771307244918706" border="0" /></a><br />I realized some years ago that some of the participants are more gung ho than others if you know what I mean, and when I was much younger I did not realize the stigma that may be attached to being involved in this sort of horse play. I have since been told by those opposed to certain ideals of 1880 to get over it and move on, but i was NEVER in it for more than the living history demonstrations and never to push a political viewpoint.<br /><br />I believe reenactments have their place as educational, and those that are just a little too loud and proud about the whole damn flag thing are usually not over it and should, in fact move on.<br />I am simply proud to have been involved with a such great group, and hope that they have many more years of living history left in them.misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-3431826159711956402009-03-08T21:00:00.000-04:002009-03-08T21:09:00.751-04:00The great ones just happen....<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLczuLa4YiC7wfVXnyI3-6Yl1jS_hSZboYoeQNJ2kUl8EfI2iFNJMby7imvYf6pYNOLaLyNTszjH2wKTEKlFkTeHzjyIidGq1qcbmxkhLM1HNwQ4g2X7xRTBKO2AoaqPYHyHmgFP8qC4I/s1600-h/DSC_8705.JPG"><img border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLczuLa4YiC7wfVXnyI3-6Yl1jS_hSZboYoeQNJ2kUl8EfI2iFNJMby7imvYf6pYNOLaLyNTszjH2wKTEKlFkTeHzjyIidGq1qcbmxkhLM1HNwQ4g2X7xRTBKO2AoaqPYHyHmgFP8qC4I/s320/DSC_8705.JPG" /></a> </div><br />On Sat, since the weather was so beautiful, we decided to jam in the yard with a friend or TWO.<br />The following happened when word got out. I never even picked up the phone.<br /><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5310987661592538882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiljdZJt3FuVet0ZK0RKC7ei8LV7IuslvxdUOIwW6T91GGdhX2_1DQ2YYveul50kfHzn0ND5PXVPREcu4ym7vEhcZny58vB2oqrXAAtaUNda9TfHF8QFbngE8SI7jjINLT_PYxrc9dJ8qs/s400/DSC_8723.JPG" /><br />This was the first time he has played for an "audience" since the event. </p><p> </p><p>:)</p><p> </p><p><br /> </p><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; CLEAR: both"><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img style="BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" border="0" alt="Posted by Picasa" align="middle" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" /></a></div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7002726094091764578.post-56028827036501796622009-03-01T15:10:00.000-05:002009-03-01T15:13:22.391-05:00Laugh at us while we freak out....<div align="center">Middle Georgia. Need i say more? </div><div align="center"> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvdf8IwJbMC33M5Ri-DCvYnEfqNZIlIPL87puAV3h_3b-l0iz1A7IYDjzW4qO8Alw6zRpTNhB5nrOwC3Qfl_AfGi62Tf_HGhjd_MMHaZro54MG0uyyJosSTJauSfve1ah3okAR8jwQoU/s1600-h/0301091441a.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308314291512467106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZvdf8IwJbMC33M5Ri-DCvYnEfqNZIlIPL87puAV3h_3b-l0iz1A7IYDjzW4qO8Alw6zRpTNhB5nrOwC3Qfl_AfGi62Tf_HGhjd_MMHaZro54MG0uyyJosSTJauSfve1ah3okAR8jwQoU/s400/0301091441a.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div>misticbluhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07336847956978687743noreply@blogger.com2