Thursday, August 16, 2012

Summertime

I'm up in the PNW for an extended stay with my Sean & the girls. Sky made the trip with me, and is having a good time. The girls keep him busy fetching tennis balls. Housebreaking him is still a work in progress...

 There has been lots of antique'n/junk'n, drinking of fruit of the vine..., meeting new friends & a revered blogger, driving the Big truck, drinking of wine..., eating of great food, treasure hunting on the beach, and just being...



On the repurpose trail: found a very cool magnet board (made with a piece of old tin put in a picture frame), pieces of drift wood to make sail boats,


and fabric for sofa pillows.
  
Bought an old Singer featherweight sewing machine from a really nice older (scratch that...they are my age) couple.  I've been searching for one of these for a while now...but with the limited budget...it wasn't happening.  I had one when I first started sewing as a child...loved that little machine...even took it up to granny's cabin in the summertime.  So far I've mended Miss J's large stuffed snake...(Hisss, is her name), and made two dresses for same...! Also made two summer dresses for the girls, and will start on a few others, as well as teaching the girls how to sew.

The girls talked their dad into building them a large wooden doll house.  It's going to be wonderful.  They designed it, and are busy making executive decisions on every single thing they are putting in it. Furniture making with clay & cardboard is on going...


We made Flubber one day, and have been flubbering every since.  Everyone who stops by takes a handful to play with (doesn't matter if your a big or little kid)...  It acts as therapy of some sort...


So, Sean's once neat house is now over run with women...treasures from the ocean and sand, wine bottles, scraps of material: wood, cloth & clay, dog foot prints, and Flubber...


Wednesday, July 25, 2012

flying the Mattea

The home ranch had a far 2,000 acre field called the Mattea, it consisted of a lot of ridges and draws.  It was good feed but a tough gather, as the trap (holding field) in the corner ran opposite all those ridges and draws. And once you were in the holding field you were still a long way from the home corrals.

You had to be saddled and on your way long before daylight, and trail an extra horse as well to cover that country.  When you finally got the cattle trailed back to the home corrals, you had spent more than a few very long days in the saddle. It was hard on cattle, dogs, horses, and cowhands.

Then the light dawned for the Cowman...we can gather it with a helicopter...! He penciled it out every which way, and it did work, at least on paper.  Off to the Captain (his dad) he went, after a protracted discussion, he was given the go ahead.  
Then to find a pilot willing to take on this little job...eventual he did find a pilot that was pretty hard up and had done one small gather...so the sucker, err, pilot signed on.

not my photo...not my burros..

I love to go up in whirly birds, and don't understand what is so upsetting about hanging out with one foot on the skid so I can get the full thrill. But the Cowman was not about to let me go up for this gather.  Truth be told he knew that field like the back of his hand, so it was he who got to direct things from the air. Dang, I love flying in those things.

We rode out early a horseback to meet them at the holding field. By the time we got the gates set they were driving in the cattle.  whomp, whomp, whomp...
Don't you just love the sound of whirly birds?!! 

Everything went well, except the next time we gathered that field with a helicopter, we had to go a might farther afield to find a pilot that was that hard up...I mean that experienced in gathering cattle.
 

Friday, July 20, 2012

Congrats Cody

My oldest grandson has recently received notification of the selection of three of his pictures...  You can see them and read about it here:

http://mausersandmuffins.blogspot.com/

Thanks Brigid for posting this...we all know how photo posting challenged Cody's grandma is!

Congrats Cody...love you beyond words...granny.





Sunday, June 24, 2012

One by one

June is One amazing month....

      One came home on leave...


One graduated from high school with honors,


One and two more showed at the fair,


One is my new pup "Sky",



                    One pitched up a storm,



One is a jr lifeguard and on swim team,

One is busy running harvester in the wheat,

One flew to Kansas with her girls for a volleyball camp,

One (on the left) is celebrating his 42nd birthday,



One (me) has been in Reno for the BFI.











Monday, May 28, 2012

Memorial Day

Lex said it all http://thelexicans.wordpress.com/

Celebrating Memorial Day
By lex, on May 29th, 2006


Odds are people asked you, “What are you doing for Memorial Day weekend?” Because that’s what people do, when the weather’s fine and a long weekend’s coming up. They ask in a well-meaning, value neutral kind of way, the question taking the place of the equally meaningless conversational things people may ask such as, “Do you think it’s going to rain?” Because as far as the Memorial Day weekend is concerned, for many it’d be OK if you were planning on a trip to the beach with the kids, or to Disney, or maybe just to the park for a picnic. It’d even be OK if you were just going to kick back, relax, chill out. See some old friends.
Because for many people, it’s just a long weekend to do with as you want – the open parenthesis to the brackets of summer. Memorial Day on this end, Labor Day on the other. The most civic minded of us will plant flags at our local military gravesites. And we may ask our children to remember those who gave the utmost level of devotion to secure our freedoms. But we mostly don’t talk among ourselves about the fact that names are still being added to the list of the lost, names that until recently belonged to people, but now belong to memory, belong to the ages. Names that once brought smiles to parents’ faces and light to a lover’s eyes but now bring only a whistling blow to the pit of the stomach for those who loved them. Names that now signify a vast, empty, mournful space that actual people used to fill. People with nearly infinite personal complexities, fears, hopes, dreams and yes, flaws.
And I can understand this reticence to talk about it, even while I think it a shame. The knowledge of loss is painful of course, but it’s become all tied up in low, spiteful, vile politics somehow. We’re at least a little bit afraid that if we answer the question, “What are you going to do for Memorial Day Weekend?” the way we really ought to – with something about remembering the sacrifices of those who made it possible for us to enjoy a long weekend in May, for example – we might see the pleasant blandness on our interlocutor’s face turn to something mean and hard. The passions of the moment.
And that’s a shame too, because the politics behind the policy we are embarked upon – support them or no – have no bearing upon the purity of the soldiers’ sacrifice. One year after this post, another 878 names have been added to the list of those Americans who have fought and died in Iraq. Eight hundred and seventy-eight names, life experiences, unique windows on the universe – closed now, shuttered forever, a howling absence.
They didn’t fight for a president, they fought for a country, the one that gave them birth, gave them a home. They didn’t fight for a party, they fought for a people, and that people’s way of life, its rights and freedoms and yes, it’s responsibilities too. Our soldiers know them all too well, the obligations of a free society. It is a burden that they have shouldered for us, as free men and women, as volunteers. And for all too many of them, it was a burden that finally brought them low.
It is indisputable that they fought and died in a noble attempt, and were a part of freeing nearly 50 million minds. Whether or not we – and those minds that they liberated – are worthy of their sacrifice is something history will judge through a long and severe lens. And we should keep in mind, for better or for worse, that it will not only be the soldiers being judged, nor their captains and generals nor even presidents, but we ourselves who sent them. We ourselves for whom they fought. We ourselves for whom they died.
Remember then, and celebrate. Celebrate the fact that for over 200 years, nearly one million men and women have honored us enough to fight for us – enough, in the end, to die for us – over the course of our country’s birth, the agony of our Civil War, a “War to End all Wars,” and the war that it did not, Korea, Vietnam and now two wars in a far place, for a people we do not know. Celebrate the fact that no matter how bitter our internal divisions, no matter how imperfectly we have trod the world stage, there are still people willing to stand on the line for us, for the ideals we represent, for the man or woman on their left or right who is all they know of America when the bullets snap and whine. Soldiers on their left or right who held them in their arms for us, when the pain seeped away with the blood, who held them still as they finally offered up their names to us.
In return we must honor them. In return, we must earn this.