Remembered

A childhood friend stopped by during a visit out way... west of the Dakotas, where he lives. It was great to see Paddy again. 
I was always in the thick of it with he and his brothers when we were little kids.  We often camped* together, swam, fished, skied Tahoe, hunted, played pool, and generally ran a muck.  Being the only girl in that bunch was not an issue, they expected me to be able to do whatever was on in the moment, no fear!
After we moved away from the area I had only limited contact with them.  We were all busy living our lives. 
 Paddy went on to become an ER doc, with a family practice as well.  I don't know what started him on that road, I do know he saved my life when we were just kids, and I had done something incredibly stupid a horseback. 
As we were talking about our lives in the intervening years... he called me by the nickname that they used for me.  I hadn't heard it in years... remembered good times.
*see: http://brighidsplace.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-loved-camping-and-still-do.html
   

Some things never change

Spring is in the air here.  It has been sunny and warm for the last week.
Even after all these years I still expect to move with the cattle to summer pasture in the mountains. The other day I saw a picture of cattle being loaded in trucks... I was instantly there.. could smell the dust, the warm horses, the cattle, the leather, the sunshine, the promise of a summer in the mountains...
While I was dreaming of moving out, there were a pair of house sparrows moving into a small birdhouse in the garden.  The little lady was directing the placement of the furnishing from the perch, while the male brought the furniture in.  He, brought a large piece of grass, it was the whole plant, and he struggled to carry it to a branch by the little lady.  She looked it over, chirped her approval, and watched carefully as he placed it in the nest box. He flew back next to the little lady and shook himself, as if to say Thank God that is done!  Where upon she flew to the nest, scuttled around inside, yanked the newly placed furniture out of the nest, and dropped it at the feet of the befuddled male.  She then took off to do more shopping.  Some things never change...   

Stuff

I could well be way over doing the reading thing with a ton of books and blogs and "stuff". 
 
Now I've been scanning the contents of my e-mail spam file, as I was expecting an important message and didn't want it to get trashed by accident.  But jeez, really where do they source this "stuff" from: hot dates with old guys, stay up longer ads, chemical enhancement ads, how to meet old bikerduds, college quals, how to join seniors meet and perverts in your neighborhood...     

Read On

I like to read, maybe a little too much...

Currently I'm reading:
Gilgamesh
Horseshoes, Cowsocks & Duckfeet
The Tao of Leadership
The Cornered Cat
Where the Sidewalk Ends
The Old Whore: A Novel

What are you reading?

Well Shoot...

The last time I shot a jingle worm, he was between the generator shed and I. He was Big, and dark green, and not happy that I had encouraged him to leave the sliding door track. When he got far enough away from the house, I emptied both barrels into him, and my new garden hose, now a soaker hose.  My Sean was not impressed, "Jeez Mom, there isn't a big enough piece of him left to feed the chickens."   No, and I was fine with that.  
See the thing about living in the back of beyond was you didn't have access to those power lines that can light up your life.  Nope, you had a honking big diesel generator, (that lived in it's very own shed).  You learned pretty quick that the gas refrig wasn't all that great, or big or cheap to run.  That the gas stove had been installed with Electronic Ignition, and that the switch in the house that turned on/off the generator (out there in it's very own shed) was not liked by the generator.  The generator liked to be talked to with a soft voice... sorta like "come on babe, you can do this...  fire up babe, please...," given a straight shot of primer, and sometimes even required a full front hug.  This made it necessary for "someone" to go out to the generator shed at 0-dark-thirty in the morning and wake the generator.  After everyone had done their morning ablutions, it was turned off.  In the evening the process started again with "someone" going out and turning on the generator for an hour or so before putting the kids to bed, going out an turning the generator off and turning on the kerosene lantern to read by.  The evening trip was always a little dicey, as that was when the jingle worms liked to be moving about.  So "someone" always had a shotgun handy.
Well except for a horseback, because we didn't have the kind of horses it was wise to shoot off of...

Here:
http://brighidsplace.blogspot.com/2011/02/standing-tall.html