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  
 

It's in the eyes...

Dad learned to fly in a Stearman when he joined the Army Air Corp as a young man. He went on to finish his time in the military flying F-84's. He loved to fly.  My brother followed in his foot steps for a while in the Navy. Buzz, loved flying too, but hated carrier landings, so moved on to other fields of endeavor.  
As a side note, dad says that he was charged with teaching the other recruits how to drive a truck or car.  In those days he was one of the few who knew how.  He was a farm kid so he had been driving anything and everything since he was a little guy.
He talks about towing targets for the other pilots, and later the fun of putting his F-84 on the deck and coming at our house, pulling up at the very last second.  It would make mom plenty mad, us kids loved it.  
He was always flying something and for the most part one or the other of us kids got to go along.  I never felt anything but safe with him.  He was always checking everything, once, twice... until he was sure that things were as right as they could be.
He only had me a touch concerned... one time.  We flew the little cub up to hunt'n camp and spent a good time scouting for deer.  There is no good place to land up there, most are not an option at all, unless you want to be there permanently.  As I'm looking for deer, dad said "I need to check on something so we'll put her down on that knoll."  That knoll was about the size of a tennis court...  He did it with out a twitch.  We hiked into camp, checked on what needed it, hiked back out to the little cub, and flew home.  
He doesn't fly any more at 89, but he still has that look in his eyes.
    

Sticker shock...

The stickers on your vehicle say a lot about you, or so I'm told by an older fellow.   Hummm, I had a reining cowhorse doing a sliding stop on the back window of mine, for years.  Well and a small one on the front bumper, for to get into the gate at "The" mountain country club where the previous owners of Bessie had a second home.  Now on the back window there is a sticker that looks like a Starbuck's sticker, but says "I (heart) guns & coffee."  Marymine saw it, laughed, said something about "only you, mom" and wanted one for her suv.  Well sure thing, I've got more, lots more...   The other day Marymine mentioned that a woman had stopped her in the parking lot while she was in the big city, and my girl thought, aaah O, here it comes!  But, the woman said she loved the guns & coffee sticker.  Then pointed to another sticker and said "Oh, I see your from Texas."   "aaah, no."  "Well, isn't that sticker a Texas flag?"   "No, that sticker means I have a family member who is active duty military.  My son is a Navy corpsman."
here:
http://www.bluestarmothers.org/service-flag

It bothers me that the woman didn't know what the state flag of Texas is, it really bothers me that she didn't know what that oh so special sticker actually meant.   

Sometimes...

used to be an ol rancher down the road from the home ranch, drove a beat to heck ol Chev truck, with a huge sticker in the rear window: "FUBAR"  Never figured out whether he meant himself, the Chevy, or both...
Come to think of it, it was rumored his wife ran off with a sheep dip salesman  (known as a veterinarian in other parts of the country), and he seemed so happy about that.