Into the wind...

My dad has had a larger than life influence on me.  He is full of it most of the time, and although I resemble my mom, I'm fairly sure I take after him in temperament.

Mom is the quintessential Southern lady. We do not mesh well her & I, never have, never will. Bless her she has certainly tried to make a silk purse out of me. I have not become the daughter she wished and worked so hard for.  Always outside, always wandering, always wondering, always asking why and how, that's me. Sorry mom, I'd rather be riding, on the water, working cattle, fishing a stream, camped under the stars, building or learning a new skillset.

Dad is a kindred spirit.  We like a lot of the same things.  He taught me to question, to validate, to be responsible, to wonder, to hang tough, and to dare...

He's going to be 90 this month. I've been saving up for a while to get him something a little different.  He loves to fly and has piloted a long list of planes from prop jobs thru jets, but it's been a while.  I want to give him a ride around the valley in a Stearman, and have been working to that end. I think it would be a kick for him to fly over the ranches he herded ducks on with the Cub, and his ol hunting grounds.  I hope it will be a memory he can hold close.  And I pray that I have many more years of sending him the nightly e-mail: Good Night Dad, Love You Sis.

Uniforms, Boots, and a Dog

This post will be of no interest to men, so guys don't bother, nothing to see, move along... go see Old NFO, he's playing with balls, or Virtual Mirage, he's in the trees, or EIAFT, he has a really good book going.
Even my faithful Willie is beyond bored with this...

Since the crew is filling the water wagon, I have no water. So nice of them to let me know, since I went on a ripping apart the bedroom spree, and wanted to wash every little thing. Not happening anytime soon. Ripped out a section of fence that I wasn't happy with, mowed, and weeded, but can't water.  Went down to the barns and found all the left around coats and jackets, brought them home to wash...Not happening soon enough. Willy went to the barn with me and found a primo cowpie to roll in, repeatedly, no water to give him a bath.  Thought to go thru my closet and sort clothes...  
 I'm quite sure part of the problem is I really don't like to shop... I make a list, go to the store, get what's on the list, and I'm out of there. There are three exceptions: bookstores, plant nurseries, and sporting goods stores.  But they are necessary things.
Ok Ladies, this is where you can help with the wardrobe!  In sorting thru the closet I discovered I have a couple of different uniforms I wear and that's it. 

This is the summer uniform: t shirt, shorts, linen pinnie, & boots..

This is the spring & fall uniform: shirt, jeans, pinnie, & boots...

This is the winter uniform: shirt, jeans, pinnie or jacket & boots...

This is the dressy uniform: linen dress, and high heels...

 See even Willie thinks my wardrobe is boring. 

 

I'm open to your suggestions, so please have at it.  Seriously I need your help, either that or the water turned back on...

Just life...

So there you are driving the big van with the wheelchair to the wheelchair hospital in a far town.  A friend's hubby is a quad, and since there was kinda no one else available to take care of this little mission...
I got a short course in how to operate the lift and the chair,

  that stayed with me about as long as it took me to pull out of the parking lot.  Just because you thought you had the wheelchair secured, doesn't mean it is. The chances of it breaking free and flying into the back of the driver's seat, are better than one would think. It gets crazy when the tap of the chair against the back of the driver's seat causes the chair to give you a hard hug... and then refuses to Tap Out. I have immense respect for my friend's hubby that he can run that dang thing with his chin.
Got to the far town, and left off the chair at the wheelchair hospital.  Off I went to the big bookstore. I can go into bookstore zen faster than all get out. It was disappointing that they didn't have LL's  http://symbolic-mirage.blogspot.com/


 






in hard copy like I wanted.  

 After a couple hours of bookstore zenning I moved on to one of my favorite plant places. Such interesting plants (ie: Feverfew) and yard art...

Returned to the wheelchair hospital, loaded up and headed home. An hour later as the helo is  landing for a short break... 
                                                  
 

I was trying to keep the big van from biffing it at the entrance to the parking lot.  How embarrassing would that be, to bite the dust in front of the ER, especially when I used to work there. 
Headed off to dinner with Marymine, Devil Doc and crew.  (the Devil Doc grandson is home for a short time before going back to the 'stan with his out in front Marines.)

  I showed him the pics from my times house sitting. With much laughter, the other grandkids reminded him that things always seem to "happen" when granny is around.  Just life...!

What's your moniker?

It's intriguing what names people call themselves or others call them.
  
How do nicknames come about?  My brother was and is called Buzz, which I thought for the longest time was because of his flying. Nope it was because he was busy as a bee as a little guy.

My dad has been called by the foreshortened version of his last name for as long as I can remember.  His first name is his grandmother's last name, which was a common way of naming in the family. I like his first name, but the only one I ever heard call him that was my granny.

Dad seems to be the giver of nicknames in our family.  He has called me Pistol, Dead Eye, and Sis, interchangeably since I was little.  Never my given name, which works just fine, as I never liked it.

He nicknamed Marymine early on as Indian, because of her long braids, and how brown she got in the summertime. She in turn calls him Chief.

My Sean didn't get one that I remember. When Sean was born there weren't a lot of kids with his name, and the few that were spelled it Shawn.  Most people mistakenly called him Seen!  I have a feeling my dad thought a nickname would have just made it harder for him.

I don't know what Himself's grandfather (on the left) was called besides his given name. Well, I do but it wasn't exactly a nickname.  His dad (on the right) was called Captain. No one seems to remember where that came from, as he was never in the military. His children called him that as well.

Himself was called by his given name, or a shortened version of it.  He hated to be called a cowboy.  He never mentioned his dislike for that name in public, but often in private said, "I'm not a damn cowboy, I'm a Cowman!  A cowboy is only interested in fork'n a horse, that's most likely brighter than he is.  A Cowman knows his cattle, knows his land, knows his market, and has the brains to make it all work."  
I called him a lot of things over the years, but never a cowboy.


       

Scattered Thoughts

Happy, that my 30 Marine sons (by other mothers) are all safely back in the states after eight months in Afghanistan.

Not happy, that my "Devil Doc" corpsman grandson is getting ready to deploy to the 'stan with his Marines, Again.

Tired of crappy customer service. Took the old pistol that my dad gave me to the local gunsmith (located in the local 'ol boys sporting goods store) for a check up a couple months ago.  Waited patiently for a phone call. Nothing.  Finally I went in to see how it was going.  First he ignores me, til one of the other guys said something to him.  Then he takes me back to the gun safe, tells me he really hasn't had time to go over it, because he had some "Really Important Guns" to take care of!   You know what Bucko, that old pistol is really important to me!  If you didn't have the time or want to work on it, you should have just told me.  And if you ever, ever sweep me with a gun again, I'm prepared for the consequences of my actions.

Glad that the young salesgirl in Victoria's Secret laughed With me when I asked just how one was supposed to get out of that leather bustiere without a ka bar.