http://military.rightpundits.com/2009/02/27/scott-stream-soldiers-last-words-from-afghanistan/#more-4799
Go read this soldier's story. Awesome. It is my favorite thing, too, to float and look at the sky.
Our freedom is not free. Found over at Blue Star Chronicles.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Cold Fronts
Let's talk about our wacky weather. Yesterday, I turned on the AC when the temps climbed above 81 degrees inside. And we kept the windows closed all night because the cold front sorta stalled in our area, and with high humidity, it still felt warm at bedtime. It was suppose to drop into the fifties last night, but it did not get below seventy degrees. The radio news folks kept quoting the stats that our high for today would be 63 degrees---even while it was seventy since midnight until 8am. Now the temps have slipped into the sixties. And with windows open, it has dipped to seventy-four in here at 9am. I feel a coolness, and the north side windchime is telling me the wind is turning around.
This is suppose to be a double cold front. cold now, and colder coming. Poor Minnesota is seeing minus temps. And even in Lawton, our son saw 36 degrees this morning when we were seventy. Feels good. But, I may need to start closing windows...again...but for different reason than yesterday. Ha. Fun. Fun. Weather is so fun. We rarely see freezing temps this time of year. March can be cool, and furnace in the morning, AC in the evening... And this is why we dress in layers.
No comet viewing. But, the pictures online are gorgeous.
We need rain.
This is suppose to be a double cold front. cold now, and colder coming. Poor Minnesota is seeing minus temps. And even in Lawton, our son saw 36 degrees this morning when we were seventy. Feels good. But, I may need to start closing windows...again...but for different reason than yesterday. Ha. Fun. Fun. Weather is so fun. We rarely see freezing temps this time of year. March can be cool, and furnace in the morning, AC in the evening... And this is why we dress in layers.
No comet viewing. But, the pictures online are gorgeous.
We need rain.
Good essay
"Lastly, here's a little 411 for all you ladies out there: If your prophet or god is cool with your husband beating the crap out of you or hacking your head off for thinking Brad Pitt is cute or because you want to wear a Miracle Bra, eat a BLT, or dance to a Shakira song, take that as a cue for you to find a new god, prophet and husband."
Here is where you can read the whole thing: http://www.clashradio.com/column.html
That Doug Giles is great !
Here is where you can read the whole thing: http://www.clashradio.com/column.html
That Doug Giles is great !
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Remembering Nannie
February 27th is my Nannie's birthday.
Nannie is my Dad's Mother. I called her Nannie because I was told later she did not want to be called Grannie. I was the firstborn on both sides. And my folks married very young. If my math is correct, Nannie was 43 years old when I was born. I am now Nannie's age when I remember her a lot. In other words, when Nannie was my age that I am now, I would have been about ten years old---young and impressionable, and fully aware that she loved me.
Born Atha Swartz in 1913, she was the only child to Pearl Pike Swartz and Ross C. Swartz. I remember my great-grandparents and their house in Farmer City, Illinois. It was a huge house with a wrap around porch, and fourteen foot ceilings---at least. I watched my Nannie care for her mother after her father died. They lived within a few blocks of each other in Farmer City for years, and yet Nannie always drove over to check on her. She had a thunderbird and I remember riding with her to pick up cream from area farmers, or fresh sweet corn. Or she would pick us up or drop us off at the other grandparents on their farm in Mansfield, not too many miles away.
Nannie had only had two sons, so she delighted in dressing my sister and I and our younger cousin. And I remember how she would take us shopping to buy a new dress. And she encouraged us to be ladies---a struggle since I enjoyed pal-ling with my grandpas in the barn and in the Culligan plant.
Nannie died when my son was only four years old. Nannie so enjoyed her great-grandson, and blessed us with Christmas ornaments for him. Christmas was her favorite holiday. She had the most modern tree and lights and loved all the presents and food. When she lay dying, she asked me to play Christmas carols on her organ.
My Mother's Mom was a farmer's wife---a great cook, and she kept the cleanest house, and always made us feel loved, and warm and welcome. She was a church going lady, who studied her Bible, and desired us to be good and kind to each other. Nannie, also desired us to be good and kind, and would take us to church---but hers was a wilder past. And she was an alcoholic. And she loved to dance.
I watched my Dad battle with his Mother, and I watched my Uncle take her into his home and care for her while she was dying. At age 72, the drinking had caught up with her. Or was it the Camel cigarrettes? Was it a race between lung cancer and cirrossis of the liver?
For twenty-nine years she was a part of my life. Growing up, my sister and I spent many an over night at her house. When I got married, she was there. And when my son was born, she was excited for us. And when my son was three---the little ski boots she bought and sent are still a precious memory.
I watched Nannie and Poppy build their dream house in Farmer City. And I remember her rose bushes, and patch of rubarb for rubarb pie or rubarb relish (applesauce in consistency) and I remember how she peeled potatoes, and how she loved the new invention of an in sink disposal.
When I was thirteen years old, and away at Summer Bible Church Camp, my Poppy was working on the second story shutters and slipped and fell backwards off the roof and fell head down onto the top step on the front of their house. I watched Nannie become a widow. And oh, how she grieved, for years and years. Poppy had been her best friend, and husband, and partner in crime---that wild living and dancing that scandalized their parents. My Dad tried shocking us with the stories and my Dad even hinted that he is not convinced Poppy is his father, but anyone who looks at my brother, Jay, will see images of Poppy. And my Dad had the same shoulder ticks that his Dad, and my sister's sons have inherited.
Happy Birthday Nannie. Thank you for being a great Nannie to me and my sister and brothers and cousins, Tera and Todd. Tera looks just like Nannie did when she was younger. (I have been told I look like the other Howe grandmother---my Dad's grandmother. Can you imagine your little girl growing up to look like your grandmother? At a Grandpa James' funeral a few years ago, one of Dad's cousins looked at me in shock---and thought he was seeing his and my Dad's grandmother Howe.)
Nannie loved getting dressed up, and she loved having parties, and watching TV. Nannie loved her sons, and her daughters-in-law, and her grandchildren, and her cousin. Romona. And I remember Nannie's good friend, who used to be my great-grandpa's secretary. Lilia? Nannie showed me how to be a good grannie, and a good friend, and a good hostess, and a longsuffering mom.
I don't think my Dad has ever forgiven her for questionable doctors or cures but there were the voice lessons. And I saw Nannie and Poppy help my folks with meals, and babysitting, and money, and gifts and time. And she was not my Mother. She was my grannie, always called, Nannie.
In the British culture, a nannie means something completely different. A nannie is the hired help that cares for and raises the baby through toddlerhood.
I am embarrassed to admit that I don't know her favorite color or favorite perfume. And I have probably asked Uncle Jim or Tera and I have forgotten what they told me.
I can remember my other Grandma's powder, and certain colors remind me of her, and I have a candle holder that I bought because it reminded me of her crystal. But, Nannie's tastes were so rich, so over-the-top, so austentacious, that I have nothing of hers. I did not want to be responsible. So much of it is garish, and needing of a china cabinet. I remember how she loved the newest, fanciest of plumbing fixtures. I lean more toward the practical and easiest to clean because I am lazy and lean much more toward the comfortable even in dress and housekeeping. In her later years, Nannie had a cleaning lady, and when we were young, she kept a closet of dress up clothes and shoes so that we would leave her stuff alone.
Thank you, Nannie for the great memories. And while it grieves me how my Dad treated you---all will be reconciled in heaven, where we will all treat each other with love and respect. You were always civil and friendly with my Mother's folks, and while I often saw Christmas celebrated in such stark contrast, you taught me that differences were okay. Thank you for flying down from Illinois to Houston to my wedding. My only wedding announcement in newsprint is a hoot because it chronicles your trip from Illinois to Houston for the event in the Farmer City Journal.
I would like to ask my Dad, tell me ten good things about your Mom. Or, Uncle Jim. or Tera. We moved away from Illinois when I was a sophomore in high school, so Uncle Jim and his daughter, Tera remember she so much better.
I wonder if my grandchild will only know me for twenty-nine years? And will they be good memories? My Mother's father lived to be almost 100, so I knew him for fifty of my years. And Grandma James almost forty. I think all four of them---my Mother's folks and my Dad's grew up in the same community, attended the same school in their small town, and both of my grandfathers even served for a time on the school board. I have seen the picture. Marshall Howe and Wilbur James. Did they know they would share grandchildren?
Happy Birthday, Nannie.
Nannie is my Dad's Mother. I called her Nannie because I was told later she did not want to be called Grannie. I was the firstborn on both sides. And my folks married very young. If my math is correct, Nannie was 43 years old when I was born. I am now Nannie's age when I remember her a lot. In other words, when Nannie was my age that I am now, I would have been about ten years old---young and impressionable, and fully aware that she loved me.
Born Atha Swartz in 1913, she was the only child to Pearl Pike Swartz and Ross C. Swartz. I remember my great-grandparents and their house in Farmer City, Illinois. It was a huge house with a wrap around porch, and fourteen foot ceilings---at least. I watched my Nannie care for her mother after her father died. They lived within a few blocks of each other in Farmer City for years, and yet Nannie always drove over to check on her. She had a thunderbird and I remember riding with her to pick up cream from area farmers, or fresh sweet corn. Or she would pick us up or drop us off at the other grandparents on their farm in Mansfield, not too many miles away.
Nannie had only had two sons, so she delighted in dressing my sister and I and our younger cousin. And I remember how she would take us shopping to buy a new dress. And she encouraged us to be ladies---a struggle since I enjoyed pal-ling with my grandpas in the barn and in the Culligan plant.
Nannie died when my son was only four years old. Nannie so enjoyed her great-grandson, and blessed us with Christmas ornaments for him. Christmas was her favorite holiday. She had the most modern tree and lights and loved all the presents and food. When she lay dying, she asked me to play Christmas carols on her organ.
My Mother's Mom was a farmer's wife---a great cook, and she kept the cleanest house, and always made us feel loved, and warm and welcome. She was a church going lady, who studied her Bible, and desired us to be good and kind to each other. Nannie, also desired us to be good and kind, and would take us to church---but hers was a wilder past. And she was an alcoholic. And she loved to dance.
I watched my Dad battle with his Mother, and I watched my Uncle take her into his home and care for her while she was dying. At age 72, the drinking had caught up with her. Or was it the Camel cigarrettes? Was it a race between lung cancer and cirrossis of the liver?
For twenty-nine years she was a part of my life. Growing up, my sister and I spent many an over night at her house. When I got married, she was there. And when my son was born, she was excited for us. And when my son was three---the little ski boots she bought and sent are still a precious memory.
I watched Nannie and Poppy build their dream house in Farmer City. And I remember her rose bushes, and patch of rubarb for rubarb pie or rubarb relish (applesauce in consistency) and I remember how she peeled potatoes, and how she loved the new invention of an in sink disposal.
When I was thirteen years old, and away at Summer Bible Church Camp, my Poppy was working on the second story shutters and slipped and fell backwards off the roof and fell head down onto the top step on the front of their house. I watched Nannie become a widow. And oh, how she grieved, for years and years. Poppy had been her best friend, and husband, and partner in crime---that wild living and dancing that scandalized their parents. My Dad tried shocking us with the stories and my Dad even hinted that he is not convinced Poppy is his father, but anyone who looks at my brother, Jay, will see images of Poppy. And my Dad had the same shoulder ticks that his Dad, and my sister's sons have inherited.
Happy Birthday Nannie. Thank you for being a great Nannie to me and my sister and brothers and cousins, Tera and Todd. Tera looks just like Nannie did when she was younger. (I have been told I look like the other Howe grandmother---my Dad's grandmother. Can you imagine your little girl growing up to look like your grandmother? At a Grandpa James' funeral a few years ago, one of Dad's cousins looked at me in shock---and thought he was seeing his and my Dad's grandmother Howe.)
Nannie loved getting dressed up, and she loved having parties, and watching TV. Nannie loved her sons, and her daughters-in-law, and her grandchildren, and her cousin. Romona. And I remember Nannie's good friend, who used to be my great-grandpa's secretary. Lilia? Nannie showed me how to be a good grannie, and a good friend, and a good hostess, and a longsuffering mom.
I don't think my Dad has ever forgiven her for questionable doctors or cures but there were the voice lessons. And I saw Nannie and Poppy help my folks with meals, and babysitting, and money, and gifts and time. And she was not my Mother. She was my grannie, always called, Nannie.
In the British culture, a nannie means something completely different. A nannie is the hired help that cares for and raises the baby through toddlerhood.
I am embarrassed to admit that I don't know her favorite color or favorite perfume. And I have probably asked Uncle Jim or Tera and I have forgotten what they told me.
I can remember my other Grandma's powder, and certain colors remind me of her, and I have a candle holder that I bought because it reminded me of her crystal. But, Nannie's tastes were so rich, so over-the-top, so austentacious, that I have nothing of hers. I did not want to be responsible. So much of it is garish, and needing of a china cabinet. I remember how she loved the newest, fanciest of plumbing fixtures. I lean more toward the practical and easiest to clean because I am lazy and lean much more toward the comfortable even in dress and housekeeping. In her later years, Nannie had a cleaning lady, and when we were young, she kept a closet of dress up clothes and shoes so that we would leave her stuff alone.
Thank you, Nannie for the great memories. And while it grieves me how my Dad treated you---all will be reconciled in heaven, where we will all treat each other with love and respect. You were always civil and friendly with my Mother's folks, and while I often saw Christmas celebrated in such stark contrast, you taught me that differences were okay. Thank you for flying down from Illinois to Houston to my wedding. My only wedding announcement in newsprint is a hoot because it chronicles your trip from Illinois to Houston for the event in the Farmer City Journal.
I would like to ask my Dad, tell me ten good things about your Mom. Or, Uncle Jim. or Tera. We moved away from Illinois when I was a sophomore in high school, so Uncle Jim and his daughter, Tera remember she so much better.
I wonder if my grandchild will only know me for twenty-nine years? And will they be good memories? My Mother's father lived to be almost 100, so I knew him for fifty of my years. And Grandma James almost forty. I think all four of them---my Mother's folks and my Dad's grew up in the same community, attended the same school in their small town, and both of my grandfathers even served for a time on the school board. I have seen the picture. Marshall Howe and Wilbur James. Did they know they would share grandchildren?
Happy Birthday, Nannie.
Wondering if my Mother is getting my emails...
Hey Mother, did you get this email? I sent it twice. And what was the menopause oil or vitamin you took to combat menopause symptoms? primrose oil?
Dad asked me to resend this, as he emailed that he lost it. So, here 'tis
-----Original Message-----
From: Joyce
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 1:10 PM
To:
Subject: thank you !!!
Dear Mother,
Thank YOU !!! I remember asking you a few years ago, and I thought you said you did not remember. I have read that experience, too---about super heavy periods, then stoppage. That is all I wanted to doctor to say, let's wait six months. I can stand it. Now that I know it is from a thick lining. But, no, doctors have to cover themselves with every known test known to man. I just cannot see submitting to a D&C at my age and weight. It sounds dangerous and invasive. But, the doctor won't rule out uterus cancer until they take a snip of the lining, and that doctor wanted to do a D&C. No way.
I will get another opinion. Most uterine cancer appears after menopause, too, from what I have read.
I am glad you remembered. I remember you use to have night sweats, and what vitamin did you take for that?? Primrose oil?? I have not had but a couple of night sweats but then I take the Alive multivitamin from the health food store, and B-50 from the chiropractor...
Thanks again. Warn Tina what is ahead, too. Love, Joyce
-----Original Message-----
From:
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 10:34 AM
To: Joyce
Subject: advice
Hi.
I have hesitated to say anything because you haven't asked but after
reading your blog this morning here is my experience.
Before menopause i had fibroids and one surgeon wanted to operate,
I never went back to him. I read in a health article at the time that
fibroids
usually got smaller after menopause so I decided to wait them out.
I did have several very heavy periods but after menopause that was
over also.
As the menopause stretched out over a period of a year (I was 56-57
then) the periods
got lighter and more irregular before finally stopping altogether.
You can digest this for what its worth and get good counsel from
several different
sources, then decide for yourself what is best for you.
Love, Mother
P. S. the fibroids did go away completely over time.
Dad asked me to resend this, as he emailed that he lost it. So, here 'tis
-----Original Message-----
From: Joyce
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 1:10 PM
To:
Subject: thank you !!!
Dear Mother,
Thank YOU !!! I remember asking you a few years ago, and I thought you said you did not remember. I have read that experience, too---about super heavy periods, then stoppage. That is all I wanted to doctor to say, let's wait six months. I can stand it. Now that I know it is from a thick lining. But, no, doctors have to cover themselves with every known test known to man. I just cannot see submitting to a D&C at my age and weight. It sounds dangerous and invasive. But, the doctor won't rule out uterus cancer until they take a snip of the lining, and that doctor wanted to do a D&C. No way.
I will get another opinion. Most uterine cancer appears after menopause, too, from what I have read.
I am glad you remembered. I remember you use to have night sweats, and what vitamin did you take for that?? Primrose oil?? I have not had but a couple of night sweats but then I take the Alive multivitamin from the health food store, and B-50 from the chiropractor...
Thanks again. Warn Tina what is ahead, too. Love, Joyce
-----Original Message-----
From:
Sent: Monday, February 16, 2009 10:34 AM
To: Joyce
Subject: advice
Hi.
I have hesitated to say anything because you haven't asked but after
reading your blog this morning here is my experience.
Before menopause i had fibroids and one surgeon wanted to operate,
I never went back to him. I read in a health article at the time that
fibroids
usually got smaller after menopause so I decided to wait them out.
I did have several very heavy periods but after menopause that was
over also.
As the menopause stretched out over a period of a year (I was 56-57
then) the periods
got lighter and more irregular before finally stopping altogether.
You can digest this for what its worth and get good counsel from
several different
sources, then decide for yourself what is best for you.
Love, Mother
P. S. the fibroids did go away completely over time.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Yards full of Robins
Today was the day! When I went outside to water the front yard---violets and green grass, I looked up and saw neighbors yards full of robins... orange breasted robins. At sunset they perched in the bare oak trees for a while and sang. I hope they come back tomorrow---but they are migrating north now. I hope that gives our neighbors in the cold frozen north comfort to know that spring is on the way. It is rare to see a robin family stick around here all summer. It is just too hot. They prefer the northern states.
Eighty-five degrees predicted for tomorrow. Time to give the AC a workout. Temps will hit thirty-four Saturday night yet, so we will use the furnace yet.
Eighty-five degrees predicted for tomorrow. Time to give the AC a workout. Temps will hit thirty-four Saturday night yet, so we will use the furnace yet.
Blooming Violets
Hardy blooming violets dot the yard. Violets that took hold in the crack of a rock wall, and bunches with new leaves by the patio are blooming to beat the band. White with a tinge of purple. Enough for a counter top vase. Edible and lightly scented. I tried taking a picture with the digital camera, but they look washed out. The green rye grass is that shade of kelly-spring green as a back drop. White blossoms with little purple veins. They look like miniature orchids.
Wood violets, is what we had to declare in the 7th grade flower collection. But, they remind me of the Illinois State flower---which is the purple variety. We had a flower bed of purple, some what, eight or ten years ago? These are the great-great-great grandchildren of that original bed transplanted from Sue Rhode's yard. Sue died a month ago, but the violets always remind me of her and her generousity. May her children, grand children and great grand children retain the gifts she gave them as they continue to bloom and grow. I just know she is having a wonderful time in heaven getting caught up on the news with her husband, John and sister, June. What a wonderful gift of encouragement God gave Sue. Always looking for the positve with a true smile in her voice.
Wood violets, is what we had to declare in the 7th grade flower collection. But, they remind me of the Illinois State flower---which is the purple variety. We had a flower bed of purple, some what, eight or ten years ago? These are the great-great-great grandchildren of that original bed transplanted from Sue Rhode's yard. Sue died a month ago, but the violets always remind me of her and her generousity. May her children, grand children and great grand children retain the gifts she gave them as they continue to bloom and grow. I just know she is having a wonderful time in heaven getting caught up on the news with her husband, John and sister, June. What a wonderful gift of encouragement God gave Sue. Always looking for the positve with a true smile in her voice.
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