Once in a Blue Moon

At 4:45 AM MDT, January 31, 2018 the great dragon of Chinese lore started to breath a smokey fire across the moon.  Beginning an event that has not aligned in just this way since -they tell me- 1866.

I was awoken by a phone call “Are you watching the moon?” was the query. My semi conscious reply “No I’m sleeping”  I chose this night to be tired enough to sleep pretty soundly and I wanted to see this. I watched the total solar eclipse now I wanted to frost my astro-experience cake with the total lunar eclipse. Staggering out with camera, tripod and heavy long lens under one arm the other guiding me along walls across the ice;  I made my way out into the brightly moon lit January night, in a bracing 31deg. F to stand for an hour in my slippers watching the moon slip away behind a shadow of the place on which I am standing.

I got a few halfway decent pictures of the waning moon and got very chilled. I am still chilled and the sun is shining, the fire is going and I am fully dressed.

Sitting this morning trying to warm over a cup of coffee, it hit, the realization of the significance or better yet my place in history of this occurrence.

1866 is when they are saying this happened last, the building I am sitting in was not even a hole in the ground. The building next to me had just started it’s journey of becoming the Park’s Place, a boarding house in a frontier mining town. Then some 30 years later to be bought by my husbands grandfather and turned into the Central Hotel at the turn of the century [the turn of LAST century!]

To think this happened when my 2rd Great-grand father was alive , that is humbling.  My own grandson celebrated his 20th birthday on the eve of this astrological event. That is a more humbling thought. My grandson will be able to say his grandmother got to watch this spectacle, if the opportunity affords it’s self.

Here are the images



911 Memorial, New York City 2017

March 19, 2017

It has been a long time since the world sat in silent horror watching the airplanes crash into the trade towers. I can remember the surreal  emotions of terror that the attack  evoked. Sitting watching this knowing it was real and yet it wasn’t because it was on television where all kinds of awful things transpire that have no effect on my  or my neighbors lives. In some distant place called New York City thousands had just been murdered in front of me and the horror was somehow distant, intangible. I was numb to the emotions and my life went on with a prayer for the survivors I moved on with my life always aware in a  corner of my mind that somebody hated my country enough to kill innocent people to make a point. That somebody [we were told] was al-Qaeda, a Muslim sect that decided we were the enemy and had to be destroyed.

I am not sure they accomplished what they set out to do.

What I see is that in the terror attacks America was bonded together with most of the world by a common insult, this one act precipitated a war that targeted a country and a religion. The country was “guilty” of harboring  terrorists [now you can say what ever you like hind site is 20/20] and the religion was responsible for encouraging Jihad on the infidels. The war is still not over, it is hard to defeat  an opinion through violence, but we had to do something. Turning the other cheek only meant disrespect for those that lost their lives with no clear reason. An eye for an eye seemed to be the only response strong enough to avenge them.

I had never been to New York City until this week. I came as a lot of people, a tourist. This is where the immigrants entered the country and the welcoming Lady of Liberty resides. I wanted to see the Statue of Liberty and Brooklyn Bridge. I wanted to visit the place that our founding fathers had walked and the seat of the financial world. The 911 Memorial was on that list, but not my main interest.

March 25, 3017

Now, I have had a week to digest the sights and sounds of the past week I am still wrestling with the impact on me.

Upon entering the memorial the remnants the Twin Towers are displayed as evidence of the destruction. The presence of these twisted pieces of super structure are reminders of the tortured buildings and lives  of the survivors. The galleries are full of the pictures of the destruction. It is black, dark and somber. You don’t notice at first, but as you ascend into the exhibit the odors of hot steel and crumbling cement start to permeate the air. This smell comes very noticeable as you get deeper into the experience. I didn’t notice the acrid odor of jet fuel being in the mix, but the smell is effective in giving a feel of what the day was like. There are pictures of the victims of the attack that cover the walls of one room.  As you proceed you start hearing the  voices of the ones left, family, coworkers and friends saying the names of the victims and their relationship. This personal touch gives them life and makes them real.  Then as you descend to the lowest level, you find the remains of the fire engine that was mashed by derbies. More memorabilia, the concrete stairs that are pulverized by falling concrete and pictures of the skyline before and during the disaster. The billowing smoke over the towers being dark and angry looking.

All in all it is worth the visit. I can’t imagine visiting with personal experience [It is emotional when you only have watched the horror develop from afar]. The emotions would be very hard to handle.

What I was left with is, this was a horror visited on thousands of innocent victims and only served to galvanize the country against a country and religion. The ones of that country and religion that are innocent and were just as horrified are also victims. They have been vilified because of the actions of radical extremists. We are as a nation punishing them.

We have erected a shrine to the victims to remind us.

I don’t talk politics

Right now, talking politics will either drive your friends or family away or endear them to you, till the next election. I put politics in the same arena as sex and religion, they are not to be spoken of in polite company.  The views and beliefs are so very personal that there are no delicate way to disagree with out creating tensions that cut to the very core.  Unless you are a person that has enough self respect and is comfortable enough with your view to allow for disagreement, you get emotionally involved and jump to defend your point very quickly.

I know, I look like I don’t care. Then maybe I care a lot about my position. My position came about by my life experiences and the way I saw them. That is a very personal thing, my experiences, they are mine and cannot be shared. I can try to explain them, but you will never experience them the way I did.

What formed me was my view of the world and the way I interpret it and the influences of my family and surroundings.

Remember that you getting all hot and personally insulted if someone genuflects at the alter or not, does not change their belief.  Either they are someone that you respect and like or they are not.

Case in point;

I was taught to not have a beverage at the table while eating nor did we have bread at every meal. I grew up poor, the beverage would have filled my  small belly making me hungry soon after eating. We didn’t always have enough for that extra meal, bread was for a meal not to  augment a meal. Napkins were unknown when I was a child, I was taught to eat without making a mess of my self. This is the way I was brought up and is ingrained in my psyche. I have people that think I am unrefined and just down right uncouth because I don’t routinely serve bread, provide napkins or have a beverage at my table. I have had guests get highly insulted.

All of this because I am acting the way I was brought up and the way I have lived my life. I do it different, but I am the same person I was before you discovered my “way”.

Either you like me or you don’t, do not dislike me because I don’t agree with you on every topic.








Daily struggles


Today is a day that resembles most days, I am sitting here bemoaning that I have so much to do and I don’t want to do it. Actually that is a lie, I want it done with a wave of the hand so that I can go out do what I really want to do. What I really want to do is go out and be who my mind says I am and not the person that those around me want me to be.

I have been diagnosed with MS , with that diagnosis came much different treatment from every one around me. Granted, those that went through the first years after diagnosis wit me remember how helpless I was at that time. The first years caused me to lose much of my independence, I was part time is a wheel chair and mostly dependent on a cane to walk alone. One of the things that it took me a long time to [and still haven’t completely mastered] understand the depression that comes with MS.

My neurologist told me that all things that happen are not going to be the MS, I still have other things that will affect me. I guess I was doomed to continue on with the Seasonal Affective  Disorder [SAD] and the drive to be outside doing things in the open air. I have always been active, growing a 50 x 50 garden, canning all the harvest we didn’t eat, raising a large family consisting of his mine and ours with all of the inherent challenges  and working full time. As the children were leaving and going on to fulfill their dreams my diagnosis came.

That is off subject, now back to struggles.

When I woke up this morning the sun was shining in it’s brilliant winter way. It is so deceiving, the sun is so inviting and yet it is blow zero out there. I am torn between going out  and shoveling my way out of the driveway so I can go to town tomorrow or staying in and cleaning [I hate that job, especially when I live with a slob (me) that chooses to leave things out] or get on the computer. I guess you see which won out. These decisions only lead to the depression. I can’t do as much as I want, I envision the Wonder Woman that I used to be and am disappointed with what is left. I don’t dwell on that much or I would be crazy, I have learned to forgive my self for not being 20 anymore.

I have people around me that won’t let me do things because of the diagnosis or try to “protect” me. They forget, I am the person that is living inside this body and completely aware of it’s limitations. I am not a dare devil, I don’t want to get hurt but I am still me. I love animals and machinery and digging holes, being outside is the way I survive.

Cleaning house is depressing and THAT is not MS.  Cleaning a house that insists on being dirty is just downright frustrating. Growing a large garden when there is no one but me and an occasional visitor is counter productive. Winter is not conducive to those activities, it is too cold for anyone to be out there for any length of time I am gone to much to take care of it anyway, I have itchy feet I can’t seem to stay home for any length of time.

I am forgetful [MS or age], sometimes and struggle with that. I jump from one project to another, that is defiantly not MS. I have to design a way to stop that but I’ve been working on it for 50 years, still have not found a solution. The only thing that has worked is being a follower, following someone around and allowing them to set the agenda. It is harder to get distracted when you have someone around to keep you focused.

I can’t do as much as I want but that is age not MS.

My new [old] hobby is computer related that invites me to sit in front of the computer and  get lost spending too much time sitting down. I am fully engaged, excited about the possibilities and loose the hours of the day.  How many calories does that burn? I get more exercise going to get a snack. My other winter hobbies are also sit down projects.

The daily struggles are, I guess something that we all have to live with. I want it fixed and I want it fixed NOW.   I am impatient.

OK that is off my chest,  I’ll resume my struggles.


I’m a genius!!!! And I thought I was totally balmy.

Like I said, I am always composing [talking to myself], I just have to start writing it down. Today, a cousin posted a link on FB and I read the article.

I discovered this author believes  talking to ones self means you are a genius. I could call my self a lot of things, genius is not ever on the list except in a disparaging tone [ex. Well, THAT was a genius move].  Stick around long enough and you learn a lot of things, this is one of those things. Here is the link to the article, draw  your own conclusions.


A w0rk in progress

My last post about quitting the adult world is in progress. I haven’t made much progress, just baby steps. I bought a tent that fits in the bed of my truck, so the bears have to work harder to get me [I still think it’d be a great story for the grandkids]. I haven’t unpacked it yet. I am waiting for the fairy godmother to provide assistance in getting all the grass trimmed and the drive belt for the lawn tractor to arrive and be installed. I will be here a   long while even though I am working diligently daily.

I have discovered that I am a terrible blogger. I write stories all day long while I am working [actually I talk to my self], but don’t get them in print, then, I forget what I was saying.

I have thrown down the gauntlet to my subconscious self, quit procrastinating!! So the challenge is once a week. Lets attempt to make it.

I am going to quit adulting

On my trip back home from being a Grandma, I made a decision. I don’t want to be an adult any more. I am tired of being grown up. I want to have someone else clean my house, wash my cloths and cook my dinner while I go play. My mother did most of this until I was big enough to do my own. I washed dishes and was responsible for my own stuff in the room I shared with my sister.  My sister was  six years younger and we weren’t concerned with neat and clean. So there was no real problem there.

I will still be Grandma, that is something that I enjoy and I am not responsible for the out come. I just need to be the one that can drive and interpret. I do not need to worry about as many things, I just need to be generally logical and have the best in mind for us.

I want to get a tent and go on “walk about”.  My man friend worries that a bear will try to join me. If it is cold, I could use the bear’s warmth. I love and totally respect the slithering critters of the world so they aren’t a problem for me. Like I told him, I am not afraid of the boggy man. Walk about is about all I can afford, using anything but Shanks Mare is prohibitively expensive.

Maybe it will be my birthday present for my 70th birthday in a few years, by then I will have been able to collect what I need and build some stamina. Maybe .

The greenhouse is up and now has some of the things that I took out of my last greenhouse in it. I’m ready to start dreaming about little leaves popping up through the soil. Now starts the joy.