Grandma's Garden

My granddaughter, Emily, came to visit last summer. Being a "city girl" and never away from home, she was very homesick here in the sticks. We came up with the idea to plant a garden.
It didn't do so great last year and again this year it has "struggled" to produce. I've decided to do away with the garden this fall, have some more topsoil hauled in and revamp it for next year. I suspect a previous "redneck" tenant has dumped motor fluids here. When zuchinni doesn't produce it's time for a new plan.

Pat and I are enjoying watching the Little League Series. I probably enjoy the game because I do understand it, having played and coached softball years ago. I did get a chuckle out of a great homerun hit. While visiting with my daughter Mischel recently, we were discussing the Rockies game. Having been raised in home with lots of football and the glory days of John Elway, she has always enjoyed football and recently basketball, but informs me she doesn't like baseball. WHY? She's afraid of the ball, from the stands, she's sure she is likely to get hit!!
"Do you see where that ball goes? It could hit you no matter where you sit." I'm sure I'll never see a game without thinking of the laughter I got from that conversation.

Thanks "Missy" and have a great day!!!

Colorado Clouds

I thought of a conversation between our grandson Stayton and his grandpa Pat. Stayton was about four years old, sitting on grandpa's lap. His grandma Decker had recently passed away. They were discussing life and death. Grandpa was trying to reassure that all would be well and he would probably see her again someday in heaven. " Someday," Pat said, "I'll go away too, but I'll be waiting for you in heaven." Stayton thought about this, kind of cocked his head to one side, furrowed his brow and asked "But how will I find you?"
Grandpa said, "I'll be there, waiting for you."
"But," said Stayton, somewhat concerned, throwing his hands out. "What if you're out "flying around" somewhere?'"

"Just Thinking"

This little plant has a lot to say if you can really "wrap your head around it". There is no reason this should grow, looks like no soil, lodged between two rocks, but yet, life is springing up.
I have a lot of time to reflect on life, memories and wonder "why". I'm in a six week recuperation time, Dr's orders, no lifting, minimum driving, no yard work or housework (smile), can't even brush out tails and manes on the horses, so limited on what I can do. I've been reading alot, Lisha (my daughter) has sent me some excellent books and I've checked out a few from the library. Picked up a Joyce Meyer book, it's not one you just breeze thru, lots to ponder and consider there. She really nailed me within just the few pages I read this morning, I've set it aside, knowing I have to reread those again. God's truth is so revealing.

Oh yes, yesterday I went back to my longtime stylist and once again cut off the eighth grade hairdo, had some highlights put in and Pat's gonna color it for me today. Might need to head out to Walmart after that!

Eighth Grade Hairdo

I'm stuck. No matter who cuts my hair, who styles my hair, it always reverts to the eighth grade... I realized this while browsing an old photo album, there it was, the same style I see in the mirror today. Are we just destined to have a certain "hair growth pattern' and it keeps returning to that?
Now, I've had a few nice styles thru the years, but it required constant attention, frequent trips to the salon and in no time, the eighth grade showed up, again.
I decided to try a different stylist, thinking that she would look at my hair in a new light and could create the perfect "do". Made the appointment with what sounded like a ten year old on the phone, didn't really answer many questions, cost being of importance. Explained that I wanted a cut and some highlights done, well the cost would be determined by what she did. Didn't think I was getting much more information from the kid, so just booked the appointment and waited anxiously for the day.
I arrived a few minutes early to thumb thru the magazines, like we all do, hoping the find "the look" that would be life changing. The stylist was sitting at the counter, visiting with an employee and didn't even acknowledge I had come in, that put me off a bit. But, I was there and sure I would come out with a change.
Sure enough, about 15 minutes after my arrival she spoke and motioned me to the chair. OMG, there I sat in full length mirror and bad lighting,,,,,,I doubted that she would be able to create much out of this......suggested to her afterwards, cut the mirror off, a woman who needs a lift sure doesn't want to look at the "roll" around the middle" while she awaits what she hopes to be a "renewed" her. The hair we can cut, the roll is gonna take a while.
So, she began to part, pat and dab on some highlights, carefully wrapping each in a tinfoil package. Most of the time she was carrying on a conversation with anyone in the salon but me.
I began to feel like one of those "dummies" they use to learn on, just prop my head up here and go to work. Eventually the "highlights" were in and just out the blue, "Let's add some color here, you're kind of washed out and this would really add some shine." Well, ok, I'm thinking that will add some to the cost, but oh well, I'm here now. She disappeared into the backroom and there I sat.........sure she had forgotten me as I hear her chattering away with someone in the abyss.
I've been in the chair for about an hour at this time. She finally emerges with a bowl of color, and another customer comes in for what should have been his appointment time. Oh, she didn't know he was coming, hadn't her "kid" told her he would be in this morning for a haircut. Well, he decided he would come back in about an hour. Finally, she headed back to me and proceeded to put the color in, all the while chattering away to others around me, did I not exist here?
About three fourths of the head, she ran out of color, excused herself to the abyss and there I sat, watching the clock move slowing around the dial, thinking, doesn't she know how uneven this color is going to be? Several minutes later she emerges and proceeds to finish the coloring.
The haircut customer comes back, she's still applying color and puts him off again.
I've been in the chair for over and hour now. I'm trying not to really show my frustration, I know him and don't want to make a scene. She explains she just need a few minutes and can get him in. Finally, the color is on, so she moves me out of the chair and whips his haircut out.
She checks the highlights, removes the foil and to the sink for a rinse, we're nearing two hours and she hasn't even began to "cut" , I'm seeing dollar signs ringing up but how do you say "whoa" in a horse race. I realize I'm in for the long haul..
She finally gets the rest of the color worked thru to take the edge off the highlights, meanwhile working in another haircut appointment, this one was on the books. And now, my turn for a new cut!!! Meticulously working each layer, each side, slowing shaping my hair into a new me!
Yes, I loved it, the highlights, the color and most of all the cut!!! Marvelous darling!!!
Check out time at the register.........thank God I had the counter to brace myself when she gave me the total, didn't let my mouth gape, remained calm. I had came in with $100 and left with a great "do", Two and a half hours!!! That was almost as painful as the money.
Well, my money and time paid off in big dividends. Knowing that I really was "lookin good" I had to go somewhere to be seen, so I headed to the Walmart! And sure enough, someone from my past, knew her years ago, passed me in the store, I politely said hi, and walked on. Remembering I needed something from the meat dept I did a u-turn and there she was coming back to speak to me, "Patti? I didn't recognize you, you look good, it's your hair, really looks good." Well, right there in Walmart I gave her a big hug, I really needed that!!! THAT was worth the $100.
That was several months ago, two haircuts, the second one was a disaster. I arrived for my appointment, carefully scheduled and reaffirmed, just days before graduation and lots of company.....there was my stylist holding her neck headed to the physical therapist across street. I stepped into the salon somehow knowing this wasn't going to be good. Two and a half hours later, barely in time to get out the door and to the airport, another $100.
And now, three months later, there in the mirror, my eighth grade hairdo.

Gone Dog Crazy

You may ask, how does one have 5 assorted dogs? Well, it wasn't all by choice, but I have learned to say "no". Turbo is the #1 choice here, we were anxious to get him, at that time we only had old dog, Katy ( now gone) so a new puppy was great and we had really wanted a Jack Russell. Badger is Turbo's full brother and was purchased by a friend when we got Turbo. She couldn't keep him for a few weeks so he stayed with us, a few months actually, we loved him like another "grandkid". Then our daughter, Mischel, moved into apt and could no longer keep Buster, yep, you guessed it. "Mom, we have to get rid of Buster." After Badger left we did adopt two grandsons, Stayton and Desmond. They came with a pair of Chihuahuas, Bubby and Sissie. No offense, but not my choice for a dog, but would not tell the boys they couldn't have their dogs. Sissie has since left us due to an unfortunate horse incident. So there we had it 4 dogs and please no more.......until.......one of my clients, dieing with lung cancer, asked if I would please find a home for "old" Ben....that's how we ended up with 5 assorted dogs......or yes, Badger came back to us after a few years, my friend's lifestyle did not fit well with him.

Turbo is the #1 dog here and he lets them know it. Never a fighter, always a lover.

Badger is "my best buddy" and was really "Stayton's dog til Stayton left for college.

Bubby is Pat's buddy, I tolerate him and am kind to him. He was Desmond's dog, but has really gravitated to Pat (most of them do)

Buster, sometimes too smart for his own good. He's a sheltie/beagle cross. Very smart,in his home with Mischel he was know as the "bowl thief". Her neighbors would call andask for their pet dishes to be returned, Buster would carry them home, not spilling a drop, and stashing them in the back of the dog house til he was ready to eat his " take out". I've had to come up with a system so that he can't take the dog dish off and hide it away from the others.

Ben, the old dog. He's a schnauzer cross, very old. He has been in some hard situations and is so happy to be a part of the family. He's almost deaf. He lives for Pat to come home each day. Has learned to be "frisky" although he often falls when he tries to "leap and frolic". I had hoped to place him with someone, but he has become a part of our household for a few years now. He would be lost without his "Pat". He will live his days out with us. His adjustment to the cats has been laughable. He has learned not to chase, bark or snip at them. He tolerates Sammie much better than Squeaky, although once in a while he is so overwhelmed he lets out a whine that is unreal. I couldn't fit him into the picture, but he's laying just to left of the recliner on his pillow, neither he or Buster can jump that far.