Vintage Spirit Photography

Spirit photography was all the rage in the late 1860's. The Spritualist movement was a new and powerful force for people who were terrified and unsettled by their times. It wasn't just in America, where the national heartache following the Civil War over the unheard of loss of life, where Spritualism took root. It became a very real presence in England, where it remains an active religion today. Here in the US, American Spritualism is also a current religion, although much smaller in force and often considered a "fringe" religion by the mainstream.

The American Museum of Photography has a wonderful collection of spirit photography of the era, Do You Believe?, The preeminent spirit photographer of the day was William Mumler.

He understood how to combine the mysteries of technology with mysteries of the sprit, and his photographs are the result. The wonderful old home entertainment stereoscope even had it's fair share of 3D spirit photos.

Today, we look at them and see the intentional double exposure, the rough manipulations and shake our heads at anyone who could have been duped by these crude photos.

We have difficulty understanding how learned men such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle believed they were real enough to write a book supporting the phenomena as recent as 1923. Of course, he was also taken in by the Cottingley Fairies, so maybe it's not so surprising!

I invite you to take a break from today's reality and wander through this wonderful gallery, set your 21st century logic aside and enjoy these photos for what they were. They remain a curosity of a distant time.

If you get as captured by them as I have, you'll be pleased to know there are many, many examples of old spirit photography on the web. There is a nice private collection of photos at Flickr. Also at Flickr is a Vintage Spirit Photography group with a nice collection. The Metropolitan Museum of Art has an interesting small exhibit. Beyond the Grave, is an exhaustive exhibit on Mumler, spirit photography and an introduction to Spiritualism of the era. An excellent bibliography of Spirit Photography has been put together at this collector's site, Brightbytes.com.

Happy Halloween

I loved Halloween as a child. We lived in a typical sixties new suburban development with hundreds of school age kids. My sisters and I would join forces with friends to form small bands of gypsies, pirates and clowns and we'd hit as any homes as it took to fill our huge Halloween treat bags. They were as big as the shopping bags department stores use now. And fill them we did, sometimes until the bottoms dropped out!

We'd come dragging home, bodies tired but totally jazzed on all the candy we'd eaten en route...it was still safe then to eat unknown candy in the dark! Once home, we'd spill the candy out infront us like it was gold. Then back into the bag to be fiercely guarded by the head of my bed until morning. I think my mother raided our bags in the night and certianly once we were in school the next day! My favorites were Sugar Babies and candy cigarettes.

Last year was the first year that no witches, spooky ghosts or fairies came to my door. I missed them. There was nothing to do but console my self with a bag of Junior Mints. Tell me about your Halloween memories. Hope you enjoy this little treat I made for you.

Beautiful Fall Wedding

Today we went to a lovely wedding. I work with the bride and both she and her husband are warm, giving people. I was happy to be invited! Look at that gorgeous dress! My camera was acting weird and running low on power, so I didn't get any really crisp pictures to do this justice. Everything you see as white scrolls, was really heavily encrusted beading. The hem and bodice were beaded the same. They were a perfect fairy tale couple. His tie was a pretty sky blue.

This bride is one creative gal, on a very low budget she and friends transformed a church basement into a lovely fall fantasy. Dimmed lighting made photos difficult, but created such wonderful ambience.

It's been 8 years since we were at a wedding. Some things have changed. Like guests showing up in jeans. Bridesmaids in flip flop type sandals, mini brides ( a tradition in this area I think, but new to me), big red N's on the cake to show support for a football team.

But the important things, nothing changes them. A public commitment, the groom beaming at his bride, the bride seeing all things good - love, hope, joy when she looks at the groom. Warm memories of other weddings in the pews, as you watch older couples touching hands, shoulders. Nope, nothing's changed about that.

Get out your wedding pictures. Stop living in today for just a moment and really remember the day of your own fairytale.

Nostalgia Smilin Through

One of the dim,sweet memories I have of childhood is of a distinctive song Mom use to sing as a lullabye. I was reminded of it tonight when I happened across an image of the sheet music on an vintage image group at Flickr. It's so sentimentally sad, I wonder now why it was her song of choice for sending us to sleep. Maybe it was the blues eyes, how she coped with missing Dad's. Maybe it's what fostered a deep melancholy that has been with me always. Maybe I'm just up too late and need to go to bed.



SMILIN' THROUGH

There's a little brown road windin' over the hill
To a little white cot by the sea
There's a little green gate
At whose trellis I wait
While two eyes o' blue
Come smilin' through at me

There's a gray lock or two in the brown of the hair
There's some silver in mine too, I see
But in all the long years
When the clouds brought their tears
Those two eyes o' blue
Kept smilin' through at me

And if ever I'm left in this world all alone
I shall wait for my call patiently
For if Heaven be kind
I shall wait there to find
Those two eyes o' blue
Come smilin' through at me

Inspired by the Broadway play "Smilin' Through" (1919)
(Arthur A. Penn)

Richard Werrenrath - 1919
Georgia Stark (feat. in the film "Smilin' Through") - 1932
Jeanette MacDonald (Film Soundtrack) - 1941
Vera Lynn (with Jay Wilbur & His Serenaders) - 1941
Richard Tauber - 1941
Webster Booth - 1942
George Morgan - 1961
John Gary - 1964
Cleo Laine & Dudley Moore - 1982

Also recorded by:
Nelson Eddy; Judy Garland; Lesley Garrett; Jo Stafford;
Mormon Tabernacle Choir; Richard Crooks; Gracie Fields;
Wayne Shorter Quartet; Benjamin Luxon; Charles Kullman;
John Charles Thomas; Kentucky Minstrels; Arthur Tracey;
Robert White; Anthony Kearns; Ginny Simms.

Historical Cookbooks

I've been thinking a lot lately about food as the connective link between generations of families.

Today, I learned about this very cool preservation project, Feeding America. It's an archive of 76 influential American cookbooks from the late 1700s to early 1900s. It's hosted at the Michigan State University Museum and Library, where you can read and download scans of each book.

There's also a cool gallery of antique cooking utensils and kitchenware, with photos and descriptions of everything from cake boxes to ceramic pickle crock pots.

Another Real Estate Agent Fiasco

I think this real estate agent is intentionally trying to prove her incompetence. Until now, I'd avoided mentioning her by name, but this latest screw up has her name boldly associated with it in print, so I don't see any harm in sharing it now. What's wrong? Well nothing except the house is shown with a completely incorrect description. The correct description is printed under the first house in the ad and the house we're selling is the second house.

The MLS listing link is still incorrect. As of today it still shows the right house at the wrong address. This is the listing that local agents use as their primary reference of available housing inventory. It has the house listed in a totally different town! She's very unprofessionally told us on 07/21 when the problem came to light, to "Chill Out" it's only a minor problem that "no one but us ever even saw " and yet still submitted the completely wrong ad to the newspapers. She has repeatedly assured us that she has fixed the problem and we're over reacting. I don't see how anything has been fixed since the link has been wrong with 3 different versions since 07/21 and remains so on 07/27.

Plus, she has now printed the incorrect ad in one of the local newspapers. The description of the house is not accurate and never has been. We've alerted her since the beginning to the inaccuracies in the description, but they have never been corrected. Apparently in Nebraska real estate agents aren't concern about truth in advertising.

There are other issues that are just basic "he said - she said" things, that really are subjective, mostly concerning communications. This, however, is pretty clearly inept. There was suppose to have been an open house today, I wonder what people thought who went to the addresss and saw a totally different house. I wonder if a potential sale will never happen because of this huge error.

So to anyone who stumbles across this blog and is looking for a real estate agent in the Beatrice, NE 68310 zip code, don't go with this agency. You'll be making an even bigger mistake than we did, because you've been forewarned.

St. Joseph, Sell This House

Here's St. Joseph standing at the precipice, looking into the pit he's about to get buried in. With so many opinions on how to do the ritual, I just decided to wing it. I dug 6-8" down, buried him upside down, facing away from the house. We said the prayer and covered him up.


I sure hope he gets busy. This week has been another tumultous one with the agent. It appears that the house has been updated in the MLS book with an incorrect address and she refuses to acknowledge. Now, many people who've checked the online listing for MLS are seeing it incorrect as well, so I'm not sure how that squares with her denial. All I know is that for the 3rd day in a row, with a cleared history and cache, I get the right house with an address 15 miles away.


It's been a huge tragic comedy dealing with selling this house. Things don't look good for Mom and time is running out.

Words for Life

When I was a moody, lonely teenager, I memorized several short pieces of poetry that have stayed with me. Today I was reminded of one, when I came across a blog with 12 rules for living by Robert Louis Stevenson. While I can't directly attribute them to RLS, I did rather like them so I'll pass it along.
First, though is one of the poetry pieces that everyone should know, by Robert Louis Stevenson.

Requiem

Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.
This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill.

And now the 12 Rules to Live By, purportedly by Robert Louis Stevenson.

1. Make up your mind to be happy. Learn to find pleasure in simple things.
2. Make the best of circumstances. No one has everything and everyone has something of sorrow.
3. Don’t take yourself too seriously.
4. Don’t let criticism worry you. You can’t please everybody.
5. Don’t let your neighbors set your standards; be yourself.
6. Do things you enjoy doing but stay out of debt.
7. Don’t borrow trouble. Imaginary things are harder to bear than actual ones.
8. Since hate poisons the soul, do not cherish enmities and grudges. Avoid people who make you unhappy.
9. Have many interests. If you can’t travel, read about places.
10. Don’t hold post-mortems or spend time brooding over sorrows and mistakes.
11. Do what you can for those less fortunate than yourself.
12. Keep busy at something. A very busy person never has time to be unhappy.

Staw into Gold

Do you remember the fairy tale of Rumpelstiltskin? A poor miller, to win favor with the King, lied and said his daughter could spin straw into gold. Of course the greedy king liked this idea and so the daughter was locked up in a room filled with straw and couldn't be free until it was all gold. A magical drawf appeared who actually could spin straw into gold, with a catch of course. The girls first born son would have to be given to the coniving dwarf. How was she suppose to know that the king would be so thrilled with the talented girl, he would marry her to the Prince. Time passes and a son is born. The dwarf comes to collect the baby, there's a riddle to be solved in order to avoid the child's fate, the girl isn't too bright and can't solve the riddle within the alotted time. On the very last evening, when all hope is about to be lost, a palace servant supplies the answer, the child and the kingdom are saved and everyone except the evil dwarf lives happily ever after. The answer was the dwarf's name, Rumpelstiltskin. According to the Brothers Grimm at least.

Last summer was the first time I'd thought of that fairy tale in 40 years. It sprung to mind when I saw the outrageously luminous, decadant color of freshly cut wheat in the brillant sun. When the wheat is freshly cut, it's the color of glowing, molten gold. Its the most vibrant, perfect color I've ever seen. Last year, I didn't know that I'd better stop and shoot it on my way to work. I thought I could go back and catch it on the weekend. Wrong. This spectacle lasts only a day; by the next day the sun has bleached it out to the pale staw color most of us are familiar with. I wish I was a professional photographer and could really capture what I see to share with you. This one moment alone will have made my stay here in Nebraska worthwhile.

True Antiques

There's something about this photo I love. I think it's the best one she's ever taken. There's history here to be absorbed as well as just the simple elegance of this image. The roses are Aloha, my grandfather Russell's favorite. He shared her passion for gardening. It must have been a relief for her to find something in common with her always gruff father in-law.

The vase is a true family heirloom. It's a simple tin syrup pitcher that belonged to her grandmother, Maggie Anderson. I love the soft glowing patina in this shot. I wonder how many breakfasts it was a part of and how did she come by it. Was it a wedding gift, or something bought from necessity. To me, a syrup pitcher doesn't seem like a necessity on a hard scrabble farm, but no one seems to know it's history.

I found the pitcher as I was cleaning out the house of many treasures, and it's in good condition. One of the nicer discoveries to come of that adventure.

Those Boots!

As long as I can remember I wanted to be Annie Oakley. One of my earliest memories is of a little silver cap gun with a pearly (ok, plastic) handle and the smell of the gunpowder when the cap went off. I loved those pinky red rolls of caps that fed into my gun.

I came across this picture tonight of me when I was 4. I have a flash of memory of pulling those boots on and what it felt like to walk in them.

Growing up, I loved all the westerns on early TV and I was ready at a moment's notice to fill in for Dale Evans or Annie Oakley. All they had to do was call!

Throughout school, I read every outlaw biography I could get my hands on and devoured the history of the Old West, legends and fact, it all speaks to me to this day. I read Native American authors for history with a different view and discovered a deep sense of kinship for ways so different than my own. It always seemed a little odd to me, with a New England childhood, to have such a longing for the West, both old and new, legend and truth. It seems to have started early, doesn't it? Anyone up for a rodeo?

Yoga Kitty

It's Thursday, you need a laugh. Check out the videos at YogaKitty.com

St. Joe, The Ultimate Real Estate Agent

We've not been too happy with the agent we hired to sell Mom's house. She talked a great game, but that seems to have been all she's got going for her. I think we need intercession of a divine kind. So, meet our new agent - St. Joe!

As you can see, his commission is much more reasonable and all we have to do is bury him in the yard, beg for help and get out of the way. The part about this that surprises me is that my ultra conservative Methodist mother wants it done. She's worried that maybe God will be p.o.ed , but she wants to try it. Why not? Maybe it only works for Catholics? Do you have to have saint credits or something before it works?

Did you ever hear of St. Joseph selling your house? One place says bury him upside down in the front yard, another says bury him right side up facing the house in the back yard, another to do a salt cleansing ritual( christian, right? ) and then bury him exactly 3 inches or 12 in the front right corner.... heck, even the instructions that came with him gives you about 3 different ways to get him working for you.

Then, when your house is sold, if the buyers are nice to work with you leave him in the ground and if they're nasty you dig him up and bean them on the head with him. Not really,I made that part up. Hey, if you want to buy your own St. Joseph, SuperAgent, check out this site, where his commission is even less than what we had to pay locally. We're in a hurry at this point, so we opted out of mailing.

Personally, I think maybe St. Jude might have been a better choice.

Pink Lemonade Cupcakes

So, over the 4th my sister writes that she's going to make Pink Lemonade cupcakes and doesn't share the recipe. I was so intrigued that I hunted up the recipe and made my own. There are much prettier photos on several blogs, including this one where I found the recipe. I'm a sucker for pink foods. Next time, I think I'll color the cake batter and make the frosting a little pinker. I also made them on the "less tart" side of things but I think I'll go full throtle on them when I make them again. And if I'm feeling really ambitious, I'll try and ice them a little fancier. The visual appeal is so much better when you use a piping bag. Pink Lemonade cupcakes are quick, simple and really summery.


Pink Lemonade Cupcakes

1 1/8 cup (9 oz) frozen Pink Lemonade Concentrate, thawed*
White cake mix (yes, the boxed stuff)
3 egg whites
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 recipe Lemon Buttercream Icing (recipe follows)

* For a less tart cupcake (and these babies do pack a punch), try reducing the amount of pink lemonade. 3/8 cup water and 3/4 cup pink lemonade will cut the tartness.

In a stand mixer, add the cake mix, egg whites, vegetable oil, and the pink lemonade concentrate. Mix on low for about 30 seconds and then increase to medium speed for 90 seconds (the batter will still be a bit lumpy; take care not to overmix so you don't end up with dry cupcakes).Place a cupcake liner in each cup of a muffin pan. Spoon the batter into a prepared muffin pan (fill the cups between 2/3 and 3/4 full). Bake at 350 for about 25 minutes or until a toothpick registers clean in the center cupcake. Remove the pan from the oven and cool 5 minutes. Remove the cupcakes and cool completely on a baking rack.Once the cupcakes have cooled, make the icing and ice the cupcakes.

Lemon Buttercream Icing
3 cups + 3 Tbsp confectioners sugar
1 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1/8 tsp salt
2 Tbsp lemon juice
Red food color (to color icing and sugar, optional)
1/4 cup granulated sugar (optional)

Add the butter, confectioners sugar, salt, lemon juice, and food coloring (if using) to the stand mixer and mix on low using the paddle attachment until combined. Turn the speed to med-high until the icing is fluffy and uniformly pink. Add the icing to a pastry bag fitted with a 2D tip and ice the cupcakes.

Bubble Suits

Here's a little something to tantalize my sister. This is from 1960. I don't know if she'll remember it, but I do. We're posing at the farm in our "bubble suits", classic sunsuits of the era. I remember loving the bright multicolor dots and my red cowgirl hat. I always wanted to be Annie Oakley. I'm 5 and she's 3. Don't I look like I'm pretending to be Marilyn Monroe!

I do remember one real drawback to these one piece suits was when you had to visit the outhouse...not much fun when everything has to come off, even as a little kid. For those of you who've never experienced an outhouse in the heat of summer, consider yourself blessed. Even as a child, I was more affected by odors than every one else seemed to be. It was the one thing I hated about going to Grandma's.

Cat Magnet

If this doesn't make you laugh out loud, go back to bed. You need a nap.

Fireworks in Hanover, Kansas

Fourth of July celebrations have started in the heartland. We went to a display in a tiny little town, Hanover, Kansas tonight and saw the show of a lifetime. It was indescribably amazing. There was so much firepower, you could feel it through the ground. It was a full half hour of nonstop booming and sizzling, bright lights and smoke covering every inch from the ground up.
We had a great spot to watch from, on a slight hill close enough you could hear the whooshing of the shells and the rush of flames sounding like a waterfall. Everything was synched to music beautifully.

I think the entire population of 3 counties came to Hanover. It was a fun evening of cook out food, miserably bad bluegrass ( and I like bluegrass!), a very good rock band and and incredible pyro event.

About the bluegrass, they tried. They really did. But I doubt they'd ever even heard Rocky Top since they managed to turn it into a somewhat wistful, "wishing I was there" song instead of the lively tune it is. Same with some Irish jigs they tried. I wanted to send them all tickets to a real blue grass festival in North Carolina or northern Georgia. Unfortunately, it's not the first time we've gone to an event since living here, looking forward to some good bluegrass and been painfully disappointed. I think people here enjoy what they hear; I'm glad I've heard better.

The Hills of My Ancestors

Lying here, in the shadows of the hills of Steele City, Nebraska (pop.81) are my ancestors. Strong, resilient people who for better or worse, were committed to the unforgiving land of the plains. Original homestead pioneers, their sons and daughters, grand parents, aunts, uncles, cousins and more in generations too far removed for me to remember are here. Veterans, farmers, teachers, mothers, even a circus performer inhabit my family tree.

Why the first ones chose this land to make a home has been lost to faded memories and time. Now, I am one of the last of this family living here and remembering them, and even I will not be staying.

In this valley, there's a place in this peaceful spot for my return if I choose, in a section with this view. As a child, on yearly visits, my grandfather would stand in this spot, holding my hand, and he and I would just be silent. Then he'd squeeze my hand and we'd leave. I come here sometimes and just drink in this view. It nourishes me and connects me with hearts I never knew but somehow feel.

Night on the Town

We made the trek to Lincoln for dinner tonight to celebrate. It's been so long since we were in a "nice" restaurant, we felt like goobers in the big city. But we survived, remembered how to behave in public and had a lovley evening. We went to a brewery/restaurant in the trendy Haymarket district of Lincoln. Talk about feeling one's age. It's right smack in the middle of University of Lincoln land. We had an outstanding meal and discovered a new favorite snack. It was outrageously priced on the menu and we enjoyed every morsel.

This is Lahvosh. It's an Armenian flat bread, sprinkled with mushrooms, bacon, turkey and ham. Everything is then smothered in melted Havarti cheese. The flat bread was crisp, like a cracker. Who needs pizza when you can have Lavosh!

After dinner the car found it's way to the only Barnes & Noble in Lincoln. Both of us need a book store fix and it had been a while.

We were again reminded of the intensley small town life we currently live, when we tried to buy a fancy schmancy coffee drink for dessert. Have you tried ordering from an unfamilar Starbucks menu board, with a perky 20 year old barrista asking if you want tall, grande or venti when you can barely discern the difference between latte or espresso? And then do you want a double shot or energy or cream base????? Talk about goobers on the town. I finally figured it out, got a really decadant Mint Mocha Chip Frappuccino Light Blended Coffee with a double shot espresso. Whew... the drama... I mean from the other side of the counter. All the eye rolling, giggling and looks of sympathy from the black aproned coffee queens as we sorted out what I wanted. This, by the way, is a Venti. The only way to go.

What keeps me going

I love my job, but some days I just don't want to be at work. Writing about canine fungal infections and walking dandruff can really wear on the creative sensabilities, you know?

Today is one of those days. It's the Viking and my 35th anniversary. I'd rather be whiling away the day in some romantic setting. What keeps me going, is the little mental retreat I take every time I gaze to the right of my monitor and see love. The background is a poster of my favorite Monet print, my family and today, a new symbol of love. The figurine reads "love, everlasting and true". And so it is. This is what keeps me going.

Spring Storms in Nebraska

Another storm is moving in. I've had it with tornado sirens and magnificantly fierce lightening. I hope this one keeps moving. It gets a little cramped in the closet.

TaDah!!!

First, a couple of blasts from the past, so you know where we started.

Here's where we are today.

I can't even guesstimate the hours this has taken. I do know it's been 3 10 cubic yard dumpsters, 3 big boxes of the largest black garbage bags, 4 large boxes of white kitchen garbage bags and an unknown number of trips hauling it all down to the curb. If it had not been quite so exhausting as it was going on, there might be a few more photos of the mountains of bags and miscellaneous stuff that faced the trash men every Thursday morning for the last 9 weeks.

For me, it's been a major physical challenge, as I work a full time job, commute almost 2 hours a day and then have spent the majority of both weekend days in the house. It's been all I can do to keep the laundry done.Thanks to my own hero, the Viking, we've had meals everynight and the cat boxes cleaned! That's major, btw, when you have 4 cats.

The job also ate up a full 2 weeks time of a visiting granddaughter, 4 full days of other relatives, and a couple of weekend friend helping days. Mind boggling. Some day soon I'll share some interesting finds with you all that seem to be beyond reason. Like.... in a house where only 2 people live, and one has passed on, why are there extra sets of teeth whose owner can't be identified?????

Here's one of the infamous and wonderfully helpful Recliner Man facing the first of the monsters, when we all thought one would do the trick. What fools we mortals be.

Memorial Day

Today is indeed, a memorial day. I have conqured the House Of Many Treasures. It's been a long task, and there is still some clean up to do, but the end is very,very near. There's been many huge undertakings this last month, but the garage has got to have been the worst. Here's where we began.

It's a huge oversized 2 car garage. Almost big enough to be a 3 car but not quite. For years, there's only been one spot to park a car, and if you didn't line up exactly right with the blue garden globe the was on the heap of boxes , you were never going to be able to get the car door open to make your escape. Thanks to my sister and brother in law, the hole was widened after 2 days of slaving, and I could begin to see how huge a job this was going to be.

Stage 2. This is where we left it after another 2 weekends of work. Everything and I do mean everything, covered in mouse droppings, mud wasp nests, dirt and spiders. Pleasant way to spend a weekend, don't you think? Everything had to be opened, inspected and repacked or trashed. Too many treasures, kept in the garage for 12 years ended up being trashed thanks to mouse damage or moisture damage.

Stage 3. It's Memorial Day. My husband and I have spent two 12 hours days and the garage is mostly done. Oh, I know it doesn't look it, but it is. Things with big yellow tags go to a family member for storage. Everything else is destined to go to a salvage place. I hope I can find one to come this week or next weekend. There's still lots of useable things for someone.

Thank goodness this House of Many Tresures is only 12 years old. I'd still be working on July 4th weekend. I wish I had a panoramic camera so you could really see the whole thing!

On a morning in May

You can't tell from this photo, but the wheels on this behemoth are taller than the Saturn I drive. This thing is huge. The first time I encountered this piece of machinery, it's side arms were partially extended and it was coming toward me on a foggy morning just after I'd moved to farm land.

I'd never seen anything like this. It startled me. It was mammothly large and shouldn't have been on the same roadway as my tiny 2 door Saturn. It gave me the sense of what I could only imagine it would feel like to be standing in a field and have a battle tank advancing on you. It made me think of those huge walking fighting machines in one of the Star Wars movies. It creeped me out that early May morning a year ago.

I went into work ranting about this monster I'd seen on the road and my new coworkers giggled patronizing at me as they explained the monster was really a crop sprayer. Silly city girl.

I really wasn't frightened, just horribly out of my element and feeling edgy. A year ago, I didn't know a lot of things I know today. There was a clue that I missed that day, that could have allayed all my uneasiness if I'd only recognized it.

Just as our vehicles prepared to pass head on, the driver gave me the classic Nebraska 1 finger wave that says "Hi, Neighbor. Have a good day!" He continues to do so, every day as we pass each other in varying combinations of Saturn and farm vehicles, both on our way to earn our daily bread.

Lord of the Pounce

I like cats and Celtic music. How could I resist when I heard of a song called "The Lord of the Pounce". It's from Marc Gunn, a very talented bard in Austin Texas. Enjoy.

Negativity

In my quest to focus on what's positive in life these days, I'm noticing that's not at all difficult to find something good about each day. Overall, I am an optimistic person and try not to hold on to negativity. In my life, there is a family member who is totally opposite. I think she actually enjoys misery and if there isn't any will go out of her way to create it. She wants company in her experience, acting like a big vortex trying to pull everyone in.

I try to limit my exposure to people like that. When sometimes it's just not possible, the best I can do is try to stay true to myself and not get sucked in. I try to remember that there is someone I care about underneath the facade. I try to remember that I am a generous, kind person who does not need to identify with the negativity in order to try an understand it. I try to stay in touch with my sense of who I am, and know that in this too, is a lesson for my own growth. I try to remember that I do believe in love. And love does not judge.

Sometimes, I just remember that nothing lasts forever. And that can be something good.

Spring Green

Living in farm country has been interesting for me this year. Every day I pass fields where crops are grown. There are more subtle changes to the land, and the crops than I would ever have imagined. Today was the first day this year that there was green in the fields again! I don't know what's growing, but it is just high enough above the ground to form a green haze. A very welcome sign that the cold, white winter is truly leaving. Oh, there may be more cold and even more white, but it will be fleeting and soon there'll be more lovely shades of spring green surrounding me.

Good Morning Vibes

I didn't forget to notice what was good yesterday - just got sidetracked at the posting part. Yesterday morning I saw a brilliant celestial display that made my whole day better! As I was driving to work in the morning, the pale pearl moon was in my front windshield and suddenly in the rear view window, a firey tangerine sun appeared. It was the best part of a workday Monday.

I'm Worth It

Something happened last night that feels damn good this morning.

A hard drive decided to spew out error after error creating panic in someone's heart. So an hour later we're at electronics mecca, Best Buy. While the Viking is intently studying hard drives, I found myself wandering innocently toward the beckoning glitz and siren song of iPod land. I had no choice but to acknowledge the deeply buried lust in my heart. I had a perfectly good player in my desk at work. I don't need a new one. We bought the new drive and headed to the car.

Like many mothers, I've always put the desires of my family before my own when it came to material things, especially indulgences. I still do most of the time even though it's just the Viking and me at home these days and has been for a long time. I think it is just a mother-thing;pop psychology often says that behavior is connected to a whole slew of feelings that all revolve around self worth and what you do or do not deserve. Maybe it's both.

At the sound of the ignition, I knew I couldn't resist. Back to the store. And right there and then, I decided that it was ok to get something just because I wanted it. Buying it wasn't going to cause financial collapse or the earth to stop spinning. I took a step further and went into really dangerous selfish territory and bought outstanding earbuds to go along with the shiny new toy. Just because I love the nuances of music. For me. Just me. It feels great.

What did I buy? A Sandisk Sansa View, 16GB of wonderment and Bose earbuds. When I heard the difference between the included Sansa earbuds and the Bose, I no longer felt any sense of remorse over that little upgrade. The commercials are right. You should hear what you're missing.

Coffee Art

Have you seen the email going around with really beautiful cups of coffee ,artistically embellished with frothed milk or cream? Real or photoshopped? I don't know,but I thought it would be fun to see how it's done. In in my neck of the woods, coffee is either black or with cream, froth? What's that? Weirdo for even asking.

Here's a Youtube video of someone actually making art in their coffee. How fun would it be to get this in the morning?


And this actually realtes to my good things in life project. Today is Saturday,and all week I look forward to weekends for 3 things: a really long shower,leisurely waking up and being able to take the time to revel in the cozy warmth of bed and the third is making a pot of excellent coffee and being able to savor every flavor and aroma. Sometimes it's on Saturday, sometimes Sunday that I get to have "my morning".

Today was my morning.The coffee was freshly ground dark Kenyan. No cinnamon rolls, but that's ok. It was still a wonderful morning. Do you have any special rituals that make your hectic life better?

57 Cars

I've decided to start posting about the good things in my life. I've been stuck in a rut and it seems like a way to move ahead. So... day one.... a good thing about living in rural Nebraska is the lack of traffic.

I've been counting cars that I see on my way to work for the last week, from door to door,each day. It's 57. Including farm vehicles.

To give you an idea of what this really means, I drive about 30 miles one way to work. People here actually complain about the traffic. Really. Having driven in the Atlanta and DFW metro areas for many years, I just shake my head. This is a live shot of the main section of my drive, at noon today. I see more cows than cars on a daily basis. Definitely a good thing.

My Quirky Word Fixation

This is driving me nutty today. In my local newspaper, there was an article regarding a widow and a widower who married. The article stated that they were " both widowed in 2006". Seems to me the better sentence would have been "both lost their spouses in 2006", but since they went with widowed, it's bugging me.

So I looked up "widow" in my spiffy new dictionary, Merriam Webster Collegiate, 11th edition. Much to my surprise, "widow: to cause to become a widow or widower", so maybe it's not all that big a deal. But it still is bugging the daylights out of me.

What about you?

I found this video, I wanted to share with you. It's Lyle Lovett's version of Flying Shoes, written by Townes Van Zandt. The first time I heard this song, it took root in my heart and refuses to leave.

Memory

It's been a month since my dad passed away. His passing began on Christmas Eve and was completed just after midnight on Christmas night. Most of the hard things about a loved one's passing, fell to me to cope with. Making phone calls and decisions. Supporting my mother through it all. Helping my husband through his own unsettled memories of a death at Christmas long ago, suddenly raw and aching. It's been a somber month and I've just begun to feel like I'm coming out of a blanket of fog and numbness that enveloped me .

What I'll remember is how truly joyful he was about a year ago when I accepted a job and decided to move close by. The summer sunsets we watched together from the porch, the time spent talking about the variety of birds at the feeder. He told a lot of stories in the last months, about times he was a boy and then a younger man in the service. He was loosing touch with small daily things, but remembering clearly things from 70 years ago. He talked about his mother canning food during the war years and how his father's shoe shop smelled. He talked about some choices he'd made in life and things he might have done differently. He reconsidered some of his relationships and wished to make ammends where he could.

He wasn't always the ideal father and there are many things better left alone. But in the last years, he became a better man. And I was so blessed to have the last 10 months to know him.

Handmade Pay It Forward

I have a very creative niece who recently gifted me with a lovely handmade tote bag. It has become the perfect place to keep my current crochet project. She sells her lovely bags and card wallets on her blog, and I'm always checking to see what she's been up to.

Today, she snagged me into an interactive, totally Internet art project called the Handmade Pay It Forward. I firmly believe in totally unencumbered acts of kindness and try to " pay it forward" at any given opportunity. Sometimes I even make up the opportunity! And that is the premise behind this project.

There's lots of other creative people playing in the universe; if you'd like to investigate further, just Google "handmade pay it forward" and I hope you'll want to play along, too.

In a nutshell, it's about sharing love through our collective hearts and hands. So, if someday you'd like to receive a random token of happiness, just agree to the few conditions and keep the faith.

Here's the deal...

• anyone with a blog can join.
• the first three people to leave a comment with a valid email address (I need to be able to contact you!) on this post will receive a handmade gift from me.
• I will send your gift within 365 days. in return, you have to pay it forward by making the same promise on your blog (whatever you want to make, no rules or limitations.)

I've been known to dabble in many crafty areas, so I have no idea what I might come up with to send you!. I can only promise that it will be executed to the best of ability and hopefully will be something you'll enjoy.

Number 1 Reason To Not Drive After Dark

It was a dark and lonely night. No moon. Just me and then a deer. It ended worse for the deer. Fortunately, I wasn't speeding and I saw the deer in time to move almost all the way into the other lane, but I still hit the poor huge animal.

Guess my first stop in the morning is a body shop.

Update... Lucky for me, the car is driveable. The estimate for total repairs is $5 more than the Blue Book value on the car! Other than the headlight, I think I'll turn a blind eye to cosmetics. It's running pretty rough this morning, so I dropped it off at the shop to have them check it out.

As far as collisions go, this could have been much worse. At least the deer didn't come through the windshield and I was able to drive home.

Ashes of Christmas

The holiday season is officially winding down. Trees are appearing on the sidewalks and 70% off ads are plastered everywhere as we face the drudgery of January. It's always been a long, hard month for me with days of routine nothingness made worse by the excitement of the holiday season. I was always one to decorate the house, even the bathrooms got some festive touch. I collected Santas. In financially good or bad times, there has always been a happy little girl anticipating the Santa season living inside me.

It was different this year. Everything related to the holidays seemed like just one big chore that I was happy to avoid. I didn't bake. Didn't buy gifts. Only sent a few cards to elder relatives out of obligation. Even the music of the season which I usually start playing in late November held no interest for me. There was no real cause, it just didn't feel right.

And then my father unexpectedly died late Christmas night. The drama started unfolding in the wee first hours of Christmas morning and less than 20 hours later, his soul went home. It went too fast, yet it all seemed like slow motion at the time. Time has still not fully adjusted for me.

There had been one occasion this fall when he and I were talking, and I told him about my work in hypnosis. He wanted to experience it, so I lightly hypnotized him. While he was floating in the haze, I spoke to him and encouraged his body to be healthy. I also told him that whenever his soul knew it was time to go home, he should go and find peace. We never spoke again about it.

He overcame a life threatening aorta aneurysm crisis and was in better health than at any time in the last year. And then on Christmas, it was time for him to go home. I wonder if his soul had told mine the time was close.

Snow Day

It's looking a lot like this picture where I live these days. The snow is pretty as it falls on evergreen trees and a twilight purple skies are beautiful against the snow covered corn fields. Christmas lights are especially pretty as they shimmer through the snow. Winter, seen from the inside of a cozy, warm home is lovely.

In reality, it's not so great. The white stuff comes associated with a lot of COLD. Morning temps in the single digits as I leave the house. Ice that takes 10 mins to get off the car windshield. Ruts in the parking lot that are 10" deep of packed ice and snow. Ugly black sludge on the sides of the road. White residue building up on the car. White knucles clutching the steering wheel driving in the dark on ice. Horizontal snow and lip chapping wind. There's more, but you get the picture.

On the up side, the state of Nebraska has some pretty cool real time video of road conditions in many locations, so you can see the winter wonderland you're going to have to drive through. I was told this is an unusually snowy December and it doesn't usually get like this until mid January. This must be a special treat just for me. Lucky me.

Life Rule: Never Give The Drunk The Camera

Here's proof of why one of the Life Rules is "Never give the drunk the camera." Never mind the designated driver; I think we should have had a designated photographer at the Christmas party.