Miss Rita's Birthday

Miss Rita had a birthday last Monday and I’m not telling how young she is. Every year she throws herself a party and invites all her family and friends to a salmon barbeque. I’m not sure if everyone shows up because of the salmon dinner or because Rita makes the best potato salad and no one wants to miss out. So Saturday was Rita’s BD party.

I packed up the car and took a cooler of cold beverages, a fruit salad, and a strawberry cheesecake trifle. Miss Angie brought her macaroni salad and there were also hamburgers, fresh crab and salmon, and all the trimmings for a great backyard barbeque picnic.

I arrived a little bit early and had a chance to visit with Rita and her adorable grandbabies before everyone else showed up. It was another one of those rare warm sunny days in Washington and we sat in the shade in the garage with the door up relaxing, talking, and waiting for everyone to arrive.

The Harley group met and took a ride to Mt. Baker before coming to the party and you could here them before we saw them as they pulled into the driveway about one o’clock. I heard rumors that some the members up on the mountain were having a snowball fight--in August no less.

When Rita thought most of the group had arrived, her husband, Dave, fired up the barbeque and the party moved to the backyard. Everyone arranged the chairs in the shade of the trees and those who went to Sturgis shared some of their stories about their two week adventure. The group is still a little tired from the miles and heat but the smiles on their faces let you know it was worth it.

Mark and his band-mate brought their guitars to play and sing for the party. They are an amazing duo with their musical talents. The group sang happy birthday to Rita as she blew out her candles and then the band sang a better rendition of the same tune. This should make her doubly blessed and her wishes really should come true.

Happy Birthday Rita and thank you for sharing your party.

Ozark Mules

My parents have subscribed to a wonderful magazine called The Ozarks Mountaineer for about thirty years. Mom reads each issue and then passes them onto to those of who want them. I always enjoy reading them when I visit and take them home to Larry to enjoy.

The magazine is filled with stories of people, places--some of which don’t even exist anymore--food, tall tales, events, and the history of the land I call home. I was born in Lockwood Missouri and my sister Mary has a piece of the hospital wall where I was born stored in her house at Branson waiting for me to come and retrieve it. The hospital was being torn down and she just happened to be driving by that day and asked the construction workers if it was possible to have a small piece and they said sure and loaded a piece about three foot by three foot into her trunk. Someday I will bring it home, but for now it is safe.

My mom was born in Ozark and my dad was born in Dadeville. Some of my best childhood memories are taking summer vacations to visit my grandparents, aunt, uncles, and cousins. Occasionally my mom and I would take the train to Kansas City at Christmas and then ride the “milk train” to Springfield where a family member would pick us up. Those old routes between Kansas City and Springfield are gone but not forgotten.

Daddy always told me that if you came from Missouri (we pronounce it with a short a sound on the end --Missoura) then you were from the “show me state” and “stubborn as a mule.” This would explain why I need to know how to do things for myself, or why if you want me to do something I need to know why. I guess this line of thought follows the other slogan for my home state “mule headed.” Yes, I have my hand raised!

Reading the March/April 2008 issue of Ozarks Mountaineer there was a great article on Calvin Jones: Voice for Missouri Mules. This gave me a new prospective and respect for the Missouri state animal. Mr. Jones said, “…the truth is having any of those phrases used to describe you should be considered a compliment.”

Mules are smarter than most people think. They are half horse and half donkey. Mules won’t do something they aren’t sure about, will take breaks when they are tired, can withstand more stress, and work under hardship. This is so me. They also have very long memories. Yes, that’s me. If you mistreat a mule he will get even with the person who hurt him. Maybe someone should check my DNA because this sounds just like me.

Cruising for a Cause - Evergreen Aids Foundation

Just sit right back
And you’ll hear a tale
Of a three hour tour
A fearless crew
Plus forty-eight
Set sail on Bellingham Bay
It was a balmy night
With wine and cheese
And veggies for good measure
The laughter could be heard
From stern to bow
And port to starboard
The food was gone
The bottles empty
Time to go back home

Last night Larry and I took a cruise on Bellingham Bay on a about a sixty-three foot sailboat named the Shawmanee. The cruise was a fundraiser for The Evergreen Aids Foundation and my son Michael is the board president this year.

I am not a good swimmer and after several bad experiences on the previous boats, I have always told Larry, if you want a boat, buy one and enjoy it, but it is not my thing. So presented with helping out a charity for a good cause, Larry bought tickets and I figured I could just hang out near the lifejackets for the evening and I would be okay.

We arrived in plenty of time to board, find good seats, start meeting our fellow shipmates, and pour a glass of wine. Slowly we recognized friends among the gathering and caught up on who was doing what. We made new friends and discovered what our fellow travelers did in life and how we all came to be on this cruise.

Lawyers, doctors, educators, artists, newspaper reporters, students, businessmen and women, a community of caring individuals all coming together to help EAF help those living with HIV/AIDS and their families and loved ones. I looked up and was happy to see Melissa who is part of our Harley group. Larry saw Bob, a professor he hired years ago, and Marie who teaches in Fairhaven College and worked with him at WWU. To most of the people on the cruise, I was Michael’s mom and I thought to myself that when the kids were in school I was always someone’s mom and hadn’t been defined that way in a long time out in public.

I was told to bring a sweater and maybe a warmer coat for when it cooled off in the evening. Well it was one of those rare Washington days with the temperature was in the eighties and only once did a slight breeze come up--but not enough to make me run for the coat. I forgot my camera and it would have been a perfect evening to take pictures of the moon coming over the mountains with the sun setting at the same time. But the memories are in my heart and will be treasured.

To find out more about The Evergreen Aids Foundation, go to: http://www.evergreenaids.org

The Northwest Washington Fair

Monday was the first day of the Northwest Washington Fair and Larry was working at a table for Community In Schools so I decided to go with him and wander around the fair to see the sights. It has been four years since I went to the fair with my daughter Kelly.

I found the exhibition building with quilts and admired the artistic craftsmanship and also found myself comparing my mother’s quilts to the ones who had won awards. One of the differences in my mother’s quilts and most of the quilts at the fair, is that my moms quilts are all hand pieced, appliquéd, embroidered, and quilted on an old fashioned quilt frame. Not a machine stitch on her quilts. My mother just learned to quilt in a different period of time and that style of quilting might soon be lost.

I checked out all the vendors but really didn’t find anything I wanted or needed so I went to view the rabbits and chickens. The bunnies were really cute but my bird dog would just love to hunt them down so I don’t think I’ll have bunnies in my backyard. The chickens came in every color and size. Some of the roosters didn’t seem to realize that sunrise was hours ago. I would love to have a little hen house in the backyard and then I could call them may Harley chicks.

There were dahlias to see in every color, art, photographs, baked goods, table settings, and what would a fair be without home canned fruits and vegetables. Cotton candy, snow cones, and donuts, the smells were wonderful and I didn’t give in to temptation.

The dairy cow barn was next on my list of items to see. Some of my earliest memories are living on a small farm in Missouri. My mom had three cows, a Guernsey, a Jersey, and a Holstein. I remember mom said that one was better for butter and the others for drinking milk. I just remember how big they looked when I was so little and how good they smelled in the barn with fresh hay. Two of the cows at the fair will probably deliver calves at the fair and that will be an experience for those who get to watch a live birth. I saw my first calf born when I was about nine, visiting my aunt’s farm.

The baby goats, lamas, and sheep were cute and they were judging while I was there. It was fun to watch the kids dressed up and taking charge. Other kids were cleaning and grooming their animals and several were milking goats. Warm milk is another one of those smells I remember from the dairy barn.

I had saved the best to last, the horses. Miniatures to Clydesdales, three barns full. You could hear the clip clop of the heavy hooves on the pavement when the Clydesdales came in and out of the barn. They were magnificent with their manes braided and decorative ribbons in their tales. The wagons were all lined up and the draft horse hitches show will be later in the week. All the 4H kids were working in the barns, cleaning, straightening, answering questions and they had all the stall doors decorated. One couple had a pair of mules and it was fun to talk to them since I am from the show me state “Missouri” known for being stubborn as a mule.

I met Larry at the end of his shift and we found a shaded food area to have lunch. We had our picture taken back in the barns for a wanted poster and then we headed home. It was a wonderful day and brought back a lot of childhood memories.

Naked, but Not Naughty

Naked lady flowers were my grandmother Chloe’s favorite plant. The flowers are also referred to as Belladonna Lilies and resurrection lilies, and they may be naked (no leaves) but they are not naughty. When I was in California my mother had these growing in several places in her garden and the gardener had to move a few and had not replanted them yet so mom told me to take them home.

Now I have these special flowers in my garden and every time I look at them I will think of my grandmother and my mom, two of the most important women who shaped my life.

The wedding of Kelly and Ryan

Saturday evening Kelly and Ryan committed their lives to each other. The rain gave way to a beautiful garden setting that was enchanting. Everyone mingled, no aisles, no bride or grooms side, just one gathering to celebrate the love that these two young people share.

I first met Kelly B. and her brother Ian when my kids Michael, Kelly, and I moved to Washington ten years ago. Larry was renting a home next to their parents on the Straights of San Juan De Fuca.

The kids went back and forth between the two homes and we included Ian and Kelly in all our family traditions. Michael and Kelly B. became best friends sharing all the ups, downs, good, bad, and best friend’s secrets. So it was fitting that Michael became Kelly’s wedding planner/coordinator for her wedding.

I watched Ryan during the ceremony and he never took his eyes off Kelly, the love of his life. Kelly smiled back into Ryan’s eyes letting him know she loved him completely. The family of both the bride and groom and all their friends shared in this joyous occasion.

God blessed this union and the rain only came appeared when everyone was safely under the cover of the reception hall. The wedding was held at a private residence that rents out the grounds and facilities to weddings and events. The gardens were well tended and flowers bloomed everywhere. There seemed to be no detail untended, and Michaels planning had everyone and everything on schedule.

Larry and I were seated at table #3. This table was family of the groom and close friend’s of Kelly’s parents. Several family members had to leave early and Ryan’s grandmother joined us. When the showers turned into a downpour we were moved to table #20 away from the rain and a much warmer spot. We all began to interact and form a connection. We stole mints from the other tables and we became known as the “unique” table because we had a ring of fire from all the candles that we some how accumulated. Other tables gave us their candles and we spelled out the initials of Kelly and Ryan and we far surpassed table #15 who accused us of being candle stealers. Michael would just smile as he passed us by and the DJ would occasionally mention our table by number.

Michael found a few extra mints and dropped them by our table. A firefighter from another table tried to extinguish some of our candles for safety but we arm wrestled to keep her away. The music played on and our table was clearly the life of the party, well after the bride and grooms table. We were after all there for a wedding celebration.

After the cake was cut and the bride and groom had their first dance, Larry and I left our table to retreat home. It was an evening to be remembered and I am sure it was all captured by the two photographers who just happened to be lurking around catch table #23 in the act. I am sure Michael never imagined when he did seating charts that our table would be the one everyone talked about during and after the wedding. “Unique.”

Random tidbits from CA

Home Alone
Well almost alone! If you don’t count the dog who wants to be #1 and the cat who is #1, then Larry is home alone but always in my heart, body and soul, forever and ever.

Mimi’s Café
Where to eat when we go out to dinner when visiting my mom? Mimi’s! Where else would I want to go?

Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, it’s all good. The decor is all about Mardi Gras and New Orleans: Pictures, memorabilia, and art hung from every available wall space but not gaudy looking, just comfortable--“Big Easy” style. I haven’t eaten anything there that I don’t like and my mom’s favorite thing is the dark, rich, moist carrot raisin bread they serve while waiting for your meal to be prepared.

I want a Mimi’s Cafe in Whatcom County. I wrote them and told them I wanted a Mimi’s Cafe. My brother Jerry has one in Arkansas, so why can’t I have one in my backyard?!!

Sunday Supper
Sunday afternoon Mary and I went off to the store to buy the makings for dinner of soup and sandwiches before our canasta game. Mary later said we were just getting our daily dose of “C” when we wound up eating chips, cheese, and chocolate with a little sweet tea for Sunday supper. I wonder if Mary put that in the canasta journal.

Spoiled Rotten
My favorite summer salad of cucumbers, onions, and tomatoes would have been more than enough for dinner, but mom made one of her casseroles and we had a feast with watermelon to snack on and blackberry cobbler for dessert.

Pie dough cookies with sugar and cinnamon for an afternoon snack brought back fond memories of baking with my mom. Mom said she hadn’t made these cookies in…she couldn’t remember when.

Family
Sitting around the dinner table sharing stories or telling stories about adventures in between visits is the glue that binds our lives together.

The Surprise
When I first moved to Washington ten years ago, I would write an email newsletter to my family each week to let them know how we were doing in our new home. I had never lived more than two and half hours away from my parents and family, and most of my life I lived only twenty minutes away from them. Now two states and about nine hundred miles, makes it seem like a million miles some days. My kids missed their weekly family dinners or just dropping in on a Saturday to say hi for a short visit.

How could I stay connected even though we weren’t physically close by? I began to write about living in our new home on the beach, the kids settling into school, looking for a our own home to buy and all the little things that happen during an average week.

My dad loved to read about our new adventures and mom said he would sometimes re-read the emails a number of times. Several computer hard drive crashes later and all the copies of my emails were lost, or so I thought. My mom surprised me with copies of all those early writings, thinking that some day my children would like to have them. This was an unexpected surprise, like finding the only photograph of a long lost relative and the sense of joy it brings.

Smarter and wiser, I now have a backup drive and we are about to have online storage so never again will photos, letters, documents, be left to chance stored on my computer.

Jelly Jars, Cookie and Pie Tins
Jim came down to have dinner with the family on Tuesday. He brought back all his empty jelly jars to my mom and when he went home that night she gave him a new supply of jelly along with a peach cobbler. I wonder if he will try to return the pie tin for refills like he does his jelly jars. Silly me, I left my cookie tin at home.

The Suitcase
One bag and fifty pounds, which is the airlines new limits when you travel. My bag only weighed thirty-seven pounds when I flew down and now it was fifty-two pounds. Fifty-two pounds and I don’t have everything packed. What to do? What don’t I need until November? One by one I pulled all the extra miscellaneous items I accumulated after I arrived, and now I had to make decisions. What goes home, what stays at mom’s? Art supplies can stay, the new blue pumps my sister gave me have to go home with me, the camera from the garage sale can wait and the scrapbook paper needs to go (it was just too good a deal to pass up). It’s not a matter of space, just weight. How much can I get into my carry-on bag and still have room for the naked lady flower bulbs? Priorities! I guess I will have to start bringing a small suitcase as my carry-on bag in the future.

Good-bye
I hate saying good-bye. It doesn’t matter if I am the one leaving or the one being left behind. My sister Suzie told me when I was about twelve that it is always harder being the one left behind. Missing someone you can not see whenever you want because you are parted by miles is not easy. When it is your mom it is even harder.

I treasure every moment we have together when I go for a visit. Gardening, cooking, playing cards, reading the newspaper over a cup of tea, it really is the simple things in life that mean the most.

I’m already looking forward to Thanksgiving when Larry will come home with me for a family celebration.

The Canasta Queen

I was raised sitting around a table playing canasta with my parents, siblings, and grandparents. Sometimes my Aunt Dot, Uncle Jack, and my cousins would join us or we would all go to their home. I learned to play with two people or as many as eight people in a game. It was family fun with everyone trying to choose the best playing partner, and the kids all being buddied up with grown ups to learn from their experience.

We usually had a big southern style supper of chicken or catfish if my dad, granddad, and uncle had gone fishing that day. My mom, grandmother, and aunt made jell-o salads, fruit, vegetables; dessert was homemade cakes, pies, cookies, ice cream or all of the above. When the kids got bored or tired out, we slowly dropped out of the card game and retreated to other rooms to play with our toys and games.

Mom and dad began playing aggravation with Uncle Leonard and Aunt Faye on their trips to Missouri. Then it became the game of choice. Mary played every week with our parents and it was a battle of wills between dad and Mary who could out-throw the other with dice and knock the other one back to the starting point. My dad played until several months before his death when he was confined to a hospital bed at home. We put the game away after my dad passed away because my mom found no pleasure in playing without my dad.

When my mom celebrated her ninetieth birthday five months after my dad died, I flew to California to help her celebrate. Everyone had gone home one night and we were sitting in the living room reminiscing about when I grew up and things my children learned from me that I had learned from my parents. Somehow we started talking about the canasta games we used to play and how Kelly is the only one of my kids that knows how to play.

Mom said she wasn’t sure she remembered how to play since it had been so long ago since she had played a game. Mom found two decks of cards and we decided to give it a try. We made mistakes then would realize our errors and go on to the next game and the next, and the next. About 3:00 AM we gave it up and went to bed. That night the “Canasta Queen” was revealed (mom).

My sister Mary dropped in later the next day, amazed that we had played cards most of the night. Mary was even more amazed to find out we stayed up half the night, again, playing cards. Well, the third night Mary joined us. Mom and I found out we still had a few of the rules wrong but we were having fun. The rest of the trip was spent around the table watching my mom begin to smile again. The long lonely days of grieving were slowly passing. Mom will always miss my dad but the healing process had begun. I flew home a few days later, but Mary still continues to play canasta with my mom every week.

Mary warmed me this trip that I would have to keep an eye on mom because she can go out and win the game before you even have a chance to get started. It is a pleasant way to spend the evening playing cards and laughing, spending time with my mom and sister. Mary keeps a score book and at the top of each page for a new game, she records the date, the weather, and anything special for that day.

The Great Garage Sale

My sister Mary can always find a bargain no matter where she is traveling--distance is not a problem and Mary can find a way to get her treasures home every time. It’s when she gets them home that has caused her to own several storage sheds in which to keep her “extra” items as she rotates her finds in and out of her home.

With her latest home remodeled she has sort of, kind of, maybe decided to sell a few of these items tucked away in different locations in town. Saturday she had a garage sale number????—even she can’t remember. She has one or two sales a year and she does really well because of her initial bargain shopping; she can make a profit and the buyer always get a fair deal. This is why the dealers also show up at her home at 6:30 AM to get the best items. Mary said she has boxes, bins, and tubs of items given to her that she hasn’t even explored yet for possible sales.

Near the end of the day a lady was looking at some plates and Mary couldn’t figure out how one of her sets of Christmas plates wound up on the table. Her friend Katherine said they belonged to her but that Mary could have them. Mary just laughed and said she already had over one hundred plates stored under her bed. Mary has an annual Christmas party for between eighty and one hundred people every Christmas after the house is decorated and she only uses dishes that match her themes. I told her she better not break the bed or she would cry. Think of the really large mosaic project we could do!

Mom and I went to check out the sale, taking tea and mom’s fresh homemade cookies to Mary and her friends helping her. I strolled around the tables several times to see what was left and what I wanted--not needed. Yes I took home a few of her garage sale items, junk jewelry, rubber stamps, some old wooden thread spools, old seam bindings, and a vintage movie camera complete with leather carrying case. Most of these new treasures will be used in my art projects. I think this is why Mary planned the sale when I was visiting. Look out Larry.

I Love You Honey

Growing up, my siblings and I always felt special and loved by both my parents. Their Christian morals and values provided a firm faith foundation to family life, and it was their nurturing, without criticism, that helped us learn how to help ourselves. I modeled being a mother after my own mom. I kissed the hurts away when my children were small, held them when life hurt them, and tried to always show them how to deal with unexpected circumstances. Most of all I loved them each for who they were individually.

It didn’t matter what age my kids were when they got angry or made at me, I always told them I loved them, even when I was angry or mad at them. Being loved will get you through life’s most difficult obstacles. You never know if you are going to get a second chance to tell someone you love them--so don’t have regrets later for not having told them how you feel.

Each night at my mom’s, she still tells me, “I love you honey” and gives me a kiss on the forehead. Even with three grown children of my own, it’s comforting to feel like a kid again--safe at home with mom.

This is the nurturing experience. It is what people look for in day spas, or retreats, or find in other people. Being pampered and cared for and reciprocating; doing something for someone else for no reason at all; sending a card or e-card, making cookies, smiling at others, offering a kind word to a clerk, and saying I love you to family--Everyone needs kindness in their lives.

I know that I am blessed and loved by my husband, my children, my mother, my family.

Joshua 1:5…I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you.

Isaiah 49:15-16… I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.

A Garden of Memories

Just enough time to take care of business—well, most of it--do my laundry, and repack my bag, and then I was off to California. Larry did his own grocery shopping and that allowed me to be lazy, lounging around in my pajamas while I took care of little tasks, played in my studio, and mostly worked on the computer. What I couldn’t finish I took with me to complete by phone after I arrived at my moms.

My mom is ninety-one and I hadn’t seen her since Christmas. Several weeks ago she was involved in an automobile accident when someone else ran a red light. We thought the family would all be in Branson Missouri right now for a family reunion but we had to cancel. So I was bound for Concord, California. The most important purpose of the journey was just to spend time with my mom and to plant flowers to fill in the bare spots and make the garden look pretty again.

My love of gardening comes from both my parents; I can only remember bits and pieces of living on a small farm in Greenfield, Missouri. We had cows and my mom made her own butter, even winning a contest churning butter. My parents bought me a butter churn just like the one my mom won her contest with and although I was slow cranking the handle, I did make butter for my kids. We left the cows, pigs, ducks, and chickens behind when we moved to Ponca City, Oklahoma.

Friends of my parents shared a large plot of land to garden on just outside of town. We would drive to the garden after dad got off work in the early evening to pull weeds, pick what was ripe and ready to be used or canned for the winter. I lived on fresh vegetables and fruit in the summer, with a good hamburger thrown in once in awhile. Mom made her own dill pickles in crocks she kept in the basement. I loved to pull back the dill leaves sprinkled with salt and dip into the brine to start eating pickles long before most people would consider a cucumber a real dill pickle. The shelves in the basement held everything from stewed tomatoes to spiced pickled peaches.

Our move to California left little room in the backyard to garden, but mom and dad always seemed to find room for cucumbers, onions, tomatoes, peppers, garlic, and chives. Our first home did have a large orchard filled with every kind of fruit tree you could imagine so I spent my summers crawling up into the trees and eating my fill before moving on to the next tree. Homemade apple butter and bread seemed to round out my food groups for the summer with watermelon or cantaloupe for dessert. With the warmer California weather my dad built a round three tier strawberry bed at our next home and mom made strawberry jam and jelly that rivaled her pineapple apricot jam.

The little nineteen forties cottage mom now lives in has raised beds that dad built for strawberries--and Michael claims they are his. Apple, peach, and apricot trees provide the makings for fried pies and dried apple slices and the berry vines keep the family content with cobblers. Two years a go we planted grape vines and mom and the squirrels battled over who would get to eat them last year. We also planted a lemon tree in honor of my father last year.

Richard is a friend of my sister Mary and we have hired him to do the weeding and maintenance for our mom which allows her to enjoy tending her flowers, vegetables, and time to just sit on the patio to enjoy it all. Richard really works hard for my mom because she keeps his glass filled with southern sweet tea and provides him with continuous cookies, cobblers, pies, and baked goods.

Mary and I made several trips to the garden store to purchase flowers for the garden next to the driveway. I spent nine hours in the garden alongside my brother-in-law Poncho and Richard removing an overgrown hedge that blocked the sunlight and, more importantly, my mother wanted it removed since she moved in forty years ago. All gone! Now fifty-three new plants are all in the ground and it could have been more. A white picket fence next spring to finish off the garden and it will be beautiful. We planted snapdragons, ground-cover roses, agapanthus, wave petunias, penstemon, English lavender, pentas, poppies, chrysanthemum paludosum, hibiscus, jewels of opar, red sage, purple alyssum seed, a red pelargonium, Russian sage, and variegated lantana. At the end of the day, mom and I had a simple and satisfying meal of grilled cheese sandwiches and fresh peach cobbler. “Will work for mom’s home cooking and tea.”

I have a daylily in my garden that started life as a small start from my mother’s garden. I have divided it into five pieces that I have replanted around my yard and one piece to share with a friend named Lisa who has a garden that is a little bare right now. My mom always told me that is how most country gardens started--friends sharing cuttings, so the tradition will continue.

I’ve tried bringing home pieces of the agapanthus and the African iris but my winters are too cold and the snow and freezing temperatures always win the battle. My dad laughed one year as I gathered up probably two hundred seeds from the African iris to take home as he was cutting back the parent plant that tried to take over the front yard and produced baby plants faster than he could weed them out.

Gardening has gotten me through both the hardships and joys in life. Jim brought me nasturtium seeds when he was in kindergarten, Michael made me a birdhouse garden stake, and Kelly encouraged me to plant her favorite lupines. I work in the garden and it is my quiet time to talk to God. My parents instilled in me a love for gardening and I am grateful. From my kitchen window I can look out and see the tree my small group from church gave to me as a memory tree for my father and the round wooden tree bench that Larry gave me for my birthday to put around the tree.

More of the Wild West in Montana

Bear Grass, Mountain Goats, and Ground Squirrels

The Wild West

Larry’s son Mike and his wife Anne live in Whitefish Montana, at least for a few more days and then they will be moving to Louisville Kentucky for three years. So Larry and I few into Glacier International in Kalispell Montana to visit for the weekend, flying over the golden wheat fields of eastern Washington and into the green fields of the farms and ranches in the Flathead Valley. Winding roads snaked through the valley with homes sitting close by and barns surrounded by tree breaks next to the rivers, lakes, and streams.

Downtown Whitefish is sort of like Winthrop Washington but on a larger scale. The buildings all have a western, cowboy theme from the facades on the outside and the merchandise for sale inside, including cowboy bread sold in a brown beer bottle, or Moose Drool beer, or grizzly bear chocolate claws. We arrived on a Friday night and the town was hopping with locals and tourist crowding all the local restaurants and bars. After dinner we took a short walking tour through town and then drove to Mike and Anne’s home which sits in a fairly new development with a little pond in back. We talked and visited until everyone decided if we were going to go act like tourists the next day, we should get some sleep.

Saturday morning we drove to the west entrance of Glacier National Park. We took the “Going to the Sun Road” to Logan Pass. There was lots of road repair work going on and parts of the road were completely torn up with long stretches of gravel beds waiting to be repaved. It was bumper to bumper and looking ahead we felt sorry for the motorcycles, not only because of the gravel but the uphill stop and go traffic is really hard on the bike and the rider. We arrived at Logan Pass that marks the continental divide and only had to wait about five minutes to find a parking space. The sign in the women’s bathroom advised you to use the hand sanitizer because the glacier water running through the facets was ice cold from the melting snow. Little ground squirrels scampered around the tourists on the walkways not letting us get in the way of their single-minded objectives to get where they were going.

We saw Sunrift Gorge and St Mary Lake and the most photographed island in Glacier Park--Wild Goose Island--before heading down the eastern side of Glacier Park to have lunch at the Park Café in St. Mary, Montana. We were surprised to find it wasn’t packed and only had to wait a few minutes for table. The food was good and we bought a few cookies to enjoy on the second half of the trip. This is the type of little café that our Harley Owners Group looks for when we are traveling; good food, good service, and good prices.

We headed south to see the magnificent Many Glacier Lodge; built by the Great Northern Railroad. We also found the most enchanting cabin with a painted red door and twig furniture outside just as we entered the lodge drive. We drove on to Goat Lick overview but only found one lone goat under the bridge resting in the middle of the day. We did find some goat hair and I am going to try to find a way to add it to a piece of my art. We made a complete circle of the park and arrived back in time to shower and change before heading out to Anne’s birthday celebration. We had a wonderful dinner at a small gourmet restaurant and I wish I had the recipe to the sauce that was drizzled over my pork tenderloin. We also had a chance to meet some of Mike and Anne’s friends, Jeannie and Gary. We had flaming desserts to celebrate as we sang happy birthday to Anne with the rest of the restaurant patrons joined in the singing.

After dinner we took a drive around Whitefish to see more of the town, Whitefish Lake, and then up to Whitefish mountain and the ski lodge. From the top of the mountain the view of the valley was outstanding. There are lots of new homes being built from the top of the mountain all the way down and across the valley floor. Mike and Anne are hoping to complete their Snowy Owl Lodge when they return to Whitefish in a few years.

Sunday morning we joined Mike and Anne for church services in Columbia Falls then bought the makings for an indoor picnic style lunch. Everyone changed clothes and we headed to the Montana Raft Company for a trip down the middle fork of the Flathead River through Glacier National Park and an afternoon spent in Gods glorious country. We spent about thee and a half hours floating and paddling down a scenic, peaceful, relaxing, restful, sun filled afternoon. The rapids were rated class II and III and yes we got wet. We were attacked by rogue pirates on a raft not flying a flag so as to appear as if they were just another innocent rafting group. They drenched us with water guns as we slowed through a calm spot on the river and we fought back with our paddles splashing the water to try and soak them back. Lots of laughter from both rafts and they finally left us drift on down the river as the prepared to attack the next raft. There were a few sore muscles that evening and a few more the next morning, but the experience was worth every groan. No pictures, though, because my camera is not waterproof.

Mike cooked up his famous marinated steaks for dinner and Anne fixed all the trimmings including little mixed fruit and berry open tarts for the girls and chocolate brownies for the guys and both topped with vanilla ice cream. After dinner Anne helped me label my pictures so I would know where I had been for the last two days.

The long low whistle of the freight train signaled it was past time for bed in the valley. The same long low freight train whistle also wakes you up in the morning and it sounds better than any alarm clock. Amtrak runs through Whitefish coming east from Chicago and west from Seattle bringing the summer tourist crowds.

Monday morning and it was time to pack our bags. We didn’t fly out until later in the afternoon so we drove out to Howling Wolf Ranch which Mike helps to manage. It is two hundred acres about twenty-five miles outside of Whitefish. It really was a beautiful peaceful setting but more isolated and lonely for me to ever think about living in. I guess I’m just too much of a city girl.

We stopped for lunch at the Red Caboose Café for lunch. The paper placemats had a doodled train design, sort of like zentangle art. Famous quotes were cleverly written into the scenes and the one I found inspiring was: “sometimes in the winds of change we find our true direction” by anonymous. It’s hard, sometimes, to accept change especially when life becomes more difficult or not the way we are used to living or doing things; but when we can acknowledge, and allow ourselves to say yes to, God’s will, then we find peace to continue in a new direction and fulfillment.

The airplane ride home was uneventful as I slept from Kalispell to Seattle and Larry read his book on his new Kindle electronic book and listening to music stored on it. It was good to be home again and Michael was in Bellingham to pick us up. Deuce the dog has happy to have his dad home and Ally the grandbaby was waiting to be fed as usual.

A garden of friends

My friend Kim and her husband Greg are the leaders of our small group from church. One of the many things all the ladies in our group have in common is our love of gardening. I have to be honest and say my garden is the unruliest and I definitely have the most weeds. But I love my garden.

Kim called me earlier in the week and invited me to go to Seattle on Sunday for a garden tour. How could I pass up an invitation to peek into the gardens that are hidden behind closed gates and winding city streets?

I met Kim at nine o’clock with my Starbucks chi latte in hand, my walking shoes on, and my camera ready to shoot. We drove south to pick up Kim’s mother Sherry who decided to drive and we took the scenic route back to the freeway around Big Lake and McMurray Lake.

I’ve lived in Washington for ten years but have only taken an occasional trip to Seattle with my husband Larry when he has a business trip and I get to sleep in, shop downtown, and enjoy dinner at a nice restaurant. I don’t know my way around Seattle and after a whirlwind tour today, I still don’t know my way around but I had a great time sightseeing and enjoying all the different areas we visited.

The first garden was near Seward Park and it was filled with exotic plants and garden art created by the owners. Visually it was hard to see everything the first, second, or third time looking into the small pocket gardens. The paths all connected back to each other and the lowest garden was a green swath of grass that would be perfect for a dinner party. The textures of the plants and the sheer variety were almost overwhelming. Pictures were posted throughout the garden to show what it looked like before the owners transformed it into a showpiece that obviously brings much joy to the owners. I asked if they had a master plan before they started and they said no. They just started removing the grass and adding plants and it grew.

So from southeast Seattle we headed to the northwest section via downtown. Sherry drove like a pro, and she should because she lived in Seattle for forty years and worked right downtown where she had her own antiques and collectibles stores at Pikes Market. Kim was riding shotgun and acting as navigator. Several wrong turns, up the hill, down the hill--wait didn’t we go up that road once before?--and we arrived at the second garden.

Sherry took one look at the house and said she was ready to move in and she hadn’t even seen the garden. The home was wood shingled with all the trim done in black and it was magnificent sitting on top of a hill over looking Lake Union. The small front yard was enclosed by a black fence and a small formal triangle garden bordered with a boxwood hedge sat just inside the front entrance. Turning to the right was a gravel garden with a round ceramic art piece from Little and Lewis just before we dropped down several steps into the side garden with views of Lake Union and north Seattle. A small candelier hung in corner, wind chimes dangled from trees, and the patio umbrella was dressed with brass hearts that looked like oversized charms on a bracelet. The tiniest fuchsia I have ever seen with flowers about one half inch or less was tucked into a small walkway garden on the backside of the house. Not a large garden, but the plants, the house, and the view made it probably the most spectacular of all the homes we visited today.

We drove down the hill and stopped at Seattle Pacific University and sat on the front lawn to eat lunch. Sherry had thought of everything and had packed turkey and Swiss roll ups, drinks, chips, and not one but two kinds of cookies. What a treat, because I thought we would probably stop and buy a quick lunch somewhere and this was so much fun to sit in the sunshine and really enjoy the beautiful summer weather.

Next we were off to the university district to an older neighborhood filled with surprises. The curbside raised beds were filled and overflowing with lavender. The front of the house was filled with waves of black mondo grass and a lime green mondo grass. An angle trumpet was one of several centerpieces in the side yard and the owners dig it up and move it to a shelter each winter because it is a tender annual here in Washington. A fountain that dropped into a small pond led us to the back yard with a small sitting area across a wooden plank bridge. Around the corner--another pond filled with gold-fish. Lanterns hung overhead and a most unique art piece made from a piece of wood that was completely covered in nails of every size.

Time was running out and if we hurried we might made one more garden before five o’clock. We headed north and the last garden is still in the beginning stages. You can still see where the paths have been carved out and the plants were beautiful but young and not matured to fill in and out to cover the space. They did have some unusual plants in the garden and they were selling potted plants, which none of the other gardens did. Kim and Sherry both bought several selections and then we headed north.

When we first arrived, Kim had shown me around her father’s new garage that my husband and every guy I know would be envious of, and her mother’s studio that is built over the garage. Now, Sherry was giving me a personal tour and showing me some of her art work that will be used to sell pattern packets. She also told us her idea for a book on art and painting that she is working on. Every nook and cranny is filled with books she collects on art, painting, cooking, and vintage children’s books. Her art pieces include bowls, boxes, chests, and just about anything you can paint on. It is the sort of room you could just curl up in and savor everything as the day slipped away.

Friends are like flowers, you tend them and care for them and they grow more beautiful and treasured.

Not just another cute cookie

Every since I was about five or six I can remember my mother baking and using the leftover pie dough to make shaped cookies for me, sprinkled with sugar and cinnamon. Some of the cookie cutters were aluminum with little wooden handles and others were all aluminum. One Christmas I received my own little bake set with miniature plastic cookie cutters and I still remember how much fun I had baking with my mom, side by side.

About twenty-five years ago a neighbor brought over Christmas cookies for my children, all decorated in holiday shapes. These cookies tasted just like a cookie from one of my earliest memories when I was about three or four, living on a farm in Missouri and visiting an elderly neighbor down the road with my sister Mary. I asked my neighbor if she would share her recipe and she kindly agreed. My neighbor was about sixty at the time and she had been given the recipe about forty years earlier from an elderly friend she knew.

The next Christmas I bought a few cookie cutters, made my first batch of dough, cut, baked, and let my kids invite a friend to decorate cookies. And so the tradition began. My sister’s eyes lit up when she tasted a cookie and wanted to know where I got the recipe. After all these years, we were both amazed how one cookie could conjure up the same memory in both of us. The cookie wasn’t exact. I am sure the shortening was lard, in the old days, and the flour originally used wasn’t as processed as it is today. Aside from that it was as close as we were probably going to get.

Every year I have increased the number of batches of cookie dough and now I usually bake about sixteen dozen cookies from two inches to eight or ten inches. There are snowmen, trees, snowflakes, reindeer, stars, houses, bells, and more. I make frosting in every color from red and green, to pink, black, and purple, with sprinkles, and candies to decorate the cookies.

Michael was the only one of my children who lived near me last Christmas when I baked cookies so he got to invite four friends to decorate cookies. It doesn’t matter how old you are when decorating cookies, the kids always seems to come out. Not to be left out, I boxed up cookies to take to California for my other two children to decorate at their grandmother’s when they arrived. Somehow Christmas just wouldn’t be Christmas without the cookies.

Every year I find a new cookie cutter to add to my collection and last year it was a frog. I don’t go looking for a new cutter, something just seems to come my way and that is what happened last week. My son Jim and his girlfriend Heather were visiting from California and they came in from shopping one afternoon with a surprise for me. A boxed set of ABC cookies cutters from Fred and Friends. The ABC stands for already been chewed because each of the three gingerbread man cutters has either an arm, leg, or head missing from it. I can’t wait to see how the kids interpret this set of cutters into Christmas designs. Maybe they can put a headless gingerbread man on the reindeer and we will have the Halloween headless horseman. Who knows!

To make all this even more special, I arrived home from a day long Harley ride several weeks ago to find that Ryan had brought me a two-gallon glass canning jar, thinking I might like it. I was thrilled because I had been wondering about what I could use to display the oldest cookie cutters, including my mother’s which she had given me years ago; and all the special cutters which deserved to been seen and not hidden away in a box and pulled out once a year at Christmas.

Last year another one of my “adopted into the family” kids called and asked if I would share my recipe so he could bake cookies for his nieces and nephews. How could I refuse knowing another family is starting a wonderful tradition?

What goes on in Washington Stays in Washington...But nothing ever happens in Washington...Or does it?

Well I am just back from the Mt. Baker Chapter Harley Owners Group ride to Republic, Washington and it was a blast. Start to finish, those that planned the ride, led the ride, and swept up after the group did an amazing job. We went in three groups with a chase vehicle to carry cold water and soda. One group headed to Republic via the Canadian route and the rest of us headed over highway 20 to Twisp for lunch before riding into Republic. We were surprised riding out of town to find Kaye and Rob on an overpass taking our pictures as we rode down the highway

All three groups arrived with an hour of each other and when the kickstands went down the real fun began. We sat outside soaking up the sunshine and warmth, having a cold drink or two and wondering what to do for dinner in a town with only one restaurant open on the 4th of July. We pooled our money and arranged for seventy –five hamburgers to be delivered. Angie assigned Mark, Lois, and me to take the rest of the cash with a shopping list and find the rest of the items for dinner at the grocery store up the street. How much fun can a grocery store be right before closing? Not as much fun as it is to walk back three blocks with the grocery cart to find your whole group hooting and hollering in laughter to see us coming. Money left over so what do? Bob returned the cart and brought back more cold stuff to drink leaving the store dry for the weekend.

The day rides were leaving at eight o’clock the next morning but no one wanted to go to bed. It was too much fun to be able to sit outside at 11:00 o’clock at night and not need a coat or rain jacket.

Everyone split up into two groups the next morning for different destinations and our group encountered over fifteen deer in the morning, ran with the unfenced baby bulls right next to the road, we were dazzled by butterflies, and had our share of wild turkeys. We took a ferry across the lake and had lunch at a quaint little fishing resort at Twin Lakes. We did about one hundred and sixty-five miles that day and it was time well spent with friends. We arrived back in time for some of us to get a nap before dinner.

It was Dave M’s birthday and Lorie secretly arranged a cake for his birthday to have after dinner. We had dinner up the street at the local bar, and yes we did eat at the bar. Some of the group retired to the conference room for a game of poker. The rest of the group retired to parking lot which we had taken over with tables and chairs to watch the evening sunset when someone suggested Karaoke back at the bar.

Part of the group remained around the tables talking and relaxing and the rest of the group headed up the street. We had a secret weapon. We had Mark. Little did we know we also had other talent in our group? Mark wowed the group with his first song and the crowd--that was us-- went wild. Mark did several songs while we were there and each time everyone was just amazed by his voice. The locals sang but they just didn’t know what hit them when our Harley group showed up in town. One of the regulars looked at us and said you aren’t from around here are you? The comment from our group was, ”We just rode in.” The night was beginning to get late when Sheila and Bill brought the house down with “born to be wild”. By this time, part of the poker group had shown up so we really did have a good cheering section. That was it; we left a few hangers on from our group behind and most of us headed home to the motel.

A couple of the group rolled out at six o’clock on Sunday morning to get back in time to catch a plane, and the rest of us were on the road by eight o’clock headed to Coulee Dam, Twisp for lunch, and then home. The last surprise of the ride was finding Kaye and Rob waiting for us at Diablo Dam overlook taking pictures of the group as we pulled in to take a break.

A mini vacation with thirty of your friends might seem overwhelming to some people but to our chapter and friends it is just a regular occurrence and another chance to ride and have fun.

Home is Where the Heart Is

My son Jim and his girlfriend Heather arrived from California last week for a vacation. Heather has never been to Washington and it has been several years since Jim was here to visit. My younger son Michael lives nearby in Bellingham with his partner Ryan. Now I was only missing my daughter to make it complete. She kept telling me she wasn’t coming but somehow I knew she would be here, and she arrived several hours later from Las Vegas to try and surprise me.

I called my mom in California to tell her all the kids were here and she told me to enjoy every minute of my time with them. It made me realize even more how much my mom treasures the times when my siblings and I are all together. We had a family reunion planned in Missouri for August, but with rising fuel cost and airline tickets, we had to cancel the reunion. So this is my mini reunion with my children and their partners.

I’ve spoiled all the kids with favorite foods, time to relax and no chores to do, taking lots of pictures, and giving and getting hugs and snuggles. I fixed one of their favorite casseroles Wednesday and we had family dinner night with everyone talking and telling stories from their childhood. There’s nothing like having babies (even if the babies are all grown up) back in the house to fill our home with energy.

The kids all scattered to see the sights, visit friends, and when they weren’t eating home cooked meals they were sampling the local eating places. So much to do and only so many days to do it in, Seattle, Pikes Market, shopping, Lake Whatcom, Whatcom Falls, the farmers market, cheer stunting with old friends, and church services. Kelly went to White Rock with her friend Haley to visit friends she hasn’t seen in three years and a night of dancing. Jim and Heather took me along with their friend Ian (who we sort of adopted into the family when we moved to Washington and he lived next door with his family) to the movies. Larry stayed home for quiet time with a good book and Michael and Ryan were out friends.

We took family pictures and Jim, Heather, and Kelly, joined Larry and I for the Mt. Baker Chapter HOG picnic in Sumas. A Frisbee game, barbeque hamburgers, hotdogs, and the best potato salad and beans you have ever had. Larry and I watched the softball game between our chapter and our sponsoring H-D Bellingham dealer. Jim played centerfield for our team and Heather pitched and after seven innings our team won. Kelly being the friendly cheerleader meet and greet personality enjoyed talking and visiting with our chapter members.

One more family dinner on Sunday evening to spend with my children before they have to return to their homes and jobs tomorrow. My sister Sharron told me years ago that it is always harder to be the one left behind, than the one leaving when saying good-bye. Sort of. Sometimes. It depends on who you are saying good-bye to. Being separated from my family is never easy for me. Home is where the heart is and little pieces of my heart are in Washington, California, Nevada, Missouri, Arkansas, Oklahoma, Maryland, North Carolina, and Iraq, everywhere my loved ones are.

Inchies

Last year I made my first inchie, but after it was finished I wondered what to do with it. I was busy with other art projects and most of my time was being devoured trying to design scrapbook layouts (I am not a scrapbook person, but took on the job when a friend could not continue due to illness) for the GRADS teen parent program I teach art to.

Recently I was attending the Wednesday mini lunch demo and they were showing a variety of art techniques and materials to make inchies. But what really caught my attention was how to display them. Someone brought in their collection mounted on matt board and ready to be framed. What I really loved was the instructor framed four of her inchies in a small dollar store frame with four photo windows.

My mind was whirling and as soon as the class was over I was off to the dollar store. I bought 20 black frames that each had four openings resembling a mini version of the larger photo display screens/room dividers.

I pulled out a variety of supplies, paper, beads, embossing powders, stencil paste, pens, and more and set to work to make three more inchies. I didn’t realize until I was finished that all four inchies had a bird theme because I had been to busy playing. I removed the glass from the frames and cut black suede paper for the matt and then mounted the inchies.

Yahoo! The first of my ten art class samples for the next school year was complete. I know they girls are going to have so much fun making their own mini art pieces, framing them, and displaying them at home.

In my journey to learn a little bit more about inchies I found some wonderful websites with information, insight, and trades. I also learned that inchies are one inch by one inch but there are variations on the same theme. There are fat inchies or plus size inchies 1 ½ “x 1 ½”, twinchies 2” x 2”, thrinchies 3” x 3”, and extreme inchies 1” x 2 ½”.

Inch: At first an inch was the width of a man's thumb. In the 14th century, King Edward II of England ruled that 1 inch equaled 3 grains of barley placed end to end lengthwise.

Friendship Card

Friendship Card

Friendship CArd

Stampadoodle in Bellingham WA has a Wednesday noon demo of art supplies and techniques. They are soon moving to a new location and those attending have been making and doanting handmade cards that will be sold by donation and the money given to local charities that use art to help children in crisis.

This is my donation for the week. A folded card with two tags using an orginal poem I wrote and vintage photos and various art supplies including gel medium, texture paste, gold leafing pens, rubber stamps, ribbons, etc.

Friends are gifts
Treasured and cherished
Sharing wisdom and truth
An ear to listen
A shoulder to lean on
We laugh, we cry
The good, the bad
We care, we share
We found each other
Dancing to a different beat
Confidants and co-conspirators
Words cannot describe
What friends really are

My Birthday Art

Happy Birthday to me

I just celebrated another birthday, but what does having another birthday really mean? My kids love it because I celebrate my annual 27th birthday. My daughter informed my brother that her mom was twenty-seven and being the accountant he is, said “your mom is fifty-seven”. It’s a number, that’s all. When I had my car accident I lost the left brain accounting skills that had always kept me employed and discovered the right brain artistic part of me that couldn’t quit escape and find freedom until that fateful day.

Now I have a studio filled with all sorts of artistic supplies and a lot of found items that I incorporate into my art. The supplies range from fabric, paint, shrink plastic, fibers, ribbons, metallic powders, paper of every imaginable type and color, tools that curl things and tools to straighten things, soldering irons, travel irons, mosaic tiles, canvas, wood, plastic, it just doesn’t seem to end.

I have a husband who works to support my habit and laughs that I would rather spend hours browsing a craft or thrift store with twenty dollars than shop at Macy’s. I find joy in creating gifts for family and friends especially using family photos of treasured memories. I also love to donate art to help other organizations that benefit my community. If we look deeply within ourselves, we can all find a way to give to the organizations that help care for those in need who can’t always help themselves.

But in my little studio I am working on three little canvases that have my childhood pictures incorporated into them and this will be my gift to me. It is easier for me to use pictures of other family members than to use pictures of myself, so this is also a challenge for me. Maybe it is the reality that when someone looks at those old black and white photos they will see the child still hiding inside of me.

Happy 10th anniversary

June 14th was my tenth anniversary. Some of my husband’s friends told him he shouldn’t get married again. Some of his friends told him it would never work. They thought they were his friends but they didn’t stick around to get to know us as a couple.

That’s okay because we found our own group of friends and we have had ten happy years together and Larry still has another forty years left on his contract before he gets a chance to renew it.

We met through email thanks to my sister Mary and his sister-in-law Jeannie. Weeks of emailing and weeks of phones calls and we finally met. And no it wasn’t love at first sight because we had already fallen in love. We had shared everything in emails and phone calls and all that was left was to meet face to face. We were married four months after the first email.

Every year on our anniversary Larry brings me a dozen yellow roses and a red rose for each year we have been married. It makes quite and impression on all who see him coming out of the store with this big bouquet and it is sweet. On our first year, Larry also gave me twelve yellow porcelain roses. Yellow roses are special because he sent me two dozen yellow roses before we ever met face to face.

But it doesn’t stop there. Every year Larry gives me a real rose dipped in 24kt gold. I have ten of the most gorgeous gold roses in a glass vase for all to see when they come into our living room.

I asked God to give me a husband and he gave me a not only a husband but a best friend, a man to treasure and love, truly, madly, deeply, forever and ever, body and soul.

Happy Fathers Day to the love of my life

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Smile you're in Vegas

I went to POT in Las Vegas

Mt Baker Chapter H.O.G. Bellingham, WA
www.mtbakerhog.com
Billie Marrs – Director
Monthly meeting - 3rd Thursday, 5:30 PM
Bellingham Country Club
3729 Meridian St
Bellingham, WA 98225

I am so excited. I just returned from Las Vegas where I attended Primary Officers Training (POT) for my local chapter of the Harley Owners Group (H.O.G.). I attended for the first time last year and it was incredible walking around the MGM Grand with 850 other bikers all attired in denim and leather and all carrying our black POT briefcases.

This year POT was located at the Red Rock Casino and there were seven members from our chapter attending, Angie, Rick, Dave, Rita, Shelia, Bob, and myself. Bob and Shelia will arrive early to have a few extra vacation days. Angie, Rick, Dave, and Rita arrived on Thursday in time to relax, and enjoy some play time before POT began.

I also arrive early to see my daughter Kelly who attends school at UNLV and works at Hooters. I have sort of adopted her roommate Kelly W.as our new daughter in the family along with her three children as my only grandchildren. I do plan on spoiling them a little.

What does POT cost our chapter to send us? Nothing! Each of the officers pays their own way and their own expenses. What are the benefits to the chapter and members? We were each allowed to select six classes to attend during the two days we are there. The classes cover everything from risk management, leading the chapter, succeeding with volunteers, creating events, communicating with impact, and many more.

This may not sound like a full day but when you arrive for breakfast at 6:00 AM and classes aren’t over until about 4:30 PM you have had a full day. We were looking for new ideas that we can learn from H.O.G. national or ideas we borrow from other chapters on how to improve what we are already doing or trying something new. We also had a chance to share what our chapter is doing about rides, events, safety, meetings, newsletters, etc. We will shared what we learn with the other officers at our next officer meeting and how we can best utilize this information and then share it with the chapter members. As a chapter we continue to grow and knowledge to build a stronger chapter is always a “good thing”.

We all had stacks of our business cards printed and I took about fifty copies of our latest newsletter to post and share with other chapters. We also collected newsletters from other chapters as a way of discovering new ideas. Last year Angie saw a brochure from another chapter and they shared a copy with her and we revised our chapter brochure based on this design.

Many of the members in our chapter have other hobbies but owning a Harley is the one we all have in common, the one that brought us together from our different backgrounds. We don’t just ride bikes together, we have become friends, and we have become family. When you buy a Harley you haven’t just purchased a motorcycle you have been adopted into the H.O.G. family and I think my branch of the HOG family is the best.

My friends flew home but I stayed in Vegas soaking up the sunshine, spending time with my daughter, basking in the sunshine, shopping, sun, warmth, heat, sun, sun, sun. I came home because there is a full calendar of rides and events that I want to be a part of so I’ll just put on warm clothes and ride with my family. Besides we are riding to the eastside twice during the summer and it will be warm on the other side of the mountains.

Recipe for Art - the filing inside

Awakens my senses
Lets the child inside of me
Come out to play
Outside the lines
Refreshes my disposition
Like a summer shower
After a dry dusty day
Gives me a new outlook
My mind thrown open
Stirs, brews, blends, and mixes
My imagination
Full of possibilities
Nourishes my dreams
My hope and my wishes
Like the warmth of the sun
Filling the voids
With colors, textures,
Glitter and glue
Toss in butterfly wings
Funny hats, alphabets
Grunge board flowers
Sprinkled with frenzy
A dash of playfulness
Fill to the top
With abandonment
Layer it on
The more the better
Enough is enough
Except in your art
Now bake me a book
A board or a canvas
Let’s see who I am
From the outside in
And the inside out

Duece has an allergy

Miss Mary is having a birthday

Mary Mary
Quite?
What is the word?
I’m thinking of
Daughter
Sister
Aunt
Mimi
Friend
She who gardens
She who is CFE
She who is TWC
She who is Ms. Martinez
A Woman of the Year
She zips and zooms
For all the best bargains
Mary Mary
Quite
What is that word
AMAZING!
Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Mary 4-27

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