cowpokes

2 more ponies to train, darrell's & curt's

X-mas

in order to placate the the nay sayers, and the supreme court judges, i am posting a few pics of my non-intelligent design holiday. i failed to get a picture of myself with my new tin foil cap. sorry.

Christmas 2005 (really)

best holiday wishes & giving to all
ok, so it's a lot of pictures......last year i split this up into 3 albums. who's looking anyway?

Scrapbook

feeling nostalgic
i may post new pictures here,
so check back

learning the ropes

a little too nippy outside, so some indoor practice has to do

morality

some of the memories that i have of visiting my grandpa & grandma's
house were of the childhood spankings that were sometimes unavoidable
by my dad. grandpa was a gentle man, at least toward us as he was well
up in age by the time of my collective memories. grandma was as nice as
any grandma could ever be, and one or the other would always take up
for us and say "Now Charlie, you shouldn't hit those babies". sometimes
he would listen, but sometimes he would just say that we were
his kids, and if we needed a whipping, he would give
us one. and one we got. over, and over, and over again until we were
just too big anymore. many whippings were born of just plain anger, and
the receiving end of one was not a good place to be.

i will not go any further into how this affected us psychologically,
all of us in different ways, but it definitely had an effect on our
personalities. it's perhaps one of the biggest reasons that i chose not
to whip my children. so much for the violence begets violence theory,
which usually does hold true.

i also recall a particular incident in which i probably needed some
sort of behavior adjustment and didn't get it;...i was standing in
front of the television program of something that my uncle, my dad's youngest
brother, really wanted to watch( i wanted to watch something else) and
no matter how much he pleaded, i wouldn't get out of the way, so he
asked grandma to make me move. my dad, being the short tempered sort
that he always was, overheard and chased his own brother out of the
house with a hammer and down the street. it's a good thing he could run
faster. later, after things calmed down, we all had to load up in the
car and go looking for him, i felt so bad for him because of my
mischievousness, that i still haven't forgotten it. i loved my grandpa
and grandma, they were such a positive influence on our lowly lives.

moral of this story? don't hit your babies, it hurts more than you will ever know, and you will learn to regret it in the end.

Its About Me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me.
So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace.
I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in me, you see.
I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine.
So I slapped her very smoothly, and made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out.
Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew.
There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see?
Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me!
I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute,
why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees,
and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never hit their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well,
but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away,
doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.
Its about me Copyright Dec 2005, byron c, All rights reserved.
No copying without author's written permission."

Its About Me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me.
So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace.
I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in me, you see.
I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine.
So I slapped her very smoothly, and made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out.
Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew.
There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see?
Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me!
I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute,
why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees,
and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never hit their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well,
but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away,
doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.
Its about me Copyright Dec 2005, byron c, All rights reserved.
No copying without author's written permission."

it's about me, a poem

It's about me

I hurt my child again today, but that's all right you see, she was talking very loudly, and irritating me.
So I whacked her pretty smartly, across the arm or face, it doesn't really matter, to me it's no disgrace.
I've done this so many times, it just comes naturally, just like my mother raised me, it's the fool in me, you see.
I've told her not to spill her milk, about a hundred times, never mind the floor is filthy, I don't have to make it shine.
So I slapped her very smoothly, and made her cry once more, I'm immune to her whining, she makes it such a bore.
You've gotten ketchup on your shirt again, don't look at me and pout. I don't know how to get it off, I can always throw it out.
Washing clothes is not important, I have better things to do, if you weren't such a messy eater, if you would only chew.
There'll be no more food for you today, I'm really bothered see? Can't you understand simple English? I said get away from me!
I care about my child, I do, and I'll prove it in a minute, why just last week a playmate pushed her, and skinned her little knees, and boy I was so upset, I put my two cents in it!
I was yelling and screaming, it's the teacher's fault, you see?
She didn't watch the other kids, all much bigger than she is, she can't take care of herself because she's not yet three.
Don't let the children hurt her, that's reserved especially for me.
I hurt my child more than anyone, but it never dawns on me,
I'm hitting my own children, I'm the mother, can't you see?
She cries when she is hungry, or if she's cold or wet, I swear she's getting on my nerves, I'll have to beat her yet.
Sometimes she reaches out her little arms, begging to be held, but since I mustn't spoil her, a slap is what she'll get.
I'll put her in her little crib, she can't get out of there, and I'll just turn out the lights and leave her crying there,
when she's too tired of crying, we won't hear her anymore, if she wakes up again, I'll have to close the door.
Spare not the rod and spoil the child, is what my mother said, I think God made her an expert, I must listen to what she says.
It must be right, just look at me, it doesn't hurt a bit, this is the way that I was raised, and nothings wrong with it.
I am immune to those weak cries, and surely God don't care, I was also beaten as a child, and no one raised a prayer.
One day when social service comes knocking at my door, I'll make up some excuses, it's the neighbors, nothing more.
They spoil my child, they pick her up, they give her what she wants, she laughs too loud and plays too long, she's happy all at once.
They just can't stand my discipline, I can see it in their face, every time that I hit her, while we're over at their place.
Somehow it gives me pleasure, to be in such control, its perversion at it's finest, I'm enjoying this I know,
they better not say anything, we'll just get up and go.
I wont let them visit her, that'll teach them, yes it will, then they'll start to see things my way, it's my way or the hills.
Who are these people anyway, who raise their kids so kind, and do they think that they are perfect, that their children always mind?
They've never spanked their children, or maybe once or twice, all of their kids are well behaved, their son is very nice
He hasn't ever hit me, I wish he would sometimes, then I could get attention, and this would be just fine.
I may have Munchausen by proxy, sometimes my child is ill,
if another child has fallen sick, mine will too as well, but I don't know how to fix it, its a very bitter pill.
I'll have to call my mother, she'll answer right away, doesn't matter if I call her, thirty times a day.
I wouldn't have to call so much, every time I try, if only she had picked me up, and held me when I cried.
My child hit a teacher, and I spanked him very hard, I yelled you can't hit people, this is what I said.
My child then hit a playmate, just like I showed him to, I then had to hit him, and remind him what to do.
I don't know where they're learning this, it's from the other kids, I said you can't hit people, you're not people, don't you know?
You're just my little angel, and now it's time to go.
This poem as I have read it, has made me very mad, they're sick the ones that read it, and are smitten very sad.
There is only one thing more, that's left for me to do, I must stop that incessant whining, they don't have a clue.
Although the sun's still shining, I can see it through the door, I must put my child to bed, because my hands are sore. It's about me.

 Its about me, a poem©Copyright Dec 2005, byronc, All rights reserved.

sugar & spice

parade 2005

ferriday's annual, heritage manor usually enters a float with kay in charge of activities

happy birthday!

Cowboy Up

training dottie

dancing

driving lessons

faster loading

november12

what gender?

i knew i was sweeter than sugar and crying a lot. i'm practically a girl.

Your Brain is 46.67% Female, 53.33% Male

Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female You are both sensitive and savvy Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve

What Gender Is Your Brain?

the making of Roswell 71326

totem man

directors out takes

What did I do today?

continued to restore a damaged mural, went to an office birthday outing for our accountant, Patti Jenkins, aka Kailani's other grandma (born on holloween....really).

encounters of another kind

holloween visitors

drive anyone?

slower loading, higher resolution

ROSWELL 71326

thought i would share these images caught on film the last couple of days.

images II

just stuff

two horsepower

working on this hand me down for my new race car drivers education course

slight changes

(no wine)

kay wanted to send you these few updates

engineering 101

Driveway Artist

My Girl

Driveway Artist

My Girl

engineering

An engineer dies and reports to the pearly gates. St. Peter checks his
dossier and says, "Ah, you're an engineer -- you're in the wrong
place."

So, the engineer reports to the gates of hell and is
let in. Pretty soon, the engineer gets dissatisfied with the level of
comfort in hell, and starts designing and building improvements. After
awhile, they've got air conditioning and flush toilets and escalators,
and the engineer is a pretty popular guy.

One day, God calls Satan up on the telephone and says with a sneer, "So, how's it going down there in hell?"

Satan
replies, "Hey, things are going great. We've got air conditioning and
flush toilets and escalators, and there's no telling what this engineer
is going to come up with next."

God replies, "What??? You've got an engineer? That's a mistake -- he should never have gotten down there; send him up here."

Satan says, "No way. I like having an engineer on the staff, and I'm keeping him."

God says, "Send him back up here or I'll sue."

Satan laughs uproariously and answers, "Yeah, right. And just where are YOU going to get a lawyer?"

my eola fountain

natchez, ms

Red Cross

The Red Cross is delivering assistance checks again today. Took these
pictures on the forth day, thought by now it would have ended but the
line seems to swell every day, down canal to state st, and wrapping
down wall street. There are buses bringing people in also. The Guard
and Police keep order.

Democrat

Picture Perfect

no bmx wagon here, it's a flower garden

Katrina

Hurricane Katrina

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I have spent long hours at work, working my days off, due to the influx of guests which arrived ahead of the storm. The hotel’s services have really been taxed. Food, ice, drinks, the elevators, emergency generator power, and the plumbing have all been tested, as well as our patience. So far, with only a few glitches, we have done exceptionally well.

The number of people with pets, mostly dogs, but one snake that we know of, has caused management to re-think our pet policy, i.e., no more accepted. This is in large part due to the constant peeing of all the dogs in close proximity, and the inconsiderate guests who just let them go where ever they want, the G.M. with a low tolerance for stress and a short fuse, and one manager who seems hell bent on overdosing him with exaggerated and constant complaints.

I have seen a good share of good and decent folks in bad situations, and we are doing our best to accommodate them. The displaced and homeless, with nowhere to go, the guests who wait in the lobby for a chance of a room, the lady who hasn’t stopped crying for days, the girl who hasn’t heard from her father, or a brother who’s conversation ended with his cell phone battery was running low, the hillbilly lady, who looks like she’s straight from the backwoods, but has money to burn. Oh, and the rude guests as well.

We locally breathed a sigh of relief as Katrina turned eastward and narrowly avoided New Orleans, we were anticipating winds of 100 MPH as far as 200 miles inland, that would be us. The refugees are continuing to trickle in, some from the west side of New Orleans that was not devastated by floodwaters but are now feeling threatened in their own homes by the lack of civility and the necessity to arm and barricade themselves in their homes. They’ve decided it’s not worth it. We have experienced a run on our gasoline, there are shortages and long lines everywhere, with prices now at an all time high of $2.99 for regular, and rising. There is no such thing as ice. Eggs, and beverages of all kinds are spotty with lots of empty shelves.

We are beginning to feel the effects of 1 ½ million displaced people, the first wave being the people who heeded the call for evacuating, and those who had the transportation and money to run, our roads were jammed with travelers. We now are getting some of the less desirables, those who would take advantage of anyone with a greater venerability than their own. There are stories of weapons displayed at the gas pumps, peoples shopping carts snatched from them in the parking lots. The super Walmart closed for several hours due to one incident. The delivery trucks have armed guards while they unload their goods and I have seen the local police keeping order at the BP station and others on the main highway. There are thugs breaking in homes in Natchez, and police friends say gang members are up looking for new territory.

I have tried unsuccessfully to acquire a diesel tank and fuel for the hotel’s generator so we would not be caught without emergency power due to a lack of fuel during outages, we had about a four hour period when all of south-west Mississippi and east-central Louisiana was without power due to the loss of the last one of the 5 power grids went down. I suspect we will lose power again on several occasions as they attempt to bring up the downed power lines. I have learned from an acquaintance that the government has commandeered all of the tanks, tankers, and fuel in the area. The Natchez mayor must have spoke prematurely in the paper when he said no one would be allowed more than one tank of gas at a fill-up. The following day, he retracted his statement and said people would be allowed to buy up to $100 worth at a time. I suppose this is to avoid some of the chaos that people are capable of if we think there is a shortage of something.

I have had little time to watch more than a few glimpses of the news from the coast, mostly just catching a little news and commentary on NPR on my way to & from work; people are dying in the streets, looting/crime is rampant, the government is too slow too respond, they have rehearsed this scenario for years, the people who are abandoned in New Orleans are disproportionately black, and poor, and unemployed, etcetera.

I don’t know the answer to any of this, and I don’t care to think one-sided, but sometimes I wonder if this seemingly disastrous evacuation plan couldn’t be the plan, gone awry, of course. New Orleans has been crime ridden for years and getting worse. What could be better than a natural disaster flooding the overcrowded east side crammed with poor, uneducated, non-productive, socially problematic citizens? Damn those survivors hanging out on those overpasses hollering for food and water!

Only God knows why the storm turned to avoid a complete and swift flooding of tsunamic proportions. Only God knows why there aren’t just 100,000 bodies floating in the ocean, rest their souls. What more can make the American people wake up and see that we are unprotected and don’t have enough foot soldiers? What will it take to bring back the draft?

If this sounds like sci-fi, I have the script all wrote down in my head, waiting for the movie. Meantime, my family is taking extra precautions. I can’t let my wife go to the mall alone anymore, I can’t let her go out at night by herself to pick up the boys from a church function. The home that we have recently acquired and has taken us years to get only makes us look affluent (we’re not), and therefore a target for the unlawful. We hear reports of a policeman shot for a jug of water, a brother shoots his sister over a bag of ice, and for the first time the dog is out. We are not alone though, our neighbors are wary as well. There will be years of consequences.

Katrina

Hurricane Katrina

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I have spent long
hours at work, working my days off, due to the influx of guests which arrived
ahead of the storm. The hotel’s services have really been taxed. Food, ice,
drinks, the elevators, emergency generator power, and the plumbing have all
been tested, as well as our patience. So far, with only a few glitches, we have
done exceptionally well.

The number of people with pets, mostly dogs, but one snake
that we know of, has caused management to re-think our pet policy, i.e., no
more accepted. This is in large part due to the constant peeing of all the dogs
in close proximity, and the inconsiderate guests who just let them go where
ever they want, the G.M. with a low tolerance for stress and a short fuse, and
one manager who seems hell bent on overdosing him with exaggerated and constant
complaints.

I have seen a good share of good and decent folks in bad
situations, and we are doing our best to accommodate them. The displaced and
homeless, with nowhere to go, the guests who wait in the lobby for a chance of
a room, the lady who hasn’t stopped crying for days, the girl who hasn’t heard
from her father, or a brother who’s conversation ended with his cell phone battery
was running low, the hillbilly lady, who looks like she’s straight from the backwoods, but has
money to burn. Oh, and the rude guests as well.

We locally breathed a sigh of relief as Katrina turned
eastward and narrowly avoided New Orleans, we were anticipating winds of 100
MPH as far as 200 miles inland, that would be us. The refugees are continuing
to trickle in, some from the west side of New Orleans that was not devastated
by floodwaters but are now feeling threatened in their own homes by the lack of
civility and the necessity to arm and barricade themselves in their homes. They’ve
decided it’s not worth it. We have experienced a run on our gasoline, there are
shortages and long lines everywhere, with prices now at an all time high of
$2.99 for regular, and rising. There is no such thing as ice. Eggs, and
beverages of all kinds are spotty with lots of empty shelves.

We are beginning to feel the effects of 1 ½ million
displaced people, the first wave being the people who heeded the call for
evacuating, and those who had the transportation and money to run, our roads
were jammed with travelers. We now are getting some of the less desirables,
those who would take advantage of anyone with a greater venerability than their
own. There are stories of weapons displayed at the gas pumps, peoples shopping
carts snatched from them in the parking lots. The super Walmart closed for
several hours due to one incident. The delivery trucks have armed guards while
they unload their goods and I have seen the local police keeping order at the
BP station and others on the main highway. There are thugs breaking in homes in
Natchez, and police friends say gang members are up looking for new territory.

I have tried unsuccessfully to acquire a diesel tank and
fuel for the hotel’s generator so we would not be caught without emergency power
due to a lack of fuel during outages, we had about a four hour period when all
of south-west Mississippi and east-central Louisiana was without power due to
the loss of the last one of the 5 power grids went down. I suspect we will lose
power again on several occasions as they attempt to bring up the downed power
lines. I have learned from an acquaintance that the government has commandeered
all of the tanks, tankers, and fuel in the area. The Natchez mayor must have
spoke prematurely in the paper when he said no one would be allowed more than
one tank of gas at a fill-up. The following day, he retracted his statement and
said people would be allowed to buy up to $100 worth at a time. I suppose this
is to avoid some of the chaos that people are capable of if we think there is a
shortage of something.

I have had little time to watch more than a few glimpses of
the news from the coast, mostly just catching a little news and commentary on
NPR on my way to & from work; people are dying in the streets, looting/crime
is rampant, the government is too slow too respond, they have rehearsed this
scenario for years, the people who are abandoned in New Orleans are
disproportionately black, and poor, and unemployed, etcetera.

I don’t know the answer to any of this, and I don’t care to
think one-sided, but sometimes I wonder if this seemingly disastrous evacuation
plan couldn’t be the plan, gone awry, of course. New Orleans has been crime
ridden for years and getting worse. What could be better than a natural
disaster flooding the overcrowded east side crammed with poor, uneducated,
non-productive, socially problematic citizens? Damn those survivors hanging out
on those overpasses hollering for food and water!

Only God knows why the storm turned to avoid a complete and
swift flooding of tsunamic proportions. Only God knows why there aren’t just
100,000 bodies floating in the ocean, rest their souls. What more can make the
American people wake up and see that we are unprotected and don’t have enough
foot soldiers? What will it take to bring back the draft?

If
this sounds like sci-fi, I have the script all wrote down in my head, waiting
for the movie. Meantime, my family is taking extra precautions. I can’t let my
wife go to the mall alone anymore, I can’t let her go out at night by herself
to pick up the boys from a church function. The home that we have recently
acquired and has taken us years to get only makes us look affluent (we’re not),
and therefore a target for the unlawful. We hear reports of a policeman shot
for a jug of water, a brother shoots his sister over a bag of ice, and for the
first time the dog is out. We are not alone though, our neighbors are wary as well.
There will be years of consequences. 

 

Familial ties:

I ran across an interesting story this evening, and I've included a
link to the article just in case some of you have the time.

I was looking for
a suitable image to borrow to convey the image in my mind of the family
that stayed at the hotel last week, the image I was looking for is not there, so I can only try to convey it
with words. I've debated with
myself whether or not to write such a post as this one, but I can't
seem to let it go. This is the second time I've decided to write this article.
...A father and his son, a little guy of about 10 were
walking ahead of mom and daughter and were easily out distancing them,
they were already ahead on the sidewalk by probably 20 paces or so,
their laughter and chatter was pleasant, and as they approached the
entrance, the father paused to look back and seemingly satisfied, they
went on their way. Behind them was a daughter, who looked to be about
17, and pretty, but modestly so. She looked just like any other teenager
that you might see in the mall, with long blond hair and jeans, and
blossoming into early womanhood, except that on her arm was her
mother, who was
slowing her down, as she was bent nearly 90 degrees forward at the waist, and leaning heavily on this
young girl's arm. She was thin and frail, her skin stretched tightly
over her very visible bones, yet she was easy to look at, and I didn't
feel as though I was staring impolitely. I  sensed a pride to this
woman, even in her obviously handicapped body, and there was something
about this whole family that showed character and strength. I knew
instantly what I was looking at, it was love, and there was no shame.


"The story of severely disabled people is as
much about love and understanding as it is about sickness or sorrow." angelashouse

Driveway Art

From an aspiring artist, introducing Kailani art.
Yesterday, she did the blue, today, she went back and added the white to "mine" blue.
Sounds very Eleazar. The pink is her brother's

Old & New

my pretty grandbaby, she makes me very proud.

We brought along all 10 tons of our old stuff and it fits right in with the new. With a little help from Debbie, who is an excelent and very fast decorator, then Lotus and Lydia, who added their touches in rearranging and placement and of course, us, who never quit moving things, we are in the process of making our unique blend of old & new.

more stuff

hope jackie is in a good mood,
here is more stuff you can come after.
not the door though, just some better shots.

Independence

just us

Home & Family

Our first few days in the new place are full and behind us. We have enjoyed company, food, July 4th, and more.

kay's first day

doing what comes natural

i can't imagine it any other way.

my birthday!

1 years old when this video was taken. kodak moment.

less is more

final paperwork on monday

taking our cue from HGTV, we are downsizing and clearing away some of the clutter

Multiply t-shirt

Multiply

Multiply t-shirt

Multiply

Bently again

spent all day at the bentley in alexandria today, familiarizing myself
with the equipment, and trying to help the GM get his air condition
going in his vacant bldg. managed to get much of it running but
returned to the boiler room to re-try the equip we skipped over because
there was no power, and we didn't know if power was controlled from
another piece of equip or not.

turns out the breaker that i pointed out when we first started that was
tripped went to one of his motor control centers and everything that had
no power was running from there. it had a short in the buss bars and
I spent a couple of hours educating the electricians that I had him call
in. and no, it is not the $1,200 breaker.

who cares you say? well I took my camera to capture this picture for
you of a
sculpture that i found interesting. if it looks like a bunch of old a/c
ducts of various sizes bolted together thats because...well, I don't
know what the artist was thinking, but he managed to sell this big pile
of scrap to the city for a nice chunk of change i'm sure. goes to show,
Dad was right, people will buy anything.      
 

I've won a Multiply T-Shirt, or, I've won kay a nite shirt, boo.

Here it is, and very nice. I won this for being the worlds greatest Dad
& Grandpa, or, because I followed directions and went out and
multiplied, or, I earned it answering a survey.

In any event, there are only twenty t-shirts given out like this one,
whats the chances of me running into one of the other 19?
Anyway, kay looks ready to multiply and replenish the earth, so guess I'll let her wear it a little. ;O)

Snow?

Today is a good day.

Heard from two long lost friends that haven't been much in touch for a
while. First, my boy Darrell, who thinks he's all grown up and doesn't
need to call, write, or stop by anymore, since he's moved so far away (9
whole miles). Then my brother Charles surprised me with a call. He
happened to be eating out at a mexican restaurant and something must
have reminded him, "oh yeah, I do have a brother".

Quotes are mine for emphasis.

In any case, it was kinda nice to hear from both of them, and I have a
tentative agreement for a home visit (aw, shucks), one for tomorrow,
and one for Juneteenth bah, humbug day.

So, I'll hang around here and wait and see, and as always for either of them, "I'll leave the light on for ya".

Mama still knows best

When helping move Saturday, I stopped by the Handipak and bought a pack
of smokes so I wouldn't run out. Somehow, Mama spots them on the
dashboard and picks them up, we have no idea what she intends to do
with them. After a few minutes of watching her when I could, It 
seemed that she was looking for a place to dispose of them but had not
yet crushed them as I kinda expected. I finally walked over and asked
her to "let me have these, Mama", as she still clutched them in her
hand and was about to let go, she looks me in the eyes and says, "You
are dying too soon". I told her "I know Mama".

Anyway, today is my first effort to kick the habit. I finished the pack
in question and haven't bought another.

Broken Glasses

mama is funny, sometimes she tickles herself
in these photos both lenses are dangling.
she notices right away and doesn't mind a little fun

woman driver posted for: LaShaye

Lashaye is wondering if she would like multiply?
 >

A
WOMAN DRIVER

A driver did the right thing, stopping at the crosswalk even
though he could have beaten the
red light by accelerating through the
intersection.

The tailgating woman behind him went ballistic, pounding on
her horn and screaming in
frustration as she missed her chance to drive
though the intersection with him. Still in mid-
rant, she heard a tap on her
window and looked up into the face of a very serious police
officer. The
policeman ordered her out of her car with her hands up in the air. He then

handcuffed her, took her to the police station where she was searched,
fingerprinted,
photographed and placed in a holding cell.

After a
couple of hours, another policeman approached her cell, opened the door and let
her
out. He escorted her back to the booking desk where the arresting
officer was waiting with
her personal effects.

He said to her, "I'm
very sorry for this mistake. You see, I pulled up behind your car while
you
were blowing your horn and flipping the guy off in front of you and cussing a
blue
streak at him. It was then I noticed the "Choose Life" license plate
holder, the "What would
Jesus Do" bumper sticker, the "Follow me to Sunday
School" bumper sticker and the chrome
plated Christain Fish emblem on the
trunk."

"Naturally, I assumed you had stolen the
car."

Martha, Peggy, & Kailani

Kailani joins Martha and Peggy, the two gossips on the gossip couch for a friendly chat about everybody.
These dolls are kept for her till she is a little older.