Only in America

I Love It!!! Paris, you go girl!

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A Blast From My Past

Google Earth is one of those programs that I love to piddle around in, whenever I remember it is there. Yesterday was one of those days. I updated it - there are always updates - and then typed in the address of the place I grew up. The expected satellite images did not show up. Just a plain background with an overlay of the streets. I was thinkin, "this sucks, now how do i get the images back", when I noticed a blue dot, and a YouTube logo directly over the location where my paternal grandmother and grandfather lived, until they needed an earthly home no more. They lived on the street above us, the corner. I could see their house from mine, and get there in a couple of minutes by cuttin uphill, across the backyards. I'm from a generation that grew up on their bicycles. We rode them everywhere, in all kinds of weather, by ourselves or in packs. This was also the era of the neighborhood store. Usually run by an older woman, who lived above the store, or just next door. We had both kinds. Both were located a couple of blocks down the hill, at either end of our street. We patronized both of them, with their old-timey candy counters, full of 2, 3 and 5 for a penny tooth decay facilitators. And of course, bicycle was the way we got there. Down was a breeze, but back up helped us work up an appetite for our brown paper sacks of candy. We didn't think anything of it. Every day, this was the route we took to get home from school. And, oh yeah, we walked. Didn't matter if it was cold, snowing, or raining, it's just how it was. As a matter of fact, it was more fun if the weather was doin something. But forgive my rambling. Back to the reason for this post. I clicked on the blue dot over MeMo's house. The picture was taken from the corner of her lot, just beside her driveway!! I lived the next block down, two houses past the last one showin on the right. You can see all the way down Rock street to where it turns at a 90 degree angle, to begin the final descent to the Potomac. Here is the picture and here is the link to the panoramio page with more info.



Here is pic lookin up the hill, 3 streets down, and a link to it's page.



Makes me wanna go home sooo bad. And now for the piece de resistance. The YouTube video. These folks are competing in the SavageMan Triathlon. They are using the switchback method of pedaling, which came to us kids naturally. They are havin a hard time after training, and on professional bikes. We did it with a sack of candy gripped to the handlebars, on schwinn's and spider bikes, with no gears. Right before they start the last block, where the road turns to mostly concrete, I can glimpse the top story of my old house on the far left. The brown rails at the top are at the edge of MeMo's driveway. When he swings around to face down hill, I can see my old bedroom window, on the far right, one street down. And I can't help but giggle as one of them crashes and burns across from my friend's house near the top. Believe it or not, coal trucks used to use this street. Sometime during the seventies, the town put up that silver guardrail, after a runaway. And one final thought. I bet I don't even have to tell you where we rode our sleds, do I?

Quick Change

Yesterday mornin was sunny and hot. Yesterday afternoon was another story. The light from the sky changed and the wind began to pick up. I grabbed the camera and went outside. The camera is a good excuse to be standin outside watchin the summer storms blow in. This one arrived courtesy of a 22 mile an hour wind. The temperature dropped from 91 to 75 in 30 minutes. Across the river, in Illinois, they got 4 inches of rain in a very short time. It also rained like a cow pissin on a flat rock in paducah (30 miles up the road). We were lucky enough just to get the cooler air. These three pics were taken within a three minute time span. Checked the details on the digital cam, to make sure. Nature is really cool, both literally and figuratively, sometimes.

A Few Pics

The first two I took on the way in to the Dollar General (how we ever got along without it, I don't know, lol). It's not uncommon for me to be able to make the 12 mile drive without meeting another vehicle. If the mood strikes to stop in the road and snap a pic, I have no fear of disrupting the flow of traffic.





The next few are of a time honored summer tradition that we have in common with some members of the animal kingdom--let's go swimmin! These are this year's young geese. There are adults scattered through to supervise, of course, but most of these younguns cannot fly well, if at all. You can see that their wings don't have adult plumage yet, so they are not strong enough to get them airborne. I encountered them yesterday evening on a cruise through the game reserve. They were crossing from the water on one side of the road to the other. You can tell they weren't real worried about my presence.

Gifts from the Grandfathers

Yesterday was a gift of a day. Went catfishing in the Ohio, and caught a few. Got home in time to see Jr. end his 76 race losing streak. After we dropped the grandson off, we decided to swing through the bottoms, and check out one of our favorite artifact hunting grounds. It was about 7 p.m. when we parked the truck. It was hot and muggy and not a breath of wind stirring. The moon was already up, even though it wasn't close to getting dark. The deep thrumming of a tow making it's way upriver was the only man-made noise to be heard. We set out for a spot about a third of the way down the huge field, and intended to turn around and search back to the truck more slowly. On the way there, though, I found a perfect thumb scraper. Made it worth it to me right off. My companion told me I was going too slow. I told him to turn around and look back my way. The field was covered with lithic scatter, glinting in the slanting sunlight. He was not to be deterred, so we proceeded down the field. We turned back and began hunting slowly. Believe it or not, it is more difficult to hunt in a field with a lot of scatter, because you can't possibly turn up every piece. In a bit, a pic of the day's best finds. But first a report of my companion's uncanny luck when artifact hunting. We had made our way back to the area I wanted to hunt in the first place. I told him to look, that there was scatter in a wide spot of this part of the field. As soon as he headed off, he found the dark point in the photo, with just the tip gone. As he was walking toward me to show me the large scraper, I found the light gray point, with only about a third of the side of it exposed. Turned a good day into a great day.



We both feel honored when the grandfathers allow us to connect with them through things they left behind. We separate again, and in a couple of minutes I hear him say, "I don't know, this must be somethin modern..." and he heads over to me. I am the walkin, talkin, field guide on artifacts. He is the one who is shit-house lucky, and finds these things, and comes to me for the answers. He was holdin it up, but I could only see part of it. From the color and shape at a distance, I asked if it was plastic. By that time he had reached me and I could hear the unmistakable sound when he ran it across his teeth. He handed it to me, and I immediately recognized what it is. After a few good-natured comments on his aforementioned shit-house luck, I tell him what he has found. It is what remains of a bannerstone, made from blood quartz. It's called a butterfly bannerstone, rare for the shape, and rarer for the material from which it is made. Here is a close-up:



The bannerstone is translucent.



Often stones made from this material were completely finished, except for the drilling. Quartz and quartzite are extremely hard to drill. Especially considerin they did it with hollow river cane and grains of sand. On the inside of the hole you can see the lines left from the drilling. This pic is as good as I could get with the digital.



To think that we were the first folks to hold and admire this in 5000 years or so is truly a reverential feeling. It is a spiritual experience that is hard to describe. To think that the damage may have been done by modern day farming machinery, by uncaring folks is a whole nother kinda feeling, but I won't go into that. This was made by what I would consider a master craftsman, for someone of special status. There are various theories of the purpose of these artifacts and you can find them on the web. I just hope the Grandfathers are happy that is now in a place where it will be revered and honored, as I revere and honor them.

Knock On Wood...

Well, not really. It would not be a wise thing to do until you are sure this is not set. And for a rat, it would never be advisable. My last two posts have had subjects of stone, then metal. I decided to look for something made of wood, and here it is. I acquired this last year, when disassembling an 1870's farmhouse. Before we started with the tear-down, I poked through every nook and cranny, and even got down on my hands and knees to search up under the eaves in the attic, which is where this was discovered. It was not set, just shoved up under the eaves, where the roof met the attic floorboards. Doesn't appear to have ever dispatched a rat. That's not surprising, as we found no evidence of rodents taking up residence even though the house had not been lived in since the early 1970's. It has a kind of macabre attractiveness, does it not?



The manufacturer, Lovell Manufacturing Co. is listed on the National Register of Historic Places. It's period of significance runs from 1850-1924. The site consists of 40 acres and 9 buildings. They manufactured a wide variety of household items over the years. I'm a bit perverse, so I proudly display this instrument of death standing upright, on top of my punched tin piesafe in the kitchen. You can go to the Patent Office page and search by patent number 1,726,195 and view the patent drawings, specifications, and more info than you ever wanted to know about this particular trap. The date on this version of the trap is August 27, 1929. Here is the link to the image file. If you can't view the images, click "help" and install alternatiff viewer. The internet is a marvelous thing.

The Rest Of The Story

Last night I went in search of an ashtray. I was looking for a small one to set on the foot of the bed, where I was sitting cross-legged half reading, half watching Corner Gas. I went into the dark kitchen, pulled out the storage (junk) drawer, and proceeded to dig to the bottom. I heard metal on metal, located the source, and drew this outta the drawer. So that's where this has been hiding! I knew it was here somewhere. This is yet another in my long line of favorite metal things. Don't know where I acquired this affinity for anything old and made of metal. Things made outta brass are probably my favorite category. There are no makers marks on this piece to help identify it or date it. Doesn't matter to me, I love it just the way it is. At first glance, it appears to be a well-done depiction of a soldier and a peasant lass out for a stroll. My guess would be German origin, because of the soldier's attire and mustache. The young lady's hair is gathered up on top of her head, her bodice has short, puffed sleeves, and she has her market basket on her arm. She has her hand up to her lips and is tilting her head in what appears to be maidenly modesty or shyness. A sentimental moment captured for all time. Ah, for the days of such innocence...



And now, for the rest of the story...



PRICELESS!

What A Tool

Here’s a front and back view of my best find from Sunday’s expedition. Found in a field on the second ridge back from the river. One of my favorite places to hunt. It was hot, and the ground was dry and dusty, which makes the hunt much more challenging. I found several large scrapers and a broken point of another drill, but no arrowheads for me this trip. Truth be told, I enjoy the tools just as much, if not a tad bit more than the projectile points. This piece is called a drill, or perforator. It’s from the Archaic period, which is reckoned to be from 8000 b.c. or so, up to 1000 b.c. Gray to tan flint, well worked and intact. Another fine piece for my collection, and another piece saved from being destroyed by farm machinery.

Great Blue

I took this one Monday morning, just after some rainshowers had passed through. He (or she) is a Great Blue Heron. A better name would be Great Big Blue, if you asked me, but of course, no one did. We were heading for the river and disturbed his fishing. He left the slough and flew across the gravel road in front of us, and up to this perch. These guys are camera shy, and usually fly too far off for the digital before they light. Must have been some good fishing going on for him to only go this far. Great Blue's can get up to 54 inches tall with a wingspan of just over 6 1/2 feet. Looks to me like this one has maxed out. Luckily, he did not take wing as we backed up a bit, so I could get him silhouetted against the brooding sky. Once again I was presented with a perfect opportunity to use a natural frame. Makes it look like I know what I'm doin, don't it? Here is the entire photo. If you look closely at the large tree trunk on the right, you can see the high water mark from the spring rise on the Ohio.This is my favorite lake on the game reserve, Castor Lake. Don't ask me why such a beautiful spot shares the name of a nasty medicine.

My Green Thumb--NOT

Aren’t these blooms gorgeous? I could lie and say they are the result of time spent down on my knees and up to my elbows in the “good earth”. But that’s exactly what I’d be doing is lieing. I had absolutely nothing to do with this bit of nature’s beauty. Any guesses as to their identity? Ok, I’ll give ya a hint. Look up, not down, to find their origin. They are the blooms of the Catalpa tree. It has other names; Catawba, Indian Bean, and Cigar Tree. There are 6 of these beautiful trees in my front yard, one on the side and one out back. The blooms have a light fragrance that is filling my front yard right now. As they age, the blooms shower down like gargantuan snowflakes. They cover the roof of my vehicle, Deja, and when I drive off, they blow from the roof a couple at a time, leaving a trail like I’m in a parade, lol. Here is a shot showing last year’s beans, cigars or seed-pods, pick your favorite name.



And here is a longer range pic of just one of these huge, shade giving beauties. You can just imagine how white my yard will soon become.



The leaves are broad and dense. They keep the front yard well shaded even from the brutal full summer sun. They also have one added benefit. Sphinx moths are partial to these trees as a location for their cocoons. The emerging caterpillars are called “catalpa worms” hereabouts, and are prized as bait. Not that I’m waitin on them to make an appearance, or anything like that. At the moment, I’m just enjoyin the show.

My Kinda Afternoon

Couldn’t ask for much better. Temperature was 81 when we loaded up the fishin poles, fishin chair, and plenty of worms in my new “baby”, Deja Blue. Deja is a 1993 Chevy Silverado Suburban with 4 wheel drive. Her previous owner babied her and it shows. Here is a pic of Deja at our destination. You can see the sand and the huge, old trees that grow right to the edge of the bluff. We turned the back speakers around, left the back doors open, and chose X-Country (Cross Country) for ambience. It wasn’t loud, sound carries real good around all that water.



The Ohio river is up just now. Not floodin anything, but at the top of her banks. Just right for catfishin from the bank. We unloaded the fishin chair, worms, and poles, and we had it made in the shade, literally. The fish were bitin, and we had river traffic to fill in the little lulls between fish. This is the first boat to pass by. I didn’t even get outta the chair to take this one, just turned my head to the right, and let the overhanging branches frame it.



This next one I took because I wanted to include my faithful Ocean City rod. I believe I got it in ’91, and it is well used. After I got home and looked at the pic, it almost appears that I have hooked the boat itself, lol.



And finally, the end result of some soul restoration, the catch of the day. Well, really only about 3 hours. Think I’m gonna get up early in the mornin and go again. Offer them a breakfast buffet. And it won’t be 90 degrees then. Sometimes it is good to live by the river.

(Un)Holy Shit!

My nose detected the smell as fast as my ears heard the rumbling in the field beside the house. It was about 6:30 in the a.m. What a way to start the day. Gone are the days of smelling that good ole country smell of cow manure spread on the fields as fertilizer. Now they spread chicken shit from those warehouse type chicken production facilities, where thousands of chickens never set foot outdoors. They live in their own shit, and have unaturally large breasts and accelerated growth rates. Not only does the owner of the chicken operation make money from the chickens, they now sell the shit to be spread on other farmer's fields. Stink does not describe it. The fellow driving the spreader is a friend of mine. He waved when he made a close pass and saw me taking pics of his dirty deed. Look at the noxious cloud the spreader is producing. Any way ya slice it, it's a buncha shit.

Civic Duty Day

Somebody find me!

Here is an aerial photo of the location of my newest hidden geocache. I hid it on May 5th. Any ideas why it has yet to be found??? Click on the photo to enlarge it. My cache is on the left, "Are You Up To It?". Apparently no one is yet. Or else the friggin price of gas is slowin folks down. Think I will place another one right on the riverbank, so geofolks can pick up two finds at least for all the liquid gold it takes to get out here to the boonies. That is the Ohio River wrapping around our county, in case you're wonderin.

Spring

It's For Your Own Good...

“It’s For Your Own Good…”

Damn, I hate feelin like a friggin Republican. But that is exactly how my canine companions are makin me feel. That would be Chev (pictured in sidebar), Chandy, and Millie (short for Sinsemilla). Mill was rescued several years ago, from life in one of those little crates. She spent her days in the crate, set out on the porch, because her owners said she was just too much, when left inside the house. They had replaced her with a smaller dog that had the run of the house, and relegated her to the crate. My companions job at that time, took him past the house quite often, and he always spoke to the little dog in the crate. One day the owners were home, and asked if he would like to have her. He went through the motions of callin me, but he knew what I would say, when I heard her story. The previous owners claim she is a registered Jack Russell, but, if so, she is one of the largest ones I have ever seen. I don’t know how she behaved at her first home ( or residence, cause that ain’t no home), but she has never made me regret her joinin my pack. Of course she is active, that is what a terrier is. But she is not destructive. She loves nothing better than goin with her people, whatever the destination, when a vehicle leaves the driveway. She rides on the console and pays better attention to the road ahead than a lot of drivers do. On Friday evenings, as we are leavin the “big” town, 30 miles away, we always swing by the Hardees, to get her a plain burger. The folks at the drive-up window all love her and she gets free burgers now. I wish I could convince them that the chocolate shake is for her, too. Anyways, I must move on. Chev is my big boy, mom was a registered Pyrenees, dad was a ? . He is a big stuffed dog come to life. Chandy is a mix also. Her mom was a registered Pyr also, and they claim the daddy was a black lab. Chan is all white, except for brown freckles on both ears, has medium length straight hair, and the softest muzzle of any dog I have ever known. She is also the largest and youngest of the three. Chev is a clown, and Chan tries to act “above it all”. Except if the other dogs, or any of the cats, gets too close to her food, or chewies. Then they find out really quickly who is Boss Dog, lol. Now back to the reason for my post. We live just off the road that leads to the headquarters building of the federal game reserve. It opens March 15th, so traffic will pick up considerably, since ridin around on the game reserve is a cultural tradition here. Here are a couple of links to info on the game reserve. Last week the backwater from the ohio river began to rise, and that runs the deer and other critters up this way more than usual. Almost every evenin there are groups of them in the field beside the house. So, last week, my pack decides the heck with the fenced-in yard, and they bulldoze their way over it. By the time I notice they are gone (cause this is a biiig fenced in yard), they are out of sight. They were gone all day, and we just happened to spot Chandy, her big white self, as she and Chevy crossed the road, about a mile away, and headed into another field, towards the crossroads called Oscar. As soon as they heard me callin and knew that I could see them, they headed back, down the middle of the road all the way. Thank goodness no traffic at this time of year. I tried scolding, piling stuff up in front of where they went over, and blockin them in the house when I left. Nothing worked, and I was constantly lookin for my dogs. They would eventually return when they got within earshot of my voice, covered in mud and cockleburs, having had the time of their life in the backwater and bottoms, and possibly the game reserve itself. I couldn’t allow this to continue, because sooner rather than later, it would end in a very bad way. At the moment, I can not afford 6 foot fence to replace the 4 foot one. And I will not pen them up in a small enclosure. So, here comes the “It’s for your own good…” part. On Saturday, I make a beeline for one of my favorite stores. Tractor Supply. I just love that place. Seen from the road, if ya didn’t know better, you’d think it was a used pick-up truck lot. When ya walk in the doors, you are greeted with proof positive that we ain’t nowhere near a concrete jungle. First thing I always do is take a really deep breath through the nose. It’s an olfactory delight of sweet feed and leather. I’d know this place blindfolded. No suits or polyester, or even khaki, for the employees. Jeans and t-shirts. Greetings from the cashiers, that you always know at least one of, personally. Display racks by the door with the company’s free publication, “Out Here”. Bein that Easter is fast approachin, there are stuffed bunnies as big as Labradors draped all throughout the store. I want one. We head towards the back of the store, past the overalls, mud and work boots, mower parts, barnyard fowl cages, mineral blocks, sweet feed pallets, and saddle racks. I hate to do this, but…(see title). One electric fence box, roll of the new kinda wire, that is yellow and black nylon rope with the wire twisted through, and step-in, plastic posts. They call this type of fence portable cause all ya have to do is place those posts and thread the “tape”. No more drivin metal posts and foolin with those damned insulators. Back to the front, to the check-out. While standin in line the neighboring cashier, tells us my companion’s brother was in yesterday, and I’m sure his ears musta burned for just a bit there. We pay for our “instruments of torture” and the girl asks if we want a farm ticket. We tell her “naw”. This is an important question, cause farmers get all kinds a breaks from the “govmint” on farm purchases. Back to the house, and of course, no dogs in sight. The new barrier is placed just inside of the original fence. Two runs of the tape, to ensure no goin under. It is powered up and merrily “snapping” away, complete with little green light indicating fence is not grounded by any branches or anything else touchin it to interrupt the circuit. I continue yellin for the dogs every 5 minutes or so. They show up just about dark, disheveled as usual, and emerging from the woods across the road (the game reserve side). I bring them inside, and wait for the inevitable. They act as if nothing is wrong, bounce around and act glad that we are back. After the new of us bein home has worn off, they head to the back and we hear them goin out the doggie door. I mute the tv and wait. Don’t hafta wait but a few seconds and the first “YERP” is heard. It was Chev, and I feel that yerp in my chest, just like he was a child from my very own womb, dammit. They all run back in, and I can see in his eyes “What the fuck was that???”. A little later, another yelp, from Mill, and later still, a bass one from Chandy. I feel every damn one of em, but what’s a mother to do? I keep tellin myself it’s not cruel. They will only feel the correction if they try to go over the fence. The whole yard is still theirs. I ask myself, “would you rather hear that a few times, or have to pick them up off the road and bury them, or never know why they didn’t come home one day?” They are beginning to get used to it now, and goin back outside for short periods. Chandy has shown her displeasure by chewing on a new ink cartridge in the package (which I rescued just in time), and a candle left out from the power outage. Chev sleeps in the closet where the doggie door is and I can hear him bark with just his head out the door. He has started to go on out and bark in the last couple of days, but I still haven’t seen him just lounging about out there. Surely, they’ll get accustomed to it, won’t they? It’s inexpensive, and easily expandable, so we may just do the entire acre, if they will adjust. And they can still come out when we are doin stuff out in the yard as the weather warms up. I honestly don’t know who it is harder on, me or them. I hate this business of “It’s for your own good…” All I know is that I could not, for the life of me, be a good Republican. Thank whoever, we still have a choice, lol.

No Words Needed

well, maybe just a few. the following pics show the reason for a forced hiatus from contact with the outside world. blogging from a temporary location, our power should be restored in 3 - 5 days. one of the joys of rural life. the tree across the road had the path cut in it by us. trees over the road in both directions and no help forthcoming from our marvelous road dept., so ya do what ya gotta do.







this is right beside the house, flooded for waterfowl hunting, which only has a couple of weeks to go, thank goodness.

Geo-what?

My best friend, Johnnie Claude (not her real name, of course) and I have discovered a new high! And wonder of wonders, this one is totally legal! If you had known us for the last, umm, several decades, you would understand why I make that distinction. But I digress. Our newfound adrenalin rush, addiction, obsession, is something called geocaching. Geocaching is a world-wide game of hide and seek. Headquarters and home for the game is at www.geocaching.com. The only equipment needed to participate is a handheld gps, and enough “inner child” left to remember the joys of “hide and seek” or “scavenger hunts”. You then visit the website, and can search for caches near you by several search criteria. A “cache” can be anything from a 35mm film container, with a piece of paper to log your visit, to an ammo box, Tupperware container, or any weather-tight container you can come up with. There are even virtual caches that require you to answer questions about the cache site to prove you found it. There are multi-stage caches, where the first coordinates you locate contain clues and coordinates to the next stage. Geocaching clubs have sprung up all over the planet as a way for cachers to get together and socialize. There are organized teams and challenges for those who like to participate in a group. You can participate alone, with friends, or make it a family pastime. It would take me all day to tell you everything about this new sport, so it is best to go to the home page, if your curiosity is piqued. Now, back to the reason for this post. I have owned a gps for about 2 years now. I bought it so I could have a record of all the places that we go to artifact hunt. I just tie it on to my rock pouch and it records every step I take. When I get home I download the tracks to the pc and open them on an aerial photo map and have a permanent record of the expedition. I can save waypoints if I make a good find, and use the aerial views to set waypoints of likely looking areas for future expeditions. And there is one added benefit. I can slip it into a cell phone mount in the vehicle, plug it into the cigarette lighter, and forget about getting lost. Well, I can still get lost, but now I can always find my way back. I discovered the website way back then, but didn’t really take time to look it over. The other day, I happened on it once again. I did a zip code search for local caches and I was amazed. Even out here, on the backside of hell, there are an amazing number of caches to be found. As I was checkin them out, Johnnie Claude called, just to shoot the shit. I told her about it, and she sat down at her computer and pulled up the site. She and I love nothing better than ridin around in the river bottoms and findin places off the beaten path, so I was not surprised when she took to this like a duck to water. We are both just kids who have somehow ended up in bodies that have attained a surprising amount of years while we weren’t lookin. The realization that this worldwide game was goin on even here in the boonies, without us knowin about it grabbed our interest, to put it mildly. Now, instead of just wasting gasoline by wanderin aimlessly through the bottoms, and on the back roads, we could be ON A MISSION!!! We jumped in with both feet. We read the logs of caches that had been found in our area, and read up on how to hide our own cache for others to find. Caches are traditionally filled with dollar store trinkets (schwag, in geo lingo). So Sunday, we set out for the first time. We had already decided on a unique location for our first “hide”. We loaded up at dollar general, then stopped a short ways down the road, and hiked down a neglected trail to score our first “find”. We took nothing, left some trinkets, and signed the log. Then we replaced and concealed the cache for the next hunters. We continued to Johnnie Claude’s house and assembled our first cache. We were as excited as kids just let outta school for the summer. We drove to the site we had chosen, got out, and negotiated our way through the undergrowth and friggin, ever-present sticker bushes to our chosen spot. Johnnie Claude concealed the container, and I took several readings and stored the waypoint, so we could submit the cache for publication when we got home. We got back to her vehicle, climbed in, and began to back out. Did I mention that there was one hell of a ditch on the side of the pull-off? No? Well, it certainly made itself known to us. I felt the vehicle begin to tilt my direction and before we knew it we were up on three wheels, and within a cunt-hair of rollin over, excuse my French. We were both leanin to the high side for all we were worth. I had forgotten my cell phone at home and j.c.’s was outta minutes. After we got our breathin and heart rates under control, she stepped on the gas a bit and we heard that sickenin spinnin sound of tires with no traction. She let off, and we regrouped while waitin for the truck to stop teeter-tottering. Then we remembered that we were in a 4-wheel drive. We tried 2 low first, but no help. But, hallelujah for 4 low! It took a bit of backin up, then pullin up,but, by gawd, we came outta there, shiny side up and rubber side down! We stopped, once we were back on the level, and got the giggling out of our systems. Damn!! This sport is custom made for us!! That evening, we logged in from our respective computers, and logged our first find. I submitted the info for our first hide as well. Any new hide is reviewed, and then posted on geocaching.com within two days or so. We kept checkin and Johnnie Claude called me to tell me our cache was listed on the site Monday evening. We were tickled and wondered just how long it would take for someone to search it out. We did not have long to wait. It was just after noon on Tuesday, when she called me again and told me we had been found!! The finder logged his visit, and left us a travel bug. Travel bugs are trackable items that are sometimes on a mission of their own. “ This Green Jeep Travel Bug is part of the 2006 Jeep 4x4 Geocaching Challenge.” Now how cool is that!! So far, it has been in Florida, Michigan, Tennessee and Kentucky. If you’re interested in learning more, I’ll add the link to our cache page. We named it “Don’t Lose Your Head”. Our first finder was nice enough to take a picture and post it when he logged his find. Thank you, lewy, whoever you are.

Ooooh, Baby, It's Cold Outside

Well, not really all that cold for January here in “the dark and bloody ground”. That’s “Kentucky” to us interlopers who pushed out the original inhabitants. I was casting about in my mind, trawling for a subject to write a post about, when I snagged this. I love this old thing.



You can’t tell scale from the pic, so here are the measurements—it is 5 ft. wide by 4 ft. tall. I’ve never put it on a scale, but I would guesstimate 10 pounds or so. Any guesses? Think “dashing through the snow, in a one-horse open sleigh”. Yep, you got it. It’s a lap robe. I acquired this at an auction on a cold and rainy day in an unheated building about 15 years or so ago. It was the end of a long day, and most of the buyers were leaving after the high dollar furniture stuff was gone. It was a good day for those with stamina and nowhere better to be. It is in remarkable shape for its age. The material it is woven out of feels like burlap, scratchy and strong. But since you weren’t supposed to be nekkid under it, I guess the scratchy doesn’t really matter. The backing is solid black and it is stuffed with what appears to be horse hair for insulation. I don’t know anything about the process used to color it.



If you look closely at the pony’s neck you can see a couple of small spots of red that are out of place, so maybe some hand dyeing on the picture in the center. I guess the roses blooming in the background were to make you feel warmer, or remind you that warmer weather would eventually return. Another indication that it was owned by “gentlefolk” is that the pony still has his original glass eye. The faithful hound’s has been lost to the ages. If I had lived back when this was new, and had been picking out a lap robe to keep me warm, this would have been my choice of design. It features my two favorite members of the animal kingdom, horses and dogs. I don’t believe I could improve on the color scheme either. It amazes me that the colors are still so rich after all this time. It makes me wish I was psychic or sensitive, if there is such a thing. I would love to be able to drape this over my lap, and be transported back to a simpler time, living in a family that had the expendable income for such niceties. By it’s very existence, it implies that the household had it’s own stable, complete with conveyances and the horse power to convey them. They also had the luxury of free time to spend traveling to visit neighbors or family, or to town for shopping or church services, even in the winter. Maybe school programs, Christmas parties, and dances where the young folk could begin the courting ritual to find a suitable mate. I would imagine a young couple could get to know each other fairly well snuggled together under this heavy robe. If they were so inclined; I mean, folks were still folks, even back then. Necking was not invented by Henry Ford. And if you were lucky enough to acquire a snappy, flashy, high-stepping piece of horseflesh to pull your buggy or sleigh, you wouldn’t want just any dull, serviceable lap robe to ruin the eye-catching, head-turning picture you would present. I imagine the brisk air and the reds and maroons in this robe would accent the blush of health on the cheek of any young lady that availed herself of it’s comfort and warmth. It is an article that has no real counterpart here in the 21st century. Whenever I handle it, though, I can’t help but feel like it held good memories for someone. Surely, it wasn’t just luck that it has survived the passage of so many years in this good shape. It must have been stored away in a trunk somewhere, when it outlived it’s usefulness. It definitely was not left in the stable or barn or carriage house for the mice to find and nibble on, so it meant something to someone. They needn’t worry about it’s fate. As long as I am the custodian of this gorgeous piece of the past, it is still special to someone.

January Thaw

Not much goin on here today. According to my pws the high today so far is 66.9 and the high wind gust is 17 mph. I do love the January thaw. It's supposed to continue into tomorrow, but of course it will end with thunderstorms most likely. I did do something productive this mornin. I made a dreamcatcher. Just my first practice one, but it turned out well. Now i will have to make a trip to the craft store and get another spool of leather lace to make a good one. That's about it for now. Gonna head outside and enjoy this unnaturally warm weather. Oh yeah, I am actually gonna be watchin for those predicted thunderstorms. I am curious to see just how high the winds will get when that damn cold air chases out this delicious warm spell. T-shirt weather in January, ya gotta love it!

Tonight's Forecast....Dark

If spoken with the correct inflection, those 3 words send time spinning backwards, and bring an immediate smile to my face. They are the words of Al Sleet (aka George Carlin), The Hippie Dippie Weather Man. Sadly, Al is no longer a weather man. He retired from the field after he gave the ultimate forecast. “The weather will continue to change for a long, long time.” I searched high (no pun intended, well, ok, maybe a little pun intended) and low but could not find a clip of Al that I could embed here, so I will have to settle for a link to a YouTube video. It is not Al in his prime, but a revisit by his creator, a comedic genius, elevated to god status, by those of us belonging to a certain generation. The trigger for this most enjoyable trip (another pun??) down memory lane, is my after-Christmas present. My companion offered to let me choose my own gift, and I promptly accepted. “He who hesitates, is lost” applies here, I have learned over the years. My weakness, or preference, depending on how you look at it, is electronics. I admit it, I am a technology junkie. I had thought, for some time, that a PWS—that’s personal weather station for the tech challenged—would be a cool thing to own. I must admit I had done a bit of research on them through the Weather Underground site. I checked out the hardware and software, but it seemed they had to be ordered online, and possessing no credit card is a definite minus when it comes to that. So I placed it in the “one of these days” category, and decided to get a larger monitor. I am currently running 2 flat screen displays, but I figured I could put one of them up as a spare, and totally fill my available desk space with a new 22” wide screen and one of the current flat panels beside it. A new monitor that size would’ve been a good thing, just not real exciting. I mean, a monitor is a monitor is a monitor, right? I had settled on a model, but decided to walk around the rest of the store just for the hell of it. Really, I just love the fragrance of new circuit boards and plastic wiring, so I was topping off the experience. I was heading for the back of the store, to work my way to the front, when I caught something out of the corner of my eye, that made me stop mid-stride, and do an about-face. Yep, weather stations. At first glance, they all seemed to be the small, for your information only type; but then, on the bottom shelf, slid to the back was a large box. My companion retrieved it, and I tipped it toward me, and lo and behold, it was the model I had decided to shoot for in my internet research for “one of these days.” Cue “Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” This one does not only do temperature, but has a wind gauge and rain gauge. Now, at a glance, I can see temperature and wind chill or heat index, relative humidity, wind speed and direction and high gust, barometric pressure, rainfall, and by pressing a button, see the indoor conditions as well. But the kicker for me was that this one comes with software and a usb cable to enable me to share with the world just how friggin cold and miserable it is here on Sand Ridge at any given moment this winter. Kudos to Weather Underground for letting me share this for free. They also archive the data from your pws, just in case you got nothing better to do while cruising the web. When I got it set up and began sending data, they even created a page for my station. I shall try to place a sticker for my station in the sidebar for the curious, or just plain bored. But I fear this new hobby will have a domino effect. WUnderground also encourages you to hook up a weather cam to add to your site. Recommendations for an inexpensive, wireless web cam, anybody?

Happy New Year

Been a while since i posted. Now that the holidays are over, I think I can see the black fog of holiday depression beginning to dissipate. Hopefully, the cold northwest wind will hasten it's departure. Happy New Year to all, although as I get older, they all seem to blur together. I was pleasantly surprised when I read the local area morning paper, for a change. This story is from the little town that shares a zip code with us out here in the river bottoms. I will copy and paste it here, just to show that sometimes, good things do make the news; and that living in a small southern town just may have some advantages at times. Here's hoping that the rest of the year will take a cue from this story.

Four times the love
Community pitches in as Ballard County couple awaits birth of quadruplets
By Angie Kinsey akinsey@paducahsun.com--270.575.8657



Tuesday, January 01, 2008

LA CENTER, Ky. — Amber and Jeremy Parker have converted their garage into a family room and traded in their sport utility vehicle for a minivan in the past few months.

“I swore I would never drive a minivan,” Amber said.

That was before they found out they were expecting quadruplets — three girls and a boy to be named Bailey Grace, Miley Jo, Kallie Kathleen and William Crice.

“We had to do something,” she said. “We didn’t have enough room (in the vehicle) to even bring them home from the hospital.”

The Parker quads are due March 13, but, at 29 weeks, they could come at any time. “All babies seem to be healthy and they’re all over 3 pounds,” said Amber, 32.

The Parkers, who have been married for four years, decided to start a family a year after they married. Jeremy Parker, 34, already has a 10-year-old daughter, Mallory, who lives in Providence.

“We tried a year and nothing was happening,” Amber said. “We did fertility work in Paducah with Dr. (Susan) Mueller and nothing showed up. Ten percent of people have unexplained infertility.”

Amber Parker became pregnant after undergoing in vitro fertilization in Nashville, Tenn., but miscarried in September 2006. They decided to try another in vitro clinic in St. Louis.

“The main reason we chose the clinic in St. Louis was because they offered a discount for teachers and teachers never get discounts,” said Amber, a health and physical education teacher at Ballard County Middle School. “I thought these people have got to be good if they’re giving teachers a break.”

Four embryos were transferred in the process, but doctors said it was unlikely the couple would have anything more than twins.

“We were kind of wanting twins anyway,” Jeremy said. “I wasn’t with her when she found out. I was at work.”

When four babies showed up on the ultrasound, “it was a good thing I was lying down,” Amber said. “I was definitely in shock. The doctor just kept rubbing his head, saying, ‘This never happens. You must have a higher power on your side.’ Then I had to call Jeremy.”

Jeremy was at a gas station on his way to work at Ballard Telephone Cooperative when he got the call.

“He said, ‘No, Amber, really how many? Quit messing around.’ I had to get the nurse to tell him it was four,” she said. “At first, I was shocked, nervous and scared, but then it kind of sunk in.”

“Then we had to figure out what we’re going to do with them,” Jeremy added. That’s when Jeremy and his friends converted the two-car garage into the family room.

Doctors insisted on a weekly ultrasound and told Amber to quit work in September. Besides Mueller, Amber sees a fertility specialist in Evansville, Ind., and the babies will most likely be born at St. Mary’s Hospital in Evansville.

“I was very panicked because I didn’t have very many sick days left,” she said. The school system “sent out a districtwide e-mail asking if teachers would donate their sick time. The e-mail went out on Thursday and by Monday morning I had enough days. I am very grateful to teach with people who are willing to give and help out.”

The teachers also gave the couple a baby shower. They have also been given showers by Ballard Telephone, First Baptist Church of Barlow, Amber’s high school and college friends, and family and friends in Jeremy’s hometown of Clay in Webster County. A community yard sale also netted $600, which is in the quads’ savings account.

Two Ballard Memorial High School clubs have chosen the Parkers as their community service projects. FBLA members gave them another baby shower in December, and HOSA (Health Occupations Students of America) members have volunteered to run errands, clean and stay overnight once the babies are born.

“It’s unreal the amount of support people have given us,” Amber said. “I always knew Ballard County was an amazing place to live. I wouldn’t live anywhere else. I think every church in this county and McCracken County have us on their prayer list. Seriously, that’s why I think we’re doing so well. It’s from the prayers. I’ve felt a peace about it from the beginning.”

Amber plans to return to work in August. Baby sitters are already lined up, including her mother, Diane Crice, who lives next door.

“People come up to us and say, ‘Your life, as you know it, is over,’” Amber said. “It may be over, but we’re getting a new life. It’s going to be crazy, but it’s going to be our life. We’ll work together to get it done.”