Tag Archive: random thoughts

The search

You may be aware that I have a certain fascination with things old.

Attending an auction this past week, I ran across a lovely Singer treadle machine, with interesting markings and a metal plate on the cabinet. US WPA was the marking on the cabinet. I had never seen this before, so armed with photos, I did a bit of searching.

The machine was made in 1926, further questing of the fine sources on the internet told me that this machine was one of many used by women in the Great Depression in sewing projects nationwide.  Clothing was the main project, but toys and stuffed animals were also made.

I knew the WPA was responsible for many local road improvements and the building of numerous schools in our area. Jobs created for men who would otherwise not be able to provide for their families. This was the first time I had found out there were jobs created for women.

This machine was sold to another buyer, I talked to her and hope she knows the treasure she has.







Wednesday, August 31: Hubby has checked and rechecked the weather and water stage for out favorite spot on the Mississippi River. It’s all clear and clear that we need to make a trip!  We have a place on private property neat the Dorena -Hickman Ferry we really enjoy.

Most of the day was spent loading the camper, we managed to leave about 5 PM, well aware we would arrive after dark.

One stop for gas and a few groceries and one farther down the road at Love’s truck stop in Sikeston for fried chicken (dinner) and Dunkin Donuts got us to our destination about 8:30 PM. Not a problem this trip, since we have the camper and do not have to put up a tent in the dark.

When we pulled up near the ferry landing, a large van was sitting at the ferry loading ramp.  A uniformed man got out and came over to the truck. He showed us his badge and credentials and asked “When will the ferry run?” Taking a few moments to explain he was driving a Federal Prison Transport and GPS had brought him there as the shortest route to his destination.

Sadly, we had to explain that the ferry would not be there until around 7 AM and gave him directions to the nearest bridge.

We pulled into ‘our’ spot, did some quick unloading and went to bed.

Rising early, we set up the outdoor cooking area, canopy and got things organized for our weekend. A few minutes after 7, as we are enjoying a cup of coffee and Hubby prepares to go fishing, the ferry pulls in to let off the first passengers of the day.  As usual, they blast off the horn to let those waiting know they have arrived.

We hear the loudspeaker, Capt. Jeremy and the deck hand greet us with a hearty hello and the question “What’s for breakfast?” Prompted, no doubt, by the fact that usually we send food down to the boat. They often send us some oft he Asian Carp the land on the boat to use for bait.

Egg sandwiches were delivered to the crew on their next run.

Today is ‘Autism Awareness Day’.

At our house, like many others, that is every day, not once a year.

As I look back over the past two years since grandson, Brett, has been living with us full time, so many achievements have been made.

Just last week, Brett mentioned that he wants to invite some people over for a spaghetti dinner next Sunday.

This is, in fact several great milestones:

Brett is inviting people (coming out of his shell).

He wants to cook the entire meal himself ( building skills). Last year, for his birthday, a friend sent him a wonderful cookbook. Another sent an apron and chef hat. He uses both. One of his goals has been preparing complete meals for the three of us several times a week.

Last weekend, he made his ‘famous to us’ baked beans for the crowd assembled for out anniversary dinner.

http://www.amazon.com/Picture-Cook-See-Make-Eat/dp/1612432344  is the link for the cookbook.

He has his ‘list’ and a ‘time table’ made (life skills and independence)

And I know, he will do it, and do it well!



If you counted the presents for my birthday, or what was wrapped up under the tree, it looked pretty meager.
If you count the well wishes, cards and calls, the family time, the home made food and cake, it’s a whole different story!
Hubby kidnapped me one day last week for an adventure with the camera. Hiking through snow near Current River, watching wildlife and exploring old buildings. A picnic lunch and ‘time’ to rnjoy the world of winter together.
No, no one took me out to eat, son-in-law made lasagna and the grandkids made a cake.
birthday 006
Family time, visiting, playing checkers and mancala, sharing thoughts, ideas, laughter, plans and love.
No one got me anything fancy or expensive, but I was very pleased to get craft supplies that will be used and are a pay it forward. More than likely someone else will end up with the things that will be made from them.
I did not make a Christmas dinner, we gathered for a pot of chili on Christmas eve, and enjoyed a dinner made by our daughter and grand daughter on Christmas day.
I don’t need a lot of ‘things’ anymore. I can count my blessings, be grateful for what I have and be very content with it. I am blessed and life for us on Sunrise Ridge is good.

khloee in the kitchen 003
Along the paths of my Kitchen Memories are precious times spent with my great-grandmother, whose pies are still a legend and the recipes still baked today.
My grandmother, who lived with us as I was growing up and taught me how to make jelly and preserve food.
Then of course, my mother, she encouraged me in the kitchen with her skills. Feeding a good-sized family on a tight budget was something she did well.
Now we get to me, generation four, no longer the student, I have also become the teacher as the years have passed.
My daughters and their friends passed through the kitchen, learning all I could pass along. Most of them left with a hand written cookbook of favorites. Those that did not, call home from time to time. 🙂
The grand-kids, mostly their experience is with holidays. baking cookies, making candy and of course the twisting of the old hand grinder at Thanksgiving to make my mother’s cranberry relish.
Now a new generation begins the process. Great granddaughter joins me in the kitchen quite often these days. She lives not too far away and her parents. Yesterday we baked ‘granpa’s favorite cake’ and frosted it for dessert.
Maybe this has something to do with why I feel so comfortable in the kitchen. I think there may be a member or two of any of the seven generations there whenever I get ready to cook.

A Day in the life of the Bathroom mirror

“Oh, NO! There’s that clock”, says the mirror, “here they come!” In seconds, bright light illuminates the room, sparkling off the mirrors flat face.
The man ignore it as he reaches sleepily for a washcloth, razor and shaving foam. Hot water steams the shining surface as he washes his face. Using the wash cloth, he wipes the mist from the glass, then fills his hand with thick foam as he begins his daily routine. Lathering the thick cream over his face, he grimaces at the mirror. Picking up the razor, he begins to glide it over his cheeks, neck and chin, alert to the contours he feels.

Now, he reaches for his denture cup, pouring out the overnight solution. Paste on the toothbrush, he cleans the partial plate, rinses it, then begins again with toothpaste on his remaining teeth, splashing the mirror with toothpaste and water as he does it. Another rinse and the partial is fitted in his mouth and a smile reflects back at him.

Five or six strokes of the comb through his thinning hair and he walks off, ready to face the day.

The woman of the house follows, wrapped in a cocoon of terry cloth, still dripping a bit from the shower. She ducks down to return with a blow dryer in hand. the view is of one possessed as she wields the buzzing dryer in one hand and a hairbrush with the other, coaxing the unruly wet mop into a semblance of order.

She notices the spattered face of the mirror and reaches down again, coming up with a spray bottle. A spritz or two, a swipe with a towel restores a clear view.

She puts away the brush dryer, glass cleaner, denture cup, shaving cream and razor. With a frown, she winces as a slight tug removes the offending gray hair. Rushing, time is short, a dash of blush, a squirt of perfume and she is away.

There comes a lull, then invasion as two young ladies rush in, scattering make-up and hair products across the counter. After Quick work with soap, water and toothbrushes, they start the real preperations. Giggles, chatter and a short argument punctuate the transformation of one fresh washed face into a white mask with black eyes and lips. Teased hair is semi-tamed with a pick and liberally coated with pink and blue sprays. Stiff hair, stark faced, she studies the look. A satisfied nod says she is ready to go out to face her day.

The second, conforming to a different fashion ideal, brushes her long straight hair, places a colorful barrette, examines then adjusts. A touch of lip gloss, a hint of blooming color on her cheeks. One can hardly tell anything has been added. These two finish their work, pack up their supplie and move along.

Here’s the boy, dirty faced, called in from play even this early in the day. He splashed some cold water over his face, creating streaks in the dirty film. Splattering muddy drops all around as he shakes murky liquid off like a wet puppy, he grins flexing minute muscles. then checks for signs of adolescence, is that a pimple? Does it look like a few whiskers? No toothpaste for him, swishing Scope instead, contorting his face. Then he attempts to spit, imitating his favorite baseball star.

With a furtive glance, he picks a towel from the hamper, smearing muddy drops, and towel fuzz across the reflection. He skitters out, returning seconds late to douse himself liberally with his father’s aftershave, once again rushing away.

this and that around the place 019
Only one of our baby chicks survived. It has taken up residence with a ‘prptector’ Old Jack.
Old Jack, good natured creature that he is, does not seem to mind.
The chick follows him around and they sleep together.
The rest of the chickens ignore Peep.
I do not know the psychology of animals very well, but I find this quite interesting

I often post photos in a ‘photo a day group’ on Facebook. Each day has a topic, and folks are allowed to interpret it and post their own pictures.
Today’s topic was ‘tiny’ and I posted this picture:
clearwater lake trip 128tiny flowersA
I looked in my “Missouri Wildflower’ book and did not find a ‘match’, so I indicated that in my post about the picture.
This is how things work: A lady in the UK posted that she thought the flower was called ‘speedwell’.
My daughter in California looked it up http://greennature.com/gallery/weeds/weeds-in-lawn.html and sure enough, the flower is speedwell.
I found this very interesting, as long ago ancestors arrived at Plimouth on a ship called the Speedwell.
And that, friends, is ‘how things work’ sometimes…

In spite of all the fuss, false starts and fury of wind and snow, it appears Spring has arrived on Sunrise Ridge.
How do I know? Well of course, I do not, but the peaches have started to bloom.

peach blossom

peach blossom

Although nothing is planted, the greenhouse is started and work preparing the garden has begun.
A little travel shows that fishermen and women are out, enjoying the warmer days and trying to fill stringers.
Let's go fishing

Let’s go fishing

Yet, I have not heard the gobble of wild turkeys early in the mornings, and I wait in expectation for it.
The sounds of evening include peep frogs and owls, I remain still impatient for the return of the whip-poor-wills, but these fulfilled promises encourage me.
They will come!

Today, February 24, 2013, marks the ‘arrival of Spring’ to many folks I know. It has nothing to do with the melting of ice and snow, the appearance of green sprouts or delicate blossoms of flowers.
Today is the running of the Great American Race, better known as NASCAR’s Daytona 500! Built up by ‘speed weeks’ of minor races, practices and final fine tuning, millions of people sat in the stands, by computers, smart phones or TV’s to hear that long-awaited phrase, “Drivers, start your engines” which on this occasion was hashed up as “Drivers and Danica, start your engines”. Depending on your outlook, a cutting chauvinistic remark or a silly error on the part of the grand marshal. I hope it was just an error, not a slur.
I applaud Danica Patrick, for her courage and skill. She may not have won the race, but she did well, and hopefully proved to the unlearned that she IS a ‘DRIVER’ and a contender.
After the wreck during last night’s Nationwide race that sent fans to the hospital, one of the CNN commentators was interviewing a woman about her ‘non-traditional’ occupation , teaching gun safety and shooting skills. He made a similar error, pointing out that both she and Danica Patrick were doing jobs that belonged to men.
I thought those ideas went out of date, back before I was born, when the ladies went to work so the men could go to war. Maybe I am wrong?
Women’s History Month begins in March. We have made many strides; there is always room for improvement. Women are not second-class!
As Charlotte Whitton said: “For a woman to get half as much credit as a man, she has to work twice as hard, and be twice as smart. Fortunately, that isn’t difficult.” It seems to still be true.
I know many women who have worked ‘non-traditional’ jobs. I am proud to have sawmill work on my personal resume. What about you, ladies?