"Nightlights?"

Nightlights?........

It had been a very special day between my love and myself.  We spent a good portion of time that day walking along the rivers edge .  The sounds of nature had taken us away from the normal daily routine of cars honking, red lights, politics, and of course our jobs.  Somehow the earthly voice of a bird singing can compare only to the Angels we do not get to visualize.  And so it was that day we had regained a certain amount of peace amongst the living. 

We did the usual Jose and lime juice around 4 p.m.  Turned on the television only to turn it back off considering it was the new Jerry Springer now called Dr. Phil.  A young woman gang raped.  Her on one side of old Phil and the gang raper's on he other.  My guy hit the off button as I prepared dinner.

Then it was whirlpool time.  We are old-timer's, no not Alzheimer's.  Our bodies hurt on occasion.  Me with RLS and he with rotator cuff tear and upcoming surgery.  Neither able to sleep very well lately. I was filling the whirlpool with lavender Epsom salts when my significant other asked if I mind if he joined me.  Of course I didn't mind.  Once again we enjoyed a peaceful hour of roaring healing water rushing his shoulder and my legs.  I actually slept well after the Epsom's cleansed my body.  He on the other hand requires a more extensive fix.  An Operation. 

We watched one more show on the television considering we just got about a thousand Cable channels totally by accident along with a totally outrageous bill on purpose.  That took me an hour on the phone to straighten out.  But then we all know what Charter is like.

Finally time came to sleep.  It was dark with a ting of light from the parking lot cascading through the mini blinds of our third floor notsomuch a penthouse. We were cuddling, talking about this and that when I noticed a tiny light on the ceiling.   I didn't say anything to my guy, but I was mesmerized and continued to watch.  It would appear and disappear.  It moved over to the edge of the ceiling light.  Then to another spot.  It was then I swore to God and all his Angels and Mother that I saw a white ghostlike figure move in the hallway by the bathroom.  It was at that precise moment I decided to share the fear running up and down my body with my guy.  Not to mention my brain knowing for sure there was either an entity in the room or heavenly hosts.  I was not sure which.  My guy wrapped his arms around me as though he could ward off demons from other dimensions and I shrunk in his arms as though I believed he could. 

I started to pray.   I used the God given mad mother voice I hadn't heard from my larnyx in about 28 years or so....  I guess I suspected those alien visitors would respond.  I used the name of Jesus.  I used spirit talk, I bound and loosed.  They didn't leave.  We recited the Lords Prayer in unison like two scared little kids  in catechism class.  Or the Lutheran class I graduated from which was not offering up any sort of assistance in this case. Confirmation classes had taught me the benediction, some of the Psalms, the beatitudes and so on.  Not helping in the here and now of it all Pastor! 

Suddenly I said, "Is there a smoke alarm up in that area of the ceiling?"  My guy leaped from our duo fetal position, hit the bedroom light and whalla.  A tiny green light appeared ever so sweet and only now and then.  It then reflected off the ceiling light and other areas that even now as I write I do not understand. Nor do I "get" where the ghostly figure ran off to.  But then I still swear when I was five I saw Santa and ALL his reindeer one Christmas Eve out my bedroom window.  I mean it too!

We were very sad there were no Heavenly visitors to our bedroom that night.  You see when the little light didn't leave upon command of our God.....well that meant they were the good guys.  Almost wish I hadn't found the reality of it all.  We could all use a sign from the heavens now and then.....

Corrections!!

I spent the past week reading Chapter One thru Chapter 21. 
I also figure I must have been possessed at about 13 or somewhere in there.
Run on sentences by the score.  Even I got lost a few times. 
That said, I have corrected.  Sorry for the confusion but my mind takes off and my typing fingers
     cant always keep up.   I usually edit later. 
Working on the ending! 

Dear Chad, Cody, and Chris...............Love Santa By Diane Ogden

Today I was cleaning out the old paper file box.  You know the old way of keeping paperwork. Now days you take a photo of it and file it on your computer.  Unless you find what I did today.  Notes to my children from Santa.....   I failed to put a date on the "elaborate" index cards I used but my guess is 28-30 years ago.  The middle son, Cody, was a very  face paced child. (I did not say hyper!) But he learned a bad word from some of the neighbor kids and found he got unlimited attention when he used it.  I think he was 4 and it was the bad word.....   as the index card from Santa reiterates.
Felt like sharing something from three decades ago from Mama Santa! 

 

 

Sunday Morning ....................................by Diane Ogden

Every Sunday morning I treat myself by raising the head and foot of my fairly new Electric Bed.  I turn on the 32" VIZIO I pay $100 a month to watch while I recall the days I could watch for free.  I click to CBS to watch Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt. (sp) Where I remain until it ends at 9:30.
Today they did a segment on Steve Harvey.  I enjoy watching Steve Harvey any time of the day or night.  He makes me laugh.  He is wise.  He is quite the charismatic person. And I do not care how many times he was married. (3)!  So have I.  I really should try to get that one right.
 He told how he grew up eating mayonnaise and bread sandwiches because they were poor.  I sat up farther in my electric bed, if that is even possible, thinking I should call my mother immediately to see how poor we really were considering I ate mayonnaise sandwiches for years.  I would guess from age 7 through 12 years old.  Along with hot chocolate and toast or pancakes for breakfast every day.   As well as my father required a desert after each meal.  My fav was the Mayonnaise Chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting that I would add to my breakfast routine whenever possible.  No wonder I have hypoglycemia!! 

1 cup water

1 cup mayonnaise

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup sugar

3 tablespoons baking cocoa

2 teaspoons baking soda

Pour into greased 9-in. square or 11-in. x 7-in. baking pan. Bake at 350° for 30-35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool completely.

Read more: http://www.tasteofhome.com/recipes/chocolate-mayonnaise-cake#ixzz3PBq7Lajs

 

About the only thing of value in that cake was the cocoa!  So much for wonderful childhood memories that have caused me terrible issues.  Not to worry, I found a East Side Ovens of Milwaukee.  They make vegan brownies of which I partake on the weekend.  But only ONE.

At the end of Sunday Morning there was a segment on beef jerky.  Suddenly another vivid memory comes charging into my head, or my heart?  My Granddaddy had the first bison ranch in Texas in the 1950's.  Or so he told me.  He also told me he rode with Poncho Via.  Regardless, he did make the best bison jerky I have ever eaten.  He was quite the cook.  His jerky wasn't full of fillers, or artificial flavors or GMO corn syrup.  I can almost taste it as I type it.  Genuine Bison Jerky.  And now there is a company producing the same natural bison jerky as my Granddaddy used to make.  I can recall the large metal smoker tank where he cooked the meat as well as a small house where he would hang the meat pieces to dry.  We would beg for more. 
Nowadays I peer at the beef jerky in its fancy labeled small packages at the grocery store as I walk on past before any gag reflex sets in.  When you've had the best, the worst wont do.
The photo is Granddad's buffalo ranch.  I have a newspaper article about he and the ranch but it is buried in the ancestor file box....along with the family genealogy. 

 

 

                                                His Cookhouse....

                                         He was a cook during the War.  I still have his aviator Sunglasses
                                                       and his dog tags and a beautiful white silk scarf.  I
                                             "wonder"  sometimes who will I pass them on to.
                                          No one else remembers him from the new generation.
                                                             Where will they end up?

 

Chop. Chop. Chop.......................by Diane Ogden

Many of my friends as well as acquaintances believe I am a bit "anal" regarding my hair.  For instance, nearly every time I have gotten it cut the past few years I am beyond upset for two months.  Let me give you a couple examples:  (I don't believe I am anal. I believe beauticians are taught the latest style and have no real artist ability any longer!!)  They cut the sides long, the back short.  I have gotten modified mullets, dog ear cuts, the last one I looked like Moe from the three stooges.

This was the last CUT!!  I pulled the bottom back into a long ponytail.  I have natural wavy hair that obviously shouldn't be cut like that~  I couldn't do much with it for two months. 

Below is another fiasco.

Sooooo.   Today I cut it myself which I swore I would never do again.  I watched some tutorials on You Tube and set out for the bathroom and the sharpest pair of scissors in the house.  I blocked off all the proper sections but did have a hard time with the back!  I suspect it is not a precision cut.  Joke of the week.  Given my hair is very thick it wont show. (I hope)  At this time it is drying.  And if I have any complaints it will be on me this time.  And it didn't cost me $45.00.

That would be about four months growth!  No regrets......STOP! I said, No regrets! 

The Rose.......................by Diane Ogden

I enjoy the look of roses as well as the feel and smell of each one.  They remind me of antiques, pearls, lace, gentleness and peace of mind.  Riches. A calm and safe place.  Beauty of every color. Velvet.

One of my clients is an artist.  She  enjoys painting people, landscapes, and animals in her spare time.  One day I spotted one of her finished canvas's.  It was a pink rose and pink is my favorite color.  I asked her if I could buy it from her.  She wasn't sure, but added maybe later.  I assumed  she may have had an upcoming art show. 

A couple visits later I told her I would like to buy that for myself as a Birthday gift.  I always buy myself something nice for my birthday. After all it is MY birthday.

Yesterday came and it was time for my bi weekly visit to Fran Klos.  When it came time for her to pay me for my services I told her to make the check out for $100 less as it was time for me to buy her beautiful Pink Rose for my Birthday gift.  She responded with, "Absolutely not, you may have that for your Birthday!"  I was shocked.  I am still not sure what I said as I am used to being the one that gives so when receiving, especially at that level, I was at a loss for words.   I think I said the standard OMG.  How classlessly tacky huh?  I may have said gosh vs God.  I probably added something like, "Oh you don't have to do that."  Jeepers I wish I would have stuck with OMG.   I recall her saying, "I am pleased to give this to you Diane."    And so I appropriately said, "Thank You Fran, this makes me very happy."

And so I drove home with great anticipation of hanging the precious gift, "My Rose."

 

 

The Fullest Pampers Box in the World................by Diane Ogden

For some time now I have needed to send my son in California a few items.  With the UPS and or FED X and or Post Office Rates going up up lately I sort of put it off.  The last time at the Post Office I inquired how much a certain weight would be to ship to Cali.  They estimated ten pounds for $35.00.  Not bad... I had expected it to cost a lot more. 

I boxed the items up in a Pampers box and headed for the Post Office.  The nice Postal employee-man who I have gotten to know over the years gave me the total and then checked my taping to his satisfaction.  As he tallied up the  I mentioned to him what was in the small box.  He looked at me with utter disbelief.  That is when I told him my son had better get those items out of that box a.s.a.p. next Friday or they will never be the same again.  After he agreed we both laughed at the craziness of how I got all those items in that small box along with a jar of my son's favorite cookies.

One J.Crew Navy Pea Coat: Size LARGE

One Columbia Winter Coat lined, for his camping trips:  Size LARGE

Three Banana Republic Silk Cashmere Sweaters:  Black, Grey, Plum. Size LARGE

And two very nice button down shirts:  Pink and White for under the million dollar sweaters.  
One pickle jar of Gma Tillie's German Pfieffernut Cookies.

EIGHT ITEMS:  I rolled the two coats up and stood them upright leaving a small space in the center of the box. I put the cookies between the two shirts I placed between the two coats  in the empty space. I did have to push pretty hard.  The three sweaters lay flat on top of everything.    (The size of the box also kept the cost down.)

Not very interesting huh?  Yet fascinating indeed.  I can pack a UHaul just as good. Not that that is any major human feat.  Hey, some people cant do it. 

I can now mark that off my list of to-do's.  It will arrive next Friday and hopefully the items will regain their shape as well as my son will DRY CLEAN those amazingly expensive sweaters!!

Til next time:   Be Well, Be Safe, Be Happy, and get rich so you can ship the scrunched up coats and such OVERNIGHT!  Not really.  That would have cost more than the clothes all put together were worth!