"Son of a Grass Cutter"

Soooo.  I was at the cemetery today sittin' on Mary.  My 6th cousin who passed away at Verona's classy Badger Prairie Mental Asylum in 1918.  She had a child out of wedlock in the 1800's which led to her "Father" taking her child away.   She fell into depression at which time he placed her in Madison's Mendota Mental Hospital...later she was moved to Badger Prairie where she lived out her life.

Today I needed to find a quiet place to do some serious life thinking.  I considered the zoo.....then I decided on the Forest Hill Cemetery and Mary.  I stopped at Metcalf's grocery and bought Mary a rose.  I debated on what color....  That is when I spotted the Melon colored one....that was it without any doubt.  Then I passed a barrel of sample wine bottles... Yup I also grabbed one of those for Mary too.  Bet she never tasted wine in her life.  I was toting my own lunch bag, a rose, a camera, map of the cemetery, a small bottle of wine, and a milk crate to sit on which I did not use due to unleveled ground.

I parked and headed for the plot in area 22 with a plain flat stone saying,  MARY JUNGBLUTH.
That is when I heard two horrendous motors starting.....and running directly for MARY JUNGBLUTH. and me.  Two huge yellow mowers disturbing my peace to say the least.  Not to mention the smell of fresh cut grass which is usually sort of nice but not this time.  Nope, I suspected I would have a lung full of green suet by the time this was over.  As I sat on Mary's stone with my large lunch bag on one side, the milk crate on the other, the rose, the wine, the map and the camera....I thought they would GO AWAY seeing I was a grieving cousin.  Well they did not.  They mowed up to 8 feet from Mary and me.

Had I been a more gutsy and creative today I would have started wailing and screaming in deep grief.  Maybe then they would have left us in peace and moved to another section.  I just sat there saying, "Jesus Crisis anyway."  Maybe the zoo would have been a better  option.  And if those two men on their boy toys throw one stick at me I will sue the sheit out of this place.  They "got" no manners.  Those sons of a grass cutters mother!

I cant eat my lunch. My nose if full of flying green pieces....and my ears are buzzing.  They have headphones on for noise reduction.  Notice no one was handing them out to me.  I came here to hear from the dead regarding my life direction which is bigger then grass cutting.

Finally the rude jerks left but not far enough.  They left their ripe grass odor clearly behind with me.  Terribly rude. 

I placed the rose on Mary's home knowing she probably never got a flower in her entire life.  I also knew the grass eaters would be back because they did leave a 5 foot patch directly at my and Mary's feet.  I just knew they and their yellow machines would blow her rose away.. They were now mowing in the next section but still very loud and intrusive.   I decided to say goodbye to Mary considering I couldn't hear her advice and mosey on down the way..  I stopped and watched the mower man come back and mow right up to Mary's neck.  The rose didn't move...  I knew Mary was hanging onto it!!

I decided to sit on the cement wall up the way from Mary, surrounding the Civil War boys.   I had my lunch, toasted the boys with Mary's sample wine, took some pictures of them and heard what I needed to hear.  Whether you believe me or not.  Doesn't matter. 

I asked them to show me a sign.  I took this photo and as you can see I got what I asked for.....
So.... when I find more Happy News I will be back.  Be well, Be Happy, Be Safe, and get Rich.  Makes it all easier.

Banana Bread II

I have not been writing on this blog for a long time..... I had taken a photo of the slimey banana snot...
Then I forgot to post it!!   Duh.
Here she is snotty nanas and all:

Banana Bread?..............by Diane Ogden

Making banana bread has been a lifelong struggle for me.  Mostly because I gave up trying 45 years ago.  Lately I took on the  dreaded task of re trying.  Too dry, too moist, raw in the middle was the worst and finally I forgot the sugar once.  I haven't given up.  In fact for the raw middle I tried less banana so we didn't feel like we were eating snot.  You know that oatmeally texture eewww.    Raw banana bread in the center...so I Googled what to do.   It said less banana... I tried that and lost the flavor so I stopped at the Organic section of the grocery store and banana flavoring was $8.50 for a small bottle!!  I don't think so.  The next week I checked at my regular grocer and found the standard "McCormick" banana flavoring for $3.50.  Tennie bottle.  I read the ingredients of which were all ARTIFICIAL and bought it anyway. Next time I attempted to make banana bread I used the BRIGHT YELLOW ARTIFICIAL banana flavoring.  OMG is all I can say.  I cannot believe I used that crap...... much less we ate it.  Not to mention it brought back childhood memories of eating those soft banana candies at Aunt Berdie's house.  Ewwww!!

Well.....believe it or not it turned out pretty good.  A little dry.  So this week I tried it again.  I had frozen the banana's because I was sick of trying to make good banana bread. I even considered possibly never doing it again for 45 years.  But just in case I did, I froze those black buggers.  I played busy until they thawed.  Cut the ends off with a scissors and as I attempted to peel the ripe "thang" inside the black peeling. As I peeled, it ever so slowly slid down and out the other end as it folded itself in half all limpy like. (is that a word?) I tell you the truth it looked like I had murdered a living thing or at the least was viewing the birth of something sick and wrong and was going to eat it as well.  The only word that came to my mind was cannibalism.  My significant other was watching the entire show.  I looked up from the massacre only to see his face all scrunched.  He seemed to be sensing my same thoughts.

It was at that exact moment he rose from his stool and exited the room leaving me with the dead and dying.  I gagged a few times as I "folded" the snotty mixture into the bowl of good sugar and eggs.  I could hear  him in the background laughing or maybe he was crying as he realized we are too new a relationship for him to say no to the dead bread. 

I hit the timer and went about some better business such as changing  bedding and eating red ARTIFICIALLY sweetened strawberry twizzlers.  Cant believe I eat those dang things considering they use beetles to color them.  I am not lying.  Its called Carmine (/ˈkɑːrmɪn/ or /ˈkɑːrmaɪn/), also called cochineal, cochineal extract, crimson lake or carmine lake, natural red 4,^[1] C.I. 75470,^[1] or E120.  See I told you!  Gag away...

     So the results are good.  Well, half good.  One is great the other might be a little snotty in the middle.  I wont give up.  But I will buy the organic flavoring no matter the cost next time.

Until then, be safe, be well, and get rich.  You can buy organic banana bread at $12 a loaf.

"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?