I’m an admitted collectiholic, but there is no 12 step program for one such as me. It may be from having depression era parents who were savers and never threw anything out that had a hint of future usefulness. It is a philosophy that suits me, and spills over into everything I do.
If I have two of something, it begins to look like a collection and I end up with 15 t-pots, or 5,000 magazines. (You think I’m kidding.)
The problem comes when you run out of room. I have a wall of shelves in by office. Every picture album, every vacation scrapbook, albums of the features I had published, souvenirs, nick-knacks. Then over the albums, I place wall hangings because there is no room left on the walls to hang anything. I have 15 pieces, paintings and artifacts of some type hanging on the wall of my office.

No matter how narrow a wall might be, it has something on it, like these beaded rings from my trip to Africa.

If there is a wall, it is filled from floor to ceiling. And, I love and enjoy my treasures. And for many years, with growing children, I resorted to easier to store items made of paper. Just yesterday, while assembling  several different stamp collections to go to the thrift store, I found  notes that made me laugh:
HANZOFF!  Or I’ll sic my dirty P.E. clothes on you-they walk under their own power.

and:  Mary kenny hitted me   sally and kris wont play with me.
Silly stuff.

And, I’ve kept my mother’s name collection. She would sit with her cup of coffee in the morning and read the paper. Her rule was to only collect names of people whose last name was an adjective, verb or noun. Like Earl Silver, Rita House, Cathleen Clinker, Susanne Doubled. It had to be spelled correctly.  Then she expanded it to humorous name juxtapositions like: Mrs. Rum divorced her husband and assumed her maiden name, of Selma Sober. Warren Nipple married Carla Breast. Jean Sucker married Roscoe Candybar.  Dr. Michael Fox is an animal psychologist. I put it out for the thrift store, but took it back. Who would want something like that? She has a couple thousand names in her book. I finally decided nobody would want it and I loved her beautiful writing and took it back. See?  Downsizing is tough for some of us.

My entire brick wall has pictures of birds on it.

My son, Doug, built me five floor to ceiling cases to hold my magazine collection. I had to take a pick-up load of magazines to the dump. I’ve had guests who remove and examine every magazine.

I have plenty offers of help. People who say, I’ll help you. If you haven’t used it in a year, its time to get rid of it. OMIGOD. I shudder and quake at the thought. But, I know it is freeing and that my kids have warned me, “we are just gonna toss this stuff.”

It is painful and conversely freeing to get rid of  “stuff”. Jim estimates 5 years. I’m hoping for two.
It is something I have to do and can enjoy my stuff one last time before it gets tossed

TOO BUSY.

Life is busy and this YouTube describes some of us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TX9EAavxrus

LAKE ARTHUR SOCIAL LIFE.

We are parked next to the American Legion in Lake Arthur, Louisiana, waiting for good weather. The patrons here told us we have to stay through Thursday, because they cook jambalaya for everyone for lunch.  The cooks arrived about nine. Flys was cutting cabbage for the coleslaw.

Norman was taking a break while Mark cut up the pork meat.

Most of the fat comes off, but not all of it. Then it is set to brown.

When it is almost browned, the sausage is added and it gets stirred some more.

In another pot, fresh crowder peas cook. And still another pot holds rice.

Sally added water and seasoning and took her turn stirring.

Norman gave it his approval and Sally began loading styrofoam trays with the free  lunch for everyone in the bar.

We bought a round of beers for the cooks and others did the same. Julia, the bartender is  very able and practically runs, she is so busy.

We finally met the Commander of Post 403, his name’s Don. He says he doesn’t like crawfish which is a sin in this part of the world. His father told him he wasn’t a true cajun. We laughed.
The patrons here depend on the friendships they’ve developed. It is their social life and joy to get together, drink and eat. The bar always has peanuts, pork  rinds, or something to nibble on. Beer here is lite and only comes in 10 oz cans.  The man standing closest to Jim, is Shannoo. He owns the LA Bar downtown. Everyone has dictated that we HAVE to go to the LA Bar and after we had lunch and a beer, we did.

It is in an old historic building and according to some of the pipeliners, it is well-known outside Louisiana.

It is one of those places that has jokes and stuff and a big horned deer head hanging on the walls; dollar bills pinned to the ceiling, and 75-year-old whiskey. Shannon, doing bartender duty,  is the owner’s wife. Her husband is also named Shannon, so he removed the n, added an o, and goes by Shannoo.

We were told the LA Bar serves the very best bloody mary money can buy. It was different, spicy and delicious with a green bean, carrot stick and okra pickle, an olive and lemon slice.

When the previous owner died, the bar was closed for four years. The locals are appreciative that this young couple in their thirties rescued their famous icon. Shannon told me some of these bottles are 75 years old and have never been opened. They are no longer for sale.

I enjoyed taking pictures of  humorous signs.

Some are as old as that whiskey.

Wry humor.

This one is barely readable. It looks like politicians were just as popular 75 years ago as they are today.  Politicians and drunks not permitted on premises.

We walked toward the boardwalk at the lake. A beautiful oak greeted us at the end of Main St. Then the winds and rain suddenly started up again, and we had to abandon our walk.

We read for most of the day. Then back in the American Legion bar for a nightcap. Mark and Marlene were back as well. Mark will take us out to net catfish in his boat this morning if the weather isn’t too wet and too windy. Everyone seems to like everyone in this community. You never hear them grumble and complain about their neighbors. Fine salt of the earth people who know how to have fun. Tonight there will be a dance with a DJ.

SIGNS OF A LAZY DAY.

Yesterday, the sun shined brightly and we soaked it up. Jim worked on the mal functioning auto lock on the passenger side door of the Bronco. I washed a couple of rugs and hung them out to drain and dry in the sun. It felt good to move about and feel the sun on our faces.
We did the laundry and bought home-made tamales from Rosa’s on the way home. Delicious late lunch. We  sort of melted into the cushions and read the rest of the  day and just snacked for dinner. On the way home I saw a sign for a frame shop, Hall Of Frames. I’m often impressed by the clever names people choose for their businesses. I don’t always get the picture, but I indulge in clever signs whenever I get a chance.



 Dog grooming.


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This sign is in old town Gallup, NM,  outside of a business near a park. I once had a small retail store and I understand this completely.


Of course, strange but  serious signs are fun too,  like this one on a desert walking trail.

You don’t see one of these very often. It is part of General Patton’s Museum in California where they tested tanks and other war equipment at one time.


Others are just fun. (The blur is my fault.)


.In Tombstone Arizona where the waiters and waitresses wear guns, unloaded, I’m sure. The customers are not allowed to wear guns.

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An ad on a T-shirt.


I think this was a game shop, cards, poker chips etc. in Las Vegas.

Stapled to a power pole in Bisbee, Arizona.


A cookbook for sale in a motorcycle  museum.


This curious statement on a business window in Harlingen, Texas,  intrigued me. Driving by it a second time, I found out the new business going in will be a bike shop. Can’t reason it out. Obviously something I don’t know about bikes and bikers.


Well, this one is easy to understand. It is posted at my Italian neighbor’s house, and she is a hoot.

THE CRAZIES OUT THERE ARE NOT ALL FROM WALMART.

It is a mad campaign swirling around us and it is hard not to get caught up in the whirlwind. Speaking of mad, I recently read that people who study serial killers have made credible comparisons to people who run for office. They share many of the same traits.

How many times have we heard someone say, “Ya gotta be crazy to run for President?” I am chuckling, folks, but then Hitler, Saddam Hussein, and other monsters pop into my head. 

I’ll be glad when the election is over and we can all get back to some semblance of normal life, whatever that is.
I find it unbelievable that a man can get elected to public office and claim slavery is a blessing in disguise.

 “The following link is too funny/scary not to pass on.”

http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/thu-october-11-2012/you-magnificent-bastards—down-ballot-notables

GETTING BEAUTIFUL.

This little doe comes to visit me each morning. She seems to know when I have the camera aimed at her and hides from me. My yard is Certified Wildlife Habitat, and between Karen and I, we’ve  seen every animal except a possum and a bear come to drink water. Cougars, bobcats, foxes, skunks, raccoons, squirrels, coyotes, dogs, cats, birds. Even bats and lizards. This low water year, the water in my pond, and other vessels,  needs to be replenished every other day, which Karen does.

I’m coming at my subject a bit sideways, here, but Jim brought this beautiful hammock all the way from Central America. It has hung between a couple of trees for the last two summers and a squirrel came down the tree and chewed part of the threads. Sorry, Jim. I was pretty amazed at that. She  chewed some of the support strings as well. I don’t blame the squirrel. I’m sure she is nest-building.  Red tail hawks decimated my squirrel population a while back and this one has moved in to begin a new generation.

I’m always bragging about Murphys being such a nice place to live, with its beautiful park with a creek running through it. But, San Andreas has a beautiful Turner Park too, with multiple entrances and areas to enjoy because it runs along a small creek. I met friends yesterday, with whom I worked at the Calaveras Enterprise in the 1980′s  and was reminded of the wholesome community we share. Dedicated park volunteers were blowing debris and picking up stuff people leave behind when I got there. How cool is that?

This cute elephant bridge leads to a playground for the kids. Part of why this is such a great place to live is the huge body of volunteerism that makes places  like this possible for everyone.

Sue Walker has a new last name since we met at this same spot last year. I was surprised my friends knew about my accident on May 27th.  We spent an hour playing catch-up while we ate our bag lunch.

We manage our visit in an hour since Deborah Mullen comes from work during her lunch time.  I heard that our former editor, Sandy Lema died while I was on the road, and I forgot to ask them if that was correct?

That hour went by way too fast!  I’m going to make an effort to get home earlier next year to attend the main event. We grabbed one of the friendly park volunteers to take our picture before we parted.

This is a group photo of Enterprise staffers from Reunion 2011.
After leaving the park, I had some blood work done and then went to the beauty shop to get my hair cut. I reminded Sue, who was cutting my hair, that the purpose of a beauty salon is make people beautiful.

I thought she did a pretty good job, don’t you?

Then I stopped in Angels Camp to visit my friend Linda Foster. She is painting her house and needs help deciding what color to choose.

The picture doesn’t show all of her possible choices.  But, I think it was more than nine.  Decisions, decisions. And you know?  She didn’t even notice my beautiful new look? The older we get, the harder it is to get beautiful.