and some days.... it's definitely worth it!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Monday, June 05, 2006
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Tanner and Shaila
Here it is... a collage of a very special night for my son....Senior Prom.
Isn't he handsome? and she's very pretty. His first real girlfriend.
Time's a passiin.....it's almost Graduation Day....my my my.
Isn't he handsome? and she's very pretty. His first real girlfriend.
Time's a passiin.....it's almost Graduation Day....my my my.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Monday, January 02, 2006
The Birdman
Man with a secret helps city say bye-bye to birdies
By Colleen MastonyTribune staff reporterPublished December 26, 2005
DECATUR, Ill. -- Every fall, the starlings descended on Decatur like a plague. Screeching and flapping, thousands of birds seized control of the park and dive-bombed residents, who fought back by lobbing firecrackers and blasting them with a propane cannon.Nothing worked until town officials called in James Soules. As owner of the Decatur-based Bird Repellent Co., the quiet man said he could beat the birds, but there was a catch: He refused to tell anyone how he would do it. He demanded complete secrecy, warning officials not to spy on him.Soules might have seemed like a swindler, but over the next few weeks something astounding happened. The starlings began to fly away. "I was amazed," said Dan Mendenall, a city official in Decatur. "It was almost like he wished them away."The last of those birds flew out of Decatur in the 1990s, and in the years since, the 83-year-old Soules has driven off others using tactics that are a closely guarded secret. A modern-day pied piper, he has become a legend around Decatur, where people call him the "birdman," "shaman" or even the "crow whisperer."In bifocals and a cardigan, the grandfatherly-looking Soules has chased birds from Bloomington, Springfield, Joliet and dozens of other cities over a 50-year career."He doesn't get rid of half or a third. They're all gone," said Paul Osborne, the mayor of Decatur. "I don't know what he does. He doesn't poison them. He doesn't use spray. You never see bird carcasses. They just fly away, and they don't come back."Over the years, Soules has made a steady living battling blackbirds, starlings, crows, pigeons and sparrows. These birds can be a big problem for cities and towns across the Midwest. Starlings and crows in particular can descend en masse in the autumn, mucking up parks and leaving sticky messes on sidewalks. A typical roost can draw a few hundred to 15,000 birds, and on rare occasions hundreds of thousands, so many the sky nearly turns black.In recent years, crows in particular have been moving to urban areas. And moving them out can be difficult. The U.S. Department of Agriculture sometimes attacks urban roosts by shooting pyrotechnics into trees. Other tactics range from banging on garbage cans, spraying smelly chemicals or blaring taped raptor calls to zapping birds with lasers. But such approaches bring mixed results."As with most wildlife," said Brad Robbins, a wildlife biologist at the USDA, "there is no one magic wand." When told of Soules' secret, Robbins was stumped. "I really don't know what he is doing," Robbins said.Soules isn't talking, saying only that he does not shoot, poison or trap the birds. Likewise, he says he does not use lights, sounds or smells."We often thought he just talked to them," said Gary Goddard, 62, city manager of Galesburg, Ill., only half-joking. "Like Doctor Doolittle."Indeed, Soules' story seems made for Hollywood, a tale of a regular guy who stumbles upon a secret that gives him a seemingly superhuman power."We had someone who tried to watch him," said Phillip Wilhelm, Decatur's municipal services manager. "Never was able to catch him doing anything."In Galesburg, where Soules had a contract two years ago, people occasionally saw him in the park, working long after midnight. As he moved from tree to tree, the birds seemed to lift up. "I'm not exactly sure what he does," said Goddard, the city manager. "But whatever it is, it is very effective."The story begins with Soules' father, Jimmie, who founded the family business in the 1930s. The elder Soules had become a local hero in the 1940s, when he used owl decoys to scare the starlings from Decatur. Life magazine featured him and his fake owls in a three-page spread in 1947. In one news account, Soules and his then business partner were described as "America's foremost two-member team of bird shoo-ers."But the starlings eventually realized the owls were fakes, and soon Soules Sr. was back at the drawing board. By the 1950s, his son had joined him. The younger Soules tried to attack the problem by "thinking like a bird." He studied their habits, and often rappelled down buildings to look for nests.Today, Soules is deliberately vague about his breakthrough, saying only that he used `trial-and-error' before he hit upon a foolproof method in the early 1950s.Soules and his father soon were selling their secret process, carrying mysterious black boxes to towns in Illinois and across the Midwest. They refused to reveal their technique, but guaranteed their work and accepted payment only after the job was done. Their company stationery announced: "We have never failed."They crisscrossed the region, chasing crows from courthouses and pushing pigeons out of parks. Everywhere they worked, they collected written recommendations:An "unprecedented su"Every promise made has been fulfilled," wrote a company executive from a factory in Buffalo, N.Y."Tax money well spent," wrote an official from Sangamon County, Ill.In Decatur, Soules and his father kept the birds out of the downtown for a few thousand dollars a year. But in the 1980s, the city let the contract lapse.But by the early 1990s, the starlings were back. Birds were roosting in the downtown. Birds were pecking people on their heads. Worst of all, birds were leaving a sloppy, smelly mess.City officials organized volunteers to bang pots and pans along the streets. Maintenance workers set off a propane cannon so loud it shattered windows and triggered the alarm at the downtown bank.Still, the birds refused to budge.In desperation, local forester Randy Callison called Soules. But perhaps feeling jilted, Soules refused to take the job. He told them he didn't have the time, and it didn't pay enough. Two more city officials had to call before Soules finally agreed to a contract that paid $36,000 over four years.Within a week, city officials say, the birds had flown away.Having learned its lesson, Decatur has renewed Soules' services ever since, signing the most recent contract in October.Soules says it can take one to three weeks to move an urban roost. The first step includes surveillance. "You have to know why the birds are there," he said. The second step includes removal, a process that takes about two to three hours of work per night and which Soules steadfastly declines to discuss. After the birds are gone, Soules says he patrols every other week.He hasn't seen any of the birds in Decatur since October. But he remains vigilant. On a recent night, Soules piloted his Chevy truck through the darkened streets, shining his industrial flashlight into trees, peeking into parking lots and suspiciously eyeing the sidewalks.Bundled in a black jacket and cap, he tottered through Central Park. "This would be solid with birds in here," he said.His father died in 1987, and Soules now runs the business with occasional help from his oldest son. He began cutting back on his jobs about three years ago and now only covers Decatur and Bloomington.His memory isn't as good as it once was, and he lately suffered dizzy spells. On a recent night, he fell while looking for birds."I am too old," said Soules. He has three children, but none are interested in taking over the business.Over the years, a few people have made inquiries about buying him out. But Soules won't sell his secret to just anyone. It would have to be someone willing to work hard. "Someone who would take it over and expand it," he said.In Decatur, public officials hope the secret lives on. "Otherwise we might have birds all over the place," said Osborne, the mayor.Speculation about the birdman's secret has abounded for years. One joke was that Soules hired someone to dress in an owl suit, climb the tallest tree, flap his wings and hoot.A member of Soules' church once asked if he trained a pigeon to lead the birds out of town.Most, it seems, are willing to live with the mystery."I guess there are some things in life where you may never hear an explanation," said Steve Swanson, Decatur's director of engineering and infrastructure. "It's like the guy who hides his secret for Coca-Cola. He just won't share it."Soules laughs when he hears the wild guesses and strange theories."You're not even close," he said on a recent day, his eyes lively, his voice ringing with glee. "You haven't even got one-tenth of the secret."When asked about the black "mystery" boxes, Soules didn't miss a beat."The boxes?" he said, offhandedly. "Oh that was a gimmick. I haven't seen those boxes in years."----------cmastony@tribune.comccess," wrote leaders from St. Louis.
By Colleen MastonyTribune staff reporterPublished December 26, 2005
DECATUR, Ill. -- Every fall, the starlings descended on Decatur like a plague. Screeching and flapping, thousands of birds seized control of the park and dive-bombed residents, who fought back by lobbing firecrackers and blasting them with a propane cannon.Nothing worked until town officials called in James Soules. As owner of the Decatur-based Bird Repellent Co., the quiet man said he could beat the birds, but there was a catch: He refused to tell anyone how he would do it. He demanded complete secrecy, warning officials not to spy on him.Soules might have seemed like a swindler, but over the next few weeks something astounding happened. The starlings began to fly away. "I was amazed," said Dan Mendenall, a city official in Decatur. "It was almost like he wished them away."The last of those birds flew out of Decatur in the 1990s, and in the years since, the 83-year-old Soules has driven off others using tactics that are a closely guarded secret. A modern-day pied piper, he has become a legend around Decatur, where people call him the "birdman," "shaman" or even the "crow whisperer."In bifocals and a cardigan, the grandfatherly-looking Soules has chased birds from Bloomington, Springfield, Joliet and dozens of other cities over a 50-year career."He doesn't get rid of half or a third. They're all gone," said Paul Osborne, the mayor of Decatur. "I don't know what he does. He doesn't poison them. He doesn't use spray. You never see bird carcasses. They just fly away, and they don't come back."Over the years, Soules has made a steady living battling blackbirds, starlings, crows, pigeons and sparrows. These birds can be a big problem for cities and towns across the Midwest. Starlings and crows in particular can descend en masse in the autumn, mucking up parks and leaving sticky messes on sidewalks. A typical roost can draw a few hundred to 15,000 birds, and on rare occasions hundreds of thousands, so many the sky nearly turns black.In recent years, crows in particular have been moving to urban areas. And moving them out can be difficult. The U.S. Department of Agriculture sometimes attacks urban roosts by shooting pyrotechnics into trees. Other tactics range from banging on garbage cans, spraying smelly chemicals or blaring taped raptor calls to zapping birds with lasers. But such approaches bring mixed results."As with most wildlife," said Brad Robbins, a wildlife biologist at the USDA, "there is no one magic wand." When told of Soules' secret, Robbins was stumped. "I really don't know what he is doing," Robbins said.Soules isn't talking, saying only that he does not shoot, poison or trap the birds. Likewise, he says he does not use lights, sounds or smells."We often thought he just talked to them," said Gary Goddard, 62, city manager of Galesburg, Ill., only half-joking. "Like Doctor Doolittle."Indeed, Soules' story seems made for Hollywood, a tale of a regular guy who stumbles upon a secret that gives him a seemingly superhuman power."We had someone who tried to watch him," said Phillip Wilhelm, Decatur's municipal services manager. "Never was able to catch him doing anything."In Galesburg, where Soules had a contract two years ago, people occasionally saw him in the park, working long after midnight. As he moved from tree to tree, the birds seemed to lift up. "I'm not exactly sure what he does," said Goddard, the city manager. "But whatever it is, it is very effective."The story begins with Soules' father, Jimmie, who founded the family business in the 1930s. The elder Soules had become a local hero in the 1940s, when he used owl decoys to scare the starlings from Decatur. Life magazine featured him and his fake owls in a three-page spread in 1947. In one news account, Soules and his then business partner were described as "America's foremost two-member team of bird shoo-ers."But the starlings eventually realized the owls were fakes, and soon Soules Sr. was back at the drawing board. By the 1950s, his son had joined him. The younger Soules tried to attack the problem by "thinking like a bird." He studied their habits, and often rappelled down buildings to look for nests.Today, Soules is deliberately vague about his breakthrough, saying only that he used `trial-and-error' before he hit upon a foolproof method in the early 1950s.Soules and his father soon were selling their secret process, carrying mysterious black boxes to towns in Illinois and across the Midwest. They refused to reveal their technique, but guaranteed their work and accepted payment only after the job was done. Their company stationery announced: "We have never failed."They crisscrossed the region, chasing crows from courthouses and pushing pigeons out of parks. Everywhere they worked, they collected written recommendations:An "unprecedented su"Every promise made has been fulfilled," wrote a company executive from a factory in Buffalo, N.Y."Tax money well spent," wrote an official from Sangamon County, Ill.In Decatur, Soules and his father kept the birds out of the downtown for a few thousand dollars a year. But in the 1980s, the city let the contract lapse.But by the early 1990s, the starlings were back. Birds were roosting in the downtown. Birds were pecking people on their heads. Worst of all, birds were leaving a sloppy, smelly mess.City officials organized volunteers to bang pots and pans along the streets. Maintenance workers set off a propane cannon so loud it shattered windows and triggered the alarm at the downtown bank.Still, the birds refused to budge.In desperation, local forester Randy Callison called Soules. But perhaps feeling jilted, Soules refused to take the job. He told them he didn't have the time, and it didn't pay enough. Two more city officials had to call before Soules finally agreed to a contract that paid $36,000 over four years.Within a week, city officials say, the birds had flown away.Having learned its lesson, Decatur has renewed Soules' services ever since, signing the most recent contract in October.Soules says it can take one to three weeks to move an urban roost. The first step includes surveillance. "You have to know why the birds are there," he said. The second step includes removal, a process that takes about two to three hours of work per night and which Soules steadfastly declines to discuss. After the birds are gone, Soules says he patrols every other week.He hasn't seen any of the birds in Decatur since October. But he remains vigilant. On a recent night, Soules piloted his Chevy truck through the darkened streets, shining his industrial flashlight into trees, peeking into parking lots and suspiciously eyeing the sidewalks.Bundled in a black jacket and cap, he tottered through Central Park. "This would be solid with birds in here," he said.His father died in 1987, and Soules now runs the business with occasional help from his oldest son. He began cutting back on his jobs about three years ago and now only covers Decatur and Bloomington.His memory isn't as good as it once was, and he lately suffered dizzy spells. On a recent night, he fell while looking for birds."I am too old," said Soules. He has three children, but none are interested in taking over the business.Over the years, a few people have made inquiries about buying him out. But Soules won't sell his secret to just anyone. It would have to be someone willing to work hard. "Someone who would take it over and expand it," he said.In Decatur, public officials hope the secret lives on. "Otherwise we might have birds all over the place," said Osborne, the mayor.Speculation about the birdman's secret has abounded for years. One joke was that Soules hired someone to dress in an owl suit, climb the tallest tree, flap his wings and hoot.A member of Soules' church once asked if he trained a pigeon to lead the birds out of town.Most, it seems, are willing to live with the mystery."I guess there are some things in life where you may never hear an explanation," said Steve Swanson, Decatur's director of engineering and infrastructure. "It's like the guy who hides his secret for Coca-Cola. He just won't share it."Soules laughs when he hears the wild guesses and strange theories."You're not even close," he said on a recent day, his eyes lively, his voice ringing with glee. "You haven't even got one-tenth of the secret."When asked about the black "mystery" boxes, Soules didn't miss a beat."The boxes?" he said, offhandedly. "Oh that was a gimmick. I haven't seen those boxes in years."----------cmastony@tribune.comccess," wrote leaders from St. Louis.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Happy New Year to YOU!
Well, here we are.... on the brink of a brand new year - 2006. Seems incredible, doesn't it?
2005 hasn't been a particularly exciting year for me. Nothing in my own life was especially remarkable, earth-shattering, devastating or anything like that. I think it was the kind of year that just passes by and becomes a mile marker in the long stream of life. Which is exactly the kind of year I don't mind having.
That's not to say that 2005 was un-remarkable. Not at all!! There were indeed some earthly happenings that caused havoc and devastation, death and despair to so many! The tsunami of late December 2004 and the Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005 were two such bringers of destruction. We saw the globe pull together, though, and help out those that were in desparate need. Thankfully, my own family has been safe and sound.
2005 has not seen the end of war and strife in the Middle East. It is hoped that 2006 will bring about a different story and our troops can come home and the war-torn contries can get busy rebuilding their people's homes and lives. That would be a good thing for us all to work towards. Ending war. Yeah. War is not good for children and other living things!
A really good thing about 2005, for me, is that I discovered flickr photo sharing. It almost feels like I've found a second family! I've made friends with people all over the world and have never met them face to face. And I've been around the internet for at least twelve years. There's just something about the people there on flickr , the artists and the visionarys, the professionals and the snapshooters, the proud moms and dads, the photoshoppers and the upload-em-as-they-are folks....they are all so very special, and I so enjoy seeing what the day brings in uploads. These are some of my favorites, collected so far. Go here to check them out : My Favorites and here to see my own photos : My Sets .
Tell a Story in 5 Frames, Visual Story-Telling, is my favorite group there. I've very much enjoyed being a member of this group. There have been some wonderful stories posted with great photos, and some pretty lively discussions.
The stories have ranged from tragedy, see fezhead's A Separate Peace, to chuckle funny, Isado's Saturday in the Park, to reflective as in Drkmg's Hard at Work. From the exotic, beckerpecker's Death of a Beautiful Afternoon, and the amazing, beckerpecker's Multiple Personalities and SkiMom's Swimming with Bear to the stark reality of human frailty, wilkiecoco's Gravedigger... and J.Star's Love and Redemption, there have been stories posted here that touch nearly every facet of the human condition and the world in which we live. There are many great storytellers here, so take a few minutes to check out the group. You might discover a story you want to tell. O, yes, scary stories are there as well! Take a look at this one : xylonets' If You Go Out to the Barn Tonight.... If you do go out there, be verwy verwy careful!
Some other streams you might like to check out are :
Protection Island - British Columbia and Canada - BEAUTIFUL!
Wildlifeuplift - Pacific Northwest- Raccoon & Forest photos-AMAZING!
Bellys, Mothers, Babies - Visit and take a look at this set. MOVING!
These are but a few of the incredible sets and photostreams that are there for the viewing on flickr . Go check it out. I'm totally, and unashamedly, addicted and enthralled!
Well, that's about it. What a post, huh?
Have yourself an awesome 2006! I expect mine will be rather eventful. Stop back by and visit....read about the growing pangs I know I'll go through as my son graduates high school and enters college. Hmmm... I think it will be interesting!
See ya 'round!
Randi
2005 hasn't been a particularly exciting year for me. Nothing in my own life was especially remarkable, earth-shattering, devastating or anything like that. I think it was the kind of year that just passes by and becomes a mile marker in the long stream of life. Which is exactly the kind of year I don't mind having.
That's not to say that 2005 was un-remarkable. Not at all!! There were indeed some earthly happenings that caused havoc and devastation, death and despair to so many! The tsunami of late December 2004 and the Hurricane Katrina in August of 2005 were two such bringers of destruction. We saw the globe pull together, though, and help out those that were in desparate need. Thankfully, my own family has been safe and sound.
2005 has not seen the end of war and strife in the Middle East. It is hoped that 2006 will bring about a different story and our troops can come home and the war-torn contries can get busy rebuilding their people's homes and lives. That would be a good thing for us all to work towards. Ending war. Yeah. War is not good for children and other living things!
A really good thing about 2005, for me, is that I discovered flickr photo sharing. It almost feels like I've found a second family! I've made friends with people all over the world and have never met them face to face. And I've been around the internet for at least twelve years. There's just something about the people there on flickr , the artists and the visionarys, the professionals and the snapshooters, the proud moms and dads, the photoshoppers and the upload-em-as-they-are folks....they are all so very special, and I so enjoy seeing what the day brings in uploads. These are some of my favorites, collected so far. Go here to check them out : My Favorites and here to see my own photos : My Sets .
Tell a Story in 5 Frames, Visual Story-Telling, is my favorite group there. I've very much enjoyed being a member of this group. There have been some wonderful stories posted with great photos, and some pretty lively discussions.
The stories have ranged from tragedy, see fezhead's A Separate Peace, to chuckle funny, Isado's Saturday in the Park, to reflective as in Drkmg's Hard at Work. From the exotic, beckerpecker's Death of a Beautiful Afternoon, and the amazing, beckerpecker's Multiple Personalities and SkiMom's Swimming with Bear to the stark reality of human frailty, wilkiecoco's Gravedigger... and J.Star's Love and Redemption, there have been stories posted here that touch nearly every facet of the human condition and the world in which we live. There are many great storytellers here, so take a few minutes to check out the group. You might discover a story you want to tell. O, yes, scary stories are there as well! Take a look at this one : xylonets' If You Go Out to the Barn Tonight.... If you do go out there, be verwy verwy careful!
Some other streams you might like to check out are :
Protection Island - British Columbia and Canada - BEAUTIFUL!
Wildlifeuplift - Pacific Northwest- Raccoon & Forest photos-AMAZING!
Bellys, Mothers, Babies - Visit and take a look at this set. MOVING!
These are but a few of the incredible sets and photostreams that are there for the viewing on flickr . Go check it out. I'm totally, and unashamedly, addicted and enthralled!
Well, that's about it. What a post, huh?
Have yourself an awesome 2006! I expect mine will be rather eventful. Stop back by and visit....read about the growing pangs I know I'll go through as my son graduates high school and enters college. Hmmm... I think it will be interesting!
See ya 'round!
Randi
Monday, November 28, 2005
Saturday, November 12, 2005
decisions....decisions.....
I created this with flickr toys....check it out.... it's a pretty cool place.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Pit Pull Terriers - an awesome breed
As the owner of an American Pit Bull Terrier, I’m very concerned about the effort to ban this breed. I am absolutely against Breed Specific Legislation. There has to be an answer to this problem.
I came across this article and wanted to share it. There are two deeply felt sides this issue and this article has a little of each side.
A Pit Bull Primer, San Francisco
I have always planned to visit Denver.... sadly, now I never will. I refuse to spend any of MY money in a city (DENVER) that has outlawed and sentenced to death the American Pit Bull Terrier, beloved pets beloging to AMERICAN CITIZENS, and is encouraging neighbors to turn in their neighbors to law enforcement because a pit bull is part of the household.
It is horrific that people have lost their children to the attack of a pit bull or to any dog, or other animal. But those particular animals and their owners should be held wholly responsible, not the entire breed, and in some cases the PARENTS of the children themselves should be held responsible in most part, for failing to teach their children the proper way to approach/handle any dog.
PARENTS - Teach your kids how to behave around dogs!
DOG OWNERS - Be RESPONSIBLE pet owners. Treat your animals well.
Breed Specific Legislators - Come talk to the APBT owners that are responsible. Meet our dogs. Who knows? You might just fall in love with them.
Miracles do happen!
I came across this article and wanted to share it. There are two deeply felt sides this issue and this article has a little of each side.
A Pit Bull Primer, San Francisco
I have always planned to visit Denver.... sadly, now I never will. I refuse to spend any of MY money in a city (DENVER) that has outlawed and sentenced to death the American Pit Bull Terrier, beloved pets beloging to AMERICAN CITIZENS, and is encouraging neighbors to turn in their neighbors to law enforcement because a pit bull is part of the household.
It is horrific that people have lost their children to the attack of a pit bull or to any dog, or other animal. But those particular animals and their owners should be held wholly responsible, not the entire breed, and in some cases the PARENTS of the children themselves should be held responsible in most part, for failing to teach their children the proper way to approach/handle any dog.
PARENTS - Teach your kids how to behave around dogs!
DOG OWNERS - Be RESPONSIBLE pet owners. Treat your animals well.
Breed Specific Legislators - Come talk to the APBT owners that are responsible. Meet our dogs. Who knows? You might just fall in love with them.
Miracles do happen!
Monday, October 03, 2005
A Weird Little Observation...
Man...I can't believe it's already October. The air is kind of crispy in the mornings...fall is on it's way. We're getting just a little preview.
I have a weird little observation. It's been going on for, well I guess several years now. There's a little donut place a few blocks from our house. Just a little mom and pop place. The boys and I used to walk down there every couple of weeks or so. Tyler would always get a couple of maple bars and Tanner always bought donut holes. So would mom. (that's me :)
Anyway, they're pretty good donuts and even better donut holes. Today felt like a donut hole kind of day. So I decided to stop and get a dozen for the drive to work. I know I know ... I should be _walking_ to work and _NOT_ be buying goodies. But o well. It's been a while. So back to the observation...
There's this girl who's been working there for several years. Part of the family I believe. She always works the drive-thru. And if I'm by myself, I always use the drive-thru. Over the years, I've noticed that when she hands out the tiny bag of goodies, she takes great care not to touch my hand. When she takes my money, she grabs it by the corner of the bill and kind of, but not really, snatches it out of my hand. When she gives me my change, she holds the coins by the absolute least amount possible to keep from losing it, and drops it into my outstretched hand. I believe she has a hand phobia! I have never seen her wear and gloves or any hand covering in all the time we've been buying donuts there. So it's not just she wants to keep her hands clean.
It's almost become a contest to MAKE her touch my hand. Okay, now I know she works in a food place. I know she prepares food. and I know she probably has a hundred or more customers every morning. Some of them probably have yucky, filthy hands. Hands are just not the cleanest things in the world. But COME ON!! Money is the DIRTIEST thing on the planet! If you're going to be weird about touching people's hands, shouldn't you be the same kind of weird about handling money??
I think I'm going to send her a box of nitrile gloves. Just because.
Weird observation over.
I have a weird little observation. It's been going on for, well I guess several years now. There's a little donut place a few blocks from our house. Just a little mom and pop place. The boys and I used to walk down there every couple of weeks or so. Tyler would always get a couple of maple bars and Tanner always bought donut holes. So would mom. (that's me :)
Anyway, they're pretty good donuts and even better donut holes. Today felt like a donut hole kind of day. So I decided to stop and get a dozen for the drive to work. I know I know ... I should be _walking_ to work and _NOT_ be buying goodies. But o well. It's been a while. So back to the observation...
There's this girl who's been working there for several years. Part of the family I believe. She always works the drive-thru. And if I'm by myself, I always use the drive-thru. Over the years, I've noticed that when she hands out the tiny bag of goodies, she takes great care not to touch my hand. When she takes my money, she grabs it by the corner of the bill and kind of, but not really, snatches it out of my hand. When she gives me my change, she holds the coins by the absolute least amount possible to keep from losing it, and drops it into my outstretched hand. I believe she has a hand phobia! I have never seen her wear and gloves or any hand covering in all the time we've been buying donuts there. So it's not just she wants to keep her hands clean.
It's almost become a contest to MAKE her touch my hand. Okay, now I know she works in a food place. I know she prepares food. and I know she probably has a hundred or more customers every morning. Some of them probably have yucky, filthy hands. Hands are just not the cleanest things in the world. But COME ON!! Money is the DIRTIEST thing on the planet! If you're going to be weird about touching people's hands, shouldn't you be the same kind of weird about handling money??
I think I'm going to send her a box of nitrile gloves. Just because.
Weird observation over.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Today Has been ONE of THOSE Days……
Today Has been ONE of THOSE Days……
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? One of those days when your whole being is just irritated, raw, and your throbbing nerves are just waiting to scream at anything and anyone who crosses your path, for no particular reason and any reason. And your feet hurt because you felt as though you just had to wear the business heels because you work in a ‘business’ environment, even though you just usually wear flats, because for some reason you just woke up and said well I believe I’ll wear the heels today, I’ll look all professional. How ignorant is that? Pretty damned ignorant. Especially when you have to walk a half mile from your parking space to your building because some jackass of a planner never foresaw the need for adequate parking areas more than 20 years ago. And to put a fun spin on it all, being in West Texas, sometimes the wind blows, bringing sand and dust and dirt along with it to get in your eyes and under your contacts causing it to feel like there are meteor craters in your eye sockets that are scratching your corneas beyond repair. AND THEN you have to listen to people griping and bitching all day with voices that sound like cats that have been thrown across the room at a blackboard and each of their curved, sharp little claws are s l o w l y s c r e a c h I n g down the length of the blackboard and into your spine and you just want to crawl into a magic hole and disappear down into nothingness, a blessed absence of sound devoid of all and everything. And you just have to endure. Get through the day. And as you’re walking back out to your car in the murderously cute little heels that look so professional on your aching, tired feet, cursing yourself on the negligence of not bringing your tennis shoes for the trek to the car, you spy the guy. The guy that you see walking to class every day. The guy that has shriveled legs and has to walk swinging his hips around to place his tiny feet in front of him step by agonizingly slow step. The guy that has to use two metal crutches attached to his arms and his waist every day of his life. The one that tries so desperately to communicate with anyone who will listen and who endlessly smiles as you pass him on the path into the building. That guy. Out walking to his car in the same blowing dust and sand through which I am walking. And he has a smile on his face and a cheerful hello for me.
Whoa. Now hang on a minute. Talk about a dizzying crash into the reality of life. I had to sit in my car a while and ponder all of this. What in the world do I have to feel so bad about? Not one damn thing. I had to remind myself of something today. Something that I normally do quite often, but haven’t done lately. And that is to stop a moment and give thanks. Thanks for having my healthy two legs. For my ability to speak and communicate and have my needs known. Thanks for my mind and my eyes and for the gift of sight and hearing and thinking. Thanks for waking up each day, safe and warm in my own bed. For friendship and family. Thanks for so many many things. The list could go on for pages.
I am thankful that I am. So think about it, next time you have One of THOSE Days.
What should you be thankful for?
That’s the kind of day _I_ had. And it’s turned out much better than expected.
Have a great day tomorrow.
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? One of those days when your whole being is just irritated, raw, and your throbbing nerves are just waiting to scream at anything and anyone who crosses your path, for no particular reason and any reason. And your feet hurt because you felt as though you just had to wear the business heels because you work in a ‘business’ environment, even though you just usually wear flats, because for some reason you just woke up and said well I believe I’ll wear the heels today, I’ll look all professional. How ignorant is that? Pretty damned ignorant. Especially when you have to walk a half mile from your parking space to your building because some jackass of a planner never foresaw the need for adequate parking areas more than 20 years ago. And to put a fun spin on it all, being in West Texas, sometimes the wind blows, bringing sand and dust and dirt along with it to get in your eyes and under your contacts causing it to feel like there are meteor craters in your eye sockets that are scratching your corneas beyond repair. AND THEN you have to listen to people griping and bitching all day with voices that sound like cats that have been thrown across the room at a blackboard and each of their curved, sharp little claws are s l o w l y s c r e a c h I n g down the length of the blackboard and into your spine and you just want to crawl into a magic hole and disappear down into nothingness, a blessed absence of sound devoid of all and everything. And you just have to endure. Get through the day. And as you’re walking back out to your car in the murderously cute little heels that look so professional on your aching, tired feet, cursing yourself on the negligence of not bringing your tennis shoes for the trek to the car, you spy the guy. The guy that you see walking to class every day. The guy that has shriveled legs and has to walk swinging his hips around to place his tiny feet in front of him step by agonizingly slow step. The guy that has to use two metal crutches attached to his arms and his waist every day of his life. The one that tries so desperately to communicate with anyone who will listen and who endlessly smiles as you pass him on the path into the building. That guy. Out walking to his car in the same blowing dust and sand through which I am walking. And he has a smile on his face and a cheerful hello for me.
Whoa. Now hang on a minute. Talk about a dizzying crash into the reality of life. I had to sit in my car a while and ponder all of this. What in the world do I have to feel so bad about? Not one damn thing. I had to remind myself of something today. Something that I normally do quite often, but haven’t done lately. And that is to stop a moment and give thanks. Thanks for having my healthy two legs. For my ability to speak and communicate and have my needs known. Thanks for my mind and my eyes and for the gift of sight and hearing and thinking. Thanks for waking up each day, safe and warm in my own bed. For friendship and family. Thanks for so many many things. The list could go on for pages.
I am thankful that I am. So think about it, next time you have One of THOSE Days.
What should you be thankful for?
That’s the kind of day _I_ had. And it’s turned out much better than expected.
Have a great day tomorrow.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Great ride!
This is a darn cool picture taken by Kelsana.
Santa Cruz, California is home to some very talented surfers and awesome waves.
For the record, I wish I still lived in Santa Cruz. I would be out on the beach taking pictures every day.
Thanks for sharing Kelsana!
Santa Cruz, California is home to some very talented surfers and awesome waves.
For the record, I wish I still lived in Santa Cruz. I would be out on the beach taking pictures every day.
Thanks for sharing Kelsana!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Faces of Tanner
I bet this kid could be a model. He has great eyes and a beautiful smile.
What do you say America?
What do you say America?
Monday, September 19, 2005
Light Shining Through Stained Glass
"People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within."
Elizabeth Kübler-Ross
Elizabeth Kübler-Ross
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Friday, September 16, 2005
I hear Sirens Sounding Tonight...
I Hear Sirens Sounding Tonight………
And it takes me back… back to another Homecoming night, four years ago. I was supposed to drive my son and his date to the Homecoming game. I didn’t feel well that night so I told my son that he could use my Jimmy to pick up his date and go to the game. He had to be very careful because, at just 16 years old, he had only just gotten his permit, and he was supposed to have an adult driver in the car with him when he drove. He was a good driver, just inexperienced. So I allowed him to go in the car alone. At about 10 pm my phone rang and it was my son. He’d had an accident and he was okay but the car was bad off and he had hit two other cars, could I please come quick. I remember he sounded so very scared. I hurried to the scene, only a few blocks away. And he was okay, every one was okay. Nine people involved and not a one was hurt. But my car was totaled.
I was so angry. He hadn’t been paying attention. Mom, he said, Jethro Tull came on the radio and I leaned over to turn it up and the other car was there, right in front of me and I had to hit it. And then I lost control and it jumped the curb and hit the other one. I am sooo sorry Mom. I was just going to meet my friends at the restaurant after the game.
You know, I was pretty mad at the time. I remember being so very angry. Giving my son some very angry looks and just being so short with him. I remember being thankful that no one was hurt. Thankful that every one walked away. People could have died that night. An old man had ran a stop light, that coupled with my son looking away at the radio, all those instances had added up to the accident. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault. Not really.
I shouldn’t have been so mad. I wish I could take it back. My anger. Because, now, as I look back, it was a pretty small thing. In the grand scheme of all that is, a very small thing. Because 6 months later, Tyler was dead. Not from a car accident. But from electricity. Electricity killed my son. And I regret the angry words I said to him the night of the car accident. It would have been better, had I just said, something like, son, I wish you had been paying better attention, although I see that it wasn’t your fault, I love you and I am so very very glad that you are okay. I cannot remember if I said that. I hope that I said those words to him.
And I worry as I hear these sirens, because tonight, tonight his younger brother is in his own car, at his own senior homecoming. And I pray that he will be paying attention. And even more, I pray that he will know, no matter what may transpire, that his mother loves him. Unconditionally and without any doubt, I pray he knows that I will always always love him. Just like I love his brother. I always have and I always will.
And it takes me back… back to another Homecoming night, four years ago. I was supposed to drive my son and his date to the Homecoming game. I didn’t feel well that night so I told my son that he could use my Jimmy to pick up his date and go to the game. He had to be very careful because, at just 16 years old, he had only just gotten his permit, and he was supposed to have an adult driver in the car with him when he drove. He was a good driver, just inexperienced. So I allowed him to go in the car alone. At about 10 pm my phone rang and it was my son. He’d had an accident and he was okay but the car was bad off and he had hit two other cars, could I please come quick. I remember he sounded so very scared. I hurried to the scene, only a few blocks away. And he was okay, every one was okay. Nine people involved and not a one was hurt. But my car was totaled.
I was so angry. He hadn’t been paying attention. Mom, he said, Jethro Tull came on the radio and I leaned over to turn it up and the other car was there, right in front of me and I had to hit it. And then I lost control and it jumped the curb and hit the other one. I am sooo sorry Mom. I was just going to meet my friends at the restaurant after the game.
You know, I was pretty mad at the time. I remember being so very angry. Giving my son some very angry looks and just being so short with him. I remember being thankful that no one was hurt. Thankful that every one walked away. People could have died that night. An old man had ran a stop light, that coupled with my son looking away at the radio, all those instances had added up to the accident. It wasn’t Tyler’s fault. Not really.
I shouldn’t have been so mad. I wish I could take it back. My anger. Because, now, as I look back, it was a pretty small thing. In the grand scheme of all that is, a very small thing. Because 6 months later, Tyler was dead. Not from a car accident. But from electricity. Electricity killed my son. And I regret the angry words I said to him the night of the car accident. It would have been better, had I just said, something like, son, I wish you had been paying better attention, although I see that it wasn’t your fault, I love you and I am so very very glad that you are okay. I cannot remember if I said that. I hope that I said those words to him.
And I worry as I hear these sirens, because tonight, tonight his younger brother is in his own car, at his own senior homecoming. And I pray that he will be paying attention. And even more, I pray that he will know, no matter what may transpire, that his mother loves him. Unconditionally and without any doubt, I pray he knows that I will always always love him. Just like I love his brother. I always have and I always will.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Ben, our silent friend
The story of Ben....
one day in 1993 I decided our family needed a dog. Our last dog (a peke) had gone missing and the boys wanted a dog. So I decided I would go to the shelter and find some kind of high energy dog that would play with two high energy boys. Something like an Australian Shepherd or a Blue Heeler. Maybe a Lab. The shelter was full of dogs up for adoption. Mostly purebred dogs that looked pretty good. The metal building reverberated with barks bouncing off the walls. It was hard to hear yourself think. I walked around long rows of fairly large, comfortable looking kennels. The dogs were excited to have a chance for a home. Their faces and their barks were the embodiment of "Take me home with you Please!!!" Heelers and Cockers, Labs and Shelties, Schnauzers and poodles, a Doberman and a couple of curly haired mixed breeds _all_ vied for my attention at beyond decibels. All were barking, except one. In the very last kennel of the very last row, sat a sad, sorry looking reddish gold dog. Completely silent. He was so thin you could count all his ribs. His coat was clean, but very short and in very poor condition. As I walked past his kennel to start around the rows again, he moved with me as he sat in the very middle of his space. Still vocally silent, his eyes never left mine for an instant. I walked around again, not really thinking too much about the silent dog. the other dogs kept it loud enough without his contribution. I stopped int to see the Doberman, one of the Shelties and the best looking Heeler. All seemed like pretty decent dogs. I wasn't sure about the Heeler, the attendant said she thought he had never been around kids. the Doberman hated cats, the Sheltie was deaf. Just didn't seem like any of the ones I was interested in fit the total bill. So I made another round. And saw the sorry looking dog again. Still sitting in the middle, still silent.
Hhmmm... so I asked the attendant what his story was...she told me he'd been rescued by someone's neighbor who noticed that the dog had a collar so tight around his neck he could barely breathe and was almost starved to death. The collar had cut into his skin and the vet said he had serious damage to his throat. the dog was a purebred Golden Retreiver, although he didn't look it, and he was about 18 months old. And he weighed maybe 30 pounds. Mercy! he'd been at the shelter for 2 weeks and no one had shown any interest in adopting him. Hhhmm...She said he would probably be put down in a few days since they had a 3 week adoption policy because so many dogs were at the shelter. Most people didn't want a dog that couldn't bark. HHHHMMMM...well of course I had to ask her to let me in to meet this silent dog. As I walked in, he made no move, just sat there, looking at me. I walked up to him, holding my hand out and speaking low and slow to him. He still never moved. I walked up beside him and knelt down. As soon as I stretched out my hand, he, in a classic Goldie move, lifted his front paw and laid it on my knee, turning his head to look me in the eye. A voice spoke in my mind and said, this is the Dog. So of course I had a few more questions for the attendant, filled out some paper work, and took him home. His name became Bender, because I had gone out on a limb for an emaciated dog that could not bark. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
Within six months, Ben was the beautiful, golden dog he should have always been. His hair was long and silky, his confidence high, his entire being full of joy at his doggy life. But still silent.
Ben became our best family friend ever. In all the time we knew Ben, there were only two times he ever growled at any one, both times being a warning well-deserved, as he was guarding his boys. Ben never cost our family a penny at the Vet, other than for regular check-ups and shots. He was the most gentle, tolerant, well-behaved, intelligent dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.
On Memorial Day, 2005, we made the decision to help Ben leave his aged, failing body behind, and allowed him to become our friend in memory and spirit. We laid him to rest here at home, as is only right.
Ben, our silent and faithful friend, I salute your loving spirit. I miss you dearly.
one day in 1993 I decided our family needed a dog. Our last dog (a peke) had gone missing and the boys wanted a dog. So I decided I would go to the shelter and find some kind of high energy dog that would play with two high energy boys. Something like an Australian Shepherd or a Blue Heeler. Maybe a Lab. The shelter was full of dogs up for adoption. Mostly purebred dogs that looked pretty good. The metal building reverberated with barks bouncing off the walls. It was hard to hear yourself think. I walked around long rows of fairly large, comfortable looking kennels. The dogs were excited to have a chance for a home. Their faces and their barks were the embodiment of "Take me home with you Please!!!" Heelers and Cockers, Labs and Shelties, Schnauzers and poodles, a Doberman and a couple of curly haired mixed breeds _all_ vied for my attention at beyond decibels. All were barking, except one. In the very last kennel of the very last row, sat a sad, sorry looking reddish gold dog. Completely silent. He was so thin you could count all his ribs. His coat was clean, but very short and in very poor condition. As I walked past his kennel to start around the rows again, he moved with me as he sat in the very middle of his space. Still vocally silent, his eyes never left mine for an instant. I walked around again, not really thinking too much about the silent dog. the other dogs kept it loud enough without his contribution. I stopped int to see the Doberman, one of the Shelties and the best looking Heeler. All seemed like pretty decent dogs. I wasn't sure about the Heeler, the attendant said she thought he had never been around kids. the Doberman hated cats, the Sheltie was deaf. Just didn't seem like any of the ones I was interested in fit the total bill. So I made another round. And saw the sorry looking dog again. Still sitting in the middle, still silent.
Hhmmm... so I asked the attendant what his story was...she told me he'd been rescued by someone's neighbor who noticed that the dog had a collar so tight around his neck he could barely breathe and was almost starved to death. The collar had cut into his skin and the vet said he had serious damage to his throat. the dog was a purebred Golden Retreiver, although he didn't look it, and he was about 18 months old. And he weighed maybe 30 pounds. Mercy! he'd been at the shelter for 2 weeks and no one had shown any interest in adopting him. Hhhmm...She said he would probably be put down in a few days since they had a 3 week adoption policy because so many dogs were at the shelter. Most people didn't want a dog that couldn't bark. HHHHMMMM...well of course I had to ask her to let me in to meet this silent dog. As I walked in, he made no move, just sat there, looking at me. I walked up to him, holding my hand out and speaking low and slow to him. He still never moved. I walked up beside him and knelt down. As soon as I stretched out my hand, he, in a classic Goldie move, lifted his front paw and laid it on my knee, turning his head to look me in the eye. A voice spoke in my mind and said, this is the Dog. So of course I had a few more questions for the attendant, filled out some paper work, and took him home. His name became Bender, because I had gone out on a limb for an emaciated dog that could not bark. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
Within six months, Ben was the beautiful, golden dog he should have always been. His hair was long and silky, his confidence high, his entire being full of joy at his doggy life. But still silent.
Ben became our best family friend ever. In all the time we knew Ben, there were only two times he ever growled at any one, both times being a warning well-deserved, as he was guarding his boys. Ben never cost our family a penny at the Vet, other than for regular check-ups and shots. He was the most gentle, tolerant, well-behaved, intelligent dog I have ever had the pleasure to know.
On Memorial Day, 2005, we made the decision to help Ben leave his aged, failing body behind, and allowed him to become our friend in memory and spirit. We laid him to rest here at home, as is only right.
Ben, our silent and faithful friend, I salute your loving spirit. I miss you dearly.
Sunday, September 11, 2005
Our Neighbor is Driving Us Crazy......!!!
I feel for the man, I really do. But A number 1, I have never liked visitors and B: I would like to royally pound whoever it was that broke into his house on Friday evening and stole not only his last 85 bucks but his TV as well. Because of that, my door is being literally knocked on every hour by this neighbor, for various reasons, but mostly because he now has no TV to watch and he’s scared too. Get this. On Friday night after I returned home, he came over and begged me to come see how the bad thief broke into his home and stole his most prized possession not to mention his money. As I got ready to leave he asked if one of us would stay and sleep on his sofa so the robbers would not come back and get him. Now what do you say to that?? There’s not much besides, I’m sorry, man, we can’t. I mean I guess I could. Mercy.
I tell you this for sure - Any person that would steal from a mentally handicapped person is lower than worm dung in my books.
Every one in the area knows this guy is handicapped. He tries his best. He has a job at the local grocery store. He drives his own car. He would help anyone in trouble. The neighbor is a nice man, but as I said, I am kind of anti-social in lots of ways, and I do not want to feel responsible for him. My own family is hard enough to keep track of.
I guess I’m going to have to help get him a TV some place.
**sigh**