Freedom means a lot…even to animals

This short story and video came across my email and I had to share.  Most animals in this world are subjected to cruelty with humans never giving them a second thought.

I admit it did cross my mind, when this poor creature was loaded into the trailer that his destiny was not going to be a happy place.  I wanted to cry so I’m glad I was wrong.  Watch this video and witness this animal’s joy over being free.

Can you imagine living in a small cage all of your life?

Remembrances

I hope everyone enjoyed their fourth and had a happy and safe holiday.

July fourth is always a bittersweet day for me because my daddy died on this date in 1980.  The first few years were rough to watch and enjoy the fireworks.  Now I use the day as a remembrance day and think of old times.

Every fourth, our daddy would load all seven of us up in the station wagon and we’d drive into town to watch the fireworks at the fairgrounds.  Those were the days of sweat and slapping mosquitoes, as we ooohed and aaahed at the amazing sight overhead.  Each blast was more colorful and bigger than the last one. 

I bet my husband will also look at this holiday as I do from now on.  His ninety-six-year-old dad passed away yesterday morning.  I’m so struck by this and wondering if there’s some deeper meaning there, something I can’t see yet.  After all, what are the odds that this would happen, for our fathers to die on the same day?

When the nurse told my husband Friday that his dad had about two days left because his organs were shutting down, I knew at that moment that he would go on Saturday, July 4.

He’s very lucky he had his dad so long and the man was in good shape and rarely sick, but old age caught up with him and I think he was tired.  We could see a downhill slide from the moment he had to give up his driver’s license six months ago.  Since he couldn’t drive, he sold his big diesel truck shortly after.  His freedom had vanished.  He loved to go to garage sales every Saturday and look around the hardware store.  No longer able to jump in the truck and go, he watched a lot of TV because he’d lost the enthusiasm to tinker on things, which he’d done since I met him more than forty years ago.

He was a good man who lived a healthy, long life and was never judgmental of others.  I’m sure it about killed him to admit he finally needed a cane to steady himself.  Even then, he wouldn’t use it all the time.

I know, when I get that old, if I do, I’ll be the same way.  Somehow, it’s different to know you have a vehicle in the garage that can take you any place you want to go, even if you prefer to stay home most of the time.  It must hurt many older folks to lose that freedom and be dependent on others. 

I wish my daddy had lived so long, but somehow it was meant to be that, at age fifty-five, he would leave this world behind.

My husband will be in another state for a while sorting everything out.  I’ll be a bachelor girl for a couple of months.  We’ll see how things go and what adventures I’ll get into.  Stay tuned.

Burning the Candle at Both Ends

One thing about my husband going out of state for a while is that I always do this.  I love keeping my own schedule, eating and sleeping when I WANT TO – not when I HAVE TO.  What a difference that makes.  Unbelievably, I usually get a lot accomplished too although many times I wish I had more time.  I don’t think I’ve crawled in bed before 3 AM the whole time he’s been gone.  If there’s one thing I hate, it’s almost finishing something and having to stop to go to bed.  That drives me crazy, so I’ll stay up the extra hour or half hour to get finished and then go to bed when it’s up to me.

Rotisserie chicken on a bed of spinach with tomatoes, green onions, carrots, celery, cranberries and toasted almonds - Yum!

I’ve been craving salads since I’m only making dinner for myself.  The salad I had the other night was so yummy and fit for a king.  I had to take a picture of it.  Usually on an ordinary day I find myself fixing two different meals (or I should say side dishes) because my husband isn’t as fond of veggies as I am.  In fact, he downright hates veggies and accuses me of making his salads too big.  In my book – he needs something green and nutritious.  How can people survive without that?

In addition, I can eat this salad at 9 PM, 10, or 11.  There’s no one here to tell me not to and to keep me on track of a “normal” person’s schedule.  And a salad, or any other meal, wouldn’t be as nice without my glass of chardonnay to top off the day after the blasted heat and slaving away on my projects.

 Chardonnay

I’m trying to make headway of organizing for the move and also taking advantage of the schedule I set out for myself daily.  Wouldn’t you do the same thing?  I really wish this situation would last ten weeks instead of ten days.  But I guess I’ll need to be saved from myself after ten days.  After all, how long can you survive on three hours of sleep a night?

T is for Tie-Dye

My Booth at the San Clemente Street Faire - Southern CA



There is a special place for tie-dye in my world. I suppose it always will be dear to me. I grew up with it. I love all the designs and the colors, the brighter the better. Like most people growing up in the sixties, I dabbled in this area of art. After I moved to CA in the 1970’s, I got into it big time. By this, I mean I had my own tie-dye factory in my garage. I made clothes to sell at the street markets around southern California, for others and for my own booth.


I had about whatever you would want in the clothing area, including, T-shirts for adults, and kids, tank tops, shorts, shirts, skirts, sweatshirts, leggings, long and short dresses with sleeves or without, onesie’s for babies, bandannas, tote bags, belts, etc.

I purchased industrial sewing machines and made trips to the garment district up in LA. I bought material by the bolt and sewed my own clothes to dye. I made everything except the T-shirts, onesies, and bandannas. I kept very busy with cutting things out, sewing them up, and then dyeing them.

I bought an old used washer and put it in the garage to use for my tie-dye. Workbenches lined one side of my house outside, and that was my dye work area. I sewed together a thirty-five-foot length of shade fabric, so I could work out there in shade in the summer.

Inside the garage, I had a table dedicated as my folding area, where I would weave and tie the designs into my clothing. On the other side, I had a washout table and sink. It was a big operation for one person.

I spent hours outside bent over my dye buckets. I mixed my own colors from dry packages of dye I would buy. Everything had to stay covered in plastic overnight, and then I washed it out the next day, first in the sink and then the washer. The hand wash was necessary to remove most of the excess dye.

My biggest enjoyment was seeing the colorful designs emerge after I took out all the rubber bands. Seeing the miracle of white fabric transformed into something so beautiful right before my very eyes urged me on to try something new. I was amazed every time, even if I had done the same design a hundred times. Once I saw the finished product, I forgot about all my sore muscles and aching back.

This was very hard work. I was usually exhausted by the time the weekend came, and it was time to go and set up my booth somewhere for the weekend. The worst part of this was getting up before daylight, which I hated because I’m a night owl. Once I was at the show and by the time 10 am rolled around, I was wake and ready to do business. I even worked like this with a pinched sciatic nerve in my leg for two and a half years. Painkillers didn’t even fix that, but I persisted with my tie-dye business, even though it was killing me half the time to stand up so many hours in a row. One things about me though is that I am stubborn, determined, and not a quitter.

I wore tie-dye every day in those years. My husband got sick of seeing it. I don’t wear it as much anymore, but I still have lots of it, drag it out now and then, and put it on. Those were some good days. I’m glad I could experience the whole thing, even if it did beat me to death.

Richie Havens 1941-2013 RIP

I’m adding this to this post today because, if you from this era, you will remember the man who opened the Woodstock festival in August 1969 – Richie Havens. He died unexpectedly on Monday from a heart attack. When I learned he was only 72, I was shocked because somehow I always thought he was older. He was good guitar player. I’ll always remember the way he pelted out “Freedom,” while tapping his foot, and dressed in the garments of the era. I can still see him on the stage. This is a song I can’t hear now and not think of this artist. RIP 1941 - 2013


If you’d care to listen here is a link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fA51wyl-9IE