Indy 500 Day in America

This weekend is one full of memories. Not just of the American Soldiers, who died for our freedoms, but for traditions in families to celebrate the holiday. No, it has nothing to do with the grilling, the parades, the department store sales, but how families remember on this day.

I fondly remember visiting the cemetary with Grandma Bobell. They would leave flowers for Grandpa. Grandma would say, “Just add this year on my side of the headstone. I can’t believe I’ll live much longer.” Kind of a drama queen, but that’s what she did. Mom told me it was because of the guilt she felt for arguing with Grandpa before he died. He had a heart attack and died on Christmas Eve. It was awful.

We didn’t go visit anyone else’s grave. We would go home, and Dad would be in the basement, in his workshop, with the AM Radio tuned in. Back in those days, the Indy 500 was broadcast on radio. This was before the wonders of Closed Circut Television.

Dad hoovered near his radio all day, until the race was over. He enjoyed having his time alone, listening to racing. He and his friend, Tom Sloboth, had their own little racing team back in the 1940s. Maybe even into the 50s, I’m not sure. Dad was the mechanic and body man, his brother Bob helped out, and Tom was the driver. I would guess they had a heckuva time. In the 1960s, Dad built a go-kart and we’d take it out on on Sunday afternoon to large, deserted parking lots. We never got to drive it alone, but it was fun to watch. Mom usually seemed bored or mad we’d have to do that. With two younger kids (baby and toddler) it was hard to contain them. Sometime his friend Tom and family would come, too.

Once Closed Circut TV was created, tickets were sold to the Omaha Civic Auditorium, where you could watch the live race via CCTV. Dad and Tom were in heaven! It was a miracle! Finally, in 1965, ABC started a 52 year long tradition of televising the race on National TV. A race fan’s idea of heaven! We knew all the names from listening over the years. AJ Foyt reminded me of Dad’s friend Tom. He seems like a mountain of a man, deep voice, and I wouldn’t want AJ mad at me. Right?

Dad held extreme dislike for Jackie Stewart. I’m guessing it was his long hair and hat. Dad was pretty conservative as far as haircuts went. Long hair wasn’t acceptable. America was changing, and I don’t think Dad liked it. When Cable TV came along in the 1980s, Dad loved watching NASCAR races. He saw so many changes to something he loved during the last twenty years of his life. He’d be amazed at the Internet, the vast amount of information we can access, and the ease of doing it all. I think he would have enjoyed this part of life.

We never were a family to have picnics or go to any body of water. Since Memorial Day was assigned to the last Monday of May, it was his normal day off. We just stayed home. I missed hearing that radio from the basement once the 500 was available on television. Some of the tradition changed. It was cool Dad could sit in his recliner and watch something he loved. But not Jackie Stewart. Ever.

What are your traditions for this weekend? Do you still honor them? Would you want to? Leave some comments so we can see what the majority of folks do. Thank you for reading, I appreciate it. Be Kind. Be Polite, we’re not used to being in crowds anymore. We need to get used to each other again. Be Patient! I will see you tomorrow. It will be Memorial Day at the Post. Beautiful tradition for the Babe and me.

We read a lot of books every holiday.

How Cold Is It?

Mention was made a few days ago it has not been this cold since 1983. Oh, wow. One of the years that was so hard! I remember it well. It tried to break me.

I usually became very ill in January, every year. Sinus Infection, and it not only knocked me down, it started to bury me. It was so cold, I brought my car battery in the house every night. It was a few years old, the car was out all night in sub zero temps, and I could not afford a new battery. Don’t laugh. My friends who lived in Minnesota told me they did that very thing. It worked until my Income Tax refund came later in Spring.

I invited my husband to leave a year earlier. The kids and I were doing well. All things considered. I was doing well with my job, but not dating. I didn’t think it would be hard, but there were times I really needed someone for me.

Many guys I met immediately thought I was looking for a Dad for the kids. I told them, “No, they have a Dad.” Those guys were not the caliber I would have chosen. And so I kept on, raising kids, working, and going to school. Burning the candle at both ends, for sure. No wonder I got sick!

The world premiere of the movie, “On Golden Pond,” was held in January, 1983, in Omaha, at the Orpheum Theater. The Orpheum began as a Vaudeville Theater, and was one of many grand movie theaters in Downtown Omaha. Henry Fonda, who was from Omaha, was ill and could not attend.

I saw Jane Fonda on the news at the premier. She wore a pants suit. An elaborate one, but pants. Protocol at that time would have been an evening gown. It was just too cold.

The next day, I came home from work and saw a note on my door from Uncle Bob. Bob was Dad’s brother, and he worked for MUD, our local gas, water & sewer utility. The note said to call him. I did.

It seems they found a water main break in front of my house. Unfortunately, it was on my side of the pipes. I had to pay for it. I had no money. NONE. My uncle knew someone who could do the job. He waived the extra $300 fee for digging up frozen ground. Boy, was the ground frozen!

My parents loaned me the money, and the plumber started work two days later. They were finished as we had a huge snowstorm. My instructions were to turn the water back on when I got home from work. The commute was terrible, lots of accidents. I picked the kids up, came home, and went downstairs to turn the water on.

As I turned the valve, water sprayed all over me, my suit, blouse, hair, and I was in shock. I called the plumber, who worked in the cold all day, and told him he needed to come fix the leak. I had three kids, we couldn’t be without water in a blizzard. He wasn’t happy, but he did come fix it. We had water. Thank God!

I was sick from work for several days. It was awful. I was glad it had been over a year since the divorce. Being at the lowest low I’d ever seen, I was glad I didn’t consider getting back “together” with the ex. No, I can handle it. I had grown to believe it.

For all of these reasons, I won’t forget the last time it was this cold. It was a lifetime ago. I was 31. I’m looking down the barrel of 69 this year, 70 will soon follow on its heels. I’m so grateful for all the lessons learned. Yes, all of them. They helped make me strong enough to endure what lie ahead. It was one of those valleys you pass through on the way up the next mountain.

Thank you for reading – please, stay warm today. Help someone else stay warm. Yes, do what you have to do. Be Kind. Be Grateful. Be Courteous. We’ll see each other tomorrow.


Younger siblings are always a pain in the derriere. No, let me correct that. Younger brothers are. I have no sisters at all. I only have younger brothers (2), and one older brother. I can only speak from that experience. I’m guessing sisters could be a pain too.

It’s funny where your mind takes you. The words I type every day spark a memory nearly daily; “See you tomorrow.” A phrase my little brothers called out to Mom after wrestling them into bed each night was, “Good night, pleasant dreams, see you in the morning!” Mom would repeat it back to her. It was a thing every night. I did it with my kids when they were little. I enjoyed ending the day on a positive note. It was good.

Those two little monsters would then talk, laugh, do somersaults in bed, yell, giggle. The grand finale saw them jump up and down on the beds. Mom (or Dad) would utter the popular, “If I have to come up there!” about ten times. Sometimes they earned a spanking, grounding until they were thirty, threats of all sorts. Mom threatened a lot, but never once did she commit the felonies she threatened; but spewed threats of being sent to Boys Town. Or Omaha Home for Boys. Every night the floor was lava. The throw rugs were quicksand; and Mom or Dad had to holler. 

My brothers had vivid imaginations. Perhaps this was their terrain, littered with Lava, Quicksand, and the monster chasing them. Photo by Isaac Weatherly on

Anyone else have younger siblings like that? I know about everyone did, and the craziness happened at night when they should be quiet. My sons did the same thing. My daughter, like her Mama, always had her own room. The one advantage to having all brothers.

Mom threatened me with being sent to Uta Hallee Home for Girls. Back then, Boys Town was only for boys. They went co-ed maybe twenty years ago. I was afraid of the consequences if I did anything Mom considered “wrong.” She ran a tight ship; but then, she had to with Dad working nights. It worked for them.

Friday, Cartney and I will meet for a couple hours and work on ideas for illustrations for our children’s book. She’s a busy high school senior, and I’m glad she’s making time for a meeting with me. I look forward to Friday. Make time for someone today. A quick call can mean so much.

I’m going to work a little more on my novel this afternoon, followed by reviewing the layout of our children’s book. It will be a good preparation for a meeting with Cartney. Life is so good, the horizon has a lot of fresh adventures ahead. I’m so glad you’re along for this ride!

Tomorrow morning, Mom has a doctor’s appointment, so I might not get to post in the morning. I hope she feels well enough to go to lunch. She seldom gets out since it’s so cold. Check on your elders, neighbors, whoever you haven’s seen moving about lately. In another state, there was a “wellness check” called into 911; the officers discovered an elderly lady couldn’t get out of her house because she had no one to shovel her sidewalks. They shoveled her out. How beautiful! She was so grateful to them.

I hope you all have a beautiful, creative day. I’m off to write now! Stay safe. Be careful out there. We’ll see each other again tomorrow. Be kind, be thoughtful, be courteous.

Memories – 2002

In going through some old writing I had from grief seminars with the Centering Corporation in Omaha, Nebraska, I found a couple things I’ve held onto. It would have been in about 2002, when I turned 50 years old. A huge mark in a person’s life, but for me it was the dawning of some premature events.

I went on disability at 48, I was unable to continue working due to the condition of my spine. I continued working for five years, and just couldn’t physically handle sitting all day anymore. My work place was more than accommodating. The Babe and I were married about four years. He told me I didn’t have to work. It never dawned on me to quit.

The header photo is a collage I made of my feelings in 2002, depicting how I felt about being placed on LTD. It was very hard to adjust to. I’d been working for twenty years, got an education while raising my kids, bought my own home, and climbed the corporate ladder. I was approaching where I would get to have the time of my life. And my career ended. All the words dealt with my medical issue, which you “couldn’t see.” “Doing What I Love?” I hadn’t thought of anything. ” I am data,” spoke to there being no data on someone recovering from what I had. I was written up in medical journals, complete with a digital photo of my arachnoid cyst squeezing my spinal cord. The pain was unbelievable. And for the big 5-0? I went on MEDICARE, for crying out loud. Fifteen years early. I was embarrassed. I certainly did not look 65. I felt I had no control over anything. I finally learned to grieve properly about that loss, and adjust to my new life. Thank you, Joy Johnson Brown and Dr. Mary Hansen! You ladies have taught me so much about living.

There was a session about expressing grief. It was through poetry. As nearly as I can remember, I must have written a poem about My Dad’s Hands. I’ll leave you with these thoughts.


Big, Outstretched, and Warm

I always felt safe

When Dad reached down

and took my small hand in his.

Crossing the street

Into the Doctor’s Office

Upstairs a million steps to the dentist’s smelly office

I knew he would protect me.

As I grew, I noticed

the nicotine stained fingers,

the Pressman’s ink,

the Mechanic’s grease,

and I saw some of his many talents.

His beautiful signature

The thousands of books he’d read

The golf clubs he treasured

The grandchildren he’d held after

He was sure they wouldn’t break.

How cold and small they seemed

With the IV’s inserted

As that modern plague Cancer

Sucked the breath from his lungs,

But not the love for him from my heart.

Thankful Tuesday

Sometimes, when you least expect it, you see something, remember something, or have a dear cousin contact you. That’s what happened Saturday. It’s taken me a few days to compose myself enough to tell you about it. I’m still blown away.

I’ve told you about our Grandma Jewell before. Dad’s Mother, she had three ornery boys and one daughter. She was the quintessential Irish woman; unwavering in her Catholic faith, sincere in prayer, and love for me and all my cousins that was deep, encouraging, and lasting. She treated us all as equals. My cousin Jilla and I were the only girls with all of those nine boys. So glad we had each other. I’m sure we were “Dad just came home from Korea” babies. The two of us, my brother Tom, and cousin Michael, were four babies at the beginning of the boom, 1951 – 1953.

I remember Gram mentioning to my dad, “You know, Tommy, the boys are wearing their hair longer nowadays. It wouldn’t hurt if they skipped a week or two at the barbershop.” My dad didn’t answer and didn’t disagree with her. A more informed person didn’t exist. She and her sister Anna lived together after Grandpa died, as they had their entire lives. A single woman rarely lived alone in those days. We thought nothing of it.

One thing a well refined young lady did when Grandma and Aunt Anna were young was needlework. Embroidery, specifically. They always had a work in progress. They learned from their Mother, and I learned from mine, how to do various stitches: cross stitch, straight stitches, backstitching, and the French knot. I still cannot do a French knot I like. But Gram could. Her stitches were perfect every time. Even as her vision was poor in her later years, she did embroidery.

Saturday, I received a small package in the mail. These were inside:

The note inside was so beautiful. Cousins Terri and Jeff were going through some things and found these. Their folks supplied Gram with her projects until late in her life. I had tears that they thought of me to keep them. Gram lived two years longer than Dad did; when we saw her the day after his death, she cried and said, “This is the worst shock of her life.” She was 95 and heartbroken. Each time after that we visited, she asked, “Do you think my Tommy’s in heaven?” Absolutely, Gram. How she loved her children all of her life.

Cousin Terri wrote these were Gram’s last masterpieces. And they are works of art. Up close, you can see the pink, circular, puffy stitches, a/k/a French knots. My nemesis! I run my fingers over her flossed stitches and know how she must have labored over those perfect stitches. I feel the puffy knots that elude me, and I can hear her modestly proclaim, “Now, Kathy, I’ve just had more practice than you.” Her humility was one of her best qualities. I want to be like her. I need to remember that when I’m less than loveable. Be like Gram. A worthy heroine. I really think if God is female, He is just like her. Just saying. Thank you, Terri and Jeff. You have given me a gift I really needed right now. It’s magic for my soul. Bless you both.

Folks, this is the season for expressing love. You can give it away, and you also have to receive love, too. Accept it, it’s a beautiful feeling. Regardless of our Covid-Blues, it’s no excuse to be mean to people. Unacceptable behavior does not get a pass because we’re all stressed. Rudeness and temper do not get a pass. Tantrums lead to more of the same. Whatever we give is what we’ll receive more of. Wouldn’t you rather have it be love than hatred and ugliness? I would.

Thank you for reading today. I’ll be back tomorrow. Hope you are, too. Join me. Be Kind. Be Patient. Be Courteous. Be Grateful. Be like my Gram. And maybe I’ll finally learn to make beautiful French knots.


As I opened the blinds in the main bathroom this morning, the sun glared at the mirror above the sink. Splatter marks all over the place. I smiled. Yes, it was a splattered mirror, clearly dirty, and I smiled. Why? The sweet memory accompanying it. Our grandson Gavin, lover of dogs and common sense, the very smart boy, Grandpa’s best buddy, was over in the last couple of weeks. He spent the night, then Grandpa took him to school the next morning. With the whirlwind only an eight-year-old can create in his path, he dressed in our bathroom and brushed his teeth in the other one. No problem. The sink is lower, so it was easier for him.

Oh, I’ve seen the splatter marks before this. And I’ve smiled every time I’ve seen them. The memory is more important to me than a spotless mirror. One time, we left a little one-year-old handprint on the patio door, where the sun highlighted it all afternoon. It made me smile, too. Too fast our babies grow up, and even faster do our grandchildren grow up. Cherish them. Especially with their mess. A spotless home is often empty.

The Times of Your Life is a beautiful song written by Canadian Paul Anka. It came out in about 1975, and used by the Kodak Corporation in a commercial about capturing your memories on their fabulous film. If you’re young enough to not know what film is, we can’t be friends! It went in a camera and captured images. You had to take it to a place that would develop film. It took quite a while to get it back. At least for several days. You also had negatives available for reprints, if you wanted to order them.

So, of course, this beautiful song will evoke tears about the memories you have. Keep the good ones and don’t dwell on the bad ones. You’ll lose yourself in them. Baby handprints on windows. A little stool you sat on at Grandma’s house. A teapot you drank tea from when you were sick. Memories help us convey so much love. When I mix bread dough, I think of my Grandma Jewell. She baked unbelievable stuff for us. With so much love.

I’m selecting these beautiful memories to keep calm about the world right now. I would die laughing if, by some strange quirk of fate, Trump won. The folks at ABC, headed by George Stephanopoulos, are like the cackling women robbing Scrooges body after he dies. There is another glorious memory, going to the Omaha Community Playhouse’s production of “A Christmas Carol.” I’m wanting people to become civil again. I’m wanting people to calm down. Please. We need to. All of us.

Elvis sings the other song I am recalling about. Mac Davis (who passed recently), and Billy Strange co-wrote this beautiful song. Wow, listening to it now, I remember it so well. My kids were all little and playing in the leaf piles their dad and I raked up. We buried them up to the neck, then Frankie, the oldest put his hands up and threw leaves all over his brother and sister. Wonderful memories of the kids. I had photos of both scenes, but gave them to Frankie a few years ago. We lost them in his apartment fire, but I remember the vision. How terrible it must be to lose your memory, all catalogued in the corners of your mind. The song, “Memories,” is a classic.

Yesterday’s Breakfast was Delicious!

We’re doing pretty well eating differently. Yes, we’re doing Keto, mostly. I think it’s important to get everything we older folks need, so we’re adding a Protein drink every day. To find one with low carbs is a challenge, but we found Ensure in a very low carb version, with 30g of protein. Great discovery and doesn’t taste bad at all. We use it as a snack around noon – 2 p.m. Then cook dinner to eat anytime between 4pm and 6 pm, depending on what’s going on. So far, so good.

Keep your spirits up. Read positive things. Entertain your heart-warming memories. Do it while you still can. Thank you so much for reading today. I appreciate your time and hope you come back tomorrow for some more positive thoughts and words. It’s so much better when you keep a good thought. See you tomorrow! Be Safe!

Fall Festiveness and Memories

Fall is a favorite time to decorate in the house. I suppose it comes from my knowing the snow will fly in a few months (or should fly) and once the leaves are down, the outside turns dusky, dark, and dank by five p.m. once CDT is over. And I do just love the way it all looks. Yes, even pumpkin flavored tea is on the shelf in the pantry. Sipping hot tea makes me feel all wise and librarianish. Lol.

I am ready for jeans and sweatshirts, leather boots, (gosh, I miss wearing high heels!) and a warm scarf. It seems as if we get to that point each year like we’ve never been there before. Each year, the seasons bring something new. This year, some say, it will be a super-flu bug, a Flu-Corona-20, if you will. Whatever it is, I’m getting a shot for it. I always get a flu shot, and so does the babe. It’s kind of careless to not. I know, some folks claim they become ill from it – often, it doesn’t take effect until two weeks later. In those two weeks, if you get the flu, it’s because of that lag in between the time of exposure and the time the shot kicks in.

This was Tyler Perry‘s acceptance speech for the Governor’s award at the Emmy’s last night. I did not watch the program, but was glad to hear something about my hobby. I saw this earlier today on the Facebook page of Pat Sloan. Pat is a well known quilter, designer, teacher, and such a fun quilter to follow. I selected WordPress because of her; I’ve spent a number of years learning from her through her blog, and I liked what I saw. Of course, hers is full of great stuff, and she has wonderful free patterns all the time. If you want to learn, check Pat out.

Yes, we all have quilts that are our lives. Some are torn and tattered, indicating they either weren’t cared for well or they have been used beyond their time. Some are pristine and beautiful, not allowed to be touched. They live in a temperature controlled atmosphere, and rarely see the light of day, for fear they will fade in the sun. I have made quilts for people and tell them I want them to use them. The quilts I made for Mom’s three sisters were each made for them, their personality, their beliefs, or something beautiful that made me think of them or some experience I had with them in their lives.

Now, Mom doesn’t want a quilt. She says she’s not “a quilt person.” I have to remember, the first afghan I ever made was for her. After all, she watched Frankie while I went to class. It has never been used. It used to sit on her antique rocking chair. She has given that to my baby brother, and I don’t know where the afghan is. I imagine it will find its way back to my house someday. All the afghans I’ve made (well over 50, I think), I’ve never made one for me. Strange, isn’t it? I’ll have to remedy that someday.

So after all is said and done, I will probably make her a quilted jacket from a sweatshirt and fabric. I have wild animal fabrics to use on it. I’d probably better get started with that. At 91, she won’t be here forever. So she’ll have a different kind of a quilt. But she’ll get one. Haha!

You know, I know some folks are anti-RGB strictly because of her stance on abortion. I have to look at the whole career of such a woman, though. I shudder to think what my life would have been like if she had not championed the causes of women. I was not on the “women’s lib” bandwagon early on, I quickly got on board, though for equality. I had credit although I hadn’t worked in over twelve years, I could open a bank account in my name, I was able to earn a very good living in the IT World, because it was one arena your technical knowledge determined what you were paid. I was equal to a man who did the same work. My life has been very blessed because of the good this tiny, mighty woman did. Thank you, RBG, for standing for me before I realized I needed your help. I am forever grateful.

For too long, decisions were made about my life that didn’t include my opinion. Thank God those days ended.

Maya Angelou has been credited with saying something like “Don’t be hard on yourself what you accepted before you knew better. Once you know better, though, you need to make changes.” I did. Boy, it was not a popular decision. And oh, how family can judge. It was lonely to become divorced in 1982. I lost so many of my favorite people, the ex’s siblings. All these 38 years later though, we have a good relationship, for which I’m grateful. The nieces and nephews have all become adults, parents, and some are grandparents. So very grateful to still have them all in my life.

What will you do with the rest of the day? I’m finishing a project I’ll reveal tomorrow. I hope you all have a beautiful Monday, it’s half over already! Make it count, make yourself shine, and I hope you are blessed today. Find the goodness. Listen to the music of life. Ponder what your life quilt looks like. Be kind, be thoughtful, be aware of others, be courteous. Your quilt will be much more beautiful.

Thank you for reading, see you tomorrow!

Evidence shows . . .

In Omaha, NE, after two nights of demonstrations and subsequent riots, there will be no charges in the death of a black man Sunday night. It appears we have video evidence that shows the shooter was defending himself. The whole thing should have never happened. The demonstration turned somewhere, and it became a riot. The best advice I could give someone is, demonstrate. But be keenly aware. To younger people who don’t have a lot of experience out in the world, it just takes less than a minute for things to go terribly wrong. The best choice is just stay home. You will be safe. It’s the only 100% sure thing in life.

New Life and Growth in the Garden.

All that’s left for us to do now is stay home and pray. We are safest there, just as with COVID-19, which is still very much on the horizon. Do what makes sense. The best sense.

The Babe is the world’s best husband for me. He planted all the perennials I purchased where I wanted them. There is a little cleanup/leveling that needs to be done, but they are getting a great start. After my confession I just can’t do this anymore, he did what needed to be done. Bless his heart! To the left is the brand new fence he built so Goldie wouldn’t eat the daisies, hibiscus, columbine, and all the other beautiful plants. Last fall she ate the sticks from a hydrangea, and by gosh, it grew back. It’s the greenery in the middle of the photo. I can’t wait to see how this will all look in a few months. It will be a great distraction from the virus, the civil unrest, and the rest of the stuff that disrupts life as we know it.

I feel especially bad for people who live in areas this rioting is taking place. They have been advised they may want to find somewhere else to stay, since they may not be safe at home until this is over. There are so many beautiful lofts and apartments in the Old Market area, things like this just shouldn’t happen. Most people disrupted by all this are not even perpetrators of anything immoral or illegal. They are collateral damage. It’s just not right.

It is hard to concentrate on what I need to be doing right now, enhancing my novel. I should be able to do a lot tomorrow. I just need to stick with it for several hours. Perhaps tomorrow. Someday, we won’t have to hope for a normal kind of day to accomplish something we may have taken for granted. I miss those times. Normal days. With normal events. Not Pandemics and Riots.

After waiting patiently for spring, we have turned full tilt into summer, at least weatherwise. It’s pretty humid out, and was near ninety degrees. It’s going to be this way all week and probably beyond. Summer already. Where does the time go?

After checking in with our kids, we feel safe and know our family is. The words on our last text from one of the kids was so sweet, yet said so much. In light of the unrest that is in the area right now, the words leapt from the screen and said, “Love you guys. Stay Home.” This says it all. My heart is warm and happy. We will all be ok. We have to be. Wishing you all a safe night, and if you be kind, wash your hands, and stay home, we will all have a wonderful day tomorrow. One day at a time, we will all get better. See you tomorrow. Thank you for reading.

Simply Saturday

It’s another rainy Saturday in Gretna, NE at the home office and studio. It’s been a lot of outside hard work for these two older folks all week, in between rainstorms. Not all the plants are planted into the dirt yet, hopefully tomorrow. I am making a public announcement right now. I am unable to continue gardening like I used to. It was nothing to dig stuff out, replacing it with my preferences instead of the previous owner’s. Not any more. I’ll have to hire a grandkid who doesn’t mind getting dirty. That’ll work. My body just can’t do these things anymore. Period. Acceptance.

It’s now officially summer. Peaches, tomatoes, watermelon, cukes, zucchini, blueberries, sweet corn and strawberries. Yum.

Yesterday, one of our errands was to establish a relationship with the folks at Huffman Produce. They have only one stand open right now, West End of Village Point in Omaha. June 1, the other locations will. Check Facebook and you’ll find them. Good stuff. I love this about summer! I’d rather grow our own, but as I just admitted, I’m probably past that type of activity. I can still enjoy the result.

There was unrest in Omaha last night as protesters filled the intersections of one of the busiest intersections in Omaha. The Police were assaulted with water bottles, rocks, fireworks, and verbal insults. Why does it always degrade to this? Yes, protest. Don’t assault anyone, don’t burn the place down, for Pete’s sake. It just doesn’t have to happen. Haven’t we learned how to avoid all this? Why can’t we just get along? All I can do is pray. And be good to the people around us. And speak up when people talk smack about people of color, police officers, etc. Talk the talk. Walk the walk. I want us to be peaceful. It’s about damned time!

After a year of COVID-19, job losses, death, economic downturns, now we have riots? Please, God. Make it stop.

All of the ugliness will only stop when we humans stop misbehaving. All of us. All of the time. My faith hasn’t failed me yet. I doubt that it will. We will find a way. Please start in your home and neighborhood. Right now. If you learn nothing else during the Pandemic, learn kindness. Kindness across races, religions, sexual preferences, economic and political differences. Differ but be civil.

My spirit is willing but my flesh is weak and broken. My buckets of water are symbolic at this point in my life.

I truly do want to carry water for those in need of it. But for now, I will collect things to share with others. I will take them to the female veterans who are homeless. I will look for other ways to help. There is always a place in need of what you have to offer. Be aware. It’s essential to our very survival as a race.

Thank you for reading today. I have a lot of “homework” after my conference with the book coach this week. I love investigating things. The Internet makes it so very easy to do so. What a miracle it is, when used properly. Blessings abound. Be careful out there. Wear your mask. Wash up. Get some fruits and vegetables fresh from the farms of America. It will make you feel so good! Love your family and your neighbors. It’s a great start. I’ll see you back here tomorrow. Peace!

Sunny Sunday!

Greetings from the Home Office Studio in Gretna, Nebraska! It is a scrumptious day out there, a bit chilly, but the sun is shining. That makes all the difference in the world. As you know, with all this social distancing going on we are not able to go out to movies, shopping, stop off and have a beverage, and go see our favorite musical entertainment. I shared yesterday about our friend, Jimmy Weber, who did a gig last night from his home. It was so good to hear him sing live again! The seating was great, no lines at the ladies room, and they stocked our favorite beverages! There were a couple technical issues, but that stuff is even happening to Netflix these days. (Buffering is still alive and annoying while watching your favorite series’ new season!). That aside, he sang a lot of his new songs that will be recorded later this year in Nashville. Hope they’re ready for you, Jimmy! Stay well.

Today, our friend Rick Tiger and a friend are on FB Live from 4 to 6 p.m. Tune in, you’ll know you’ve heard Rick’s songs before. He’s written a treasure trove of them. He’s a good guy, and you’ll feel you’ve known him forever. Thanks in advance for supporting our friends!

While high school athletes and seniors mourn the loss of their time in the sun, there are couples all over the world who are having to postpone the most important day of their lives together – their weddings. I truly feel sorry for them as weddings are something they look forward to for months and even years. How disappointing to have quarantines in place, where no more than ten people can gather together. Some can’t even include their entire families!

Which brings me to the point of this story. My cousins Mike and Mary have four grown kids, three girls and a boy. The son is in college, so they’re all grown for the most part. Their oldest had a wedding scheduled for yesterday, April 4. After much discussion, they went forward with the ceremony, in the groom’s parents yard. They were so blessed to have such a pretty day. From the photos, it was a beautiful wedding. They adjusted. They got through it. They didn’t like having to change their plans, but they did. They were grateful and everything went well. That’s what being married is about. Things don’t always go the way you want, but a compromise is found, and you go on, being grateful for the gift of each other. It’s a testament to their parents and to Marc and Katelynn too, for picking out the important part and going with it. You kids are off to a great start.

In addition to adjusting, you also need to keep your sense of humor in marriage. The Babe and I have found it to be our most important and most used tool in the arsenal. While going through the photos online, we were blessed with this one. It was the groom’s idea, and it truly speaks to their sense of humor and grace, and will be a story to tell their grandkids about. I absolutely love this!!

What a great way to start a (COVID-19) marriage.
With laughter!

Do me a favor? If you get down in the dumps over all this staying at home, come back to this blog post, and have a good laugh on Katelynne and Marc! Congratulations to them!

It ought to be interesting, my cousins Mike and Mary have another daughter getting married in August, 2020. I wish them the best of luck in keeping their schedule amidst this looming crisis. This is a family who believes in their faith, the goodness of God, and the kindness of people. They will all be ok. I hope the same for all of us.

Better days are coming again.
Be aware and receive them fully.

At the present moment, I have to say, this isn’t the worst bad time I’ve had – yet. Sometimes, as a single mom, I thought we might go bankrupt, but that worst never happened. Sometimes, as a single mom, I prayed my kids would have enough of a teacher in me that they would break the stereotype of “bad kids come from broken homes,” and they grew up good, responsible citizens. (I still hate the term “broken homes”to this day). Sometimes, as a breast cancer patient, I was afraid the cancer would have a mind of it’s own, destroying my life and taking me from this earth, but it didn’t. The list goes on and on of the things that would qualify as my worst hard/bad time. Yes, many could have happened, but by the grace of God, they did not. I am praying for all of us, that this global pandemic, is not any of our worst hard times.

Thank you for reading today. I hope it made your heart a bit lighter. I appreciate you very much, and hope to see you again tomorrow. Who knows what fun we’ll have then? I’ll be here.