CAVE HILL CEMETERY STORY

Bridget and I lived in Louisville during her earliest years. Money was very tight. As in nonexistent. I became very creative when it came to taking Bridget on outings around and about the Derby City. We lived in an area called The Highlands. Among many things, the Highlands is noted for its many and varied parks. Bridget loved nothing better than to be strapped into her baby stoller and off we would go! There was always one within walking distance.

On the edge of The Highlanlds is the most beautiful cemetery imaginable. In the center is the famous duck pond complete with a Fleur-de-lis fountain. These ducks are among the best fed ducks in the world. It is nothing to see 25 people all standing along the banks trying to lure the indifferent ducks and swans to come to them! To be enticed to them because they have the best cracker on the bank!

One winter day, Bridget must have been about two, I bundled her up in her thick snow pants, heavy duty sweat shirt, mittens, boots and winter coat and we headed to the duck pond. I parked on the other side of the pond than usual. I took Bridget out of the back seat, handed her a mitten full of crackers and then turned to close the car door.

Bridget began to walk down the soft incline towards the ducks and her little snow pant clad legs began to pick up speed. I turned just in time to realize she was out of control and I took off after her! Horror of horrors! As in slow motion I still see it in my mind! Me running down the hill, Bridget with her little hand out towards the ducks with the crackers running right over the lip and straight into the duck lake! I panicked thinking she would go in over her head!

Only a big SPLASH! Bridget little surprised face as she landed up to her waist in murky green duck water! Yuck! I yanked her out and we waddled back up the hill to the car. I was laughing, one of those giddy moments Mothers sometimes have.

She claims she still remembers that day. Maybe she does! All I know is that it did not dampen our affection for the ducks, the pond and the most beautiful cemetery in Kentucky.

MADONNA SYNDROME

Was informed this morning to expect some changes at the work place. I was at first put off, but once the information sunk in, I thought, heck why not. It has been four years since the last shake up and I can' t remember why I was upset then. Oh yea, I lost G-town. Oh well, maybe I will get it back.

I have been experiencing another dry spell. When I first started Alphawoman I had to e removed by surgical means from the computer. I was full of ideas, antidotes, stories, memories, history, experiences that I wanted to share. Then as my writing began to attract readers the freedom I once enjoyed, the anonymity is gone. I have no idea who reads my jnl. I knew the people who leave a comment for me, but oh Lord, the hundreds who don't! I had about 30 hits yesterday..I think, maybe 30 hits in two days time, and only six comments. No telling who is reading me, could be anyone. Their are certain people I would be very concerned if I happened to throw caution to the wind and wrote about....let's say Bailey and Joe's concerns regarding her attitudes toward me. Now, I base her attitudes as a reflection of two particular people.....and if one of those persons stumbled upon this jnl! Shit would hit the fan.

My hands feel tied in Alpha.

I need to learn how to paste in the pictures for Blogger. The I could also learn HTML and no telling where it would go. I would not worry one bit about Blogger. I am a little fish in a huge ocean. In AOL-J land, I am a little fish in a little pond. So, it's different.

So, that's it. Maybe I'll swing my creative juices over here. I can write, I can take half decent photographs...I have some fabulous stories.

Maybe it's time to reinvent myself.

NOT DOING A THING

I woke up late. That was the first indication that this was going to be a great day! Usually my internal alarm clock has me stirring around....well, way too early. I had many plans for today. I decided to blow them all off!

I began by going to an art exhibit at the Lexington Cemetery. Absolutely delightful. When the leaves begin their dramatic picturesque change, I will return to the cemetery and dazzle you all with the beauty of the arboretum.

I then meandered downtown and strolled around the streets with my camera. The downtown area was the heart of this city and in some respects, it still is. Today I pretended I was a stranger to Lexington. I tried to look at the familiar with a foreign eye. It was fun. I felt like a tourist! And I imagine I looked like one snapping pictures of anything and everything.

The trees that lined Main Street have been removed. I have no idea why this happened. The beauty of the area has been marred. It is as if a beautiful woman has been stripped of her petticoats! I know that seems an archaic expression, but description of this atrocity is beyond words.

The only good thing that has occurred from this abomination is that the architecture of the old building has been revealed! When something so outrageous as this occurs, I have to look for the good.

MORAL DILEMMA

Yesterday I lost $11. Don't know how....could be in a variety of places. Either left in the money return slot at Walmart, or maybe just dropped on the way to the customer service counter. Heck, I could have even left it at my Mom's. Anyway, it's gone. I hate to loose money. I'd rather give it away than have it blow away.

Which leds me to this...Joe and loosing money. Should I write about it? Should I use some of the crazy stories of the situations that he finds himself in? I would love to and I always have great fun when I write about them to my girlfriend, Deb. He hates it! And it the shoe were on the other foot, maybe I would too.

If I were to share some of these czany stories, I'm sure everybody would love! I do not want to exploit him. (dang it!!!) I do not want to follow him around with a camera and a notebook. I already do with a camera (document for future use). I just don't think he could handle it, the notoriety or celebrity. You all have no idea the amount of material that he hands over to me freely every day...Just being Joe.

Darn my integrity!

Beautiful yet Deadly

While traveling around the beautiful country side last week I noticed the beautiful golden yellow of the burley tobacco fields. Honestly, this crop is gorgeous when it is ready for harvest. Vivid yellow postage stamp acres.

I come from a rural community where school could not start until after the harvest. If you tried to get kids into class any earlier, you were wasting your time. They were needed at home to cut and house the tobacco, which is accomplished typically end of August till mid-September. Even when I was young, the kids from the farms all participated in the growing and selling of tobacco...(pronounced tobacca)...and thereby the profits! I was astonished to here that so and so had made a thousand dollars! He was all of 14! It is hard, back breaking, yuckky work.

Tobacco is not very profitable anymore. Sometimes the government pays the farmers not to grow it! Those postage stamp fields are smaller and smaller and more spread out. Efforts have been made to introduce replacement crops such as fruits and more vegetables. Wineries have become very vogue in central Kentucky. Can you think of anything better than your own personal winery?

When I see these tobacco fields I also think of those farm boys of my youth. The old trucks they drove with the pitch fork and brooms placed in the back. White t-shirts and brown skin. The smell of sweat, bourbon and cigarette smoke.

Why Men Have it So Good

I thought that when I married Joe one of the perks of being two instead of one was all the extra money from combining expenses! Wrong! I am experiencing cultural shock. The culture of being a WOMAN in a marriage. Not only am I poorer and broke a several days before payday, but I have developed into a maid to boot!

Take today, the first thing I did was to go to the library and post a box for him. He has made his first sale on E-Bay and I...#1, set up the account for him, inserted the picture after I scanned the document for him, set up pay pal for him...now I am mailing the sold item for him! Hell, and I am such a silly because I receive not one red cent of the profit. As a matter of fact, it cost me money to sell his stuff! Agggggrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I should have seen this coming. But, I was blinded by my desire to be married. After all, this is my first time and I had no idea what I was missing. I was like a kid with my face pressed up against the glass candy counter. I only saw and wanted the good stuff. I knew bad stuff existed, I knew that sacrifice existed, but I ignored it in pursuit of my happiness.

I am now the Cook, the Maid, the Financial Officer, the Travel Agent, the Entertainment Committee, the chauffeur, the Gardner, (than God I am not the Grounds Keeper), in charge of all Shopping, and Miscanelleuous Gopher. Sometimes I realize this is ridiculous!

How did this happen!!!!!

I love Joe and I love being married. I just wish I had gotten a Wife too.

Anatomy of a 5K

I have been plagued as of late with a list of excuses as to why I have so much trouble finding time to run. "I'm too tired", "It's too hot!", "My foot hurts", and on and on. When I finally found the weather to be better suited for running and I had begun vitamin regime again I began to run again. I, who had never suffered anything more severe than falling down and scrapping my knee, suddenly was overtaken by a series of injuries! First, my hip showing off for Joe, pretending that I still was the School Yard Rope Skipping champion! The the horrible blisters on the back of my heels from wearing low riding socks, and last the slightly sprained ankle! That knocked me out for about 10 days.

Saturday morning is the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. I had entered Joe any myself quite some time ago. Joe, due to having to work, was unable to go! I could not allow the entry fee to go unused, so I think to myself, "What the heck, I've competed in a triatholon without training, how hard can a 5K be?"

This is how it went.

No gun sounded for the beginning of the race. Just a gentle push forward of the over 1,000 participants towards the starting line. Then suddenly a big surge and we are off! It is almost, but not quite a stampede. Walkers blend in with the runners and it is necessary to pick your way around them on the crowded street. That is the beginning. Then you have to be wary of the Yuppie Runners who are there only because they can not find a baby sitter for their children and so they have them in the stroller especially made for racing! LOOK OUT! They are usually serious runners and therefore ruthless! Do not ever allow yourself to become tripped up by one of those contraptions! It is very painful to be run over by a 50 pound five year old, who gives you the thumbs up while his parent gives the stroller a Herculean push over your knocked down body!

This race was very unusual in the fact that the miles were not marked. Therefore, no one was stationed with a stop watch barking out time splits. Actually, this was okay with me. The only thing more humiliating than being overtaken by the Gray Panther Team In Training group is having someone yell out in an incredulous voice at mile marker two, "TWENTY TWO FORTY SIX????????!!!!!!!!!!!!" At least that is what it sounds like through the blood pounding through your head. That is right before the sinus cavities clasp and then it sounds like your running underwater.

Having no idea where I was in terms of distance, I ran feeling strong. The psychological compromise that generally begins to take place around mile two did not occur. The compromise goes like this, "You have run two miles, now you should be able to walk for just a few moments! Just a few moments. Just a few moments." It's tough to overcome, because if you give in it feels like quitting.

When Main Street began the curve towards Vine Street I knew the finish line was several blocks ahead. I could not believe it! I still felt strong and moving pretty steadily in a forward motion! Then I saw it finally, MILER MARKER THREE!!! Hurray! One tenth of a mile left!

I mentally prepared myself for the surge. I am really good with the surge towards the finish line. Once I see it, I can sprint towards it! Well, sprint is a subjective term. I run faster. And then it happened, the ankle began to pull.

So that was me, hopping, skipping and jumping the last little bit. I was saying, "Ouch, Dang it, Ouch" as I hobbled down Vine just in case anyone was watching me. I did not want them to think that I usually run that way! Jesus Mary and Joseph! Despite it all, I finished in 32 minutes and seven seconds. I am totally blown away. I told Joe I thought it was a mistake, he said, "You always say that". "Yes, but that's when they say its 36 minutes, this is 32 minutes!"

And so, I hope to run in the Race for the Cure in Louisville next month. We get to run over the Second St Bridge that spans the Ohio River. It is really exhilarating!

I'm shooting for under 30 minutes.......Now if I just train.

Photo Nazi

I do not let on that I get cantankerous and confrontational at times. Yet it has been known to happen. Hey, I survived raising a teenage girl so I earned the right!

This happened at Walmart. I was minding my own business at the photo center, using their scanner to copy pictures of my Mother's High School graduation picture. I thought it would be a nice Christmas present for all my brothers and sisters.

I had never used this contraption before. I had no idea it took so long to print a photo, especially if it is a large one. So I innocently asked the lady behind the counter where the pictures emerged. At that time, she was tight lipped nice, as if she had to be (we all know the type) (I may have done it a time or two myself) and indicated the shoot at the bottom. I looked and sure enough, there it was! I pulled it out to admire the copy and I was smiling and all happy when she suddenly said, "Let me see that!" and I just imagined she saw my smile and just wanted....Hey! She grabbed it out of my hand.

For about two minutes, in a packed Saturday afternoon crowd, she and I had a tango! "This is a professional picture and has a copywrite. You are not allowed to make any copies of this!"

"Well, it is my Mother and she is going to be 77 years old, I doubt she remembers who the photographer was at that time".

"I'm sorry" (she was not the least bit sorry, I saw the glint in her eye) "But it is not allowed."

I began to reach for the picture and I swear to God she backed up with it above her head! "What if I tell you I took that picture!" I pleaded.

"I'd say you were lying!" she retorted.

"For the love of God, the picture is 60 years old, the photographer must be deceased by now."

I had visions of her ripping my mothers pictures to shreds right before my eyes. This is insane, and absurb! She just glared at me. I turned on my heel and stomped off, I did not trust myself as I was beginning to see RED. "Have a nice day" she called out to my retreating back.

I could have turned around and slapped the tar out of her, but instead I went to Walgreens and explained the situation to their Photo Angels and received a dispensation.

I am really ticked off at Walmart.

Summers End

With the Labor Day week end behind us, it is inevitable that the summer is nearing an end. This has been one of the most memorable on record for me. Beginning with my elopement and ending with a visit to Louisville to see Bridget...which included the purchase of a Duaflex Kodak camera at the Flea Market for $5!

And everything inbetween. In Alphawoman I tend to keep the darker parts of my world hidden. Since I have no idea who may be reading this journal, it is a risk for me to go beyond the boundaries I have set. You all have no idea! And I am unable to expound...I have to leave it at that.

I have attended several funerals this past summer. I would feel as if I were exploiting the feeling of grief, loss and horror if I were to blog about them. They touched me very deeply. Two wonderful people gone before their time should have been finished. We should always wear seatbelts and we should never ever think our problems are so monumental that a gun pointed at a temple is the only solution. What I see are the shattered lives of those left behind who loved them.

I was on jury duty this summer also. One of the trials was the juiciest slice of down home Peyton Place I have ever been involved in...well, from the outside looking in! It was hard to come to a judgment about what happened. I was on a jury of six the first time and it was hard. Though I knew he had broken the law, I felt for him. He was between a rock and a hard place and unfortunately made the wrong decision. I think he acted stupidly. Remember, being stupid is no defense.

The jury of 12 I was on the second time was much easier. We were in and out quickly.....A drug case. If I was on a typical jury of the 21st century, we certainly can be called the HANG 'EM HIGH JURY....we loved to convict.

Note to self....do not commit a crime in this area, the juries are tough.

The trip to Ireland, the stay over in Chicago, the trip to Dublin Ohio with Omega, the many trips to Louisville, the Lake, the River, and the list could go on and on making it hard to say goodbye to this golden, as mild as I have ever lived in the South, summer.

It is with lots of anticipation I look forward to what Autumn has in store for me...us.

DOG ATE MY HOMEWORK


Bridget at three months. This is my favorite picture of all the thousands I have. When I first read the Blogfathers assignment I had three photo's that I had to choose from. It was no contest really.

My Uncle Johnny took this photo. I had a small 110 camera and my photos of Bridget, were for lack of a better word, pathetic! He took control of things, and this picture was the result. Bridget was the apple of Johnny's eye. He lived with my Aunt and Uncle for the first six months of Bridget's life, then moved to Louisville from Houston.

This picture was taken at the waterfront in Houston. We were visiting the battleship they have docked there, can not remember the name. I have displayed this picture of her for over 2o years, where ever I go, where ever I live, it is displayed prominently.

Uncle Johnny died when Bridget was just two years old. They had just moved to Florida and he was in the garage sharpening knives, building a bookcase, doing whatever it is engineers do upon retirement in their garages....my Aunt sensed something was wrong and ran to check. He died in her arms.

I love this picture for a lot of reasons.

BABY WE WERE BORN TO RUN

Yesterday Joe says to me, "I ordered a present for you!" Since he can not keep a secret I knew it would be only moments before he would tell me......"It's a helmet!"

I smiled while his words sunk into my brain and this thought rose from the depths of my consciousness, "Oh my God, he is planning to make me take motorcycle riding lessons....aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!" He has been hinting about this since he purchased the bigger bike and kept the smaller one. Just this past weekend he told me how he had spotted a couple on he and she bikes and how it touched his heart.

He has not come out and said it in certain terms yet, but I feel it is going to happen. My thoughts reel back into history, when I was 12 or 13 years old. The gang of us were up at the back of the factory that was located very near our neighborhood. Due to an expansion to the plant, they were laying a new parking lot. We were all kids once. It is a well known fact that we can not keep kids away from an unattended construction site! There we all were riding our bikes around the mountains of large gravel.

"WATCH ME!" I'm sure I yelled out as I flew up the side of one mountain to jump over the top Evil Kieneivl style.......and lost control! Wiped out! I fell and the bike came down on my FACE! (Naturally). I had received this bike as a Christmas present when I was six years old. It was rather large for a first grader, but I would grow into it. It was the only bike I had until college. The hand grips were all but worn off. The exposed metal of the handle bar slammed into my face, sliced the skin under my bottom lip and went right through it as if it were butter and chipped my bottom teeth!

As I picture myself on a motorcycle, I only see myself with my hands strapped across the engines. To actually be shifting gears and oh my God, changing lanes..... I know I will have to put all my fears aside and do it for LOVE.