THE HORSE FINISHES LAST

How I wish they gave away money for the pick three of last finishers. That way, Zorro and I would have walked out of Churchill Downs with some money in our pockers, rather than leaving it. Did not bet much, only $2 per race. And so asinine as $2 show bets. Yet, it was fun. Churchill is like the working mans horse track compared to Keeneland which is upper crust, the hoity toity, the grand of the grand. Churchill is for the unwashed. The paddock is pitiful compared to Keeneland.

We went to Shenanigans to eat. So I blew my diet. We visited Bridget and Scott. My heart breaks for those two. Now the car has broken down! I will travel back up there tonight and trade two bikes and a guitar and come home with the new Dr. Pepper bike. Zorro wants it...Bridget is beginning to see the error of her offer to trade us! Laugh out loud! Zorro tells me to be strong....

On the way to Louisville Bailey began playing a game with Zorro identifying letters of the alphabet. For some inexplicable reason, she say "Alphawoman, I don't know where I heard that before". I gripped the steering wheel and kept my mouth shut. I wonder....I just wonder if Danielle is reading my journal! I knew to keep it under wraps there.

Never can be too careful about these things in cyberspace.

TRAINY SORT OF DAY


Somedays are just meant for rambling. It is overcast. I am alone in the house and should have several hours of solitude. I have the SAW DOCTORS on the stereo. I have it turned up full blast for the Live album....The music is relatively unknown in the States and semi difficult to find. I love it. I could put on "HAY WRAP" and listen to it all day long. It lifts my spirits.

I hope that it works out that we go to Ireland this spring. I will go with either Kitty of Peggy. Peggy will corrupt me, I will corrupt Kitty. Either one, hopfully both will be a second trip made in heaven. I will go alone or with Bridget. Now that would be something.

My bonus looks good. Public transportation and Bridget......plan B.

Young Innocent 1967


I'm on the right!

THE BIBLE

My first grown-up journal. No longer just a diary, but a journal. The first entry dated, August 8, 1968 begins...We have left Washington DC today. At this moment we are traveling homeward......And so it began with those few simple words.

The first Bible survives only because I was not sexually active and therefore no entries about the trials and tribulations of teenage sexual agnst. And I burnt all the others. This one was innocent. Both the person who was writing it and the content.

Filled with newspaper clippings, school photographs, saved notes, old conduct cards, gum wrappers, LCH Activity passes, movie tickets, stolen photos from the year book stash of Jan S., the second love of my life (after Kit H. who also happens to have a picture of him standing by the side of the swimming pool trying to teach me to dive) and the Cafe Wha experience. The young woman child that I was fascinates me.

REEDS INSANITY

REEDS ORCHARD AND INSANE BEHAVIOR

I found myself turning onto the twisty, curvy, narrow country road that leads to Reeds Orchard. Nestled two miles off the main highway then down another half mile or so of gravel and pot holes you come upon this gentle oasis of pumpkins and apples.

I did not need to be there, having already a peck of apples sitting at home waiting to be turned into apple pies and caramel apples...........Wait! What am I saying !!! I am on a diet! And while I tell you that, toss in that jar of pumpkin butter on my order. Resist temptation? HA! Throw in another peck of those delicious apples I got the last time....What are they called? Oh who cares! They are delicious! What's this? Pepper jelly! On Cream Cheese with those special crackers. Yummy! Apple cider...YES YES YES.

As I was leaving, she rushed out the door to make sure I took one of the radiant pumpkins with me.....Pumpkin Pie...............

MANIC BEHAVIOR

Would you consider it manic or would you consider it compulsive. Zorro handed me something he took off the internet and it said, "Hobby or obsession?" Funny, sad but true.

I tried to find a place to sit down and write in my regular BIBLE...which is the name I gave my personal handwritten journal back in 1967 when I began to keep one. Got the name from the book, THE WORLD OF HENRY ORIENT. It was the notebook of newpaper clippings, love poems, drawings etc. that they ( the 14 year old Val and her side kick whoes name I can not remember, Val was who I related to!) had collected and/or written about Henry Orient. I loved that book, first found at the used book store called "Dennis' Bookstore". I think I may have gone through several copies before totally misplacing it! I had been trying to hunt it down on the internet for years, losing out on first editions (1958) and other opportunities. Then it was reissued! Who knew it had legs! I had the local Bookstore, Joseph-Beth special order it for me. Guess what, no longer available! Drat! Then I finally, on a fluke found it on line again and ordered it. Got a beautiful small copy. I did not realize it was considered a "juvenile" book. Hello! Did you all see the movie with Peter Sellers and Shelly Winters? Well I did, and and it is about infidelity, 14 year old lust for men old enough to be their fathers amoung other sdult themes! They must have been through off by the main characters being all of 14.

Just like the time I found A CHILD'S GARDEN OF GRASS in the childrens section of the Book Cellar at the main public library. "This does not belong here!" I quickly purchased it, remembering all the wonderful hours we spent all smoked up laughing at the silly LP we had at Murray State University.

I just went through the out line, or the inspiration for at the least three more entries.

I am in a manic mood for days now!

DOVETAIL

I was hoping that things would calm down quickly once the uncertainly was resolved. And it has. Zorro will go up to Newport and pay the deposit and hand over the signed papers and the small apartment across from the aquarium with a running track beginning in the back yard, sitting on the levee, within bike riding distance to the yard office....It is all falling into place.

I will like having a place right outside Cincinnati. That city is a bonafide big city, much like Louisville. A tad more northern while Louisville is southern in location, but Midwesterner in a lot of it tendencies. I will like the change. And I will adjust. I will be spending a lot more time with Belsaba...quite sure that is not the correct spelling, but have decided not to use her real name in here.

More later.

THANK GOD THAT'S (almost) OVER

What a cruddy week end, as all the past three weekends have been. If this fighting and bickering does not stop, I'll pull my hair out. Better yet, I'll pull his hair out. I hope it is dovetailing into some resolution. I effectively talked him out of buying a home/house in Northern Kentucky. My stomach was in knots today, and a feeling of dread engulfed me all day. He was going to look at a house on the market for $15,000. It use to be a restaurant...A what? He (the realtor) thought that if Zorro offered him $12 it would be his. I was miserable all day, trying to shake off the feeling of doom. Can you buy an outhouse for that? I think not. I envisoned me cleaning out our savings, cashing in my IBM stock and having a crappy house I would not even want to set foot it.

Anyway, I brought him around that our only solution is for him to rent...for at least six months. After all, his work requires him to be up there for four days! He was so mean...like this is all my fault! He told me that he may take Bailey up there for weekends. Inside I'm cringing with the symbolic slap in the face......

I should know better. He is going to be so lonely. Why would we want to be in Cint when everything, everyone is here in Lexington? He should feel better now knowing he will have somewhere to stay. Spending over $400 a month because he will not drive it back and forth daily. This weekend I called him the most selfish and self centered person on the face of the earth (lot of drama) and I will live to pay for that. But he is, now we are going to have a long distance relationship.

I think I will enjoy it for awhile. It will be heaven not to have Bailey around every moment of the weekends. Because he will work on Sat. nights now, he will have to take her back and head back to No. Kentucky ....yippee!!!! Why I dislike that child so much I will never know. Life would be so much easier for Zorro and myself if she were different. But, she is demanding, obnoxious, loud and irritating.

On a good note, my eye has stopped twitching!!!

BEFORE

BEFORE.....

There they were, a pack of old negatives with my handwriting of 30 years prior.....AROUND AND ABOUT MURRAY on the envelope. I took them to the photo developing service I use and asked to have them reprinted and put on a disc. Alas, the disc did not happen, and the reprints of 30 year old 120 film is pretty bad, but all in all I am on a magic carpet ride back in time looking at the finished product. The names of the guilty leap immediately to my lips. I say them out loud and enjoy the texture of each as they breathlessly become sounds in the air around me.

I have not changed much. I still have those puffy eyes, though from lack of sleep and not smoking dope.

This is spring 1975. Before I ditched school and headed to Arizona for three weeks with J.

Before I feel in love.
Before I lost that love.
Before I was a mother.
Before my car accident.
Before my having my child.
Before I was betrayed.
Before I realized my dreams were unreachable.
Before I realized my dreams were reachable.
Before I learned to dream and dream and dream in living color.

Duffy on Duffy

OUT WITH THE OLD IN WITH THE NEW

We headed towards Gatlinburg Wednesday afternoon. It is about 45 minutes from K-town and on a bright sunny day it was a joy to head towards the Smoky Mountains. We had been in Gatlinburg in 2001 and had a wonderful time. One of the places we visited was a bar that was situated behind the main drag of stores. Zorro and I stumbled upon it on our last visit. We were intrigued by the bartender, a randy looking dude, a dead ringer for George Carlin. His charm was his crustiness and his surly manner. There was the air that it was an honor to have him wait on us. He treated us with playful disdain. We drank a beer, Zorro discovering the value of a bach beer...ShinerBach to be exact. We watched tv as 911 had just occurred. That is the reason Zorro and I were in the Smokies, having cancelled our trip to Florida due to the planes being grounded.

We left the bar and wandered around Gatlinburg. Have I mentioned that it is the biggest tourist trap in the South? Unbelievable, but fun. I love the salt water taffy and the Mountain Winery. Zorro loves the outlet shopping and the Smoky Mountain Brewery!

Not finding another bar (since anyone who reads Alphawoman knows that Zorro and I always do the pub tour!) we headed back into the small hidden bar. Walking through the door into the dark comfort of the pub the bartender greeted us with a, "Oh no!! Not you two again!" We loved it! We knew we were accepted!

So this trip to Gatlinburg we searched for the tucked away pub, not remembering the name but looking forward to being insulted by George Carlin. I saw beer signs glowing the alluring temptation to come inside. Thinking we had found it, I poked my head in.

"Come on in!" A gentleman coaxed me.

"I'm looking for a bar."

"This is a bar."

I looked around the restaurant, which was empty save for the couple in a booth against the wall, and a young long haired kid reading a magazine behind them, the small grouping of tables in the middle of the room, every inch of the walls covered by artwork and I replied.

"This place had a bartender."

"I have a bartender." He said waving his hand towards the gentleman reading the magazine who then looked up, becoming interested in the conversation.

"This place was called Smilies or something like that."

"My bartender can smile." At this point the "bartender" stood up and began to smile. I was one upped on that retort and the bartender was very cute. Zorro began to push me inside the dark and comfortable hole in the wall.

The couple in the booth began to add to the conversation. "You are talking about Cactus Petes, he closed several years ago." Oh heck!

Duffy was entertaining enough and talked nonstop the entire time we were in there. When I go to a bar, I want a bar to lean up against, I want liquor bottles to reflected my mood, I want to feel like I have entered the hallowed halls of booze. Duffy's was not this. It is something else entirely. After I finished pouting about the demise of Cactus Petes, I enjoyed myself.

But, I would rather be insulted. Such is life, nothing ever waits for you, does it?

Knoxville Founders

KNOXVILLE: Where the Devil is among Friends. Part II

I began the morning by finding my way downtown. I traveled along the River and landed on the outskirts where the University of Tennessee begins. A little further on I cruised through downtown and found my way to a parking lot where I felt safe enough to leave the vehicle unattended and unpaid for. The Art Museum was directly across the street, but alas, did not open until noon. It was a little past nine.

I began walking. I immediately walked into The Worlds Fair Park and stood under the Sunglobe that shines its golden pseudo sun sparkle on the city. The city itself was totally without any one walking! I found my way to the River side and a marina walk way. I only encountered one lady pushing a baby carriage and a long grey bearded man wheeling a bicycle on the pathway. The woman was dressed in a fur lined suede coat. That made me smile, as it was in the high 40's at least! Southerners!

I came up out of the River walk and found the fort that James White first built on a bluff overlooking the valley below, now a criss cross of interstates, and the River towards the East. The fort itself seemed so old. The wood from the surrounding forests and erected in 1786. The trunks of the trees whittled to sharp points on the top to discourage the Indians from entering the homestead.

I enjoyed the venture into downtown, past the courthouse and into some sort of Mall area. It was being decorated for Christmas. A small sampling of the local inhabitants were milling and venturing outdoors now that the sun was higher in the sky and the day was warming to a sultry 50+.

I found myself taking photograph after photograph and thoroughly enjoying the day away from work, away from cares, away from Lexington.

KNOXVILLE: City where the Devil is among friends.

Normally I would say what a great town (city) K-town is. And it was. I am just under a cloud of doubt about the future. Where we will be and if I am okay with it. I hoped it would be Chicago. I know in my heart it would be cruel and unwarranted punishment to make Zorro move to Chicago, or even push the issue.

I could explain to him that Bailey will be 10 years old in a few weeks. In a few years she will be 12. Around that time she will have her friends and being with Dad will be a crap. Unless she is one of this weird children who clings to the opportunity that having a Dad/boyfriend offers? God, help me.

What I think is unimportant. She is very young and needs her Dad. I think Chicago is too far away. He may see or get her once a month, and not the every week-end he gets now. He did let me stomp down Danville. There is no discussion, we will move.

So, the promise that K-town offered was short lived. He was just going through the motions...for me?

RAMBLING PROSE

Thought I would give an update on all that is going on around here. The new Alzheimer's medication my Dad is taking is working a small miracle. Saturday night the whole family was celebrating his 85th birthday, standing around the table, with the birthday cake in front of him singing "Happy Birthday" at the top of our out of tune lungs. He looked around at us and on the last line sang "Happy Birthday to ME!" I almost began crying. Despite the hearing problem, he now will communicate with you in a strong voice rather than the vague facial expressions of late. It is remarkable the strides they are making in treating dementia.

Zorro and I are going to Knoxville this afternoon for two days to enable him to take the required tests for placement in several positions that may be open to him. I think Atlanta is out, but several other options have presented themselves. Chicago being one of them. I am taking a wait and see position, as I have no idea where we will end up! It is like being on an out of control bus careening down a mountainside! Zorro seems to forget that I have to adjust my career and life too, but (sigh)..........

Finally!!!!!!!! At the birthday party my two sisters, Omega and Mid-Sis made semi-commitments to go to IRELAND in March! We have causally been taking about this for several months. I'm there. I am thrilled!

Zorro and I began running again, hoping to be able to run in the Turkey Trot in Louisville on Thanksgiving Day. 10K. I am laughing hysterically. I know I can do it, but it won't be pretty.

DON'T BOGART THAT JOINT, MY FRIEND

JULY 1974

I have to get my chops going, my juices flowing. I think I will start this jaunt back in time with the summer of love. I moved into my first apartment with a girl from Detroit, transplanted into Murray, married and divorced, all in three years! Her mother had a house on 4th street that was divided into two apartments. Toni and I shared the right side. I was in love with J.V. who was ten years older than me, an alcoholic, divorced and facing time in the local jail for transporting some type of drugs. It escapes me, but I believe it was speed or it could have been mescaline! Whatever it was, he was convicted and was in the county jail doing his time and I was sharing an apartment with Toni having the time of my life.

This picture is the gang of us in Memphis at an Eric Clapton concert. I have some memory of it...hahahahah. It was the day of, the day before, perhaps the day after Nixon left the White house.

We were young and had more important things to think about, like don't Bogart that joint my friend.

PARADISE

MAY 1975

I began to have an online journal to enable myself to write about my favorite subject...ME! I have somehow become lost along the way, not only writing for me, but writing for those who read me. And I lost the true intent of self-examination with words and memories.

The picture above I found in a box of old photo's. On the back it says, John - Paradise.

Actually it was the Grand Canyon (I think!). We went to Arizona on a drug run. I went for the adventure and fell in love with John along the way. We made love for the first time the night before we left for the Grand Canyon and the trip home. I suppose I waited with him because it was so obvious he was crazy about me. I wanted him to only think good about me. And I fell in love with him. I remember thinking so often during our time together that it was better to have someone care more about me than I about them. I had no idea. I had little clue that I was with the love of my life. I had no inkling that I was going to spend the rest of my life thinking about him, looking for him every where I go.....

And so, this is the beginning of my (more than likely rambling) chronicles of that time in my life...complete with pictures.

Thank God its Friday

Or TGIF. Did I mention that yesterday was my dad's 85th Birthday? I had my doubts that we were going to celebrate it this year, but he fooled us all. The new Alheimers medication is working like a charm. It will never bring my Dad back but at least it has stopped the rapid decline we were witnessing two weeks ago. And there is hope he will live and realize his prophesy to die in the back of a church at age 90.

I am so upset, but pretty much calmed down now. Several years ago I was in a financial decline and had my car repossessed. Even though I had the job with the great company I am with now, it was catch up time. I bit the bullit and paid the collection agency along with all the fines and fees and had no car. A crime, but I realize that I was in the wrong to get so far behind in my payments, even though I was catching up I was not up to date. I paid the damn thing off by borrowing money from my 401-K. Finished and done with. Well, they are back for the third time trying to collect the same amount of money. It is up to me to unearth the letter I demanded the last time they came after me (for the second time) that states I have pain in full, and also find the paid checks. What a hassel!

I am going to write the Attorney General of KY about this. I am sick and tired of paying for my sins and continue to be harrassed by these vultures!

That's all folks.....

MORNING AFTER

Voting was not so bad yesterday. I was prepared for the line and so surprised! Usually it is a cake walk, sign in, show id, vote, go. And not to forget bull s'ing with the people volunteering at the polling area.

The only glitch was the lady behind me with her 18 month old son who screamed and cried the entire 10 minutes. And she invaded my space. If that kid were any closer to me, I would have been carrying him. I think she did it on purpose! Maybe she did not like my looks, hell maybe she read my mind! I was thinking she was out of her mind being that kid with out a book or a coloring book or toys or something! Oh well, I was ready to be a martyr and then she was pulled out of the line for not being officially registered. Thank you God.

Did much better on the diet. Considering I got up the nerve to stand on the scale and there it was! The dreaded ten pounds! I screamed loud and long! I knew it was bad....it was more than ten pounds actually, but once I got all my clothes stipped off it dropped three pounds.

Did much better, only three candy bars! Those tiny ones! No indian corn, no wheat thins....just some sugar fee pudding and lentil soup. Which I love. It is not on the South Beach diet, but who cares! I am trying to cut out sugar and starch in their ugliest forms! Lentil soup is comfort food, especially on a night where I was realizing that my vote did little good. Even badgering Zorro to vote, did little good. Another four years of strife....as I see it. I am not better off than I was under the Clinton administration, and I am looking at a dismal future as a retiree.

A dreary overcast battleship gray day on the Onio River.

ELECTION DAY

It seems that I find myself at this journal/blog more often than the other. I operate/write under a cloak of anoniminity that is not available to me on Alphawoman. My regular hand written jnl. Seems to be gathering dust in the back seat of the Coke-mobile. I find it difficult to write in the van, too cramped.

I am wolfing down lunch which is two old hamburgers from dinner two nights ago. I am in day two of the South Beach diet....I did not do too well yesterday, giving in to a 99cent jumbo bag of Autumn Mix (yum the indian corn). The the left over candy from Halloween. Thank God Zorro took it to work for distribution to the ghosts and ghouls of NSR. The Autumn mix was tossed into the trash can on the way into Barnes and Noble. Good girl, Alpha!

No one has told my body about the time change. That is why I am wolfing down lunch at 1030am! It is the reason that I crashed at 730pm last night! Awake at 1130pm! Back to bed around 130am. Up at 5am. That's my life , a study in clock study.

I am off to the polls now. Hope the rain hold off.

ATLANTA UPDATE

It would seem that I am heading to Atlanta. Zorro and I go to Roanoak next week so he can participate in a placement test for management jobs. I doubt that will work out, so I am starting to roll around in my head that I may be in Atlanta in a few months.

I don't know. I'm scared as anything. This morning I woke up and thought about the time I moved to Florida. I did it without a moments hesitation. I had little doubt that I could make it. I was walking away from what I considered a dead end job (maybe it was, maybe not) with a degree in my hot young hand (I was 38).

I am now 51. Moving and change does not come so easily anylonger. I have so much baggage to haul with me. Mom and Dad, leaving Bridget, leaving my family. The odds of finding a suitable job at 51.

And it is so tempting to go! The things I will leave behind. This boring job (made so because I make it boring), the step daughter who I have never taken to. I realize this is going to be the easies thing for me and the hardest for Zorro, leaving her. Its shameful, but to me that is the Main Reason for moving! Leaving her and her demanding, selfish self absorbed, unfair, gernerally despicable Mother (the ex) behind!

Shame on me! (secretly doing dance of Joy)

The Slither is dead....long live the Slither 

GHOSTS OF HALLOWEEN PAST

It is with sorrow that I write these words, tonight the very last Slither is being held and I am not taking part in the historic event. For over 20 years the Slither has been as much a part of Halloween as carved pumpkins. It began with a handful of ingenious and serious reverlers intent on having an event to remember. They took to the streets of an area of Louisville called Germantown which can boast of having a bar on every conor and then some! As the years progressed the numbers who joined the ranks swelled. We Slither twice a year, on the eve of the Kentucky Derby and the Halloween weekend.

The streets of Germantown are generally quiet, being a blue collar area. On Halloween when the masses take to the streets, it becomes an noisy phenomenon of fifty to seventy unruly dressed up frolicking idiots. The theme changes from year to year.

All good things must come to an end...Or at least that is what they tell us. The organizers of the annual event, one of which is my BIL, have concluded are in need to pass the torch to an younger generation. And as of today, there were no takers. Such a sad ending to a spectacular and highly anticipated event.

I think there is time......When the Derby draws near and reality knocks someone will step up and take control. Something as precious as the origin of the Mother of all hangovers has got to live on!

RAMBLING UPDATE..........

Dad was released from the hospital today. I would like to thank everyone from the bottom of my heart for all your prayers and well wishes. They worked. All the tests are inconclusive. He was prescribed an additional Alzheimer's medication, new on the market in January. Hopefully it will slow down the rampant decline of the past week. He is home and I will sleep peacefully this night as our Angel Genie is spending the night with Mom to help out.

ON THE HOME FRONT

Zorro (this is the name I have decided to use for my husband) had had enough of the squirrels getting into the attic through the aging air ducts on the roof. He decides they need to be replaced. Seemed easy enough, a trip to Home Depot and a ladder. Mission accomplished! The squirrels were even impressed with his Handy man work.

It rained this weekend. I was in the back of the kitchen when I noticed the ceiling looking ....well, like it was sagging a little. What the heck? Zorro was looking at it with me and he tentatively poked at it with his finger and a chunk of it fell on us, followed by a stream of water.

Being the good wife I am (I have learned quickly a thing or two....I liked being a smart ass girl friend, but I love being a wife more) so I kept my mouth shut. Upon examination of the roof, directly above the disaster, was the new air duct! Biting my tongue, I sigh.

Then I get a terrific idea, "Why don't we call the Monkey Brothers!!!!"

I'll be darned if they did not show up this morning while I was at work! Dang! Zorro said they had split up. Several of them went to Florida for the $35 an hour labor work. Those that remained did so because they are family men with responsibilities. "I have two children with another on the way." Said MB # 1. MB # 2 played with the dog in the neighbors back yard while MB # 1 borrowed back our ladder from our next door neighbor (drumming up another job no doubt)! MB # 2 sounded like Boomhauser from KING OF THE HILL. Zorro did not understand one thing he said except the tail end of the estimate..." MMMM....garble garble garble, BBADDDDD, garble garble garble......MMMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmm, aaahhhhhhhh.... $200"

Two hours later, MD #1 had the roof fixed. They will be back to give us an estimate for the ceiling inside. I'm going to kill Zorro if he does not call me!

Colorful in Dowtown Louisville 

One of my favorite Gallway shots...have to send a favorite the first time! 

NO TITLE

I went to the hospital and stayed with my Dad till about 830pm. The doctor came in and briefed Mom and myself. They can not find out why he is having these episodes. On the CAT scans, the MRI's, the blood work, the urine tests, the Dopler (looking at his neck veins) all all inconclusive. Prehaps the technology is not sophisticated enough to detect the strokes he is experiencing. There is just no explanation at this point. Only a result of his increased and accelerated deterioration.

It is so sad. I am falling apart on the inside. People ask me how he is, and I have a litaney oth things...he is failing, he is almost 85, he is shutting down, he has dementia, his heart is very slow...and the doctors can tell us nothing and give us no hope.

We will take him home and then make some decisions. My Mother can not care for him on her own. My sister is adament to not place him in a nursing home. Yet, who looks after him when Mom needs a break? Not her, its me.

Who runs over to the house when Dad has slipped out of the chair, or she needs help of any sort...not her, its me.

I love my Dad. I am so ashamned of myself for not being able to handle this better.

THINGS WORSE THAN DEATH

And it has a name, dementia. It is like holding on to my father by the fingertips as he dangles over a cliff. The grip is slipping little by little until he lets go.

He is back in the hospital. Almost two days at home, from Friday evening until Sunday afternoon. My sister and SIL were visiting from Louisville doing yard work etc. When 4pm rolled around, they could not wake him up. The angels always are protecting my family. The traveling nurse was making her visit. She called our family doctor who instructed us to call 911.

His heart rate was so low. This morning it was 47.

And he is hallucinating...or has entirely lost his grip. Last week it was okay, he recognized my Aunt, his sister. "Tell me something about myself". She demanded of him, "You're loony" he threw back (much to the amusement of my mother).

Anyway, please keep us in your prayers and thoughts.

IN THE PALM OF HIS HAND

I don't understand how much of myself I really want to publish in Alphawoman. By understand, I mean the motivation. My handwritten, old fashion diary is lying on the floor of my vehicle. I enjoy this medium a lot. The only problem is, how much. In MLIAOB (which no one but me reads) it is simple. No one has any idea who I am. In ALphawoman, there is the possibility that people so know. Zorro may have told people about it when I was the top dog for a week and I now have peepers. My hit counter way out shines my comments....oh well.

The point being is that Dad is very ill and I don't like how I feel about it. I help out, I am there, but it is so painful to see your Dad become a stranger to you. The last really good concersations I had with Pop would have been 10 years ago. He has been fading for a long time. Every birthday, every Christmas I think will be my last with him.

We brought him home from the hospital today. Mom, Pat and myself. He was over medicated from a sleeping pill and as always (anymore) very uncommunicative. Two priests came and prayed for him, gave him a blessing, and laid hands on him.

I do not want my Dad to suffer anymore. I do not think he is in much pain. But he is reduced to wearing diapers, not being able to wash himself, can not talk, we will have to begin to puree his food because chewing is difficult, his medication must now be crushed and given to him in applesause. I do not want this for my dad. My Pop. The first man I ever loved! I do not want him to be reduced to this lump who watches tv and has only rare moments of lucidity.

I want my Dad back and it is not ever again going to happen until I meet him in heaven. I do not want to see my Mother reduced to role of caregiver/keeper/nurse. I do not want to see every dime they have saved go to a 24 hour a day nurse. Just to give him the care to have an existence of a shell of flesh.

I know that these thoughts are going to haunt me when he does go. I love my Dad.

GOOD BYE MARY MARY QUITE CONTRARY

I changed the name of my blog. I have Mary Mary on an AOL blog that I use for my photoblog....or at least I attempt to have a photo journal. I thought up this name several days ago, but I do not want to start a Fifth journal! Yes a fifth! Crazy. I have one private blog that I use to experiment with. So, I thought I would just change the name of this one.

I am next going to learn how to upload pictures, join a blog circle (what the hell is that) and then learn how to do the good stuff to personalize my blog. When I posted pictures to my MMQC for the Friday challenge, I received 100 hits in less than 24 hours! Can you believe it!

Last night was something else. I woke up when Joe crashed into bed with me. (From this date forward Joe is going to be Zorro). I awoke when Zorro crashed into bed with me. I tossed and turned for sometime before deciding to go to the rest room. I noticed that he had left on the tv. When I had eliminated the white noise of the end of the DVD going through its loop I heard it...water! I walked into the kitchen with trepidation and saw it....it took a few moments to register. Along with the smell and the sense of being in a sauna.

Zorro had turned on the water, presumaly to soak the dishes, and walked off. I had little idea how long it had been running, but the hot water was depleted. The counter flooded, the floor was awash in an eight foot puddle. I turned it off, grabbed plenty of towels once I realized a mop was not going to clean this mess up. I realized it was in the drawer too...Then the cupboard. The pots and pans under the counter were filled, as it they had been set under drips from the ceiling.

A total ugly smelly hot house mess. I cleaned it up to a respectful mess....jumped on the computer in the kitchen for awhile, then went back to bed. Where I tossed and turned for another hour...falling asleep close to 330am having to rise at 5am.

Ugly. Zorro was contrite. The sleepwalking dishwashing fool. I left him struggling with removing the saturated flooring of the cupboards, muttering about buying a circular saw. The vision of him slicing a hand off in my imagination made me rush out of the house!

CHANGES

Isn't it disconcerting that life can seem to be almost perfect, everything falling into place, the very rhythm's of daily life become predictable, reassuring and safe. Suddenly, out of nowhere the monstrous bird of change swoops down and hands you a special delivery announcement!

This has happened to Joe and I. Several things compounded last week to make it a week that we won't ever forget. Joes job is being eliminated. The end of November is the last day the office will be open, then it will be run from a Central location.

We do have some options. Actually, I do not think we have discovered all the options as of yet. The most sparkly and enticing is to follow his job and move to Atlanta. I have yet to sit down and make a list of the pro's and con's for this. I am excited at the prospect of new adventures, a new set of surroundings, new opportunities, escape from doldrums of existence in central Kentucky. On the other hand, my family is here. Bridget would die without me! My Mom and Dad! Joes children! Then again.....Atlanta!

Of course there are other options. I'm scared. Then I'm exhilarated! Then I'm scared again. I have always been the type of person who can accept things and make the best of them. The biggest problem here will be those we have to leave behind.

The other options are not so invigorating!

MORNING HAS BROKEN

I got up very early this morning because I thought I may have a 6am meeting (yes, I was in shock for a long time regarding the barbaric hour that go along with this job). The meeting is not until next week, so I took the opportunity for an early morning swing by Keeneland Race track to watch the horses in their morning work outs.

A stunning sunrise. I am tempted to gush on about it, but I will just let the pictures tell the story. As I watched transfixed, I thought there is not an artist living or dead who could come close to this masterpiece.

Of course not. This one had God's signature on it.

THE SOUTH WILL RISE AGAIN

Of the many reasons that the South is a wonderful place to live, the Civil War Reenactments has got to have a place close to the top. Now I know that the rest of the world think that those of us who live south of the Mason Dixon marry our cousins then settle down to raise our little Frank and Jesse's. Then we build our fortunes growing marijuana, brewing moonshine and raising thoroughbred horses. Sometimes we go crazy and become land developers and chop up great grand pappies farm and sell it on five acre lots. When we want to relax, we hop into our trucks and go to the horse track for some gambling. We smoke a lot of cigarettes. We eat a lot of fried foods. Then we go to church and vote Republican.

Well, some of that is true.............But the stereotype I like the best is the one where we don't concede that we lost the Civil War. Every county that had a battle fought during the war reenacts that battle every year. It is a huge thriving business, this Civil War stuff.

And great fun. Where else can you sit on the side lines and watch men fight each other with swords on horseback? Or see a canon shot out a huge O ring? Or see and hear living history? Reach out and touch personal things that belonged to someone long ago forgotten? Or are they.

The Battle of Perryville, which was reenacted today, was fought in 1862. History tells that over 60,000 Union and Confederate soldiers met in the Perryville area both seeking water. The bloodiest battle fought in the South ensued upon their meeting. Over 7500 casualties resulted. The most mind boggling fact about all this is that 300 homes around this area were used as hospitals to treat the injured and dying.

It was a beautiful day. I wonder what they day was like in 1862?

TINY TANKS

I have always been the designated driver. I am always the appointed chauffeur. It is assumed and taken for granted that I do the driving in this family. In Ireland when he had to assume the role, it was a major problem. Hence, the extra grey hairs, the new swear words and the kissing of the ground at the Return Car Rental Area. It was the same in Boston. It began with me driving off into the night after our flight arrived at Logan around midnight, happy and naive, sporting the glad to be alive attitude. I paid the toll and as I approached the tunnel I realized the twelve lanes were merging into four and that I was being squeezed and had no idea which lane I needed to be in......Then the screaming began.....Well, do you all remember that scene from "Clueless" when she inadvertently enters the LA Freeway? It was very much like that. The Boston experience will have to remain in my memory treasure chest for another time....This entry is about Louisville Friday night.

The Octoberfest at one time was a great event in Louisville. When I lived there in the 1980's it was held in a section of Louisville known as Butchertown. An empty lot was fenced in and the vendors set up booths, a stage was built for the center piece and a tent was erected for Duckdancing and other polka type dances the Germans love. Back in the '80's I could go and actually run into people I knew. But that was a long time ago before the world changed.

Now it is being held on Fourth Street downtown. It seemed like a fun place to check out, so Joe and I went down there. I expected to stay a couple of hours eating, watching Joe throw back a couple of beers, Duckdancing all that great Octoberfest activities. The festival was spread out over the block between Broadway and Chestnut with the stage at the far end. The closeness that the fenced in lot had and the compradery that it demanded was missing at Fourth street. The enchanting quality was gone. I threw back my one beer and settled in for people watching. Joe wanted to leave.

So we left.

I am the designated driver for several reasons. The most important is that Joe drinks much faster than I do. The result of that is that he has to go to the bathroom about five times as many times as I do. I think he was tiny tanks. I know every bathroom pit stop from Mass to Florida. I know most of them in Ireland, for the love of God! It begins with Joe saying "You better start looking for a stop." Friday night I quipped back, "Is it code orange?" He replied, "It feels more like a yellow."

A minute later, IT'S RED, IT'S RED !!!! I am use to this frantic tone and know when its serious, and it sounded serious. I pulled over on a side road that runs alongside the Waterworks and I darted into the main drive way. To both sides of us was a large concrete retaining wall with huge columns at the entrance, Joe ducked behind one of them.

He must have really had to go, because he was back there for a long time.....and then the police officer pulled up next to me. I panicked.....Flashback to the 1970's......My heart was pounding and I was ineffectively trying to roll down my window, which is electronic! I could only think about the beer I had drank 15 minutes ago. My professional life was passing before my eyes. I finally wrenched open the car door and almost fell out, "Are you okay?" he asked.

All I could think of was, "Peeing in public is a crime", so I said the first thing that popped into my mind, "I pulled over to use my cell phone!", he nodded and drove through the iron gate that opened for him. Joe hops into the car, "That was a close one." he says.

It took five minutes for my heart to stop pounding. The '70's ruined me.

The first weekend of October finally arrives! I look forward to it like a child looking forward to Christmas morning. It is the weekend of the St. James Court Art Show held in a section of the city known as old Louisville. 700 artists come from all over the United States to show off their art. It is a visual kaleidoscope of mind blowing proportions. I spent way too much money and had an absolute blast doing it.

My favorite was an artist from Micanopy, Florida, Sandra L. Russell, who had the most unusual photo's on display. She has an old style Polaroid that takes several minutes to develop the picture. While it is setting up, she uses a hooked needle to manipulate the colors! The effect is very Van Gogh-esque. Then I fell in love with the art work of a women who works with textures combining photos, fabric, knick-knacks, what-nots into collages and shadow boxes. Very interesting.

I spoke at some length with Ms. Russell about her photography, computer programs etc. I have the Photoshop program which I installed some three months ago and have not taken the time to experiment with it. She encouraged me to delve into it and discover the mysteries of photo manipulation! The above collage is my first try. As you can see, we spent the day eating and drinking......a lot.

The weekend passed so quickly!

YOU THINK YOU KNOW SOMEONE AND THEN.....

I had the greatest weekend! So many things happened that I am going to get at least three entries out of it! I TOLD Joe that I was going to blog about our Friday night escapade and he did not object...so I took that as consent!

I spent a lot of time with my lovely daughter Bridget. We went to Impellizzeri's Pizza on Bardstown Rd in Louisville. We spent a long time waiting on our dinner and a pizza to go ,( the price you pay for going to a 15 table five star pizza joint) and I found out my daughter has a pen fetish!

Take a look at all the pens she pulled out of her purse! I kid you not! Half of the space in her purse was taken up with her obsession! The family at the table next to ours could not get over it either!

Aren't her teeth beautiful! ($5,000 dollars later! )

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.

THE DUTIES OF THE FIRST BORN

Mom is in the hospital again. Sunday she called me and asked me to come over because she was feeling faint and was worried about Dad. Not herself, natch. My father has a type of dementia and he will be 85 in November, he is a trifle unsteady on his legs!

I felt it necessary to call her family physician, she was in such pain that I could not bear to stand by and just wring my hands. The Doc told me to call an ambulance and he would meet her at the emergency room. Mom lives on a very well established dead end street. I heard the ambulance heading in our direction...I knew she was going to be very angry with me, but hey, I can handle that. All the neighbors came into their front yards and watched in concerned silence. As soon as they saw it was my Mom and not Dad, they began to head towards our house. I had to announce what was going on from the front porch while my Dad stood behind me watching in his mute helplessness.

They are running tests and I believe they will let her go home today and schedule further tests as an out patient. I hope she just had a virus attack her and knock her flat.

I want to tell you all about Genie. She is a miracle woman. She has been helping my Mom care and tend for my Dad since June. To make a long story short, Omega cried to me one night several months ago, before Genie, that I had to go tell Mom to let Dad go to heaven. That he was in too much pain and he was praying for the Lord to take him and if Mom gave her permission, he would pass on. Omega is the youngest and taking Dad's decline the hardest. My thoughts are this, Dad will go to heaven when God calls him, not a moment before. And I would never never never ask that of my Mom.....Heavens!!! Yet, I understand Omega.

Then Genie came into their lives and my Dad is a new person. She has worked in health care with the elderly since she has been 16 years old. She is a country girl, kind, generous with her love, and the most wonderful companion for Dad every day. He is not ashamed when she tends to him.....She calls him Mr. Wonderful.

Mr. Wonderful can be a handful. Several years ago Mom felt faint and passed out cracking her head open. They kept her in the hospital for observation for several days. I was staying with Dad and went home to change clothes. When I went back, he was GONE!!!!!!!

SO WAS THE CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I was PANICKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He had found the keys, driven himself the 10 plus miles into Lexington and parked at the hospital and found her hospital room! All by himself! He was sitting in a chair like the cat who ate the canary! He only forgot his jacket.

You can never give up on anyone. Their is no limits to the human spirit.

IT WAS A DARK AND DREARY NIGHT

Thunder is rumbling as I sit here and write this entry. I love thunders storms, as long as I am not driving in them.

This morning I was out running around the little town I live in. Racking my brain for something to write about. I hate to think I am experiencing writers block...again! Running has a way of turning into a mantra experience if you allow it. When I was experiencing a "clean slate" this thought surfaced....people who truly meant something to me and are no longer a part of my life.

It was triggered as I jogged past his parents house. My childhood friend R. His car is backed into their drive way, as if he may jump into it any moment and drive back to Washington State, where he has escaped to many years before. The last time I heard from him was almost three years ago. His name popped up on my caller ID. He did not leave a message, I did not return his call.

He returned home to his parents, a laid off aeronautic engineer. He took a settlement, cashed in his 401-K and headed home after 20 years. He was an alcoholic. He is an alcoholic. He hooked up with another childhood friend of mine, G. And before I knew it I was entertaining the two of them most every night! One crazy absurb night R. Turned to me and said, "If G. Will not marry you, I will." I looked from one nut case to the other..."These are my choices?......I pass." Neither on has ever forgiven me.

R. was in his parents house, climbed out on the second story roof in a sleeping bag and promptly fell asleep, He rolled off the roof fell to the ground and broke his back. They said he would never walk again, but he did. In 1997 he walked, with canes, into a funeral of yet another childhood friend of ours who dropped dead from a heart attack at 42.

And G.!!! I have written about G. before. He is a bad influence on me. I'll say no more. He is always there for me when I need him. If I ever need him again, he will be angry with me for awhile, then once again be my best friend. I miss him the most...but he is the furthest away.

And F. One of my best friends. Lost everything in her life, her family, her home, her mind. Another alcoholic. I[ve written about her before too. I opened my home to her when she lost hers. The seduction and allure of alcohol and comfort of self medication has all but erased my friend. I see her occasionaly around Lexington.....I quickly run the other way.

C. in Louisville. When I was a young mother with an infant she and I shared apartments all over the Highland Area! We had a major falling out where I said something.... I would give anything in the world to take it back. Bridget considered her the Wicked Step Mother...We always laughed about that. For many years Bridget had two very strong female influences on her development. I met C. In Murray when we first went to college in the early 70's. She was a good dear friend for many years.

Then there is S. And E. Two people I worked with at a company in Louisville for approximately 10 years! How do we loose touch like this. I loved them. I can not find them now.

People come and go. Leave an impression and they change your life. I miss every one of them. I dare not reach out to the dueling Beau's......Too complicated now that I am married! (also married a childhood friend...Life is so odd) but the others, the girls, the women, the sisters.....? Why do we allow something so precious and rare as friendship to become so lost.

A letter to my favorite item

Dear Computer,

I remember the first day I brought you home. I remember all the steps I took leading up to purchasing you. The anticipation, the hope, the expectations. Who would have thought it exceeded every single one!

Dear Camera,

I look for you still. The day you were stolen is one of the saddest days of my life. My lovely Nikon SLR F series with the two lenses. I even cried. I have never been able to replace you. Oh yes, there is that Canon, but it pales in comparison. The Minolta...HA! I gave it away! The digital gives me gray hairs! My tiny 35mm was lost! I want you back! Please come home I beg you! I know it has been seven long years, but I think of you most days!

Dear Diary,

What would I do without you! Always there with a comforting shoulder and never interrupts or judges. Never betray me nor share our secrets.

Dear Refrigerator,

Sometimes I could kick your ass!

I NEVER WANT TO DO THAT AGAIN

This past weekend we went to Louisville for the State Fair. Contrary to all my other thousands of entries about my adventures, this one was a little off the bullseye.

It started off with us stuck in traffic for 40 minutes trying to enter the fair grounds. It was a three block trek, for the love of God! It seems all the traffic control people they hired were trained...wait! they were not trained. It was all I could do not to put the car in park and rush out into the intersection and take over for those poor women. Yes, they were women! Hired purposely for this event. I was not a very good citizen and made my way into a turning lane I CREATED.....Thankfully, many followed behind me!

The fair was fun. Spent most our time in the event arena checking out the cow shows, the bunnies and all of the exhibits. There was the most fantastic amateur photography display. I'm thinking of submitting one next year. Black and white.

We stayed at a motel in another area of town. Joe and his daughter spent the late afternoon in the pool while I finished the book The Lovely Bones. It was a terrific read. It is so wonderful to read in a hotel room. No dishes in the sink calling out to you, no tomato bushes that need to be staked, no nagging guilt that you have not driven across town to visit your parents. Wonderful.

Then to a restaurant, which I have decided not to name, but I would love to! We were told the wait for a table would be a half hour and were given a small disc that lit up when your table was ready. We were there for a long time...Longer than a half hour. We sent Joe's daughter to investigate while I sent Joe to the bar. She came back with the message that we were next. Well, we weren't! Now at least I had a glass of wine to keep me occupied. When it was gone, and we were still sitting, I went over and asked. Seems that we had already been seated! I was ticked off! It appears that our pager number was erroneously given to others and we were overlooked. How long would we have to sit there waiting until they noticed? I am in the people pleasing business and this is not the way to treat your customers. We left.

McDonalds......I'll say no more.

When we returned to the hotel room the bathroom was flooded! Not really really bad, but it was in the wall coming from upstairs and puddling the entire bathroom floor. The maintenance man was there in minutes, assessed the situation and asked us if we wanted to move. That would have been too much effort, so we stayed in the room. He brought us plenty of towles to soak it up!

I was awakened at 6am by Joe head butting me. He said I laid there with both my hands covering my forehead, moaning for five minutes. I hate double beds....they are too small.

Other than all that....it was a good week-end.

ILOVE PURPLE

Anyway....I'm playing hookie again at the public library where I do most all my hookie olaying. Sometimes I go to the Book Cellar and browse through all their wonderful books, once a month allowing myself to purchase a few, that is my second favorite place to play hookie.

I go the Arborteum and sit in the vehicle and read, or write in my journal. I go sit at the Keeneland Race Track parking lot. Last week, after having to awake at 4am to make a 6am meeting, I had to go lay the car seat back and catch a few zzzzzzzzzzzzz's. The security police came over to make sure I was not a dead body.

Mainly, I'll ride around and goof off. May even travel up to the Horse Park. They have a beautiful area to just sit and comptemplate life.

Anyway, I'm at a loss for any subject matter to write about.

This past week I was on the computer (like always) and there was a knock at the door. An unfamiliar guy was standing on the other side as I cautiously opened the door and said, "Yes...?" and he pointed towards our tree in the front yard, "We're in the neighborhood, from Frankfort, just finished a job in town here and noticed that there tree is dead...About to tear down that wire! We'll take it down for you. We give estimates." We walked out to under the tree and gazed up at it. "It is pretty dead. My husband has been talking about taking it down. How much" "Oh, about $250. Shouldn't take us an hour, hour and a half. Do you want us to haul off the wood?" "I have to wait until my husband comes home and see what he wants to do?' "When will he be home" "Any minute now." "Why don't you just surprise him!" Three of this brothers climbed out of the parked truck on the road to look at the tree, realizing they had a good possibility on their hands, and were sizing up the situation. We yammered on for awhile and the leader, who sat in the truck the entire time, half in and half out of the window banged on the side and ordered them back in. "That's our old man". "He couldn't possibly be your Dad!" "Nah...He's our cousin." They left me a card and drove off. I liked them. I can not tell you why. They were young, proably in their 20's except for the cousin, who was early 40's late 30's maybe. Hard to tell because they were country people, lived hard lives on farms and looked weathered and leathered...At least old Dad did. The brothers were all nice looking in a rough way. Good Lord, the way I like them. Nice on the outside with a hint of danger just under the surface. Reminds me of all my highschool boyfriends. When Joe arrive home, he thought the price was terrific and that the tree needed to come down and the sooner the better. I called them, and they arrived on the scene in less than 15 minutes. Joseph slapped on his spikes and safety harness, a belt with the gas powered saw hanging down his side by a rope. He threw the rope around the tree, attached it to his belt/harness and began his journey up the tree. Hence, The Monkey! The tree began to come down immediately. I stationed myself on the porch and watched the spectacle......As I've said, I'm easily amused. They worked fast, efficient and together. That tree came down quickly limb by limb. He then scrambled down, and began to cut the base of the tree.....TIMBER! Joe was inside and would not look, he just made one comment, "I hope they know what they are doing!" To my eye it looked like the trunk was going to take down the cable lines....To the house next door. Great drama!!!! I was wrong, the tree fell in slow motion, in a beautiful fluid graceful swoon and landed perfectly on the ground escaping the wires easily. The four of them descended on the tree and large branches and began to saw them into easy managable pieces.....Most of them, some of the trunk was enormous and remained so. Philip (frontman/salesman) came to me while I was sitting on the porch. My entire assignment in the whole drama was to bring out bottles of water and minute maid juice blends. I did not want any of them to pass out in the heat with all that exeretion! He sat next to me and asked, or what I thought I head was this, "You got any weed?"

My mouth dropped open in astonishment! "That's a bold request!" I responded wondering if I still sported the look of the counter culture! "Don't your husband have a weed eater? They usually have gas if they do." "Oh...weed eater!" I laughed at my mistake and Philip replied when he caught wind of what I had thought,"Now we don't drink much none but we do toke up a little." Joe rounded up some gas for the electric buzz saws and the tree was cut up and stacked in the front yard in readiness for transportation to my parents and their fireplace. As I said, I'm easily amused and the Monkey Brothers were great entertainment on a hot summer.

I AM EASILY AMUSED

This past week I was on the computer (like always) and there was a knock at the door. An unfamiliar guy was standing on the other side as I cautiously opened the door and said, "Yes...?" and he pointed towards our tree in the front yard, "We're in the neighborhood, from Frankfort, just finished a job in town here and noticed that there tree is dead...About to tear down that wire! We'll take it down for you. We give estimates."

We walked out to under the tree and gazed up at it. "It is pretty dead. My husband has been talking about taking it down. How much"

"Oh, about $250. Shouldn't take us an hour, hour and a half. Do you want us to haul off the wood?"

"I have to wait until my husband comes home and see what he wants to do?'

"When will he be home"

"Any minute now."

"Why don't you just surprise him!"

Three of this brothers climbed out of the parked truck on the road to look at the tree, realizing they had a good possibility on their hands, and were sizing up the situation. We yammered on for awhile and the leader, who sat in the truck the entire time, half in and half out of the window banged on the side and ordered them back in.

"That's our old man".

"He couldn't possibly be your Dad!"

"Nah...He's our cousin."

They left me a card and drove off.

I liked them. I can not tell you why. They were young, proably in their 20's except for the cousin, who was early 40's late 30's maybe. Hard to tell because they were country people, lived hard lives on farms and looked weathered and leathered...At least old Dad did. The brothers were all nice looking in a rough way. Good Lord, the way I like them. Nice on the outside with a hint of danger just under the surface. Reminds me of all my highschool boyfriends.

When Joe arrive home, he thought the price was terrific and that the tree needed to come down and the sooner the better. I called them, and they arrived on the scene in less than 15 minutes.

Joseph slapped on his spikes and safety harness, a belt with the gas powered saw hanging down his side by a rope. He threw the rope around the tree, attached it to his belt/harness and began his journey up the tree. Hence, The Monkey!

The tree began to come down immediately. I stationed myself on the porch and watched the spectacle......As I've said, I'm easily amused. They worked fast, efficient and together. That tree came down quickly limb by limb. He then scrambled down, and began to cut the base of the tree.....TIMBER! Joe was inside and would not look, he just made one comment, "I hope they know what they are doing!"

To my eye it looked like the trunk was going to take down the cable lines....To the house next door. Great drama!!!! I was wrong, the tree fell in slow motion, in a beautiful fluid graceful swoon and landed perfectly on the ground escaping the wires easily.

The four of them descended on the tree and large branches and began to saw them into easy managable pieces.....Most of them, some of the trunk was enormous and remained so.

Philip (frontman/salesman) came to me while I was sitting on the porch. My entire assignment in the whole drama was to bring out bottles of water and minute maid juice blends. I did not want any of them to pass out in the heat with all that exeretion! He sat next to me and asked, or what I thought I head was this, "You got any weed?"

My mouth dropped open in astonishment! "That's a bold request!" I responded wondering if I still sported the look of the counter culture!

"Don't your husband have a weed eater? They usually have gas if they do."

"Oh...weed eater!"

I laughed at my mistake and Philip replied when he caught wind of what I had thought,"Now we don't drink much none but we do toke up a little."

Joe rounded up some gas for the electric buzz saws and the tree was cut up and stacked in the front yard in readiness for transportation to my parents and their fireplace.

As I said, I'm easily amused and the Monkey Brothers were great entertainment on a hot summer.

TIME TO MOVE ON

It makes life interesting to have something to look forward to. Did I say interesting? I mean tolerable! Now that the summer is winding down and fall is upon us, my thoughts turn towards spring and my birthday! Can you believe it? Joe has been on the computer looking up rates for a stay in Key West!!

This is going to be a calm weekend. Nowhere to go, no events have been planned that need to be explored, no parties to attend, no races to run, no bands to chase around, no road trip to Louisville. Sigh. Guess I will have to tackle that pesky attic that has been calling me for about 10 months to clean up. Cripes!

Now next week end is a different story. Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson are having a concert on Friday night (I hope its Friday!!), the Woodland Arts and Crafts Show is all week end, the State Fair is on in Louisville, and we are having a family Birthday celebration on Sunday! All in one week end! It is always like that. Feast or famine. I plan to attend them all!

On a lighter note, I think this house may be haunted. It is not that old, maybe 60 years, but I am not familiar with its history. Maybe something happened here, I don't know. Several months ago I awoke early in the morning (around 430am) to the sound of something in the bed room. In my groggy state, half sleep and half dream, I thought it might be one of the mice that enter our home every once in awhile. As I came to a little more, I sensed it above me, making noise on the ceiling. Flying mice! I must have turned on the bed side lamp and HORRORS!!!! a bird was flying around the ceiling in concert with the hanging fan! I leaped out of bed and drew the bed cover over my head as I ran out in panic. A BIRD!! The thing flew towards the window and that was the last I saw as I slammed the door shut behind me. Well, as slammed shut as a 60 year old door can get.

When I calmed down enough to make coffee and think about things...how did that bird get in the house? Maybe its a bat? (we have found a bat in here before)...so I crept back to the room and opened the door with broom in hand to defend myself.....and nothing....nothing.

I have thought about this for several months. Where did it go? Was I dreaming?

Then last night, right as I was falling asleep, in that once again half sleep half dream state, I felt the presence of someone....hovering over me. I felt the pressure of someone, and once again in my dream state thought it was Bridget clilmbing in bed with me.

Then came to and realized Bridget is now 24, not 4.

Creepy. But not enough to really scare me. Or frighten me. Just make me aware that ......

Dublin Ohio Irish featival

My sister Omega and I drove the four hours to a suburb in Columbus Ohio known as Dublin. They have the second largest Irish Festival in the country. It is massive! We purchased the three day pass Friday evening and began to explore the village. We had to park and be shuttled to the event. Parking near to the park was impossible, so the bus was a nice treat.

The Dublin Irish Festival is Music, Food, and Beer. Their are four major stages with various styles of music and dance. The Traditional Irish Music tent at the North entrance was the largest of the four. I think because it appealed to the broadest audience. The food courts were situated everywhere so no one ever went hungry or thirsty!

Omega did not sleep well Friday night and dropped me off early in the morning. I wandered around by myself till mid afternoon. I had a wonderful time. I even found a small musician tent that was so remiesince of the Music festival in Ennis (Ireland). The musicians were all jamming together. Violins, duborar, Irish whistles, mandolins playing the traditional Irish music......transported me back to those wonderful pubs Joe and I stumbled into in late May.

The Celtic Rock tent was tucked back in the far end of the park. I had located it on the map of the festival and was determined to locate it well before Saw Doctors took the stage, 10pm that evening.

So, I was there scooping it out at 1:30. Low and behold, the band known as TEMPEST was playing. Has anyone in the West Coast heard of this band? They absolutely were great. Advertised as Folk music....I must say I have never heard fold music ever performed that was before. They had the best stage presence I have seen in some time. And the instrumental driving rock defies description.....they were so good, I purchased an album!

When Omega finally arrived, I had staked out an area left of the stage on the grass situated right in front of the arrival area of the musicians. One guy came over the fence and was heading into the crowd, he had a Saw Doctor pass around his neck. I stopped him and asked if any of the Saw Doctors were there yet.....he said, "No they went on at 10pm"

Guess what, he was a Saw Doctor...I felt like a FOOL!

Omega was put out with him and wanted to shake her fist at him all day Sunday!

GET THAT WASP OFF MY SANDWICH

Words fail me. I knew that I loved the music and the band is famous for its great shows. I was prepared to have a rollicking wonderful time, but I was truly amazed at just how dynamic, exuberent, tight, how much fun this band was live! I knew it, I felt it. I was not disappointed and then some, and then some and then some.

Omega and I saw them Saturday night at 10pm, the final act on the stage, and then again Sunday afternoon. Both shows were spectacular. Each different due to the diversity of the two crowds. Saturday night being the drinkers and late night rockers. The singing along with the band was more pronounced Saturday, but Sunday there was more energy in the crowd which included a lot of kids. Dancing and singing and just the most wonderful group experience I have had in a long time. Seeing the Saw Doctors is a Happening!

The die hard fans were up front to dance and sing along with the songs. Yet, when it was time everyone under the tent was able to sing along with HAY WRAP! How hard is yelling, HAY!! HAY!! The song is delivered in machine gun rapid fire intensity with the Irish accent. But Peggy and I both knew when to Scream...I mean sing.... "GET THAT WASP OFF MY SANDWICH!" I truly wish I could have taken you all with me. Maybe next year.

Its been a while since I have had so much fun. Maybe about two weeks.