tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57583272804595009762024-02-19T08:12:27.848-07:00Ponderosa PiningsLonging for the day when I can move back into the mountains among the Ponderosa Pines!Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-20563166809969391342011-07-01T15:08:00.000-06:002011-07-01T15:08:29.148-06:00Starting Over<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's been over a year since Kit left, and I am finally starting to breathe again. It's strange how you can get so lost in a relationship, that you cease to exist. I was too flexible, passive, loving, and trusting. After 30 years, I never expected him to file for divorce. I was committed - invested - all in. I always believed in making it work. I found out I couldn't do it alone. I couldn't love enough for both of us and live with a growing pile of rules and expectations. My all wasn't enough. There was no credit for trying - even when I ran my health into the ground.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So now, I spend most of my days alone with God and my two animals. Maybe I can catch the dream I once had and fully become the person I was meant to be. I have been exploring my options, and enjoying the freedom in God that I once had. No pressure to perform - but total acceptance. Freedom to serve God alone. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alone. </span>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-39284121399210188472009-12-13T18:23:00.005-07:002009-12-13T18:29:03.967-07:00Hey there!It has been ages since I posted here. I have become very attached to Facebook - especially Restaurant City! M, my oldest, and I swap food and water each other's gardens. We are also Ninja's, but I haven't been able to get anyone to join my Dojo in Ninja Warriors, so I get beat up every day. . .but I'm rich!<br /><br />Cleaning and getting ready for Christmas. Can't wait for the girls, my new son-in-law, and various friends to come for the holidays. Selecting recipes for cookies, and planning a Christmas Tea. . .now to just get off the computer. . .Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-70963345341683996422009-04-09T16:02:00.005-06:002009-04-09T16:19:09.731-06:00Fabric DesignOk, here's my latest obsession: Fabric Design.<br /><br />I resigned from my job in early March. New manager - guy - with no sewing experience was making life miserable for a lot of the ladies. After dismantling most of the processes (how things had been done), and complaining about my time in the office (trying to catch up the loads of paperwork) - I decided it was time to let him learn to swim on his own. (They weren't paying me enough to train him and everyone else.)<br /><br />I am working on teaching some sewing classes there, if I can ever iron out the details with the mgr.<br /><br />So, as a woman with options, I have been exploring my creative side. Sewing, writing, cleaning (oops - organizing), and playing on the computer.<br /><br />I always wanted to try my hand at fabric design. . .so here ya go! (most of my experiments haven't been made public yet, but if you have a notion to design: Check it out. . .<br /><br /><a href="http://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/sandie%27sfacinations">http://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/sandie'sfacinations</a><br /><br /><br />Additionally, I will add a pic of my newest sweetie cat: Lady Catherine<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnmi0Qe81Smc4VAnk6U3uH4JysArEKeg1NLBfIKwSbwZKhLvQFOgC78h5JBfTArmwQEFyRXeqhlQIJXQ38VTHEGtkbgKuAlczrYFoEzqhFqIhiFroN36dlbP7lDwrmP2qY49_byPV22Y/s1600-h/Picture+017.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEnmi0Qe81Smc4VAnk6U3uH4JysArEKeg1NLBfIKwSbwZKhLvQFOgC78h5JBfTArmwQEFyRXeqhlQIJXQ38VTHEGtkbgKuAlczrYFoEzqhFqIhiFroN36dlbP7lDwrmP2qY49_byPV22Y/s320/Picture+017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322818842853605634" border="0" /></a><br />Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-46434944070753432962009-01-05T00:36:00.002-07:002009-01-05T00:45:38.111-07:00Pondering my ageOkay - so I published a few posts that have been sitting on my list for nearly a year. <br /><br />I have been enjoying my 3 daughter's this holiday season. Can't believe "the baby" with be 21 years old in Feb '09. In her 3rd year at University of Idaho. Middle daughter a senior at Idaho State, and their oldest sister, also attending ISU.<br /><br />Me? I'm Assistant Manager at the fabric store again, after an eight week stint as "acting manager" - much nicer to be supporting someone who has all the responsibility. . .Wait - - -I'm doing most of the work while he's in training. Having a blast.<br /><br />I had foot problems last year - broke a couple of bones, but now doing well for my age. Hate to admit it, but I will enter the Senior citizen category on my next birthday (this month).<br /><br />Don't act my age, so no one believes me at work. If they'd look closely, they could see the tell-tale signs under my chin. . .Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-1559985819451851782008-05-19T10:02:00.001-06:002009-01-05T00:36:27.648-07:00A couple of summers ago, I took ballet for the first time. I always wanted to be a dancer. . .<br />However, my ballet career didn't last long, and now you can see why. . .<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGws9ewRYlUD6GeH7awG8KOrQCIXHfDn1XZjMXVEpU7yfo79JPREJJTPqJy0EeFhGdh-ne9iKf8xr9-kxKHRKkrbSkdJbzUe3bzkFBERwWdGwwdQ1hZEpMEp_HH-QnAThNph66o6nxBpg/s1600-h/untitled.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5202120644017519922" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGws9ewRYlUD6GeH7awG8KOrQCIXHfDn1XZjMXVEpU7yfo79JPREJJTPqJy0EeFhGdh-ne9iKf8xr9-kxKHRKkrbSkdJbzUe3bzkFBERwWdGwwdQ1hZEpMEp_HH-QnAThNph66o6nxBpg/s320/untitled.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div></div>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-5470326419836103442008-04-21T15:22:00.006-06:002009-01-05T00:33:54.779-07:00The Post I NEVER Wanted to WriteDated 4/28/08<br /><br /><br /><br />It is amazing how perusing my <a href="http://www.khsgrads.com/K_Logs/index.htm">yearbooks</a> brings back memories of my teen years. Coupled with scanning photos of my Mom before she got sick, made the memories take a twisted turn. Some things you don't want to remember. . .cause the truth still hurts.<br /><br /><br /><br />---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />In High School, one of my classmates made a comment about one of her worst photos, "It's a face only a mother could love." I wasn't sure what she meant. I mean the picture was BAD. Would a mother love a face like that???<br /><br />I didn't understand what a comment like that could mean, because I didn't have such a face.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The fact is, my mother didn't like me. Oh, she loved me because I was her child - but she didn't like me, and made great efforts to demonstrate that fact. When your mom doesn't like you - it can feel like she doesn't love you, either.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-34937167343657853212008-03-18T17:28:00.002-06:002008-03-18T17:29:42.369-06:00Side noteMost of you missed my "Worst Date Ever" I squeaked it in behind "Family Favorite" and dated it Feb 29th.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-92226598519602081542008-03-18T17:17:00.009-06:002008-03-18T17:26:57.439-06:00How many can you name?Since I'm on an old picture kick. . .I thought I'd show this pic of my Second Grade class at Silver King Grade School. See how many kids you remember. . .<br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6KW9AxMcTJoWF7JE0aqf7A8FSqba_ZxsbEDA8qeMSE8TaZIm5OYBWk5l5rUyl5UyMljMgvO9kVSkgOT_Ho7aSlprkLhB5GTRO7CbsGPrDRnxG9X68dRlTRvmqZcAWspMyCb5jN-VXEM/s1600-h/second+grade.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5179226418194694242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF6KW9AxMcTJoWF7JE0aqf7A8FSqba_ZxsbEDA8qeMSE8TaZIm5OYBWk5l5rUyl5UyMljMgvO9kVSkgOT_Ho7aSlprkLhB5GTRO7CbsGPrDRnxG9X68dRlTRvmqZcAWspMyCb5jN-VXEM/s400/second+grade.jpg" border="0" /></a> I can name 16 out of 21.<br /></div>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-6025328015767431362008-03-18T00:21:00.009-06:002008-03-18T17:36:34.334-06:00He's still the one.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQunsCWhyACBJA2ZpIUSRONwHAbj2Kej0i6KprmSvvdCaRsYZN25ZG_KyC5pO2VGUxcpn3L3XtvnbnzcDVj1P4x0ZM0EUa0BC9yGFQ_PUGvD5Jz3BkwTVqrPx3Iz4jnKw5c0HLwJXjGc/s1600-h/Chris+BB+1982h2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178964566923558882" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjQunsCWhyACBJA2ZpIUSRONwHAbj2Kej0i6KprmSvvdCaRsYZN25ZG_KyC5pO2VGUxcpn3L3XtvnbnzcDVj1P4x0ZM0EUa0BC9yGFQ_PUGvD5Jz3BkwTVqrPx3Iz4jnKw5c0HLwJXjGc/s320/Chris+BB+1982h2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here's a pic of the Hunk from November 1982. He was competing for the first time in a Body Building contest. This one was held in Lewiston, and he came in third place.<br /><br /><br />A lot of his friends from the University of Idaho, including the Cooper Brothers who were the reigning Mr. Idaho and Jr. Mr. Idaho, thought he got ripped off. His body was more "balanced" than the guy who won. Even Rachel McLish, the former Ms. Universe, and guest poser, told him he should have won.<br /><br /><br /><p></p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZncmXYzkBTu7_-sj6Itzq2rXoB508BHNfpIhOupjLmEz2ojiALHv16XAUcr8YYAwnUm3r-SweOKcC_bGL1nzbBzDgA4dqOpw5doUhKNyNDOVYbNQBvlJxRAi73_aXZPNZfb6HbvWbzM/s1600-h/img181b.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178964884751138802" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivZncmXYzkBTu7_-sj6Itzq2rXoB508BHNfpIhOupjLmEz2ojiALHv16XAUcr8YYAwnUm3r-SweOKcC_bGL1nzbBzDgA4dqOpw5doUhKNyNDOVYbNQBvlJxRAi73_aXZPNZfb6HbvWbzM/s320/img181b.jpg" border="0" /></a> <p>The next year, he was ready! He competed at Washington State University and won FIRST Place. Whoa, Baby! I was really proud of him. (He could have been a model!) Oh, well, he became an engineer instead!<br /></p><br /><p>Someone did a write up about him after this contest in the Kellogg Evening News. So he had a little noteriety in the Silver Valley.</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-CwqIKAQ4aV0twgwOG6oi1_cQYDr3X_58nsDavzk_hW_pN_UcPy3WE0W_-zUgxG8YqVCz-8GQeYab0F_7NhWZJM96-_V3RcXxhj1LdjsOvgsABWI0ISAq8PY8B6gxISoMJebGtTK86M/s1600-h/DSC01391b.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178976897774665746" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn-CwqIKAQ4aV0twgwOG6oi1_cQYDr3X_58nsDavzk_hW_pN_UcPy3WE0W_-zUgxG8YqVCz-8GQeYab0F_7NhWZJM96-_V3RcXxhj1LdjsOvgsABWI0ISAq8PY8B6gxISoMJebGtTK86M/s320/DSC01391b.JPG" border="0" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhJ705MwaSeWkrifZQcOtO951Sn5aoPJRGzlcoyqLQ5I85_K-_xpr_CQp4bvgV02S7MvcJhARMh9Te_hdObJHUdPqkuuGxQvUpB-nEJCLr3wj6MVichchzBv3i8Mty3TNT0zSjqeenfw/s1600-h/a.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178975884162383874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzhJ705MwaSeWkrifZQcOtO951Sn5aoPJRGzlcoyqLQ5I85_K-_xpr_CQp4bvgV02S7MvcJhARMh9Te_hdObJHUdPqkuuGxQvUpB-nEJCLr3wj6MVichchzBv3i8Mty3TNT0zSjqeenfw/s320/a.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /> He's still my Hunk, today! </p>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-58510076297683623392008-03-16T18:08:00.009-06:002008-03-16T23:20:49.001-06:00Competition or Completion?He's at it again. My husband is obsessed with a younger woman. . .<br /><br />. . .the younger version of me. He keeps finding old pictures and scanning them to remind him of "what a catch he got." Great! How can the old me compare with the younger version???<br /><br />Well, first of all, I am still the same person, but the packaging has changed. I am no longer cute and petite. However, the younger me was very self-conscious, depressed, and didn't feel as if I deserved to have anyone love me. Now, I don't feel that way at all. After all, I know who I am, and I like myself, finally. (The depression meds really help.) I am older, wiser, more confident, and I have accomplished a great deal in my life with the help of the Hunk and our Savior, Jesus.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhif3NLEOeYRdB_dwCgcvFywogPCCkY2c-Qi0w4kmNt9KAaAvtmjYUxqsWg_abIKNCnM0XwA5scWYVY_2C2ga5b3Lf3X5VT8zyaTjqUp1qelKwB-xj_EJdCkfLotVgJajWkIxCUgZAVdNo/s1600-h/Sandie1971CoEd+Ball1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178500770585132978" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhif3NLEOeYRdB_dwCgcvFywogPCCkY2c-Qi0w4kmNt9KAaAvtmjYUxqsWg_abIKNCnM0XwA5scWYVY_2C2ga5b3Lf3X5VT8zyaTjqUp1qelKwB-xj_EJdCkfLotVgJajWkIxCUgZAVdNo/s320/Sandie1971CoEd+Ball1.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />We have been married nearly 28 years, weathered a lot of storms (mostly financial) and now I finally hear him say how much he appreciates me. I am past my bloom, but he realizes that I waited for him, chose him, loved him, raised our girls, finished my education (for him) and have remained devoted to him.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOv32_gmzN7Pdaq3xPfWVsUAqf59lkyNJy9bGGTOT9_l1OPs2XRwXH8i60413HBzekn3TdSVHttrhY9GCYoqXIkDjro_QydQIH11mjsmYOkHa1Z1a3UqbA624vaU88bnMbiQyufURx394/s1600-h/Sandie+Watching+Movie.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178503966040801218" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOv32_gmzN7Pdaq3xPfWVsUAqf59lkyNJy9bGGTOT9_l1OPs2XRwXH8i60413HBzekn3TdSVHttrhY9GCYoqXIkDjro_QydQIH11mjsmYOkHa1Z1a3UqbA624vaU88bnMbiQyufURx394/s320/Sandie+Watching+Movie.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div>Well, all I can say is "He's stuck with me now!" (And we're both happy about that.)</div><div></div><div></div>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-69207429694867359632008-03-03T08:33:00.007-07:002008-03-03T08:58:44.503-07:00Family Favorite<div>Ok. After looking at this picture on my husband's computer screen day after day, and on his study wall ---I have decided to share it with my friends.</div><div></div><br /><div>But first, I want to share some background to the photo. The year was 1984. I had read that book in my teens, and I was scared to face "Big Brother." But the real 1984 was nothing like the book. . .at least in my experience.</div><div></div><br /><div>The Hunk had just graduated from the University of Idaho the previous December with his Bachelor of Science in Mining Engineering. (Not long after most of the major producing mines in the Silver Valley had closed.) He had spent the remainder of December, January and February looking for a job in mining, but found none. He was so depressed, that I quipped to a friend, "I'm gonna need a pancake turner just to get him off the floor." He didn't want to socialize - he just wanted a job.</div><div></div><br /><div>Our first, and at that time, only child, M had just turned 2 in the fall. I had become the dreaded age of 30. (Remember the phrase: "Don't trust anyone over 30?") I felt old inside, but I had to keep encouraging the man I married that God had not abandoned us, but would provide a job.</div><div></div><br /><div>In late February, he got a call to interview at the Crescent Mine (the silver producing portion of Ol' Uncle Bunker) located across the street from the famed Sunshine Mining Company. The position was for a Junior Engineer, and he was hired. We were so elated! Not only had God answered our prayers for a job in mining engineering, but he had answered my prayers to be back in the "Valley."</div><div></div><br /><div>We told our families, packed our goods, and moved in with my parents (again) - until we found a house to rent in Kellogg. That summer, as we visited my folks in Pinehurst, my mom snapped this photo of our little family. It has become one of our favorites.</div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZsGuGw6pQDm-HqBVhqy5Pj3l0AC2i9EH7-x8Sw4EwVs_G_-TnVGtaJM1gFqe-4yy9_aX19KB3ZR0TTTxNO7I8EPCpSWuzNaRHKhzalmWQsZedSbRW0sy6u_fkayRAkutAFTZlDbG-4o/s1600-h/Majors-1984b2.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5173543784712529394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiZsGuGw6pQDm-HqBVhqy5Pj3l0AC2i9EH7-x8Sw4EwVs_G_-TnVGtaJM1gFqe-4yy9_aX19KB3ZR0TTTxNO7I8EPCpSWuzNaRHKhzalmWQsZedSbRW0sy6u_fkayRAkutAFTZlDbG-4o/s320/Majors-1984b2.JPG" border="0" /></a></div> Summer of '84<br /><div></div>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-51668260922791159712008-02-29T13:19:00.003-07:002010-03-10T12:46:57.390-07:00The Worst Date EverI originally posted this piece on my classmates.com site. I thought I'd put it here for a bit of entertainment.<br />
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It was a "blind" date in the sense that I had not met this guy prior to our "date." I don't know how he got my number, but he called me when I was attending Bible School and visited with me for an extended period of time. We had love of Algebra and Greek in common, so he asked me to attend church with him the following Sunday.<br />
On Sunday he picked me up for church and we drove across town to the "sister church" to the one I was attending. He wasn't bad looking, but things went downhill from there. First of all, he sang louder than the rest of the congregation put together. I didn't know if this was typical, or if he was trying to impress me -but I was embarrassed for him and to be seen with him.<br />
After church he invited me to his place for lunch, and I thought "Well, that's kind of sweet - he's gonna cook for me." So I said sure. When he started to turn into the Funeral Home, I laughed. (At least he had a sense of humor).<br />
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.<br />
"Because it's a Funeral Home," I chuckled, letting him know I thought the joke was funny.<br />
"I live here." he replied -not laughing or even smiling.<br />
"You're kidding me, right?"<br />
"No, I work here, and live upstairs," he explained as we pulled into the back of the home and parked. I was too dumfounded to say anything.<br />
His apt was small and nice, but I turned down his invitation to tour the Funeral Home. He turned on his TV to some football game, and said I could watch TV while he phoned the Sunday School kids from his class that hadn't made it to Sunday School that morning. (I hated football - but thought - I'll be a good sport.)<br />
After about 20- 30 minutes - Yea - He took a short break from phone calling to see if I wanted to start lunch. (What? I am thinking. He's not going to cook?) He asked me if I would heat up a can of Dinty Moore Stew, while he finished his phone calls.<br />
"I don't know how to make Dinty Moore Stew." I said (I'd never even heard of it.) Don't get me wrong, I could cook - but mostly from scratch and this stuff was in a can.<br />
He was exasperated, "You just dump it in a pan and heat it up." (Now I was angry. . .he brought me to his place to entertain myself with a football game he wanted to watch, but wasn't. . .and to cook him lunch while he made a bazillion phone calls. . .)<br />
I didn't want to go through his cupboards looking for a pan and "the stew" and play "the little woman" while he tried to impress me with how great a Sunday School teacher he was. So I said, "I've never made stew from a can, and I don't know where anything is."<br />
He stormed into the kitchen, opened the can, and dumped it into the pan. He turned on the stove and said, "Do you think you can watch it, so it doesn't burn, while I finish my phone calls."<br />
I wish I had had the nerve to ask him to just take me home, but my blood sugar was low and I was getting shaky. So I mumbled, "Yes."<br />
The lunch time was strained, the stew was awful, and we didn't talk much through lunch or when he drove me home. Thankfully, he never called again. I guess I wasn't what he was looking for - and he certainly wasn't my idea of anyone I'd want to see again.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-81026716503005025722008-02-22T10:56:00.004-07:002008-02-22T11:19:42.506-07:00Assistant Manager - finally!Yesterday was the Big Day. . .well - no "hats and horns" no cake, balloons, or fanfare <span style="color:#ffcccc;"><strong><span style="color:#ff6666;">:(</span></strong> </span>But I did officially become the Assistant Manager of our store! Woo Hoo!<br /><br />The invitation was first presented to me last May or June. I was apprehensive (since I only started working there in March). So in August, when I returned from vacation, I became one of three supervisors with the view toward the Assistant Manager position. My biggest asset is that I am good with people - both employees and customers.<br /><br />I was told I would become AM around the Holidays, but I made a BIG mistake in Oct-Nov -when I failed to open the store one Saturday. (I thought I was working the night shift, but Oops - I was scheduled to open.) So, it was back to "probation" - while still remaining a supervisor.<br /><br />Then it was to be after the Holidays, then during Inventory in early February. . .then on Tues this week - or Wednesday - finally Thursday. I signed the paperwork, which included a raise to my surprise and great pleasure. . .(now I am making more than the starting workers at Fiesta Ole').<br /><br />The cool thing is that the Hunk took me out to dinner to celebrate! He's proud of my accomplishment and says it is a great resume builder. (He forgets that I am likely too old to be hired by a company that pays more. . .despite my education, experience, and accomplishments.)<br /><br />No matter - my fall back is my writing (as is his). Now if one of us could just get published!<br /><ul><li>See: <a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca">Ponderosa Pinings: New Year</a> for info on my writing.<br /></li></ul>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-49109869622957801382008-02-19T21:32:00.007-07:002008-02-19T22:14:27.014-07:00Quirky Meme<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;"><strong>The Rules:</strong></span></span><br /><ul><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;">Link to the person that tagged you. </span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;">Post the rules on your blog. </span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;">Share six <span style="color:#cc33cc;">non-important things</span>/<span style="color:#cc0000;">habits</span>/<span style="color:#009900;">quirks</span> about yourself. </span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;">Tag six random people at the end of your post by linking to their blogs. </span></span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;">Let each random person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their website. </span></span></li></ul><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#000066;"><br /></span><span style="color:#009900;">I was tagged by Inland Empire Girl at </span><a href="http://gatheringaroundthetable.blogspot.com/"><span style="font-family:verdana;color:#000099;">Gathering Around the Table</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#009900;"> to do this meme.<br /></span></span><br />Number One <span style="color:#009900;">Quirk</span>: I like to wear my pajamas around the house on my days off. (So don't stop by unannounced. I won't answer the door.)<br /><br />Number Two <span style="color:#009900;">Quirk</span>: On my days off, I start the day by feeding the dog, drinking tea and playing on the computer. On the days I work mornings, I still feed the dog and drink tea, but I daresn't turn on the computer!<br /><br />Number Three <span style="color:#009900;">Quirk</span>: I read myself to sleep every night. I usually have to wait for the hunk to fall asleep first, because he can't fall asleep with a light on. I can't read anything exciting, because it revs me up instead of winding me down. Right now I am reading "Great Expectations" by Dickens. It's quite good, but not a real "page turner."<br /><br />Number Four Quirk: All my shoes are black leather. I only have a three or four pair including one dressy pair. They are all comfortable and go with all my outfits.<br />Number Five <span style="color:#009900;">Quirk</span>: I take my own pillow while traveling, and use it every place I sleep. This way, I sleep better and don't get sick from latent cigarette smoke lurking in someone else's pillow feathers.<br /><br />Number Six <span style="color:#009900;">Quirk</span>: I don't tolerate guilt. I was raised on it, didn't like the taste of it, and I don't dish it out.<br /><br /><span style="color:#009900;">Bonus Quirk</span>: I often use some of my Dad's lingo when I talk. It enlivens the conversation and gets a few laughs - except when I have to explain it.<br /><br /><span style="color:#000066;">Feel free to do this meme. I decided not to tag anyone in particular, since I haven't been writing much lately, and who knows if anyone is reading my doggerel.</span></span><br /></span></span>Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-55971027870451545522008-02-09T19:00:00.000-07:002008-02-09T19:02:38.489-07:00All Your Favorite Websites!I just got this link from my cousin Karen: <a href="http://www.allmyfaves.com/">http://www.allmyfaves.com/</a> Someone sure has taken a lot of time building this site. Don't forget to check out the tabs, too!Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-91624211820868612352008-02-06T21:13:00.000-07:002008-02-06T21:35:46.745-07:00Crazy: snow, computers, Dimwit'sBeen crazy lately. I gave one of my daughter's (V) my computer to take to school with her when she moved to Pocatello last week. So I've been "sharing" my husband's computer. . . He gets it in the evening, and I get it any other time, as long as I am not working.<br /><br />The snow here is quite deep - just like I remember as a child. I shoveled the path to the dog's corner (latrine), and to the Hunk's boat out back today. I wasn't planning to shovel in front, until my oldest daughter M called to say she was stuck in the driveway. I moved my truck out - LOVE the 4 Wheel Drive! And she shoveled enough to drive into the spot where the truck had been. The rest of the driveway was abt 6" deep. I parked the truck out front, and shoveled a path to the front door. Our street hadn't been plowed since the first snowfall. . . The ruts in our street were about 8" deep, and changing - as the snow was deep, but not frozen solid.<br /><br />M came in to print some information for her Astronomy class. Then she left to take a test.<br /><br />About a half-hour after she left, our street was plowed. The city sent 3 snowplows to do the job. It's crazy down here. They sent an entire crew to plow, and then complain about the cost. I guess the good part is that they don't leave a berm in front of our driveways.<br /><br />I had a headache it was heading for a migrane, so I stayed home from work tonight. Now, I think it was caused by all the glare from the sunshine bouncing off the snow, as it seemed to get better as darkness approached.<br />----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br />On a different note, has anyone out there read The Dimwit's Dictionary: 5,000 Overused Words and Phrases and Alternatives to Them by <a href="http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/search-handle-url/104-9015916-3262357?%5Fencoding=UTF8&search-type=ss&index=books&field-author=Robert%20Hartwell%20Fiske">Robert Hartwell Fiske</a>? I just ran across it the other day while doing research on some of Dad's verbage. Sounds like a real interesting book for writers. Guess I'll have to snag a copy and peruse it. Might be something for my library of source material.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-19819657178885732412008-01-24T15:01:00.001-07:002010-01-09T16:09:14.746-07:00Dad's DittiesAfter writing about one of the books I have been working on. . .I couldn't go to sleep last night. I began writing more funny expressions my Dad says, and I wrote several pages before my husband woke up and asked me if I was reading.<br /><br />"No, writing." I responded. "I keep thinking of things Dad says. Do you want me to turn out the light so you can sleep?"<br /><br />"That would be nice."<br /><br />"Okay."<br /><br />So I turned out the light, and lay in bed thinking of more stuff that I could have written down. If it hadn't been for my hair appt - to "get my hair wrinkled" as Dad would say - I would have gotten up and written a bit longer. I only hoped I'd be able to remember what I hadn't written down this morning. . .<br /><br />No problem. I woke up, wrote down a few more Dadisms and went to my hair appt with notebook in hand. There, I wrote a few pages while waiting for my hair to "wrinkle."<br /><br />I have carried that notebook around most of the day - remembering - writing - remembering and writing. I even remembered some of Dad's antics. For example, when Barney's Sooper Market was built in Pinehurst in '67 or '68, they had the first automatic doors I had ever seen. You would step on a rubber mat leading to the door, and voila' the door opened for you. Dad would walk up to the door, grab the handle, and let the door fling him inside stumbling with atonishment on his face. My sister and I would laugh our heads off (not literally) each and every time Dad pretended not to know that the doors were automatic. He did this for years, as long as he had an "audience" - namely us. I don't think he ever did it when he went to the store alone, with Mom, or with anyone else. It was primarily for our entertainment.<br /><br />Today, I wondered if any of the checkers ever saw him fly into the store (more than once) and wondered about his sanity. If they ever did, they didn't tell anyone. The town was too small for something like that to go unheard.<br /><br />Dad doesn't "goof off" now when he enters a store. After a hip-replacement, with a walking cane - to help stablize him when he "teeters." He lets his quips and wits be the source of entertainment.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-44789495566842573162008-01-23T22:27:00.000-07:002008-01-23T22:49:10.172-07:00New YearSo busy. So much to do.<br /><br />Okay, so I have spent my free time playing computer games and sewing a quilt. <br /><br />I have not only avoided my blog, but I have stopped writing on two books I have been working on. The first book is a primer on spiritual warfare ministry. The second is a biography of sorts about my Dad and his proclivity to embelish the English language with humorous finesse.<br />The books are polar opposites. . .ranging from the very serious to the nearly ridiculous.<br /><br /><p>I have a couple other books in the works. . .but they are barely outlined. </p><ul><li> "Landlords from Helena" (about renting)</li><li> "When Worlds Collide" - (about early marriage)</li></ul>They, too are, oxymoronic genres. (Perhaps someday I will find the genre that suits me. . .but so far I can be extrememly serious and unusually daft. Sometimes simultaneously.)<br /><br />I am looking for illustrations for "spiritual warfare" and "landlords" - later I may need some for "collide." As for "dad's bio" - I can always use more material, but you have to know my dad to supply his words for this work.<br /><br />Wow! I wasn't sure what I would write when I began, but now you know. My brain is somewhat tied up. . .hence the need for computer games to decompress.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-37633044959912483822007-12-19T23:53:00.000-07:002007-12-25T02:06:52.787-07:00Merry Christmas!Thought I'd write a few lines. I guess I have had "post-boredom," and haven't felt like writing. Work has been a nightmare, but sales are slowing as we approach Christmas. Guess most people want to get their fabric early enough to complete their projects. (I thought I had, but - we'll see). <span style="color:#3333ff;">[Not quite]. . .</span><br /><br /><br /><br />We are finally getting some snow, and S is home from the University of Idaho for break. I told the Hunk that once she came home, it started to "feel" like Christmas to me. S & V are in my husband's study laughing their guts out! It's so nice to have them enjoy their time together.<br /><br /><br /><br />They had an UGLY sweater contest at "Freedom" on Tues night, and the pictures are hillarious! Each contestant had to "pose" for the judges, and the pictures are really telling. Of course, S added captions that set the girls off!<br /><br /><br /><br />V & M are finishing finals at Idaho State University, then we'll all celebrate by having dinner together at the Olive Garden Sunday evening. Last time we went together, our waiter was soooo funny - and he really hammed it up in front of our gorgeous girls.<br /><br />Well, its actually Christmas now. 2:05 am here. I need to hit the sack- but just wanted to say Thank You to Inland Empire Girl for the awesome card and Silver Valley Girl for the good wishes for the HOLYday. <br /><br />Merry CHRISTmas to all and Hope to see some of you in Northern Idaho (The Silver Valley) this coming weekend.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-78417169102359037832007-10-26T20:54:00.000-06:002007-10-26T21:14:09.523-06:00Happy Birthday - M - a day lateYesterday, was my oldest daughter's birthday. Let's just say she's catching up to the age I "feel" like I should be. . .<br /><br />Today, after work, V took M and I to the movies. We saw "Dan in Real Life". I thought it was a really good movie. Laughed my guts out in several places. (This is why theater's are dark - so no one can recognize the laughing idiot after the show.) Steve Carell was both a sweetheart and a hoot in the roll! I got sick of the way his family picked on him, but he was the best of the bunch! One of my favorite lines is when someone asks him what his talent is, and he says, "The murderer of love." Well, don't want to spoil it for anyone, but I will say that I would see this one again.<br /><br />After the movie, V and I watched M open her gifts then bit her adieu as M needed to get her homework done. V and I went shopping after that, and bought a few necessities for the house - and a couple of non-essentials.<br /><br />I called my husband, and he said, "You got a package from Japan. Were you expecting that?"<br /><br />"Yes, I was."<br /><br />"Wow, did you buy something on ebay - or some other place?"<br /><br />"Yea, I bought something on etsy.com."<br /><br />(But I can't say what I bought or for whom - as Christmas cometh, and there are many secrets to keep.) I can say that I bought something for myself -but that's all I can say.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-20361408918629175732007-10-24T17:27:00.000-06:002007-10-24T17:35:47.003-06:00What???The Regional Manager arrived last night, and began to cut fabric for customers. Several of us moved in to find out who was takin' over the store. . .<br /><br />Actually, he was very nice to all of us including our store manager. She said to me later, "I've never met <span style="font-weight: bold;">that</span> man before!" Apparently, he was a changed man - for some reason - and we were all happy about that!<br /><br />Today I worked at lifting the old scalloped cement edging from around my tree in the front yard and replacing it with newer "mondo" block. I wore a sweater, because it was only in the 50s. I was working in and out of the shade, so I got mighty warm. The dog was assisting me, by hanging around on her chain, but she soon got restless to go inside.<br /><br />I still haven't moved all of my previous bulbs out of that flowerbed, so I turned over a couple of shovels of dirt and roots before packing in the shovel, bulb box, old scallops. Maybe we'll have a few more dry and sunny days before the snow flies again.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-29422243131899222572007-10-23T14:52:00.000-06:002007-10-23T15:01:58.916-06:00CompletionToday I finished making the dog bed. Yesterday, I glued the two pieces of foam together and gave them time to "cure." Today, I marked, cut, sewed the vinyl into shape and stuffed the foam inside. I gave myself a B+ - because the work wasn't perfect, but it fits well, and the dog won't care.<br /><br />I had to get "gussied up" for work tonight. The Regional manager is coming tonight, or tomorrow morning with the District manager. For the past week, we have been cleaning, organizing, and "froo frooing" up the store. My boss is beside herself - she's been telling all of us that she's gonna be fired. I said, "Well, if he fires you tell him you fired me first." (This was after she said they'd make me store manager - a position for which I am not ready.)<br /><br />Apparently, he has threatened to fire her numerous times. . .but has yet to do so. I think he uses intimidation to get his way, but of course, I haven't met him yet. . .so I guess I should wait and see. I am not impressed by anyone who uses anger (or tantrums) to control people. Not professional, and not true <span style="font-weight: bold;">leader</span>ship. <br /><br />Been a great day. Sunshine, project completion, hubby loved dinner last night, and yea, I get to hang out at the fabric store and make some money. . .Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-11554590317683371352007-10-22T18:04:00.000-06:002007-10-22T18:15:02.321-06:00TransitionsLate October -<br /><br />Already??? <br />Where has the time gone?<br />Preparing to plant bulbs -<br />but the snows came.<br />Moving my crafts and sewing to the basement -<br /><br />I am sidetracked by the need to make a new dog bed<br />and prepare<br />dinner.<br /><br />Can't wait to see his face<br />when he realizes I have been domestic today.<br /><br />He usually cooks for me.<br />Breakfast in bed on the weekends.<br />Tea on Sundays.<br />Dinner when I am working.<br /><br />When did we switch places?<br />Between college and launching the girls.<br />I began to work outside,<br />and he began to work inside.<br /><br />Our lives have merged in many ways<br />transitioned through the years.<br />Today in the autumn of our lives<br />we are partners in every sense of the word.<br /><br />I can't wait to see him today.<br />My best friend,<br />my husband,<br />my lover,<br />my partner.<br /><br />He's here<br />I've got to go.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-88729891472816672132007-10-09T14:28:00.000-06:002007-10-09T14:46:43.105-06:00The SlumpI haven't been blogging lately. I think I'm in a slump. I'm not too interested in continuing my life story in the Silver Valley for now. Don't have much going on right now except for work. Can't talk about the projects I'm working on (mostly Christmas presents). <br /><br />The rest of my time I have been playing bubble shooter and watching the first 3 seasons of The Office in random order. (Can't seem to find all of any one season at the rental place at any one time.)<br /><br />I am wondering if I am getting depressed again. Obsessive game playing on the computer - very little desire to call friends (could be that I am saving my minutes now that the home phone is kaput) - shorter days that bring feelings of melancholy - no desire to write on the book I started last October - don't want to get dressed on my days off -<br /><br />The most exciting thing that has happened lately is that I bought a couple of new pillows for the Hunk and I to sleep on. They are really nice and comfortable. At the same store, the Hunk bought me 4 (FOUR!) cute hooks for my soon to be craft room downstairs. They look like dress forms with various corsets on them done in cream and black with a bit of a distressed look. They were $10 each - so I was surprised when he bought me all four of them! (Now I just have to wait for V to paint over the lime and orange paint in her former room, so I have crisp clean ultra-white walls on which to display my hooks!) I like the ultra-white walls for my Mary Kay room (natural light for matching foundations) and I want it in my craft/sewing room for matching colors. <br /><br />Maybe I'm not depressed - just in a holding pattern. . .a bit overwhelmed by some of the changes that have been taking place lately. Additional work hours and responsibilities, losing the cat, losing the house phone, adjusting to cooler weather. . .waiting for Christmas, waiting for my youngest to come home from school, waiting for my new craft room, waiting for some new inspiration. . .Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5758327280459500976.post-46965022165186761752007-09-19T21:53:00.000-06:002007-09-20T00:15:51.412-06:00Trashing Traditional TelephoneTradition is a difficult thing to release. We all get attached to what is, and fear that which is unknown. We want things to remain the same, and we want our children to understand how life was for us. . .back then. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0oKsojMag_fl0q53jug3Y5YDTX_VNO7BvNUDVnRXO2dUqDKR08P6-sWibBj5Y6pg75B01DJ4EaL4wcOjkAWt9IAbQIW7qi1GroAfIbIUw3q3n5AQaf5ta7CFd3LQA2jBX4F2NCAhqJE/s1600-h/50s+phone+a.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 148px; height: 115px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD0oKsojMag_fl0q53jug3Y5YDTX_VNO7BvNUDVnRXO2dUqDKR08P6-sWibBj5Y6pg75B01DJ4EaL4wcOjkAWt9IAbQIW7qi1GroAfIbIUw3q3n5AQaf5ta7CFd3LQA2jBX4F2NCAhqJE/s320/50s+phone+a.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112154111051103250" border="0" /></a>In the 1950s we had a heavy black telephone with a 5-digit number. 2-2922. Sunset 2-2922. The moniker was probably used when making long distant calls via the local operator who sat at a switchboard and literally connected the calls with plugs on wires.<br /><br />1960s, when we moved back to Pinehurst, our number was Sunset 2-2862. We were on a "party line" of 4. "Parties" were households of people, not events for hanging out and eating goodies. Party lines included the home numbers of several neighbors, so when you picked up the phone you could encounter someone else on the line. It was like the home phones when you picked up the phone, and someone in the family was already using it. Technology hadn't advanced enough, and there wasn't enough wire strung to give everyone a "private line." (Hence the need to listen for a dial tone before calling. If there wasn't a dial tone, someone was probably already on the line.)<br /><br />People had to pay more money for less "parties." We were lucky, with only 4 parties on the line, there was a good chance the line wasn't in use when you wanted to make a call. Calls had to be short, though, in case someone else needed to use the line. Phone etiquette indicated that if someone was on the party line, you were to quietly hang up, and wait 10 to 15 minutes or more before checking the to see if the line was free.<br /><br />One of my friends was on a 10 party line - which was the most common. It was difficult to make calls at certain times of the day with so many families using the same line. Kids were not allowed to be on the phone for more than 5 to 10 minutes - even when doing homework. The rule was you make the call, get to the point, and get off the phone. When we were in Jr. High, my friend's next-door-neighbor boyfriend was on the same party line. They could pick up the phone and talk over the dial-tone, or if one of them called a friend the other could listen in on the conversations. I'm sure there was a lot of covert listening to know whether or not the other was "cheating" on their relationship.<br /><br />I had a friend who lived in another state, who's party line rang into each person's home. The rings were different for each number, so you could tell which call was for you. One ring might be "one long" another "two short" and another "one long-one short" etc. If you were not going to be home, you could ask the neighbor to answer your calls and send along the message, or take messages for you. I guess this system worked well in the 1960s in the rural area where they lived. When I stayed with them, I had to learn not to answer the phone every time it rang. . .<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKysEWUwWhtNyiEVnfFIGRsB6v1D6U-e67frtPQ1tnt4IQoNx-xPscZqycUr4xdTrk5cFGNAU7ZNfCEZXTgYl9LW4xyAELF5Bu3mbkddyZ-U7LrN_DVs39MYmUaw2B9bu4ieF11w99OVU/s1600-h/1960s+%281950s%29+phone.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKysEWUwWhtNyiEVnfFIGRsB6v1D6U-e67frtPQ1tnt4IQoNx-xPscZqycUr4xdTrk5cFGNAU7ZNfCEZXTgYl9LW4xyAELF5Bu3mbkddyZ-U7LrN_DVs39MYmUaw2B9bu4ieF11w99OVU/s320/1960s+%281950s%29+phone.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112154836900576290" border="0" /></a>We also had only one phone. It was beige. Phones came in colors, if you your local telephone company carried them. The phones at that time belonged to the company, and customers "rented" the phones. Later in the 60s, one could purchase a phone, and "plug" it into a wall outlet, similar to the ones we have today. When phone ownership was possible you could buy phones in all sorts of colors: turquoise, green, blue, pink, yellow, and in new styles - such as the Princess phone. . .(A phone I always wanted as a child, but never had. . .)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8baY5e8F_hDdQ_SL_SNfmQcdnuchraZkHMuJ1tpnfqolF1_SyhD4h7iSsk_uQw_8gyBxmFdLHvm5uXkHDVMUL1AYTHYBoTlXIZ4s94w3YLDabZ0XyZh06WTbJFOox7O6hkL072d6ek3w/s1600-h/princess+phone+-+blue.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 112px; height: 75px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8baY5e8F_hDdQ_SL_SNfmQcdnuchraZkHMuJ1tpnfqolF1_SyhD4h7iSsk_uQw_8gyBxmFdLHvm5uXkHDVMUL1AYTHYBoTlXIZ4s94w3YLDabZ0XyZh06WTbJFOox7O6hkL072d6ek3w/s320/princess+phone+-+blue.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112157787543108674" border="0" /></a><br />In 1963, long distance was anywhere outside of a few close towns, usually the closest ones on either side of your town. It was amazing to me when in the 1970s when you could call anyone in the Silver Valley without charge.<br /><br />In the early days, our phone was in the living room. When it rang, my sister and I would run to see who could answer it first. My mom was probably grateful for this, since she was usually tied up in the kitchen, far from the phone. (It was amazing to me, that as we raised our kids, none of them were eager to answer the phone. Maybe it was because it rang so often, it wasn't much of a novelty to them.) In the late 60s or early 70s, we got a second phone for the kitchen. It was a <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsoAZUvVEniJsyutQZiTRyp3SNaZkGwecuQ3CBwmvxjk3PR_rkyrqQLS3ISXhAJnmGlHQRGFTC-xa9EUgv4vrBjGudOP1BgYVPRqJEGwPAo9xWyeRu7a0Jfm9DPxBU0scZvkEFjlu-rs/s1600-h/early+wall+phone.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 88px; height: 88px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglsoAZUvVEniJsyutQZiTRyp3SNaZkGwecuQ3CBwmvxjk3PR_rkyrqQLS3ISXhAJnmGlHQRGFTC-xa9EUgv4vrBjGudOP1BgYVPRqJEGwPAo9xWyeRu7a0Jfm9DPxBU0scZvkEFjlu-rs/s320/early+wall+phone.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5112160832674921554" border="0" /></a>wall-phone, and had a long chord, so we could answer it and still keep cooking or doing dishes. Ours was white or yellow. <br /><br />Now we had two options for telephone chat, seated in the living room, or standing in the kitchen. We were still supposed to keep conversations short, although now we were on a "private line." We didn't have to be courteous to strangers who may need to use the phone, but Dad still wanted us to keep calls short and to the point. I was a teenager and liked to talk to my friends about boys, dances, school, etc. I could spend more time on the phone when he worked night shift and Mom was bowling. One afternoon, however, when Dad was home, a friend of mine called to chat. I was standing in the kitchen talking on the wall phone. My friend didn't have anything important to say, and was doing a monologue - or should I say monotonous one-sided conversation. She ran out of things to tell me, and was reading the advertisements from the newspaper to me over the phone. Dad noticed that I hadn't said a word for a loooooong time, so he said, "If you don't have anything to say, get off the phone." I tried to tell him, between my "u-huhs" to my friend that she was reading something to me. I think he just reached up and hit the receiver button. Dad's did that in those days.<br /><br />When I started, I didn't plan to give a chronology of telephonology. . .so I will get to my point. . .today The Hunk shut off our wire line. No more home phone. No more running to the phone. No more, "It's for you" being hollered through the house. No more "Will somebody get the phone?" And no more "We're in the phone book." We are trashing the tradition. We've gone cellular.<br /><br />So if you need to call me - email me first, and I'll give you my number.Pinehurst in my Dreamshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14839389283883857130noreply@blogger.com6