Sunday, May 31, 2009

One Year in Nam

I returned from the first leg of my trip. I put on over 3700 miles riding from my home in Wisconsin out to Oregon. I returned along with a great friend from Northern California who met me. I removed the main body of this post as the story was personal, and although I felt the need to share it, I didn't feel that it should be out in cyberspace forever.

I want to thank all that came here to read and post comments. I'll be leaving again in a day or so and will be away from the computer and e-mail until sometime in Late June or early July.

Thank you again for coming here to the Round Circle.

Please feel free to comment if you do read it. Hopefully, you'll read a little and move on and come back and read a little more. Hey, I'll be gone a while. "What's yer hurry?"

.........I also know I learned a few valuable lessons. One is that I will never let anyone ever tell me who my enemies are and another is that war is never an answer to attain peace.

If you've read this far, I thank you for allowing me to share this part of my life with you. I pray and work for peace in this world. I start at home,in my own heart, and I am learning the way to do this slowly and surely. It's called healing, and I am fortunately on a healing path.

Namaste' and Peace and Healing to all

Friday, May 29, 2009

Only the Good Friday, May 29, 2009

Rise and Shine

Only the Good Friday, a brainchild of Shelly of This Eclectic Life blog, has taken hold with quite a few people. Many find stories and vignettes about Good things that have happened in the world or tales of the deeds of a Good samaritan. I’ve followed a different tack. I’ve been trying to explain how I’ve found some Good in life and subsequent peace, at times, in my own heart. I try to convey this idea and how it came about in me in the hopes that someone somewhere that needs healing may find some. What I did or what happened to me doesn’t mean that everyone must do this or that, but it is out there for consideration.

I recall in earlier times of blogland the Friday cat blogging, pictures of people’s cats curled up or playful with a catnip toy. I remember Friday Grand child blogging, same pictures with kids in them along with the cat and dog critters. The Good Fridays is another step in the direction of just taking a deep breath and stopping to smell the proverbial roses.

It feels Good to feel this way. In hopes that a lesson could be taken from my words is the purpose. My disclaimer is that I stumble and fail miserably at being this positive all the time. I do try, but I am not capable of doing all I say all the time and in all situations. So, take what you need and leave the rest. I’m just trying to make some Good in life, if even for one person, if even for one brief moment in time. Makes me feel Good to try.

This is a Good Friday for me. I want it to be good. I work at it. Last week, after I wrote my Good Friday post, I came into the living room and Mrs. Spadoman was talking on her cell phone to our daughter. Things weren’t going too well for her family last week. Nothing real serious, just some domestic problem they were dealing with.

It felt strange in a way. I had just written a post about being positive and how good things could be, then reality hit. Not everyone is going to have a great day, not everyone will have peace and harmony. Not everyone, including me, is capable of remembering to see the silver lining and pick the good and positive out of situations that are painful. So what happens then?

This made me think and come up with a plan that I hope I can remember and use when things aren’t so rosy.

I remember after I had my second open heart surgery in 2003. I was in the recovery room. I had just come out of the anesthesia. I think I was alone, at least I remember being alone. I felt weak. I was drugged to numb the pain, and that’s what I was, numb. I felt the pain, it just wasn’t killing me. Then I thought that I was ready to die. I started talking to my creator. I said that I was ready and that if this was it, I was ready to go across.

Creator talked to me immediately. He, (or she or it, depending on your point of view), told me that I needed to fight for life and pull through. He told me, “I’ll tell you when you’re going to die.” I took that to mean that I’ll know if the situation I’m in is gonna be the end of it. Not that I was given a date and time to prepare for ahead of time.

It was certainly hard to go through a second open heart bypass surgery and see the positive. In fact I didn’t. But now, as I try to be more positive and make the impact of a positive note for a Friday blog post, I recall not thinking about how bad things were when people came to visit or if they called, sent flowers or let me know in some way shape or form that they supported me and cared about me. That’s right. I distinctly remember that I didn’t feel bad when friends and relatives were paying attention to me while I was hospitalized. And being hospitalized is not a real positive thing to be going through.

Believe me, it’s hard to think positively about life in general when you’ve had your chest cavity cut open and someone has been messin’ around with your heart.

Struggling with the depression that comes along with PTSD, an anxiety disorder brought on by experiencing trauma, I know it to be impossible at times to even think that anyone loves me or cares about me. But deep down, I know it to be true. I am loved and cared for by many. This is the positive when things are bad. When the outlook is bleakest, there is hope and a Good side. It takes a lot of effort to think about being loved when depression grips your soul and is telling you to run away and be alone and things will be better. But it is possible to find those Good thoughts if effort is made to do so.

It’s also a Good thing that we show our concern and have empathy for the people that pass through our lives that are experiencing some bad times. By caring, we can feel Good, not in a bragging way, but with an understanding that makes us feel Good that we care and help another through their pain. Then, the possibility exists that we have made another have some Good that day.

I’m feeling Good today because I have my health and I am about to embark on a great epic motorcycle adventure. I can think about the past and remember that I may have faltered at times about being positive. But I also remind myself that I know Good can be there even when things are at their worst. I feel Good today because I realize that people care for me and they have all along, even when I’ve struggled to believe it. It makes me smile to think back of all the examples of this I’ve had in my life. Sure, I could feel guilty and shameful that I didn’t realize it when it happened every time, but I don’t. You see, I’ve also learned how to forgive myself for stinkin’ thinkin’. And in doing so, healing and believing and feeling Good.

Grab what you can today and everyday from the Good train. It’s passing by. Hop on. Look for it.

Peace in your hearts and all you hold dear.

I'll leave you with some pictures that make me feel Good.

Good New Mexican scenery

Makes Good thoughts to think about Peace

I feel Good when I see the New Mexico landscape

Always Good to think about my Grandkids

Always Good to be riding a motorcycle through the mountains

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Crow Creek Longriders Fundraiser Event

If you can make it, it will be fun. Great Music, a silent auction with all kinds of great things, good food and great people.

The Crow Creek Commemorative Ride is the one big event I am involved with as far as planning and fundraising. I know you, my blog friends, are far away from here, but I just wanted to invite you all anyway, if not in the flesh, then in spirit.

Read about the ride HERE

I'm including the poster for the ride in the event any of you out there are motorcycle travelers.

Thanks for stopping at the Round Circle.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

A Plan to Motor West

The Rocky Mountains in June, last time I road cross-country with my friend

I haven’t been on a road trip in a long time. Seems weird for me. I used to travel so much. When I first started blogging, I’d write about places I’ve been and add spice about what happened on any given day as a traveler. And I love the words in the first line of the old standard, Route 66:

Well if you ever plan to motor west

Now I’m not, nor was I ever, a world traveler. Yes, I did get a trip around the world once, courtesy of my uncle who sent me to Southeast Asia, but I’m not worldly at all. Just the traveling done here in the USA. Driving my car, riding my motorcycle and taking the Amtrak. I long for a trip right now.

I can recreate the spirit of a grand road trip anytime. I mean, I can get in the van and head out to anywhere, even the grocery store, and while on the road, imagine that I am going to be driving for days on end. I can stop and look at historic places and roadsides. Those things are around right here where I live as well as way out on some slow two lane highway far away from my starting point.

One time, I think it was a Spring trip, to Eureka, CA. That was a usual destination as I had a place there and would get out there and spend some time often between jobs. I drove the Oldsmobile and was in Austin, Nevada on Highway 50. Highway 50 is said to be the loneliest highway in America. There are a couple of stretches of over 100 miles with no gas stops or telephones. You’re in the high desert. Mountain ranges way off in the distance in every direction.

There is a nice little diner in Austin. Today, I sit here and wish I was driving this day, this fine Spring day, with this glamourous sunlight. I’d be on the road early because the sun is up and blasting at you before six a.m. By breakfast time, I’d have 100 miles under my belt and I’d be near Austin and the Toiyabe Cafe.

Austin, Nevada along beautiful US Highway 50

Last time I pulled in to the Toiyabe was a Spring visit, April, yes, late April of 2007. I was headed back from the coast and took the road less traveled. I love to get on those twisty curvy roads that climb way up into the mountains. There are a lot of these in the National Forest areas. The Toiyabe National Forest area near around the Nevada/California border is full of them. I love the Ruby Mountains. A short 60 miles out of the way, North of US Hwy 50 in Central Nevada.

Ruby Mountains, Nevada

So, here I am, I’m in my van, waiting for the son-in-law to arrive with a few two by fours for a door project we worked on today. My cell phone rings and it’s Hal, my friend from Eureka, CA. We talk and know we want to road trip on our motorcycles this summer. We both feel like time is running out for us old guys and the chance to take a cross country journey together might slip by if we don’t do something about it.

Hal tells me he is okay. He had a little scare last month. Thought he was going to have to have heart surgery, but test after test has shown him that he is good to go, as they say. He and his wife, also a very good friend of ours, had a tragedy in their lives last year. Their oldest daughter, 39, died from breast cancer. So many success stories and courageous tales of those that made it through and went on to help others. Their daughter didn’t make it. The disease took her life. No less courageous than the others, just the way the cards were dealt for her.

Hal promised her he would go back East and visit family and friends. He will fulfill that promise this June. I was planning on an epic motorcycle road trip in June myself. I was waiting to see if Hal was going to need the surgery. I was thinking I’d ride out to the West coast and visit him.

When he called today, it was to tell me he will be coming East and leaving on June 3rd from Eureka. I was planning on leaving June 2nd from River Falls, Wisconsin. I said, “What route are you taking, what do you think you’ll want to do?”

He said it didn’t matter. Then I said, “Let’s meet in Austin, Nevada on Highway 50.”

Lonely only if you think people is what makes a crowd.

We laughed. One time we met near Lake Havasu, AZ. This was back when we didn’t have cell phones. We just chose a date and an approximate time and said, “Be there” We were. We showed up one behind the other, not two minutes apart. I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you I had the phone in my hand today and was dialing his number when it rang and it was him, but that’s the truth of it. It’s totally uncanny.

So that’s the plan. I need a set of tires on the Tiger before I leave. Getting them done tomorrow at a local shop.

Spadoman's Triumph looks like this one

Everything else is set and ready to go. Pretty ambitious plan actually. Ride out to meet Hal, ride back to Wisconsin. Spend a few days back here riding around the Northland enjoying the river roads and the forests. Then I go on the Crow Creek Ride June 17th. I finish on June 20th in central South Dakota. Another friend of mine, Steve, the guy who owns the J&S Bean factory Coffee Shop, is planning to head West a little and see the Little Big Horn Battlefield and journey South from there to go through the Big Horn Mountains with stops at the Medicine Wheel and hopefully Thermopolis. I already said I’d head out there with him after the Crow Creek Ride.

Hal will leave Wisconsin and go through central Illinois and visit his brother, then on to Southern Missouri to meet up with another very old and true friend he hasn’t seen in a while. We’ll call each other and the idea has been thrown about that I will rendezvous again with him somewhere between Wyoming and Missouri and travel together a while longer before each of us heading for home.

I wonder why the background is a blurr

This should bring me pretty much to the end of June. After a week or so at home, I’ll park the motorcycle in the garage and load the van. Barb and I are planning another trip with Grandkids 1 through 5. We’ll leave Number 6 at home this time. She’s too little at two years old, and wouldn’t remember such a journey.

The plan for this van road trip is to see Grand Canyon, the Rocky Mountains, The Redwoods and the Ocean with visits to friends and relatives in Colorado, Northern and Southern California and Oregon. Three weeks on the road. A boat ride to Catalina Island and a trip to Disneyland. Camping out most of the time when we’re not staying with friends.

I’m tired already. But this is what I have dreamed of all those times I’ve been on the road myself. To have my family with me. To have a purpose, a journey, a reason. It’s gonna happen this summer. I’ll get to show my own Grand children the places I’ve seen. Take them there and tell them the stories. See their eyes when they see natures grandest creations for the first time.

If all goes even close to plans, we’ll return home around the first week of August. I’ll have been on the motorcycle for almost all of June and in the van for July and into August. That pretty much will be the summer. And a full schedule at that.

So, after this week, I’ll be away. Hope you’ll miss me.

Peace to all.

Monday, May 25, 2009

Memorial Day 2009

Honor the dead, heal the wounded, end the war

As has become tradition for me, I will post the essay, "The Warrior". But first, just a few words. I honor, mourn and memorialize the victims of war everyday. On this prescribed day, many others join me. I remember the Veterans, the soldiers. Those serving and those that have served in the past. These soldiers are from the world, not just this country. I honor their families and friends as they mourn the loss of loved ones. A friend or relative of any soldier mourns their loss. I remember those that live with the hell of war right now, anywhere in this world. I remember those that have been dehumanized by war, soldiers and civilians alike. I include the Peace activists who attempt to make right what others have done wrong.

There is no "Happy" Memorial Day. There is no "Celebration". It is a remembrance, sweet and simple. The best thing to remember is to work your hardest to erase war and a society that perpetuates it.

Now, The Warrior:

Veterans are Warriors, men and women who are trained to kill, for society. Men and women who have taken the life of another human being. Even those Veterans that did not see action in the form of combat signed up or were drafted and followed orders. They would have given their life if asked. They would kill if they thought, at any brief moment in the throes of war, that they had to.

All soldiers, no matter what their military occupation is, are taught how to go to combat before learning any other skill or specialty. In basic training, these killing skills are taught to every soldier. Killing is the soldier warrior's job. The warrior is somehow stripped of the belief that life is too sacred to erase; then they are taught the details of exactly how to kill people. With a weapon, with their hands.

They are forced to practice it over and over and over and over until it is automatic, regardless of how scared they may be. Even if their hearts are pounding or if they are scared senseless, these warriors can still load, fire, and erase the life of the human being identified as the enemy. They kill, if not for themselves, for the soldier next to them who is a trained killer like them. A Brother or Sister, and for the society that has required their services as a killer.

Everyone who is trained to kill has lost something of themself and must find a way to control the imbalance that results. The military calls that control "self-discipline." Without it we would have millions of Timothy McVeigh's eliminating their perceived enemies with the lethal skills that they were trained for. These skills given to them with the approval of the rest of society. The military does not want nor allow this same “self discipline” to weigh in during the wartime activity.

We demand the Warrior be disciplined and control themselves but when they return we treat them terribly. For those who have taken a life in a war and dealt with death, this discipline is a life-long struggle that is never truly resolved. They see the dead and relive the killings in their dreams. The soldier who kills another soldier comes home and one day realizes that there is a family somewhere in the world—in its own home—lacking a cherished family member. There are children who no longer have a father, mother or brother—women without their husbands and husbands without wives. No chance to fulfil the dream of growing old together.

That soldier who took a life may look at their own children when they get home, perhaps even years later, hug that child, and think about another child whose daddy or mommy they killed. How easy it would be for his or her child to be the parentless one! That soldier, trying to become a human being again, will not know what to say to anyone on this earth about this feeling. They will wonder if anybody understands what they are feeling—if anyone can. They may be able to share this feeling only with another Veteran, yet feel ashamed at reminding that Veteran of what he or she is also struggling to deal with. Worried that if he or she talks about it, they might be judged as bragging.

The real Warrior is abandoned into silence. They fall upon the discipline that was introduced in them but they fall alone. Many Veterans forever fight this never-resolved battle.

Listen to the Vietnam War Veterans; listen to how they were received when they returned to this country. Listen to the Gulf War Vets that must fend for themselves as the very government that asks them to lay down their bodies vote down funding for proper and substantial treatment of their wounds.

In the case of the returning Vietnam Veterans, some were spat upon. Others had to withstand an onslaught of name calling that included things like baby killer and murderer. Society does not know this agent of death that is a Warrior; it does not possess the skills nor the knowledge to reintegrate these people into society. Society asked them to kill on its behalf, but does little to return the Warrior to a rightful place as a caring, compassionate member of a family and community.

Can the community do anything to help with this return to so-called normal society? The Warrior Veteran needs to be brought back into the Circle of Life. How can they find spiritual peace and understanding from the community? Only if the circle of their community is a healing circle.

Does the community ever rent a room, invite the Veterans, feed and honor them and listen to their stories of the atrocities of war or the horrors of being the deliverer of death to another by accident or for survival? When do they hear about arms blown off a man who walked down a road not knowing mines were there? Who will listen to the Warrior's scramble for words that describe an incoming napalm strike on a village? Who hears the break in their voices? No one, even though these voices resound in their own head every day.

These things happened. The blood and destruction has been seen by the Veteran. The community must acknowledge the sacrifice their Veteran was willing to give. Society and the community can not know and understand or postulate a reason for what has happened, for that same society and community allowed the war either by electing people into office or by sitting by and watching war upon war unfold without lifting a finger to stop it.

Who will sit and listen to the stories of these Veterans? Will the people of the community come forward and listen or will the Veteran be doomed to the darkness of a house where no one visits? Will the people lean down to say hello to the Veteran whose legs are missing because they were blown off in a battle, or will they cross the street in avoidance?

Many Veterans that seem like they are of sound body suffer with the intrusive thoughts of having to experience death first hand and in many cases, by their own hand. They are also in darkness. A Veteran struggling with his thoughts as he tries to understand PTSD is forever and constantly bombarded by shame, guilt, depression, anger, confusion and lonliness.

This Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is grossly misunderstood by most people. Some even say things like, “Get a life” or “Get over it.” when they hear of a Veteran that gets disability for the loss of control of his own life from the struggles with PTSD.

The Warrior is a hunter with death and blood on their hands and real horror to relive in their dreams. They are the ignored and too often the wounded walking suicide-to-be. They are the men and women with visions that they cannot, but want to, leave behind. They constantly try to be sorry for their actions but fail because the destruction of their own heart will not allow it. The blackness is there, forever.

The Warrior accepts the inevitable truth that they will live and die lonely as they struggle to be understood.

Think of these things the next time you see a Veteran. And remember, those who the Warrior fought because they were told they were the enemy are Warriors too. They and their families will suffer the same as “our side”. They also have PTSD. The Mothers and Fathers of those also cry at the loss of a loved one. Brothers and Sisters, Grandmothers and Grandfathers will miss them. We are all on the same side as far as issues with our Warriors.

The Native American communities have been stepping forward for many many years. They welcome back their Warriors. They have ceremonies and honoring Pow Wow’s for the Veterans. They are not glad there is war. But they realize this. The Veteran, drafted or enlisted, whether a regular Army soldier or a National Guard member who was deployed into war, was following orders because they took an oath. They were all willing to sacrifice their own life if need be. They accepted the pain and suffering that happens to them as a Warrior from witnessing the death and destruction firsthand. This is what is honored in the Veteran. Honor the Warrior, not the war.

After Vietnam, society had much confusion about the war. Let us not make the same errors in the way we treat our Veterans that are returning from the Persian Gulf. Let us make ammends to ALL Veterans from ALL eras, combat and non-combat. Let us never forget that suffering and loss affect everyone in the world. Let no one tell you who your enemies are.

Honor the dead. Heal the wounded. Work for peace and end all war.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Only the Good Friday, May 22, 2009

Mr. Sun

Gosh, Friday already. And here I am, scrambling again to come up with a post. But it’s early. I slept better than Thursday night. I made it all the way to after six a.m. That’s a great Only the Good Friday thing right there! Much needed sleep is a good thing! Let’s see, something good. You know, the best thing about the Friday thing is that I believe in it. When I was first turned on to Shelly and her This Eclectic Life Blog, I didn't know it was going to have such an effect. I want to have something good in my life. I want a positive thought today. And I also have had this attitude that I want to feel this way all I can, all week, everyday, or a part of every day. I’ve had a good week in the positive/negative ratio department.

Yesterday, I posted a couple of recipes. I had a great day and my mood was jovial. I just felt like talking to people. At 3:00 a.m. There was no one around, so my audience was the blog readers. It was wonderful to hear from folks. As I said, I was talking to them.

In that post I mentioned the blog of a friend, Beth. She writes Beth’s Blog. I went there and read about her day yesterday. She had an amazing positive experience both at work and in something incredible that happened to her personally. You must read about what happened to Beth Right Here.

For me, time is moving quickly. This is Memorial Day weekend. In River Falls, WI, the town where I live now, the Community just sponsored a new Veterans Memorial at the local cemetery. In fact, I access my new home off of Cemetery Road. Yesterday, I was talking to a new acquaintance and was reminded that there would be some sort of program at the Memorial on Monday. I don’t have any travel plans or activity plans, so I think I’ll be down there and witness the dedication of the new Veterans Memorial.

I believe that we most definitely must Honor the Warrior, Not the War. NO matter what people think about war, I personally am totally against it, I find it hard to not honor those that put their life down for Our Families, Our Communities and Our Country. It's not for me to judge motive, whether the dead soldier was pro or con the war, whether he or she fought for peace or wanted to slay the fellow man. As long as war exists in this world, I want to honor the death of the Veterans. I will honor All Veterans from All Countries the world over. The Mothers and Fathers of all Warriors grieves at the loss. People all over the world want peace. Peace is a good thought.

With no travel plans this weekend, we will spend some quality time here at home. Still many little things here and there to do. Some good friends will gather here Saturday evening and we’ll go out to dinner. These are people I go back with over 40 years. We’ve never stopped talking, but getting together has been a chore over the past 5-6 years. We all put forth the effort to make it happen. So Saturday, old friends, husbands and wives, will break bread. The after dinner coffee will be at my place on the deck around sunset.

A nice waterfall. Niobrara River near Valentine Nebraska

On Sunday, another group of good friends will gather and we’ll ride the motorcycles down the Mississippi River once again. Our trek will lead us into Red Wing, Minnesota and we’ll have dinner at a place called Norton’s. The band that donated its time and talent for our Crow Creek Motorcycle Ride fundraiser last weekend will be playing at Norton’s. We’ll take in another session of a really good band. They used to be called Ipso Facto. But that group disbanded, now original band member Wain McFarlane has assembled the sound again. They play great Roots, Rock and Reggae and keep you moving and swaying the whole time.

I saw another good friend yesterday. He traveled down from Ashland. He had a chore to do in the area and he stopped here to talk with me. That made me feel good. Friends are an important part of my Good Friday. New friends and old friends. I have been fortunate of late to have made some wonderful new friends and hold onto the old ones as well.

I feel good. I have exciting things to do. I'll be with people I love and I believe I am loved by friends and family. So, it’s a good Friday for me. I hope it’s a good Friday and everyday for you.

Now, here are some pictures of more reasons I am still alive and feeling good. My Grandchildren.

Gracie Jayne

Yoody and Papa on the motorcycle


Anna in her "new" twenty five cent garage sale dress.

There is good in everyday. I hope the world can find some of it. While you're looking;

May Peace be in your hearts, all of you.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Two for the Money

Spring Sunrise at Spadoville

It's 4:31 a.m. here in Western Wisconsin. It's May 21st. I have been up for a while. Couldn't sleep. I just heard the first of the bird songs for the day. I can't identify the bird, but I heard one. It is officially morning. Up at this latitude, the day starts to creep up on you pretty early. It's still "night" outside, but the sky is starting to lighten in the Northeast. I can watch, if I pay attention after March 20th, the sun rising farther and farther to the North of dead East as each day passes. It starts its Southward journey after June 21st, the Summer Solstice.

We've had some warm windy weather. The past few days have been hot and humid, in the 90's Fahrenheit, (quick now my Canuck friends, what's the Celsius?) around 33 C.

Today, the NOAA weather service on line report calls for, well, here, I'll let you read it:

Today: A slight chance of showers and thunderstorms, then scattered showers after 7am. Mostly cloudy, with a high near 69. North northwest wind between 8 and 14 mph. Chance of precipitation is 50%. New rainfall amounts of less than a tenth of an inch, except higher amounts possible in thunderstorms.

That's a big change. We need the rain. I planted two apple trees and some blackberry bushes last week. I've been watering them daily. We'll see if we get any moisture. I didn't plant anything in the garden. I have some Roma beans, the wide flat Italian green beans, and some early corn. I believe I'll get these into the ground this weekend. I also have to pick up some tomato plants from a friend who has offered started plants. His tomatoes are the best I have ever eaten. And I mean that! Meaty flesh, flavorful. Just wonderful.

So, a small garden. I'll shop at the Framer's Market too. They are held on Wednesdays and Saturdays here in River falls, WI. There is sure to be a lot of fresh organic produce available. Nothing like fresh stuff for great eating, healthy eating. When the weather gets warm, I crave cold salads. Just the opposite of wanting hot soup on a blustery November day. A couple of my favorites are here in this post.

Typical Farmer's Market scene.

Yes folks, recipes. If you've read up to this point, you are hereby directed to the announcement that there will be a recipe posted. I mean, others do it. My friend Beth at Beth's Blog, ( I call it Beth's liberal Reader's Digest), has a wide variety of news items, quips, jokes, pictures, soundbites personal items when she's screwing around at work and the recipes. By the way, I find it interesting reading. A magazine if you will, and very well done. I even read her recipes, but don't venture away from my usual to try a lot of new stuff.

I have found that if someone posts a recipe, I have made something close at one time or another. I will make what I usually make and vary it with the recipe that someone posted. I must be getting old and set in my ways. Either that, or too lazy to go to the store and get ingredients that I don't have on hand at any given time and make something totally different than anything I've ever made before.

Since I have had many jobs, ( the last W2 count was 78 I believe), and more than a half dozen as a cook, (Chef is not in my vocabulary), I can usually look at a recipe and see the ingredients and pretty much figure how they go together. I do like to experiment, and sometimes when I do, I get something special as in especially good to eat. So, that made me think of the dinner I made night before last. Something simple called tacos, but different than most. I'll post that recipe too.

So, two recipes, one a summery cool salad and the other a great new way to have tacos, or burritos or some sort of spiced things wrapped in corn or flour tortillas. These are gonna be conversational recipes by the way. No lists. You write it down if you want to. If you try either of these, I'd really like to know what you thought of them. Of course I'll accept the obligatory "That sounds so delicious" comment from anyone being the blog whore that I have become.

Take some fresh tomatoes. I slice them in half and take any core out of them at the stem end. I then quarter them, or eighth them. I get some cucumbers too. I use a potato peeler and take off some of the skin. I like to leave them with stripes. I slice them into pieces about a quarter inch thick. The last thing I use is red onion. I peel the skin and slice thin into rings.

Striped Cukes

I mix the tomatoes, cukes and onion together and pour on my own home made Italian salad dressing. You can use you own home made or store bought if you want to. But this dressing is what I call Italian as this is how my Mom makes it.

Did you know life is like an onion? You peel it off a bit at a time and sometimes you weep.

Olive oil, red wine vinegar, a touch of water mixed or shaken with salt, black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, oregano, sweet basil, parsley flakes and a pinch of sugar. Amounts? Well, that's a good one. Use some of each. If you don't want it too salty, don't use a lot of salt. Same with pepper and sugar and garlic and onion. A Tablespoon of each except the sugar in a couple of cups of vinegar and oil will work, thereabouts.

Italian Bread, 100% Semolina Flour

Shake it well, pour it on the veggies, toss is and toss it again, put it in the fridge and let the flavors blend. It's like anything else, better in a while rather than as soon as you make it. Serve it with a slice of some good Artisan Italian bread. Butter is up to you. The bread alone, dipped in this dressing while eating the veggies is to die for. I'm having this salad today!

Now, for the tacos. Here's what I do. I cut up chicken in strips and pieces, helter skelter, but small bite size pieces. I pour some olive oil into a cast iron skillet. I put in the chicken when the pan is hot and fry away. After a few moments, I season with salt and pepper and garlic powder. I stir. I add water, a cup or so, then I add Chile powder.

Now I don't use store bought Chile powder. I use real Chile powder made from New Mexican Red Chilies from Hatch New Mexico. It comes in varieties.

Oh wow, I hear the crows now, they have started their morning cawing. Got to be a half dozen of them, cool!!

These are not MY tacos, but you get the idea

Anyway, the Chile powder bought in the store has cumin and other spices in it. The stuff I use is just Chilies and it comes in different heat scales. I use Sandia. It is hot and has a bite, but not overwhelming. Here's a place where you can order some. It's called Da Gift Basket. And Here's the Chile Powder section.

I stir in the chile and let the water reduce. What is left is a great tasting lively filling for a taco or a burrito. Tender bits coated with red Chile. I dress it up with shredded cheese, Colby, Colby Jack or Cheddar, freshly chopped tomatoes, chopped onion and shredded lettuce. Some sour cream, or better yet, guacamole and you have a feast. I like mine on warmed corn tortillas. Mrs. Spadoman likes the flour torts. I use another cast iron skillet to warm the tortillas. I admit to pouring on some Zapatas taco sauce from a bottle. It does not over power the taste of the Chilies I used when cooking the chicken, but it adds a little something for me.

Hey, vegetarian? That's okay. Use green and yellow zucchini and red, orange, yellow and green peppers along with some sliced portobello mushrooms and onions. Cook them like you did the chicken. Or roast them sprinkled with the Chile powder. Makes a wonderful veggie taco with real flavor!

Okay, so there it is. It's freakin' five A freakin' M. I don't have pictures. I guess I could make some Heuvos Rancheros, but I'll take some next time I make this stuff and show you that I am for real. Last time I made the tacos, I used leftover pork loin roast. I sliced it real thin and chopped into small pieces and did it like the chicken. It was already cooked, so it didn't need much time. Try it with buffalo or with a tender sirloin steak. Shrimp too, or add the Chile to the breading and fry some fish.

I had fun this morning. I just decided I'm going out for breakfast at Yoody's favorite diner. Ray's Southside.

Grand daughter Yoody and me at Ray's Southside a week or so ago

Peace to All and All you hold Dear. Bon Appetite!

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


Beautiful Tulips, one of my favorites.

So, I’m sitting around last week about this time, and wondering what to do for my Mom for Mother’s day. She lives 400 miles away. I took the easy way out and ordered flowers. I sent tulips. I sent the larger of the vases of tulips offered on the FTD website, but not the biggest and best vase that was more money. I didn’t get the cheapest, and I didn’t get the best. I went the one in the middle. That satisfied my guilt for not going out and shopping for a real thoughtful gift.

My sister lives real close by to my Mom’s place and takes care of many of Mom’s needs. Mom doesn’t drive anymore, so all church going and grocery shopping or anywhere, actually, is taken care of by big sister. I sent two of these vases of tulips. I sent a second one for my sister. She is a mother of two grown men and now serves as a mother for our mother.

I get online and send this order to my sister’s address. One in the name of my sister, and the other in the name of my mother. The delivery date was to be Friday, May 8, 2009. As Sunday delivery was not available. They would get their Mother’s Day tulip vases a day or two earlier than the actual Mother’s Day. I even put a separate card on each one. A Mother’s Day greeting to my sister and one for my Mother.

On Mother’s Day, the traditional and obligatory phone call was planned to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to my Mom and sister. But they called me instead of me calling them. I shared my 60th birthday, May 10th, with Mother’s Day this year. My sister, wanting so bad to give me a ration of crapola because I was finally in the same decade as she is in, placed the call to me. She is 67!

My Mom was with my sister, so I talked with Mom and wished her a Happy Mother’s Day and my Mom said Happy Birthday to me.

My sister mentioned that the flowers came and they were beautiful. I felt good that they liked them. Since my sister thanked me, I thought she got her vase and my Mom got one too as my Mom said “Thanks” for the tulips as well. I get this next phone call on May 13th, and my sister asks me if I sent two vases of flowers. I said, “Yes, I sent one to you and one to Mom.”

Then she goes on to tell me that she received a vase of tulips last Friday, as I mentioned to her to look for them. Even though they were addressed to her, even the card, she gave them to our Mom. Mom thought they were beautiful. Then Wednesday, May 13th, she received another package. Another bouquet of not so beautiful funky stinky rotting tulips!

This second delivery had my Mom’s name on the card. Sis figured it out and called me. She thanked me for the flowers as she realized I had sent them both a bouquet.

In my own personal life, my Mom is getting old and speaks about God, as she understands God, to take her. She doesn’t eat or use the oxygen she needs and may think that she will hasten her reality of death by neglecting food and air. A friend took a fall off his stairs at home. He now lies in a hospital bed. Atrocities continue for millions of the world population.

Makes my tale of woe about a bunch of flowers seem like nothing, and it is unimportant except to tell a story, weave a web, be a hit man for the good and a thorn in the side of the corporate giants.

So I paid an arm and a leg for these tulips. Money was no object when it comes to sending my Mom a Mother’s day gift at the last minute because I am too stupid to go out and find something nice and full of heart wrenching symbolic meaning. In other words, I didn’t do any shopping until the last minute and sent flowers.

I e-mailed FTD and gave reference to the order numbers of the delivery in question. I wrote to them the evening of the 13th. Early on Thursday morning, right at eight A.M., I get a call. It’s FTD and they want to set things straight.

I was offered a new bouquet to be sent, but I refused sighting that the gift was for Mother’s Day and that holiday was in the past. The operator immediately offered me a full refund. A day later, the charge was debited to my checking account. Now I have had problems like this before, we all might have at one time or another. But I must admit, the quick response and rapid return of my money was a stroke of sheer great business sense, as I will use FTD again and I’m telling you about the way they resolve complaints.

You can pretty much be sure the flowers were grown in America, and the vase was probably made in China. All’s well that ends well.

Here are some pics of the ruined flowers. I also threw in some pretty flower pictures to offset the carnage.

Have a great peaceful day today and everyday.

Rotting Floral arrangment

And more rottenness



And Oh so pretty!

Peace to all.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

A Quiet Sunday Morning Here in Spadoville

Dream Catcher. Driftwood with black sinew 2009.

Early here, just past six a.m. Thought I'd jot down a few thoughts and show you some great pictures taken by my daughter the other evening. She sent me an e-mail that contained them, the subject was; Sunset or Forest Fire?

However, before I get to that, I just want to mention the picture I posted above is one of the newest Dream Catchers I made. (need more info, just ask) I'm using pieces of wood that may not be identical and joining them to form a circle, but not a circle in the usual sense, rather an enclosure in which to weave. I wanted to start the post off with a photograph of something. I also want to apologise for the soundless YouTube I posted on the previous post about Only the Good Friday. YouTube said I couldn't use The Doors music as I didn't have the rights. Next time, I'll use original music that I DO own the rights to.

I also need to mention that today is my Grand daughter's birthday. Lilly is five years old today. I call her Yoody and she is a sweetheart, but then again, so are all the rest of my Grand kids, (and your Grandkids, cats, dogs, cockatoos and other pets and plants)

Now, on with this post:

These are amazing photographs. I use them with her permission. By the way, she does a dog rescue service and has a website. I never knew she had her own website. I knew she did the dog stuff. Click Here to see her website and some great dog photos. She has some really cute doggie puppies. I know there are many of you dog and cat and pet lovers out there. Take a look at her site.

So, I bought this camera a couple of years ago. It was an upgrade to an old early edition digital pocket camera we had. The old original was an Olympus three megapixel. It lasted through a lot and broke after repeated droppings on the floor. I bought a new model with a lot of bells and whistles, manual adjustments and features. Mrs. Spadoman never liked it. She wanted small, simple, compact easy to use point-and-shoot. I gave the bigger full-featured camera to middle daughter and dog lover/saver Alyssa, and bought a new one of the more simplistic variety for us to have as a camera.

So daughter Alyssa, knowledgable about such things as cameras and photography in general, actually uses the built in fancy features of the camera we used to have. When I saw these pictures that I am about to show you, I mentioned how well the camera was. I was told that " is the eye behind the lens that makes great pictures"

Touche'. But she is absolutely correct. The photographer can make things happen with any lens. Have you ever seen any of those pinhole cameras? Someone takes a cardboard box and pokes a hole in it with the tip of a pin or small nail, tapes raw film on the inside and exposes the picture to light by uncovering the pinhole. I've always wanted to try this. Maybe I will someday, but it has to wait. I have so many projects going on right how and a busy summer of travelling coming up.

This Guy at This Site has a great site and hosts a pinhole camera fair every year. Take a look at some of these fantastic photographs taken with an oatmeal box, (or a variation thereof).

Photo by Bob Cormack with his Pitts Special Aerobatic Biplane, taken with a home made pinhole camera.

These are some great examples of pinhole photography. This is definately one of those things I need to be doing when I'm sitting around wondering what there is to do.

Before I unveil these fantastic photographs, I want to call your attention to a blog I started going to lately. It is called Thorne's World.

An example of Thorne's beautiful work, "The Spirit Horse"

Thorny, as another friend of mine refers to her as, has a lot of talents, and one of these is that she is a tattoo artist. She started a series telling about herself and began with her interest and beginnings in the skin art. I found it to be a great read as I have been contemplating getting an old tattoo refreshed to brighten 18 year old color, and maybe a new tattoo on the opposite arm. Have a look.

Now, here are the pictures. Sunset or Forest Fire?

When I first saw these, I swear they were of a forest fire. We have spent a lot of time in California over the years, so has my daughter. I thought maybe they were pictures of a fire somewhere out West. Someplace we both have been or lived at one time or another.

Each photograph is deeper and more intense.

About now, I knew it was a fire.

This last one nails it. A forest fire, with flames shooting up from the treetops. Flares of burning, windswept and out of control.

That's what old Mr. Sun is. A burning ball of fire. It came to us this evening and it spoke to us. Alyssa captured it flawlessly.

Good Job! (That's my kid)

Peace to you all.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Only the Good Friday, May 15, 2009

I'm starting to write this on Thursday. Look at me, getting a jump on the Only the Good Friday Theme, a day in advance. I want some “Good” so Bad! I want to be funny. If I make you laugh and smile, that is good. I want to be inspired and motivated and have a story to tell that sees good, that speaks good. All good all the time. There, that’s the spirit.

But alas, there is trouble in the world. There are people suffering. It’s a Jungle Out There like Randy Newman says.

The war rages on. The economy has affected millions of people in negative ways. People are still hungry and homeless and have no health care. Education opportunities are lacking. The rift between the rich and poor is widening. It’s harder and harder to make ends meet. Who actually does anymore anyway?

These are not positives, and surely not the “good” notes we want to drive home today.

The past two weeks, I turned to nature. I saw the sunrises and listened to the birds. I recalled how the wildlife has no troubles like we have. The finches aren’t having a war against the robins. They share the bird bath and the seeds at the same feeder. I still look to this phenomenon of nature for relief. There seems to be no other way to turn.

I have guilt too, when I write about happiness and joy amidst the horrors of war and starvation from poverty. When I’m happy and other people I am acquainted with are struggling with depression and sadness, sickness in the family. I don’t want people to think I don’t care and that all this strife in the world is okay with me because I’m not affected right now. My tired heart is still beating and everyone of my Grandkids is healthy.

Okay, I got the word now. I’ll be okay with this. I put the sadness out there. I paid some homage and recognition to the fact that the world still turns and I control none of it. I’m going to have some happy thoughts right along with the suffering that exists in the world. The good part is, I am told, directed, to believe this is okay and has to happen.

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Ever hear that before? Did you know that saying is a proverb? Its meaning is that without time off from work, a person becomes bored and boring. The sentiment expressed by this proverb was first recorded thousands of years ago by some Egyptian sage named Ptahhotep. Whoever that was. It was written in 2400 B.C. How the double hockey sticks do they know that? What, were they alive and reporting this news way back then?

Anyhoo:-), like my friend Batmo says, I’m going riding today, (Thursday). And I did, and the YouTube video I posted here is about that ride. That makes me happy and that is Good and it’s Friday.

I had a very good friend stop over Thursday and we shared some thoughts and had a cup of coffee. That is a Good thing. Them a couple of the Grandkids were over for a while and we played in the yard. That was a very Good thing. Then my motorcycle buddies came over and we went for a great ride down the Mississippi River. That was great fun and made me feel really Good, and that carried over to today, Friday, and I’m having a Good Friday and hope and wish that you are too.

This video is my first attempt with this new iMac computer and the motorcycle set-up with the camera mounted on the handlebars. I noticed the bugs on the screen. I’ll need to clean the windshield off more often if I’m using the camera. But it seemed to work okay and I am happy with it. That is a Good thing and it’s Friday.

I know everyone won’t click on this YouTube I made and watch the whole 5 minutes plus, and that makes me a little sad, and that’s not Good for Only the Good Friday theme, but that’s okay too. I used some good music by the Doors. What else, “Riders on the Storm”, as we are riding, but YouTube might not let me publish a video without paying rights to the song. We'll see what they do with it. Oh well, hum some song you like while you watch us carve up the curves along the beautiful River Bluffs on the upper Mississippi unless YouTube's powers that be didn't mess with it. That woiuld be bad, but that's okay, because it's Good. It’s Friday

Peace to All.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Someone Give Me a Title Please

I was inspired to tell this story when I read over at Utah Savage’s place about her past in reference to her relationship with her Mother. I had a similar relationship with my Dad in so far as that he was a mean one, fierce and intimidating. When he passed in 1983, I was but 34 years old or so. He was 63.

I hated him. I never had a good thought about him until about 6 years ago when I went through a hands on healing session with a Reiki Master. It was my third session on the table. I remember her touching my legs and feet and saying that what she did, she did for the greater good of Joseph Spado.

Sometime before that, I had gone through a healing ceremony alongside a small fire. I was told to tie small bundles of tobacco, seven of them, and tie them in red cloth. I was to use any kind and color of thread to secure them. But one was to be a different color than the rest.

I used black thread, I think, and used a yellow thread to tie the seventh bundle.

I came to the fire pit. It was ringed with cedar boughs in a circle, forming a perimeter. There was an entrance of sorts at the East. I entered this ring and was instructed to place a bundle into the fire for the Sacred Earth Mother and another for the Great Grandfather sky.

I did this, and then set out to tie a bundle on a tree in each of the four directions. When this task was completed, I had one bundle left in my hand. It was the one tied with the yellow thread. The Medicine Woman that was guiding me through this told me to hold this bundle. Then she went about her business of talking to other people who were around the fire.

I felt abandoned. She didn’t look at me or say anything to me for quite some time. I stood there, confused. Wondering if she had forgotten about me. She turned suddenly and told me to cast that last tobacco tie into the fire and with it, get rid of something I needed to get rid of.

I immediately thought of my Father. I wanted to get rid of this hatred and misunderstanding that I harbored for so long. I tossed the small bundle into the fire and that was the end of the ceremony. I didn’t know what to expect. I really had no idea of what this healing ceremony held for me. In fact, I remember wondering if this was for real. I had an open mind, but just didn’t ‘get it’.

It was a few years later that I was under the hands of the healer who was touching me and channeling energy through me, some good in, some bad out. I had a dream a few days after that. The dream was about my own heart.

I traveled deep into my own body. I was inside of my heart. At the entrance, I was afraid. It was dark and gloomy. Black as coal. The walls were dusty and flat. No shine, but flat and cobwebs were festooned everywhere. I started to walk into my own heart. I was very afraid. Each step was a baby step, taken with extreme caution. I went past chambers that had no light.

Way far away, ahead of me, was a faint light. This light was just a glimmer when I first saw it, but I knew I had to disregard my fear of the dark and the unknown and keep walking, with these small steps, towards that light. I kept going, seeing more blackness, more dust, more gloom and more frightening surroundings. I was deep inside now, ready to run back towards where I started. The light got brighter.

When I was near this light, it went from a faint glow to a bright yellow white aura. It was deep inside of my own heart. I stopped. I stood there, staring at the light. From the light I saw two figures. One was a man and the other a small girl. The girl held the man’s hand in hers and was guiding him towards me.

It was my daughter, Maggie, who left this world in 1991. She was guiding my Dad by the hand. He wore a bright white V-neck T-shirt, the kind he wore so often during the summertime. He didn’t look right at me at first, but had an expression on his face that was asking if it was okay to enter my heart, my dark, gloomy blackened heart.

I nodded and beckoned him to come, Maggie tugged at his hand, pulling him in towards me as I stood there.

I remember smiling with him as he smiled. I remember thinking that it was okay and that I wanted to see him. I remember telling him I loved him. I told him I forgave him. Then I asked him to forgive me. We didn’t specify what we were forgiving each other for, but I know we were crying and loving each other very much.

I returned, following the route I had taken to get me deep down to the depths of my own heart. As I walked, briskly now, toward where I had entered, I saw the black walls of my own heart and they would shine. They were glossy now, the dust and gloom gone. The cobwebs were also missing. The woman who was touching me was there with a corn broom, sweeping the cobwebs away, leaving nothing but these shiny black walls. The light from far away, deep inside my heart was brightening every surface. The walls glimmered from the beautiful light.

I awoke and cried. I wrote about my Dad that day. I remembered many good things we had shared. I remembered fun times, humorous times. I remembered love. I wrote about the trip to Riverview and Kiddieland. I wrote about the road trip to California on old route 66 back in 1959. I loved my Dad and never knew it. I forgave all that I hated and wanted forgiveness for all I ever did to make him angry.

This was healing. This is what it meant to heal. This happened later, after the ceremony, much later. The ceremony put me on the path of healing. An Elder once told me that healing is a path and it took time. It would take patience on my part. I had to be ready for healing, when it was offered, when it came. I’ve had more healing over the years. More understanding of how forgiveness heals. How love heals. How it is our duty to forgive and ask forgiveness even when it was the other that we think caused all the trouble.

As I write this, it is a beautiful day out today. I bought two trees to plant. I bought some blackberry bushes to plant. I was given two lilac bushes to plant as a birthday gift from my daughter. I was going to attend to the chore of shoveling, digging holes and spreading manure, but I stopped at the computer to read what some folks had to say.

When I read about the thoughts of people’s Mothers on Mother’s Day, I felt compelled to remember my Dad. So I started writing this story instead of planting trees and bushes. I’ll get to the chores, but I must have needed to tell someone this story. Someone must have needed to hear it. Or maybe I just needed to remember.

I talked with my Mom yesterday. She’s 400 miles away. I will probably see her in less than a month. As she ages, she has a hard time with names and dates. She forgot who she was talking to and called me by my brother’s name. I didn’t mind at all. I didn’t even correct her but my sister, in the background, did. Mom apologized and I said it was okay.

Peace to all.

Friday, May 8, 2009

Only Good Fridays

A long and winding road, looks great for a motorcycle ride.

Just woke up and looked out the window. Another beautiful day here in the Northland. There is always good in a day somewhere, but some are definitely better than others. This current spell of warm sunshine after a long winter is really exceptionally beautiful. But I digress, I just woke up and looked out the window.

I went to the blogs and clicked away and came across This Eclectic Life and her Only Good Friday post. My internal dialogue said to me, “Oh shit, it’s Friday. You didn’t write anything.”

So, I went through my routine with a few variations and then decided I’d write an Only Good Fridays post, even though I’m not in the mood to write right now and my back hurts even though it is such a fine beautiful day outside.

Then I remembered. Yoody is here. Yoody is the nickname of soon to be five year old Grand daughter Lilly. The family was here for dinner last night and Yoody stayed over night. Yoody has been staying here on Thursday nights. For no particular reason, except that it coincidently happens just about every Thursday night.

Lilly Janine.

It’s early now, Yoody still sleeps. But she’ll be up soon and I’ll have a friend here. I woke up hungry. I was actually thinking of driving a few miles to the truck stop, Ray’s Southside Restaurant, and having an old fashioned bacon and eggs breakfast. I’ll even have the bad coffee and use jelly on my toast. Maybe Yoody will want to come along.

Ray's Truckstop for Breakfast.

Ray used to have the truck stop on the Minnesota side of the St. Croix River back when it was US Highway 12 running through here. When they updated the Interstate, Ray moved to Exit 19 at Baldwin, WI. He still called it the Northstar for a while, but now it’s the Southside Restaurant and a small truck stop/convenience store off I-94.

If she doesn’t want to go out for breakfast, that’s okay. She’ll be hanging around and we’ll do something when I get back if I decide to go myself. Maybe I won’t even go and we’ll just eat oatmeal.

I’ve shied away from the news all week. I haven’t even listened to Amy at Democracy Now. I have skimmed over political and newsy blogs. Many are reporting opinions about the Bush administration. They keep hammering away at the old, ever paying more attention to what freaked them out last year. Some are blowing new bugles, but as they always did, just write about how horrible the situation is and how we should be angry about it. It’s not that these horrors don’t exist, but I found that my tired heart feels better when I stand off to the side and live right here right now once in a while.

The sun has popped up and is splashing my yard with bright golden light. This miracle happened again today. I was awake to witness.

Almost up.

Starting to peek out at us.

Ahhhhhh, There it is.

I’m looking back at the week and thinking of something to tell you about that was super positive and good. I can’t site an instance or something that happened right off. But the idea that I made a couple of new friends this week and that a couple of people paid me compliments is certainly a good thing from my perspective. The fact that the weather is changing and the daily temperatures are up into the 70’s is a good change from the gloomy cloudy 50 degree days prior.

I made a chair like this one.

Both cars are running good. The bills are paid. I finished the Adirondack chair I made. I built a composting bin with scrap lumber and a one dollar role of chicken wire from a garage sale and two boxes of cigars I ordered came in the mail yesterday. Can you see me sitting in that chair, leaned back and cozy, smoking a stogey? (Spadoman does not inhale, but will never be elected President of the United States of America because he does sometimes).

The last vice I have.

Look at me, cracking jokes early in the morning. Happy to be alive. This Good Friday stuff is cool. Sets my frame of mind in a good mood right off. I like it. And if nothing else, that in itself is good.

I sent flowers to my Mom for Mother’s Day. I sent them to my sisters place. Mom might struggle with the delivery man trying to ring her apartment. I put an extra bouquet for my sister too. She watches over Mom down around Chicago. Hope they like them. I sent tulips. I like tulips. They’re colorful.

Tulips for Mom.

A very Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mothers out there. And not just for this Sunday’s made up holiday, but every day. And happiness and health to everyone else. Hard to select one group and disregard the other when wishing health and happiness. That blessing is for all people, today and everyday. Have a good Friday, and a Good every day, not just Friday. That’s the thing. By writing Only Good Fridays, I find a little bit of peace in every day.

Peace to you and all you hold dear, today, and everyday.