The gift of forgetfulness.

 Of all the gifts the Lord has given me, I think that not remembering some things is the best gift of all!  I woke up this morning remembering the Stroh place in Nickerson.  The incident was mostly clear in my mind.  I recall a big yellow cat.  I do not recall his name, but he was the resident mouser.  Some times I think I  petted him.  I can recall him rubbing on my legs.  I started school when I was five, and it was summer so I had to be about 4 years old.

This particular day, we were setting on the back step.  It was hot.  Nickerson in summer was always hot.  The big yellow cat came walking across the back yard and into the yard.  In his mouth he carried a newly hatched baby chicken.  He dropped this at my mothers feet.  Now if you know about cats, this was an honor.  This meant that the cat realized mother could not hunt and he brought her the baby chick to feed her.  He loved her.

But mother did not appreciate the gesture at all!  Looking back, I can understand what was going through her mind.  She loved that old cat; we all did.  But this small chicken would have grown into a hen or rooster and made more chickens.  If it was a rooster, it would have ended up as Sunday dinner.  If it was a hen it would have laid eggs which were a staple in every day life either as a source of income or the binder in pancakes or baked goods.  Then it would have ended up as a big pot of chicken and noodles.  Either way, the big yellow tom cat had thwarted Mother's plan.

I recall the sadness in her eyes as she turned to my brother Jake.  My four year old mind does not recall the exact words, but the words do not matter.  He was told to take the Tomcat into the forest out back and "get rid of it."  My beloved cat was no longer a pet.  He was now an "it".  Jake would have been 8 since he and I were born 4 years and 4 days apart.  He went into the house and returned with his single shot rifle.  He always carried a big pocket knife because boys always carried a pocket knife so they could whittle.  Jake could whittle a whistle that was the best whistle in the world.  Boys don't do that anymore.

He picked up the big Tomcat and walked slowly from the back yard, across the barn yard, past the  chicken house and disappeared into the woods out back.  I waited for the shot.  I never heard it.  Mother and baby Donna went inside.  I waited.  A four year old girl has no concept of time.  There is nothing to measure it against until you learn how to count time on the clock on the wall.  I do know mother went inside and I waited for what seemed an eternity.  I finally seen Jake emerge from behind the chicken house.  He was alone.  I could tell by his eyes that he had been crying. 

We never spoke about the incident.  In my mind he turned the big yellow tomcat loose and he found a new home.  Four year old minds can do that.  Minds can forget bad things that happen to us.  I guess it is God's way of letting us survive in a world that is not always pretty.  We do not always remember the things that hurt us and scar our very souls, but that is good.  It lets the big yellow tomcats of our life run free in the forests of life.

And it lets us sleep at night. 

God Bless us everyone!

It is fall of the year and once more time to gather my friends. partners in crime, or what ever you want to call them together.  Here we have Pastor Faye Gallegos and going to her left we find Sister Barbara, Paul Gilbert, Sister Nancy, Sandy the nurse and the empty chair is mine.

W

We dined on mashed potatoes, chicken and noodles, then finished up with pudding filled cream puffs.  We drank Chamomile tea so we wouldn't be too rowdy.  And of course there was home made bread. 

We had lovely conversation about the work at Los Pobres as well as what is going on around our church, the churches in the Springs.  We missed Maurine and Max Hale.  They have moved up North and do not travel down this way much.  We discussed shelter, or lack of one, for our homeless population.  I do not entertain much, but this is one of my high points.  I gotta tell you, this started out years ago as a Liver and Onion lunch, because very few people like Liver.  I missed last year for some reason so I was adamant about having my Liver Lunch this year.  I invited the ladies and Paul and then Pastor Faye told me Sister Nancy told her how much she was looking forward to Chicken and Noodles over mashed potatoes!  Since both menus are easy, I went with the noodles.  Paul and I can eat anything that does not eat us first!

Any way it was a day of friendship and catching up.  I cherish those times because they are so few and far between.  So tonight I am tired, but happy.  I just ate a bowl of leftover noodles and I think I am going to go eat that last cream puff before Mikie gets home and snarfs it down!

Good night all and sweet dreams from South Road to your house.  God bless us everyone!

I have a license if I passed the test!

So, just like I told you I would do, I applied for my license to make food at home and sell to the public.  Deric Stowell and I went to class yesterday.  Now you know Deric!  He is all over the natural gardening and he is an actual Master Gardener.  Has all his little certificates and runs the seed bank at the library.  He is active in politics and is an all around citizen of the year!

So last Christmas when it was time for me to cater the holiday dinner that I cater every year, I enlisted Deric to help me make tamales.  Oh, and Michael McGuire also.  Trust me, I work better alone, but sometimes I have helpers just so I do not have to talk to myself.  Last year it was Deric and Michael.  So we got to talking about making and selling tamales as a means of trying to make ends meet in this dog eat dog world.  We see ads in the paper all the time for "Homemade tamales! $25 a dozen!"  Now that looked like some easy money.  In the course of 4 hours, 3 of which was cooking time, we had made 5 dozen tamales.  Probably spent $25 on product so this seemed like the way to go.  $125.00 tax free dollars!

Now Deric also spends a lot of time at the County Extension Office, so when the opportunity to attend and receive a license came up, we were all over that!  So yesterday we met at the Black Swan, the Chinese restaurant that is on 7th.  I had egg fu young or however you spell that.  He had fried rice.  In my anal retentive state we were very early and so had lots of time to kill.  Then off to the meeting with 19 of my closest friends. The lady who gave the class was very nice and very knowledgeable.  Three hours later we were done.

No, I can not sell tamales or anything with meat in it..
No, I can not make salsa and can it.
No, I can not make Jalapeno~ jelly with real Jalapeno~.
I can make and sell homemade egg noodles, but they must be dried in a dehydrator.
There are stringent rules on the gluten free stuff.
And there are 3 different disclaimers that need to be put on everything I make and sell.
And I must wash my hands every 3.5 minutes and dry them on a clean paper towel.
And the cat can not walk across the counter while I am mixing and packaging.
Oh, and it would be wise to carry an insurance policy just in case someone chokes on a ring I dropped in the batter.

But it was fun and I learned how to wash my hands properly.  Well, sort of.  Deric made me walk all the way down the stairs when we left.  Little shit head!  So, now it is back to the real world.  I got one goose egg yesterday and I brought it in the house and washed it very good and put it in a special place.  So with pleasant memories of yesterday, I went in the kitchen and looked at the gluten free starches, flours, and additives.  I am going to need to get a big plastic tub and scrub it out good, dry it until it is bone dry, find a lid that fits.  That will free up the one cupboard I had kept the stuff in which is right next to the wheat flour with the dreaded Gluten in it!  (Sigh!)

Perhaps it would be best if I just mowed the grass and finished dragging that Apricot limb to the tin shed.  I am going to get my little hatchet and chop chips out for my smoker.  Bret made it look so easy when he started dragging that limb that I told him I would move it later.  I think he may have nailed it to the ground because the damn thing is stuck right there by the clothes line!  Anyway, it is Saturday and I need to go to Lowe's and get covers for my basement windows.  Or not.

Just got off the phone with a friend and she said something to the effect of "If God had meant for today to be perfect, he would not have invented tomorrow."  Made sense to me.  Think I will just go with  that

I have a theory about memories.

Many years back I read a series called "Clan of the Cave Bear" by Jean Auel.  The gist of the story, for those who did not read it, was that there existed a tribe of people who were apparently Neanderthals and they had found a young girl who was more advanced  (cro magnum) than they were. ( I may have those 2 backwards, but so be it.)   Apparently her tribe was wiped out in an earthquake and she was the only survivor.  She was found and taken in by the head medicine woman of the Cave Bear Clan.  To make a long story short (since there were 4 or 5 books written ) Ayla, became the protégé of the medicine woman.  I forget her name, but she was capable of calling into memory all her ancestors before her and when a question needed an answer she would seclude herself and with the help of some "herbs" go back in time and find the answer.  Lots of other stuff  happened, but this memory thing is the one I am addressing today.

As most of you know, I have a total of 6 kids.  I never really taught them to cook and yet they are all very good cooks and cook in much the same way I do. ( Little aside here.  The youngest may or may not know the fine art of cooking, but he is certainly an experienced eater, so I guess that qualifies him.)  When I lived with grandma Haas the only time we really ate a big meal was on Sunday.  Sunday mom and dad always came from Nickerson and Aunt Lola and Uncle Alvin would come in after church.  At precisely 1:00 dinner would be put on the table.  Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and cream gravy, green beans, fresh rolls, pickled beets, sweet pickles,  relish, butter, jelly.   And it seems Aunt Lola always brought some sort of chiffon cake, or bread pudding, or something like that.  When dinner was over and the table cleared and the dishes all back in the cupboard, it was time to doze.  A nap was always in order before the long drive (20 miles) back to Nickerson.  Us kids were allowed to run out in the yard as long as we stayed out of the street, which was also the highway, which was actually a county road.  We would walk up to the main business area which was one block away and consisted of Hinshaw's General Store, the bank and a filling station with one gas pump.  Oh, and the school.   Grade school was down stairs and high school was upstairs.

Sometimes if it was really hot, Aunt Lena would run water in her horse tank and we could jump in it and splash around.  (Aunt Lena was the old maid Aunt that is in every family, or was back then.)  We wore our clothes and let them dry in place when we got out.  Right beside Grandma's house and across the street on the way to town, was Great Grandma Hatfields old house.  She had lived right next door to grandma and had planned on marrying some guy and moving him in there when, sadly he dropped dead.  Since she was 75 or 80 years old at that time. she just closed up the house and moved across the street since by that time grandma Haas had her stroke and needed taken care of .  As her mother Great Grandma felt it her duty.  So there they lived until Grandma passed and Aunt Mable moved Great Grandma Hatfield (who was 99 years old at the time) to Coldwater where she lived until her death at age 104.

Grandma Haas is on the left and Great Grandma Hatfield is in the back.  If you notice Great Grandma has sandals on and Grandma has more sturdy shoes.  Great Grandma was a fashion plate right up until the day she died.  The plant in the pot is an Oleandar.  It is deadly poison.  Grandma had 2 of them .  One was white and one was pink.  They smell much like a sweet almond.  I have one that someone gave me 20 years ago.  This picture was taken outside Grandma's house about the time of her first stroke.  She was using a walker, but they wanted to look independent. The window is in front of the setting room.  That was where I slept.   Bless their souls.  I would give an arm and a leg to see them today.  They taught me to crochet.  We read the Bible every night.  Every night.   We never missed a night and we read it out loud.  We did not discuss it.  It was not up for discussion.  We read it and we memorized the important parts and I still know them today.

So where was I before I wandered off?  Oh, yeah.  Memories and the clan of the cave bear.  So there are times when I start to do something and it is like I did this before.  Never even thought of it before, but now I know how to do it because I have done it before.  Baking bread and rolling noodles comes as natural to me as walking, but no one ever showed me how to do it.  I can pluck a chicken and not miss a feather faster than anyone I know. (Of course I really do not know anyone else who cleans a chicken from the point of beheading it, to letting it bleed out, to scalding it and separating the feathers from the chicken and then gutting it.)  Actually, that sounds pretty barbaric, but there you go.  When we lived in Glasco, Kansas, I could buy 2 old hens at the feed store for 50 cents.  That fed us for a week.

Well, Good Lord!  I have no idea what I had in mind when I started this, but I need to wind it up somehow.  I guess you will just have to take my word for it that when I got up at 4:30 this morning I had my head full of wisdom that is far beyond my years and I wanted to share it with you.  I guess it is your loss!  That is what you get for thinking I actually know something! I guess I wish I could remember the things I am doing today as well as the things I never did that I remember so well.  Does that make sense to you?  Oh, shit!  If it does, we may both be in trouble!

My annual power lunch!

 What a wonderful group of people I had assembled at my table yesterday noon!  Starting on the left is Shirley Bagby, my dear friend who moved here from Kansas City this summer.  Then Paul Gilbert my long time friend from where ever I found the little fellow.  They are talking horse talk.  Shirley used to go on lots of trail rides and Paul just bought a horse named "Speeders".  On Paul's left and standing in the background is Sister Nancy Crafton who runs Los Pobres.  The lady with the white hair is Nancy Williams, my dear friend who entices me for Bacon once a week.  On her left (and you can not see her at all  (Well, maybe her hair and 2 inches of her forehead.) is sweet little Jolene Hausman, my volunteer coordinator at hospice.  In the plaid shirt is Sister Barbara , followed by Sandy Roybal (?) who is the nurse at Los Pobres.  The empty chair is mine.

And this is Pastor Faye Gallegos who has been my dear friend since she was pastor at Christ Church longer ago than I can remember.

Once a year I like to gather like minded people together and sort of network, if you get my drift.  This year Pastor Faye brought a very special gift to be given to Los Pobres.  I forgot the horses name, but Faye's daughter bought it many years ago and cherished it. She finally decided she would like it to go to a special home and have a special owner.  Sister Nancy and Pastor Faye came up with the perfect home for the little ball of fur.  He (or she as the need arises) shall be the new entertainment for the little kids that go to Los Pobres with their parents.  While the parent(s) are talking to Sister or seeing the nurse or case worker, the children can ride across the desert or along the river or wherever they choose!  Sister has been wanting something like this for a very long time and Pastor Faye and her daughter Patty made her wish come true.

Daisy bids a fond farewell to the little rocking horse.

Well, the chicken and noodles are put away, the people have all left and the house is back empty.  This year is going to be memory very soon.  If you are a like minded person and would like to attend the next one, contact me.  We meet new friends and renew old acquaintances.  Just a day for us!

Jolene made us lovely cookies, but unfortunately  I kept them all for myself! Life sucks that way.  I am trying to post a picture of them, but that is not happening either!  Oh, wait!  There it is!  They are chocolate covered Oreos, just in case you wondered!!

Yes, yes! I was a 60's flower child.

Woke up early this morning to think about things and decided that I grew up in the best of all times.  People who know me find it hard to believe that I never used drugs of any kind.  Unless of course we consider alcohol and tobacco, and I think those are both considered in that genre.  I was born in the 40's which was a time of war.  There was talk that I was actually fallout from Hiroshima or Pearl Harbor, but I think not since I was such a cute baby!
We went from peace after World War II to peace keeping missions in Korea, Vietnam, to war in   Iraq and are still a very warring faction and I am not sure where all we have troops now.  We went from a phone on the wall to a phone we wear in our ear.  We went from Frank Sinatra, through Elvis, the Beatles, Garth Brooks and now Miley Cirus and Justin Bieber are the current losers. We went from a black Model T through a lavender Corvette.  Poodle skirts gave way to mini skirts which were traded for culottes and now there are no fashion rules at all.  Baby boomers, John Lennon and Yoko Ono.   Birth control pills, floppy discs, Rubik's cube, a man on the moon and a woman in the space station.  Kent State, the collapse of the Soviet Union, and President Bush hates broccoli!  Do I need to go on with history?  No.
I just want you to grasp the picture.  Some times I like to think back and picture the first Indian who looked up and saw an airplane soaring overhead.  There is an old saying, "Time marches on!"  and one "Time and tide wait for no man."  I can attest to all of this.  We used to go buy a car from the lot on the corner for $250.00, put 19 cent gas in the tank and drive 150 miles to see grandma who inevitably lived on a farm usually in Western (insert name of state here).    Now we take out a loan for $25,000.00, put $4.25 gas in the tank, park our cheap little car in the garage of our house in the suburbs, and crawl on a plane for $650 and fly 2000 miles to see grandma who does not have time for us because it is bingo night at the condo center and she is in charge, but we can stay here at the house and pet her Labradoodle which is her latest designer dog.
The creek where we used to fish is no longer there.  It has been rerouted and is now a kayak course, but take your pole anyway.  You can set there and remember when you used to catch a cat fish and you could actually eat it.  Damn things glow now with radiation and I ain't eating that!  We can walk downtown to the "Historic area" which is now antique shops where I can buy a remenant of history for a price which is more than I used to pay for my car.  If I am really lucky I can find a friend my age and we can play "Oh, God, remember when we had to wear those awful shoes?"  And "Remember when mother used to gather up the pans because the 'tinker man' was due and he would patch the holes in them?"
I know you have a hard time thinking that was a good time, but it was.   It was back before any divorces and before I worked 3 jobs to survive and before I found out cigarettes were cool and a shot of whiskey sure took the edge off the lonliness and an aspirin was the strongest drug in my medicine cabinet..
 Back when we could walk out back, catch a chicken, "wring it's neck", pluck out the feathers and innards and have the biggest and best  pot of chicken and noodle soup in the world 2 hours later. Scraps of food were thrown out in the back yard for the chickens and the chicken would then lay an egg and the cycle continued.
 Back when school supplies included pencils and paper and a new pair of shoes for the winter ahead.  Back when the teacher was Miss Lauver or Mr. Bollinger, because teachers were respected and revered.  Clothes were handed down and when they were thread bare they went into the "rag basket".  In due time they were torn into strips, rolled into a ball and taken to the weaver lady who made them into rugs.  Wool clothes were cut into strips and mother crocheted them into rugs. Those were best cause they were thicker and softer.
Back when we walked to church every Sunday to save the car for an emergency or for when we went to see grandma and great grandma who lived in Plevena, a town of 102 people 24 miles away.
I would just ask that all of you out there stay in touch with your roots.  They are what makes you who you are today and they are unique to you.  You can look back and see all the things your parents did wrong while raising you, but try to remember that they were once young also and they were raised by a parent raising them who probably had no idea what they were doing either!  We all live and learn and some of us actually get to a point in our lives where we can say,

I did the best I could with the knowledge and the tools I had at the time so I forgive me!

And back to the Stroh place.

Mother had a very big yellow Tom cat.  As with all cats, he was very independent and just did pretty much as he wanted to do.  One day he must have wanted to have his head chopped off because he showed up at the door with one of mother's baby chicken's in his mouth.  Since my brother Jake was the only male present at the time the job was given to him.  Mother handed him the cat, an axe and sent him off to the "forest".  Now the forest was a grove of about 8 trees that was about 50 feet behind the chicken house.  Jake was probably about 9 years old at the time.  You need to remember that times were different back then.  We never were allowed to be "kids" because the mere act of survival made us grow up really fast.  In society today if a 9 year old kid chopped the head off of a cat he would immediately be put into therapy because he had all the makings of a serial killer.  Back then that tiny chicken was part of our cycle of life and no cat was going to snack on mother's chickens that would someday lay eggs for us to eat, hatch more chickens and eventually end up in the stew pot to feed the whole family Chicken and Noodles.  The cat, by killing the baby chicken,  proved he was a chicken killer and that does not work on a farm.  So, off they went to the forest and only one of them came back.

The chicken house was also an attraction to either a Fox or a Weasel.  Dad patched the chicken house fairly regularly, but what ever was getting in was not to be deterred.  One night him and one of his cronies hid in the chicken house and when the varmit surfaced we heard the blast from the shotgun.  That problem was solved, but then there was that gaping hole in the chicken house.  That is another story!

Have you ever gathered eggs?  In the Spring when the chickens first start to lay, several of the old hens also begin ti "set".  The setting is the fine art of laying eggs in a nest and setting on them until the hatch.  The hen has to turn them every day, keep them an even temperature, and be the most patient creature in the world because this takes 28 days setting time.  Did you ever hear the saying "Mad as an old wet hen?"   I used to throw some of my biggest fits when Mother would tell me to go gather the eggs.  She would tell me which nests had the "setting hens" on them and I did not gather those eggs.

I would walk into the hen house and several of the nests would have eggs in them where the hens had laid early that morning and then gone off in search of bugs, seeds or whatever.  Those were easy to gather because I just had to pick the eggs up and put them in my basket, but some of the nest's had chickens on them.  I knew which ones not to bother, but I was afraid of those beady eyed chickens any way.  I was terrified of the "setting hens" because they were very protective and I had much respect for thier mothering skills.  I gave them a very wide berth.  However, I was supposed to reach under the hens who were setting on nests that were not designated as nest boxes.  These are the hens that really scared me.  You do know that hens have sharp beaks, right?  Thier beak is thier sole means of defense.  So I would slowly extend my hand while the hen watched my hand with those beady eyes.  Time would stand still as my hand got slowly closer to her body setting on the nest.  If she inclined her head even the smallest bit, I would run screaming from the hen house.  Usually it would scare her so bad she left the nest in fright.  In that case I could go back and get those eggs.  I do not recall if a hen ever pecked me, but in my mind I left the hen house a bloodied mass every time.  And mother knew when I left the house exactly how many eggs I should have when I came back.  Mothers' are intuitive little creatures.  Too few eggs meant I had not done my job.  Too many and one of the last hatching had started laying.

We had a cow also.  Well, as I recall we had several cows and horses.  The horses were used to pull the plow, combine, trailer, or what ever.  Dad did managed to get himself drunk once when he went to Hutch to the sale.  He came home with a Shetland Pony for us kids.  That was like a dream come true.  A pony of our own for us to ride.  OMG!  That was the meanest damned horse I have ever laid eyes on in my life!  That thing came out of the trailer kicking and snorting and I sought the solace of the chicken house!  Scared me out of 4 years growth.  His name was Star.

Star had a pen and went into the barn at night for shelter.  Star had been ours for about a week when friends came by to see our new horse.  The friends had kids our age.  So Jake and a couple of the boys went out to see Star.  By this time it was dark.  How they came up with the next part of the adventure is beyond me, but Jake decided to crawl across the enclosure and scare the horse!  (There was talk of actually "goosing him with a stick" which I am sure is closer to what happened then these boys let on to Mother.)  To make a long story short, Star did not take to well to whatever happened and in typical horse fashion, kicked backwards.  His hoof connected with Jake's right cheek and sent him flying into the fence.  Much scrambling as the friends loaded Jake into thier car and took him and mother to Hutchinson to the emergency room.  It was a very long night.  Jake carried that scar to his grave.  It was about 4 inches long and a 2 inch scar across the bottom.  It looked like a "J" so he told everyone it was his initial.

Star was probably with us for 12-15 years and I do not recall anyone ever riding him.  Well, Josephine might have, but not me.  He died when we were at the Strong Street house.  Dad called the "dead animal wagon" which in those days, made house calls.  They probably still do.  The man pulled out a long length of cable, wrapped it around Star's neck, turned on the wench and drug him across the yard, up the ramp and into the back of the big truck on top of whatever else was in there, and drove away.  Fond memories?  Not for me.

Will try to get back soon and finish off the Stroh house.  Or maybe not.  A lot happened there.

My little lunch time gathering!

Decided to have a few friends over the other day for lunch.  You know,  just to get together to jabber and catch up.  I do this a few times a year, just to keep people in my good graces.  

I made Chicken and Home made Noodles since I was hungry for comfort food and that is the best one I could think of at the time.  After eating the subject of puzzles or wood working or something like that came up jarring my memory of little 1" by 4 " puzzles Kenny had made.   I had three of them up on my desk so I brought them down and opened them up.

They very soon were engrossed in the job of putting them together.  I had shown them to them when they were in one piece so they knew it could be done.  I do not know who finished first, but it occupied them for about half an hour.

It was a fun little diversion and when they were all put together and back in the plastic bags, our conversation turned to more interesting topics, like Black Hills Energy and their outrageous charges and heartless acts.  We think we may get a little more active along those lines. 

I wish I could find me someone to use that $1200 scroll saw and I could sell these on ebay.  It was a very lovely lunch and I hated to see it come to an end, but such is life.  Faye was the first to leave because she had to go clear to Spring.  Then Sister Nancy and Sister Barbara.  That left Paul and Nancy.  I meant to send the noodles home with Paul, but I forgot.  A good time was had by all!

This has nothing to do with anything and was not the same day, but I took a picture of Ito, who lives next door and then when I got through moving it around I wound up with this!!!

 

Same picture, but  look at the snow actually falling!  How in the hell did I do that?  Ross just called and I was telling him about it and he thinks it might be something I smoked back in the 70's.  Do you see it to?  Anyone have any idea how this came out like this?  I do not have a moving picture camera.  Maybe something lives in my computer.  You do see it don't you?  If it is not there, please do not tell me!!!

 

 

And this is how the day went down.

The guys from Carpet Clearance Warehouse showed up at my door about 8:30 Wednesday morning.  Jason ramrodded the little fellows inside, pointed this way and that way, and Casey and Ron went right to work.  In very short order the old carpet and pad were gone.  The pad went to the dumpster and the carpet went to the front yard.  The carpet went to a new home in Boone where a man named Leroy uses it to insulate his chicken houses.  By the time the years of dirt that had filtered down through the carpet was sucked up and gone, I was breathing much better.  By 9:30 the first strips of flooring were in place and by 10:30 the living room was covered.

Then to the kitchen and dining room which were more of a challenge.  By that time Jason had left and some one else had come in his place.  Then another change and finally at 2:00 the floors were done.  Oh, don't be mistaken, that did not mean I was done!  The guys moved the entertainment center in off the back patio and moved the china hutch into the dining room where it belonged.  Deven and I would do the rest.  But first it was off to Lowe's to buy the little pads that go under the couch and table legs.  Home again, home again, jiggity jog, after a quick stop to pick up some chicken nuggets. 
We moved the table in from the patio, putting the felt things under it.  Then the chairs.  Then the couches had to be felted and moved where they belonged.  So now it was starting to look like this:

 

Now isn't that pretty!  The name of this is Sunset Oak.  Tomorrow the base boards will be put in place.  I have made rugs and I will put them down.  Then it should be ready for my company on Saturday.  I am having Sister Nancy, Sister Barbara, Pastor Faye and Pastor Maureen over for a nice lunch of Chicken and Noodles with mashed potatoes and some sort of veggie.  Home made rolls, and a dessert of something scrumptuous, perhaps a root beer float.  I know these women eat like a bunch of rabbits so I am giving them comfort food.  And Deven and Mikey are going to drop in to see Pastor Faye.  That will be a nice surprise for her.

 

As for me, I am setting in my office looking down at my kingdom and wondering why I did not get rid of that damn carpet years ago.  I think I am really going to like  this and I thank Jason for doing such a good job.  I know he had planned on doing it a few days earlier, but he wound up with pneumonia and landed in the hospital, but he made it and now it is done and I am very happy.

I will take better pictures when we get the base boards and the rest of the furniture in place.  Looks kind of Spartan right now, but you know I will have crap all over the place very soon.  For now, I think I will just go weave a little bit before I put the tired little body to bed.

 

Good night and sweet dreams.