Defective Hair Day

Defective Hair Day

One of my Blog friends told how she was trying to cover up a few silver colored hairs in her head and ended up with something somewhat different than she expected. Well, let me tell you about some of my hairy experiments. There was the time I decided I wanted to go blond. I considered having it done in a salon, but I’m always about saving money. Blond was a shade I had never tried before, and I wanted to see for myself if blondes have more fun. This was forty years ago, and I still don’t know if it’s true or not because it wasn’t even close to blond. It was bright neon orange. I looked like a traffic signal, only brighter, much brighter. I had to go to work the following day. I knew I couldn’t go on vacation on such short notice, so I swallowed my pride and walked in the next morning. It didn’t take much to set those co-workers off. They heehawed and cackled like a bunch of chickens. The orange hair either grew out or I covered it up with something else.
You would think I would have learned my lesson, but I didn’t learn it very well. One time I ended up with blue hair. I looked like Homer Simpson’s wife for awhile. I’m not sure what I had been aiming for that time. I went through the coal black hair. That was the one that drew the most shocked looks. Orange was funny, blue was ugly, black was shocking, as though they had just had an encounter with a space alien. Now I just leave it alone and hope it doesn’t all fall out.

Blog Block

I have a serious case of Blog Block. Everything I start to write turns into rambling mumbo jumbo. My phone just rang for the second time in the past half hour. I am signed up with the "do not bug list", but the "do not bug list" is not working. Now they call and ask for somebody I never heard of and when I tell them they have a wrong number they start their sales pitch as to whether I would be interested in the Dish Network. I guess it's a new trick of the trade. They didn't mean to call me, but since I have you on the phone, would you like to buy my product? Of all things to try to sell me. I am so fed up to the top with TV, Phone and Cable bundles. I now have everything with Charter Cable company and it will remain that way until dooms day or until they go out of business, whichever comes first. I finally sort of won that war with Direct TV. At least they waived the $240 early cancellation fee. They now say I have a credit of $46. I haven't seen it yet, but it should be coming around the first of the month.

Nothing Much

Today I went looking for bargains. First I went to Sears to cash in the remainder of a gift certificate. A few dollars was left on it so I found a small bottle of cologne that I like. I bought it and looked at a few clothing items. From there I went to Borders to look at books. A very nice couple was so generous to give me a Borders gift Certificate for Christmas. When I walked into the place an alarm went off. Everybody turned to see whom the thief might be. I didn’t know the protocol of what to do in that situation, as to whether I should throw my hands up in the air or dive for the floor. A store clerk came running over. I told him that I had just arrived and I didn’t take anything. He asked if I had come from another store. I told him I had a small package in my purse that I bought at Sears. It was still in the bag with the receipt. He said he could cancel it or deactivate it or whatever they call it. So he did. An alarm didn’t go off when I left Sears. Borders didn’t ask to see the receipt or anything like that, I guess it happens a lot. It just had never happened to me before. That’s how dull my life is. That was the high point in my day. I bought three books and came home.

News is Not New

News announcers are so smart, why didn't one of them run for president? Maybe it doesn't pay as well. They all seem to think we may as well kiss everything goodbye. Or maybe they just want to be the first to say "I told you so" in case things do go south. It's depressing to hear all their negative remarks. In fact I'm downright sick of it. So shut up........already.

The Day the Lights Came On

The Day the Lights came On

I was born in the dinosaur age, before sliced bread, toasters, and laundry mats. We lived in a farmhouse near Stillwater, Oklahoma. We had an outhouse, cellar, rain-barrel, barn, chicken house, and a wallet with no money. We were as blissful as though we had good sense. We didn’t know any better, because everybody was in the same boat, and we had never had anything any better so we had nothing to compare it to. We had enough food, clothes and that sort of thing, however we had to wear out a pair of shoes before we could have new ones.

I couldn't understand that one, I was always whining for new shoes, and was accused of deliberately wearing out my shoes so I could get new ones. The squeaky wheel finally got the grease, and I had a special pair of shoes to wear to church.

One day Daddy saw something going on out on the road. He said, "It looks like they are unloading logs or some kind of poles". He went out and asked what they were doing and found out they were laying poles on the road because they were going to be stringing up electrical wires. He was ecstatic about the prospect of having electricity in the house.

They finally got all the poles in the ground and the wires strung. He got permission to have our house wired, which was to be our expense. We had lived in Colorado for a couple years and my Dad had many small term jobs while there, and one of those jobs was for the electric company, doing just what he now needed to know. It was a miracle that he had that knowledge because we would not have been able to pay somebody to do the job.

He bought the necessary supplies, and wired the house. Had it inspected and we were now living in a house with an overhead light in each room and outlets in each room. We no longer had any need for the coal oil lamps. We didn’t have a phone yet. We weren’t that uppity.

We had nothing to plug into the outlets, but that would soon change. One day a traveling salesman came calling, he was selling Kelvinator refrigerators. It’s amazing that I can still remember what brand it was, since I can’t even remember what I went in the other room for.

We were able to get a loan on the installment plan. I believe President Roosevelt is the one that started the loan system. I’m not positive about that and tried to do some research, but all I could find were 10,000 loan companies wanting to loan me money. Anyway, we took advantage of the installment loan, and soon had a refrigerator delivered to our house. I think that refrigerator lasted for 30 years. Before Television there was Radio and we soon bought one, and had something else to plug into the outlet. We could listen to Amos and Andy, Fibber McGee and Molly, Ma Perkins, a soap opera. There were battery-operated radios before, but we didn’t have one

Back to the rain barrel. It caught the rainwater that came off the house and we used it to wash our hair in, because the well water was hard water and you could barely make suds in it. The rainwater was soft and was much better for your hair. I’m not sure how we ever got our clothes clean with that hard water.

In Memory of Trent

Born February 13 , 1973

Today would have been my Grandson’s 36th Birthday, but fate didn’t have it that way.
His name is Trent, and he was only 12 years of age. His Scout leader had taken him in his private plane to fly over the Boy Scout camp and drop some magazines and candy bars out of the plane. Something went wrong and the plane crashed, both the scout leader and Trent were killed. This happened July 17th 1985. Trent was an artist, he loved drawing and painting and always had a piece of paper and a pencil in his hands. Trent, we will love you to the ends of the earth and will never forget you.

Blogger Award

The above Award was sent to me by Diane, with instructions to pass it on to seven others.

Thank you Diane

1. Put the award on your blog.
2. Add a link to the person who awarded it to you.
3. Nominate at least seven other blogs.
4. Add links to those blogs on your blog.
5. Leave a message for your Nominees on their blog.

The chosen seven:
1. Cats-Rockin-Crochet
2. 2Grandmas2
3. Graceful Photography
4. Northwest Lady Bug
5. Random Ramblings
6. Jens Jingle
7. We’re only Hughman

A Shopping Trip

Patricia, Irene, Marge

This is a picture of my Hop Training buddies. This was a time in history when you dressed to the nines to go shopping or an afternoon movie. I love that coat.

The Hop Training Job

Some of you seem to like these old stories so here is another one.

Hop Training

Have you ever trained a hop? Do you know what a hop is? It is something that is added to beer to enhance the flavor of it. It doesn’t work very well, if you ask me. I do not like beer, never did and never will. It needs more than hops to improve it. I had never heard of hops until I came to Yakima, WA. The year was 1947. My husband and I had recently tied the wedding knot and we did not have the proverbial pot or anything else. At this particular time, Bud was between jobs, and I had never had one in this area. We had a car payment coming due, and we were beside ourselves as to how it would be paid. It was $31.00, and may as well have been the national debt, as far as out ability to make the payment was. One Sunday we had gathered at his parent’s home for Sunday dinner, which seemed to be a tradition, at the time. The whole family was there. They always asked us to be there for Sunday dinner. This included the whole clan that lived here at that time. After dinner we would play cards or sit around and gab about everything. This particular Sunday, Irene( Bud’s sister) was reading the job ads in the newspaper, and announced that a Hop farmer looking for Hop trainers. I asked, "What is a hop"? Bud said, "Haven’t you ever seen a Hop field"? I reminded him that I was from Oklahoma and all I ever saw were cotton fields, corn fields, wheat fields, and oil fields. He explained that they grow hops in hills with a spacing of approximately 8 × 8 ft. Hops are grown on an overhead trellis. They plant 2 to 4 cuttings to a hill and when the young vines are about 2 ft long, two to six vigorously growing vines are selected for each hill and the rest are removed. One to three vines may be trained up each of two strings staked to the hill and extending up to the stringing wires of the trellis overhead. He said, " After the harvest, they just leave the poles up for the next years harvest". I said, "Oh, I have seen those poles without the vines, and I just thought it was a field of telephone poles". Irene said, "Well, how hard can that be, lets go out there and get a job". So it was decided that early the next morning, we would go to this place, and see if he would hire us. The work party included, Bud, Irene, Marge and myself. We arrived early with our ambition, sack lunches and a jug of water. We were hired on the spot. The job training only took about five minutes and we were free to go for it. The pay was $1.00 and hour. The job was supposed to last about three days. We began very enthusiastically. I said, "Hey, this is not a bad job, in fact it’s kind of fun". Marge and Irene joined in with equal eagerness. We were disappointed the job would only last three days. We had been working about 20 minutes when Irene said, "It would be nice if they would furnish little stools to sit on, so we wouldn’t have to get our knees dirty". Marge said, "And this having to get up to walk to the next pole is hard on my back, why couldn’t they put the poles closer together". I answered, "I know what you mean, it’s too far to crawl to the next pole, what time is it, anyway"? Bud said, " We’re not keeping up with the other workers and he might fire us, we better speed up a little". This went on all day, one complaint after another, and the day drew longer and longer. We hung in there and looked like pigs when we arrived home, but we couldn’t take a bath because we had already had our two baths for the week (remember the landlady in the former story) We had to go to Marge and Leonard’s to take a bath. We were up early the next morning and in the hop field again. It did not get easier with each passing day, I prayed for rain or snow or anything that would end the hop-training job. By now we are all so sore with our aching backs and legs that we spent most of our time sobbing about how bad we felt. Maybe the next day will be easier, but it wasn’t. By the third day we were a little happier because we knew the job was almost finished. At the end of that day a farmer from the next hop field came over and offered us a job in his field. It didn’t take long to turn that job down. He announced that he pays the men $1.00 an hour and the women .75 cents an hour. We would have pelted him with rocks, had there been any around. We had enough money to make our car payment. I don’t know what Irene and Marge did with all their money.

Most of the Hops around here were grown in Moxee, WA and I will include a link that tells more

about Hops.

The Bad Old Day's

The Bad Old Day's

This is another event that happened in my earlier life. I think it was about 1947. It was right after WW2 and finding a house or apartment to live in was almost impossible, and to find one you had to get up with the first crow of the rooster. It was a morning job, as soon as the paper arrived. Because if there was an ad in the newspaper about an available rental, you had to be the first to arrive, or you missed it. Back in those days most landlords just took their chances on who had good credit or a good reputation. If you looked at it first and wanted it, the landlord would accept you. There may have been some that didn’t do it that way, but it’s the way I remember it. You paid the next months rent. There was no deposit, or last month in advance. No lease agreements were signed. We finally hit it lucky, and was able to rent an apartment, so called. It was a huge two-story house that had been built for a large family. The landlady and her husband (She was the head honcho of that family, I think we called her Mrs. Mac) lived in one of the apartments downstairs, and the upstairs had been renovated into three apartments. It had formerly been 4 bedrooms. It should have been made into one very nice apartment. Our apartment was on the back of the house, with not much of a view. We could see the back yard with the wash house, a small house with an electric washing machine. It was the kind with the wringer, not automatic. We could see the alley. We had two rooms, and they were across the hall from each other. One room was our bedroom and the other room was our very small combo living room and kitchen. We shared the hall with two other neighbors. They were young newly married couples, as we were. We got so well acquainted with them, we became almost life long friends, but I have lost touch in the past few years. It’s no wonder we became such good friends, because we were practically living together. We also shared an icebox in the hallway, and I do mean icebox. We each had one shelf in the icebox. It was not a refrigerator. It didn’t plug into anything. An iceman brought a big block of ice for it about twice a week. We had to remember to empty the pan under the icebox that caught the dripping ice, or we had a mop job. I really don’t know if that was assigned to anybody in particular or we just took turns. We also shared a sink that was located in this hallway. That was where our water source was, but you took the water into your apartment to use. There was a partial bathroom that we also shared with these other two neighbors. The bathroom only had a toilet. You washed your hands in the hallway sink. We had to take our soap, towel and whatever downstairs to the landlady’s apartment and knock on her door and ask if you could take a bath. She had a sign posted that we were only allowed two baths per week. That is the honest to God truth. She kept track of each person because my husband tried to take a third bath one week and got turned down. He should have known better. A milkman delivered our milk on the front steps of the building. Milk came in glass bottles. He knew how much milk to leave by how many empty bottles that were left on the steps. This landlady had signs posted all over the place, the wall in the stairway, the bathroom, and the entry hall. She had a ten-watt bulb in the stairway and had a sign to turn light off when not in use. Another sign read "Radio’s off by 9 PM." Sometimes Andy and Mary forgot to turn their radio off at 9 PM. Their apartment was directly over her apartment so she kept poking her ceiling with the broom handle until they got the message. One time on a dark cloudy day, she came upstairs and knocked on my door. When I opened the door she said, "I was in the back yard and saw that you have your light on, it’s the middle of the day so turn that light off." We were each assigned a wash day, and heaven help you, if it rained on your day, because you were just out of luck. Even though there were more days than tenants, you could not change your day. Rain was a factor on wash day because the only means of drying clothes were by clotheslines. Our other neighbors were Herb and Lorraine. Lorraine and I were fast friends almost from the first time we meet. We had a lot in common. We were the same age and both had married and left our families and came to a strange place and didn’t know anybody else, and even our names were almost identical. They were from Arizona. We were inseparable. It was so wonderful to have a friend. Yes, I had one friend. Finally I had a friend, and something to write home about.

Fabulous Award

This new award is called a fabulous award. I think the rule is that I need to post 5 fabulous addictions that I have.

1. Crossword puzzles.

2. Have at least two books started at the same time.

3. Checking out the blogs of others.

4. Writing in my blog

5. Rise early

Time for Change

Life is just moving right along. Not much planned for the week.
I spent the last two days working on my living room. It all started when I decided to shampoo the carpet in the living room. I have one of those little Bissell carpet shampooers .It works really well, but I don't do a wall to wall job with it. I go around most of the furniture, but I had a brilliant idea. Why don't I change the furniture a tad bit. I am so sick of it being the same old way all the time. I bought a new TV three or four years ago and it weighs about a ton and cannot be moved, except with dynamite. Now everybody has the little thin ones that you can easily move. My TV shall not be moved, but I can move everything else. I moved the couch by shoving and pushing and sitting and resting and nudging and elbowing and pushing some more and resting and shoving until I got it in the right spot. Now the chairs are just about as bad. I had no idea that stuff was so heavy. My brilliant idea is getting a little dimmer all the time. I had to sit and rest more than I shoved and pushed, but I finally got everything where I want it. Makes the whole room look totally different. I was too tired after all that to shampoo the carpet so this morning I tackled the carpet. It was a piece of cake compared to moving the furniture. I am enjoying the new look and I think it was worth the effort. I need to tackle a couple closets next. I hate doing closets, I take all the stuff out and end up putting it right back in the closet again. I wish I could be like a friend I once had. If she bought a new set of sheets, she threw the old ones out. The same with underwear, if you buy a new pair of bloomers, throw the old ones out. I just can't bring myself to do that yet, what if I need them again...???

Happy Birthday Nancy

YYY Happy Birthday NancyYYY
(My Daughter-in-Law)
and
Emily and Cora
The mother of three of my beautiful granddaughters

Emily and Molly