For all the loving care givers out there, man or woman, of all ages, shapes, sizes, and persuasions-- Happy Mother's Day!

There are those that are mothers, those that are fathers, single parents, loving daughters and sons, caring friends, and family members of our hearts...  For anyone who selflessly gives of themselves to others-- Mother's Day is YOUR DAY!

You may not receive flowers, a card, or a box of chocolates, but you have made a loving difference in someone's life-- and that is what Mother's Day is all about!  You are appreciated!

I won't be around to reply to this brief article, simply because I will be making sure that my own mother has a good day-- as well as her loving friends who have 'mothered' me, the neighbors who have patiently taken their time for me, my friends at work who are so kind, and all of those who have touched my life for the better, and YES, that means you, my Newsvine Friends!

Happy Mother's Day, and thank all of you, for all of your loving kindness, care, and love!

Thanks, very much, for all that you do!

In case anyone at this point is not aware of what I do for a living, I am a hydrogeologist, and my primary work in 1985 was developing water supplies for municipal utilities and industries.  These supplies are of large quantity, and involve the exploration of geologic formations capable of producing millions of gallons of groundwater per day.  One of my clients was the City of Indianapolis, who supplies a large population.  It is necessary to locate those supplies within the glaciated terrain of central Indiana, which can be very tricky.  The population growth of the city meant that the existing well fields would need to be expanded, which wasn’t possible, or a new field needed to be located.

Just in time for the Kentucky Derby Festival, an internationally known horse show is coming to Freedom Hall, in Louisville, KY!

Featuring both dressage and horse ballet, it is a show well worth seeing!  Horses are coming from all over the world to perform!

Here is a link to the details!

All that week, I worked like a madwoman, getting ready for a huge drilling program in Indianapolis.  By hook or crook, I managed to put the drilling off for the following Tuesday, a date that pleased no one but me, since I didn’t want to have to drive up on Sunday—I wanted to go boating!  Even though I couldn’t possibly camp all weekend, I could at least go up to Axtel on Saturday, and enjoy the day, if it was pretty.

Saturday morning dawned bright and early, and I was happy to run back and forth out to the car to load the boat and all its accoutrements.  I behaved as if I were going to spend the night at Axtel, and paid for a campsite, just to have a place to put the boat in and park the car, mainly because launching there was so much easier.  The Battle-Axtel gave me her usual snarl, but I didn’t care.  I got the boat blown up, everything loaded, and by noon, on Saturday, I was shoving off from the beach at the campground, ready for adventure!  I had stopped for a nice chicken dinner on the way, so I had lunch, plenty to drink, the battery operated boom box, and a feeling of high excitement as I motored across the little bay. 

As the only Republican Congressman at a rally for the Equal Rights Amendment on Thursday, Rep. Richard Hanna (R-N.Y.) gave women an unexpected piece of advice: Give your money to Democrats.

"I think these are very precarious times for women, it seems. So many of your rights are under assault," he told the crowd of mostly women. "I'll tell you this: Contribute your money to people who speak out on your behalf, because the other side -- my side -- has a lot of it. And you need to send your own message. You need to remind people that you vote, you matter, and that they can't succeed without your help."

Sunday morning dawned BRIGHT and early…  A little too early, in fact!  As I lay in my tent, a giant crow settled on the light pole next to my site at 4:30 am, crying, “Caw!  Caw! …  Caw!”, every 30 seconds.  I lay there with my eyes shut, thinking, shut up!  At 5 am, I got up, went outside the tent, and chucked gravel at him.  He begrudgingly moved over one site, and immediately began calling, “Caw!  Caw! … Caw!” again. 

The campground still had people around, but not many—and all the people were quiet.  This CROW thing was getting to be annoying!  I went back into my tent, and sure enough, less than two minutes later, “Caw!  Caw! … Caw!” again.  After another 20 minutes, I stormed out of the tent and picked up a larger rock.  Heaving with all my strength, the rock gracefully arced toward the light pole, striking it about halfway up.  The crow watched the rock hit the pole, cocked his head, and said, “Caw!  Caw! … Caw!” again.

Heaving a sigh, I went back into the tent, dressed, got Max up, and came back outside to make breakfast.  Sigh…  Thinking longingly of sleep, I drank my coffee and ate breakfast with Max at my side.  Then, I fixed a nice picnic lunch, and ‘broke camp’.  I packed up everything and got it organized, leaving it all on the picnic table, ready to load.  By 10 am, I was ready to go for a boat ride!

While computing away this afternoon, I got a warning that my computer was about to overheat, and that I needed to vacume out-- the fan wasn't working properly.  So before it crashed, I took it over the computer repair...

I can't pick it up until Wednesday-- and my LIFE is on that computer.  So, anyway, I'm going to have to take a brief break from doing much.  My husband and son don't have the same software, etc.

I promise to look in, when I can pry their computers out of their hands, but it may be more seldom-- and I will be taking a break from The Rubber Raft series!

Much love to all of you-- I'm not far, I'm just somewhat handicapped without my computer!  :-)

Take care!!!

Dowser

I stayed close to the campground the rest of that afternoon, with Max, recuperating from my encounter with the Fish and Wildlife Patrol.  Officer Johnson was very busy that day, his boat darting here and there, and more than a few boaters were sent home in disgrace, escorted around the edge of the bay, toward the docks, with his lights flashing at them…  There was another patrol boat out there too, and watching them and all the skiers, tube people, and boaters was an amusement, in and of itself! 

After supper, I went down to the boat, refueled the motor while it was sitting still, filled my hot pink fuel bottles with fuel, and noticed that the gallon-sized container of oil/gas was almost out.  That’s what I can do, I thought!  I can motor over to the docks and get more gas!  What fun!

I dreamed of Daddy that night.  It wasn’t the dream where I was searching for him, plaintively calling for him through a heavy, suffocating mist.  Nor was it the dream where I had to find him, and I was walking down a long, deserted, hospital corridor, opening endless doors as I went.  Nor was I following his car through the dark streets, trying to find him.  He was just, There.

He looked like he used to before his illness—his thick dark hair was wavy, and his eyes, were kind, and gray-blue behind his glasses.  I said, “Your hair came back!”  He smiled at me fondly. 

“Where are you, Daddy?” I asked.

“I’m right here,” he said.

“Please take me with you,” I begged.  “I don’t want to be alone!”

He smiled at me, and said, “Everything will be all right, Varmint.”

I woke with a start, tears streaming down my face.  The huge moon was gone, the dark night starry.  My hip was dug into the fine gravel below the floor of the tent-- the air mattress had sprung a leak.  I struggled to sit up, and looked at the luminous face of my travel clock—3:30 am. 

I staggered up, dropping Max onto the ground with a thud when the air mattress shifted.  He looked at me with one eye, sighed, and closed it, used to my restless nights.  Quickly, I put on a pair of shorts under my oversized shirt, and grabbing my shoes, tiptoed out to the picnic table.  The whole campground was quiet—not a light burning.  I put on my shoes and made my way up the hill to the bath house.  Once there, I looked in the mirror, my thin face pale, black circles rimming my eyes…

Every day, I went to work, toiling on my projects and coming home late, often as not, my brain fried from thinking all day.  I sat in my little TV room on my wicker couch and dreamed of my next boating trip.  I found a picture of a lake on one of my calendars, cut it out, and put it up on my bulletin board at work, to have a focus for those wonderful dreams.  Also, I planned ahead for the weekend!

I did laundry every night when I got home, so I could have clean beach towels, et. al., paid all my bills, and sorted through boating gear, camping gear, and all kinds of wonderful little goodies.  I kept going out to the car, to figure out how to load all the camping gear, the boat, the boat motor, and the dog.  With no small sacrifice, I managed to condense my camping equipment into two large tubs, and oodles of smaller items that could be sandwiched into odd places.

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful—a lovely, sunny day that beckoned with the promise of wonderful things to come…  I got up late, worn out with the previous day’s activities, and had a leisurely breakfast.  The car was loaded; all I had to do was get ME ready. 

With help from all of my fur babies, I made sandwiches and loaded up the cooler with four cokes, a deviled egg, and sandwiches.  I skewered my wild hair up in a geyser again, put on my pink bathing suit with shorts and shirt, climbed in the car, and drove to Rough River Lake.  There were two marinas at Rough River at that time, but I chose the one closest to my home.  Forty-five minutes after leaving the house, I found myself at the State Park dock, on the lake side, ready to embark on adventure!

FINALLY, it was Saturday!  I had eagerly anticipated Saturday, for that was the day to try out the rubber raft!  Sure enough, Saturday promised to be a beautiful June day—the temperature was going to be in the 80’s, a light, gentle wind, and no rain!  What fun!

I awoke that morning in a state of high excitement!  So much to do before I could actually get on the water, but Oh Boy!  First, I thought, as I ate my breakfast in the kitchen—I’ve got to get the raft fully operational.  I turned on the stereo and pumped the raft up again in the living room, dancing to the music with joy in my heart! 

The regulations stated that the license/registration number had to be exactly 8” from the upper edge of the vessel.  I carefully measured, and 8” down from the top put the numbers about half-way over the frilly side seam in the raft, which would not do.  I didn’t want them peeling off in the water!  I carefully measured to make sure there was plenty of room for the number and painstakingly stuck the numbers and letters on the side of the boat.  Standing up next to my marble-top coffee table, it didn’t look bad, at all!  The cats were already in the boat, looking out with glee, the dog, Max, on the floor beside it, waving his tail.  “You can’t go this time,” I told them.  “Maybe next time!”

Then, I got everything together--- the air horn, fire extinguisher, boat cushions, light on a stick, and all the other goodies that were required for a licensed boat into one giant pile.  I needed a plastic tub or something to put them in, so I wrote “Plastic Tub” on my list.  I needed gas, too, but in order to mix the oil in the gas, I thought I’d put the oil in first, and then fill the can.  In the kitchen, I read the directions carefully to figure out exactly how much oil to put in the gas.  The oil was good for 10 gallons and I had a one gallon can.  It was a 12 ounce can, which meant 1.2 ounces, per gallon of gas.  I thought.  Huh? 

One would think that licensing a rubber raft would NOT be such a hassle.  However, when dealing with the local or state government here in Kentucky—EVERYTHING is a hassle.  Anything that does not follow the absolute “norm” is a complete nightmare.  Since I am not necessarily known for ‘normal’, my life with the Rubber Raft began with an all-out war with the boat license people.

I took a day off from work, as I had plenty of vacation built up, and drove downtown in my little hometown of Owensboro, to license my rubber raft.  I finally found a parking space, and put a quarter in the parking meter that gave me one hour’s time.  Plenty of time, I thought.  I had a long list of things to do that day, and decided to get the licensing done first.  Good thing, too.  First, just to find the correct office was a mess, because the directory in the main lobby of the courthouse was gone.  Sure enough, there was a sign that read:  “Directory”, and a blank wall. 

After my father died, I was utterly despondent.  My grief seemed to know no end-- every morning I got up only to feed the animals, and, wishing I were dead, made myself go to work...  After about six months of sheer hell, I decided I needed a change.  Usually, when women decide they need a change, they go out and get a bad haircut.  However, having done that before, I decided that I needed to do something I always wanted to do, and just hadn't, yet.  But, what was that?

I was living in my own house, making my housepayments, working as a geologist, and had very little money.  That meant that a trip to Europe was out of the question.  If I blew my savings for a couch, I had about $500 to spend, so what could I do for $500?  Not much...  I heaved a sigh and went to bed.

I must confess-- I'm in love with Simon's Cat.  This fellow, Simon, knows his cats so well, and depicts them so beautifully! 

This one is hysterically funny, too! 

My cat, little Mo, used to sit in my lap and 'help' me type.  My cats now have to deal with my lap top, rubbing their sweet faces on the screen, pawing at my fingers as I types, and even licking the back of the computer.  My screen is covered with little nose prints, and, you know?  I don't even care!  Such Sweeties!

I hope you enjoy this, as a nice break from the politics of the situation--

Do your cats help you?  I hope that all of you, watching this, have a lovely day today!  Take care-- everybody needs a bit of fun in life! 

Thanks so very much for coming by!

Here are suggestions for how to help the victims of last Fridays storms-- You can make a donation to a legitimate relief agency, such as the Red Cross!

The article lists the phone number of the Shamrock Foundation, which rescues dogs and cats and is coordinating efforts at helping with the relief for any family pets that were injured or lost in the storm.  They are also affiliated with the horse rescue organizations in Kentucky.

Thanks to all of you who are willing to help our neighbors!

Here is a web page that serves as a 'hub' for donations!

Someone who is both kind and funny left a link to the Simon's Cat video on one of my articles, and I want to say Thank You!  I have watched them and had many a wonderful laugh!  They are fabulous!

Please, take a moment, especially if you are a cat lover, to enjoy this!  Simon is a genius!

Thanks for coming by!  I sincerely hope you enjoy this!

My probably one and only sojourn into the Political Arena.

Please play nicely with one another.  Feel free to agree, disagree, whatever, but no nastiness allowed.  :-)

Enjoy!

 Thanks for coming by!

This morning, tornadoes ripped through several midwestern states.  We were very fortunate to just have thunderstorms this morning and all day!  The major tornadoes today, were south of us, and my heart goes out to those folks that lost their family members and property. 

From my vantage point here in Louisville, we had a fifteen minute ray of sunshine, and then, while I was taking the picture of the daffodils in the front yard, it began to rain HUGE drops-- Splat!  Splat!  But, I got a picture anyway-- these are about 2 weeks early this year!  (Soon, the grass will get green!  Yeeeeehaaaaa!!!)

Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you -- Nathaniel Hawthorne

Many species of butterflies migrate, not just the famous Monarch butterflies!  Since butterflies are cold-blooded, they cannot tolerate cooler weather, so they must fly to an area that is warmer to complete their lifecycle.  If changing weather is not a problem, like in the tropics, many butterflies migrate to form new colonies.  New colonies are established in locations where there is more food for the butterflies.

What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Master calls the butterfly.
Richard Bach

Butterflies are some of the most beautiful creatures on this earth!  When we see one, we are often amazed at their vivid colors, their intricate wing designs, and their complex body forms.  They ignite flights of fancy in our minds, and open our hearts to thoughts of what lies below the surface of our everyday existence.  The simple joy of watching a butterfly, alighting upon a flower, leads us to desire more of that delicate beauty—and we, as humans, can be good custodians of those fascinating and beautiful creatures that grace our lawns.

In February, 1812, a large flatboat carrying William Owen Bruce, his wife, three sons, a new daughter-in-law, and several servants touched land on the western side of the Kentucky River at a break in the Palisades.  It was cold, and the journey had been long, having begun in Culpeper, VA the year before.  William’s father, John, a Revolutionary War veteran had passed away, and William, seeking his fortune, much as his grandfather had before him in England, set off for new territory.  The promise of good, cheap land beckoned.  As a Scotsman, Irishman, and Englishman, William knew the value of good land. 

In honor of your loving mother, from your friend, Peep.

Peep sends his love to you, Ben, and wants you to know that you are in his prayers.  He loved your wonderful mother, too.  This was his idea, and he put it together himself. 

All of us want you to know that you are in our thoughts and prayers. 

Much love to our friend, GoodBen!

Please visit the video on YouTube, here!

Thanks to all of you, who would like to leave a message here for GoodBen.

I first met Sydney on an article about some women's issue, don't ask me what.  I had gotten into it with a fellow who happened to be most arrogant.  He thought he was God.  I may not know God intimately, but one thing I do know:  He isn't a doctoral student in California.

I was catching my breath on the sidelines, when dear Sydney answered the call, and took him on.  Sydney took the full force of the fight, wielding her sword of mightiness with a firm hand, and I, resting from the previous battle, occasionally interjected with a quick parry to distract him from Sydney's main thrusts.  I thought she was a man.  She thought I was a man.  We both laughed hysterically when we found out that we weren't! 

I sent her a message, via the Contact Author button, to express my admiration of her rapier wit, her impact-making intelligence, and her ability to slice up her foe into bits without once raising her voice or losing her cool.  She answered, and we very quickly became fast friends.  We talked together on the same articles.  We had a lot of the same friends.  We joined a lot of the same groups. 

Then, we became real friends.  We emailed back and forth, although we did not exchange phone numbers.  She had a lovely son.  I had a lovely son.  She adored cats, dogs, horses, children.  So did I.  We felt the same way, politically, religiously, and just about every way there was to feel.  I often felt as if I were talking to my twin, in our emails.  We had obviously grown up in each other's homes, even if they were 800 miles apart.

Then, we had the VineMeet in Louisville, and Sydney came with her son GoodBen.  I didn't know the name of her son, until the about day before, we were so careful with each other's lives.  An intensely private person, I felt that I could tell her anything, and did.  I think she felt the same way-- I leaned on her as I would lean on a family member-- be it someone removed from the family-- but someone that I could trust with my soul.  And I did.

The absolute moment I met her, I felt that I was seeing a childhood friend again.  She had a way of accepting people as they were-- not as she may like them to be.  A Great Lady.  A Wonderful Friend.  A Loving Mother.  A Faithful and Loving Wife.  A Supremely Intelligent, Caring Professional. 

If you could live a lifetime in 3 days, all of us did it.  We had to.  We knew each other so intimately and well, the brief time that we had to be together was lived at an accelerated pace-- we laughed until we cried, and we had the most fun that could be had.  All of us, at the VineMeet.  In about 2 seconds, I loved GoodBen as if he were my own.  I found myself sitting beside him at lunch, stroking his back like I stroke Peep's back.  I apologized, but he seemed to accept it, thank heavens.  He's my son, too, in so many ways.

All of us there grew so very close in such a short amount of time.  And one of the crowning glories of the VineMeet was meeting dear Sydney in person.  I loved her hands, which were so pretty.  I loved the straightness of her back.  I loved her integrity, her beauty, and the way she smilled.  If things weren't absolutely deluxe, it didn't bother her.  She was one of those people who were blessed with the gift of overlooking "corn" to appreciate "heart".

I have put together a little tribute video, that I've been working on all week.  I started it as a Get Well card.  The video is linked below, and I recommend that you play it full screen.  It is a song that we discussed as one of our favorites, in the car, going somewhere that weekend.  In the video, I've tried to put many of the things in it that I know she loved.  The only thing lacking is her wonderful, loving son, GoodBen.

Sydney loved GoodBen more than anything in this world.  She wanted nothing more than for him to be happy.  For awhile, I know that happiness will be difficult for him, but, after a while, I know he will be strong and live his life as his mother taught him-- he will live life with love and joy in his heart. 

May God bless our GoodBen.

I hope you enjoy the video below.  After the video, please feel free to tell us how you met Sydney, and what she meant to you.  This is to be a celebration of a life that was Well-Lived! 

Dear Mrs. D has composed a pictorial tribute to our Sydney.  You can find her article HERE. 

Thank you for coming by to pay tribute to our Sydney-5!

 Memorial donations may be made to the Mohawk and Hudson River Humane Society, 3 Oakland Ave., Menands, NY 12204

The page that includes the memorial is here.

Our dear friend Sydney-5 passed away last night, very early this morning. 

My prayers are with her family, and my heart is with her, my dear friend.

I will be writing a memorial/tribute article.  A celebration of her life-- I'm working on a video, and hopefully will have it up soon.

Right now, it is all I can do to talk...  So, please forgive me, but I won't be around much this afternoon and evening.

Our dear friend Grisham, has also suffered a terrible loss-- his father passed away yesterday.  My thoughts and prayers are with he and his family today, too.

The last words I said to Sydney-5 were, "I love you."  I still do, my friend, that will never change.