Human

Many people out there are soul searching in these difficult times. I am one of them. I can’t put those feelings into words but this lovely song has done it for me. This is for all of you (and me too). Many Blessings 😉 H

Special thanks to Civil Twilight for the beautiful song “Human”, to Da Vinci, 109BC, The Voice, Media Watch, Szukalski, Tori, People’s Voice, The Telegraph, Humanity Healing, Klunavik. MNN

What do you see?

Snow White’s evil nemesis who has misplaced the apple??

Portrait of an angry Muslim who just ate my cooking?

40 year old woman with 23 children all under the age of 11?

Nah, just my sister Juliane for April Fools…

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Corina and Bobby…yes…this is your Mother 😉

Anuvue welcomes you to our first private show

Where’s the Party?

I’m private about politics. No one ever agrees anyway and it’s not like I’m so informed that I feel the need to influence anyone else’s mind… I normally keep my views to myself. I vote faithfully every time, though sometimes the pic-kin’s have been slim… That’s the process our Fore Father’s fought hard to give us. The least I can do is to show up and punch a little hole in a card… Although for some, even that task seems a bit daunting. Those Propositions can sure get confusing…what with “No” meaning “Yes”…and “Yes” meaning “We’ll be voting on it again sometime soon…just to make sure we really meant yes”. I figure I’m either a liberal Republican or a conservative Democrat…so that probably makes me an Indirepublicrat. I kinda like that…but I still haven’t located the Party.

I couldn’t care less if the candidates are black, green, svelte, gay, female, have only three toes on one foot, are Catholic, Atheist, Buddhist, have a tendency to play the accordion in their underwear or keep really mean pet monkeys in their backyard. If they are honest (or at least can properly hide things like the rest of us good Americans) and they have this countries best interest in the forefront, I’m good with that. Then it really only comes down to whether I like the way they pronounce “California” and “Nuclear”.

I believe in pro-choice…as a matter of fact I don’t even think the male population should be given a vote on this one. I don’t expect us women to hold a vote concerning their genitalia anytime soon so I would prefer not having any 40 year old men, who dress up as Wookies and fight with fake light sabers (waiting for the Star Wars convention to begin) voting on anything attached to or within my body. That goes for those “Cheese Head” hat wearers as well.

I believe people should mind their own lives. I have no issues with alternative lifestyles. Heck, The Best Man at my Wedding is now a woman. He (Scott), I mean she (Lane), gave me the best one liner I’ve ever had in my arsenal. Now, when I have to go to a wedding and am surrounded by people I don’t know, nor want to…I simply blurt out the truth.. Stops ’em dead in their tracks and I never have to make small talk. While I’m at it, I don’t care what people drink, eat or even smoke for that matter… it’s their lives to live, not mine…I’ve got allergies…I can’t indulge. ..but I do care if they drive their bloody old, slower than molasses, Volkswagen vans in the fast lane! Now there… I take issue.

I believe in allowing the Mother of any child victim… five minutes alone with the perpetrator…equipped with a nice hardwood bat…compliments of the State.

I hate violence of any kind. I can’t even kill a mouse. I make people at work catch them in bags and walk them outside on the “catch and release” program. But I believe in the right to own a gun. I have 5 of my Dad’s shotguns in my closet right now. I was taught to both fear and respect them and if someone ever came to hurt one of my family in my home, I know how to… and would not hesitate to use one. And, being a Democratic type person, I’d even let them draw the big red “X” spot to aim for.

I believe in the death penalty. Some people are worth re-abilitating…some just plain aren’t. There are people so cruel and unremorseful in this world that I have no problem with them being moved quickly into the next. I didn’t have my College education paid for by anyone and my life in the “working experience program” didn’t plan for me to be the benefactor of theirs. They even have a better gym, have time to use it and don’t pay the fees!

I believe in stem cell research. I believe in anything that can fix my family blood lines and allow them to live normal lives…well, as “normal” as my family can be… 😉 I want to see people that can’t walk…walk. I want to see hope in the eyes of the hopeless. I want the disadvantaged to have their dreams too. I want everyone to be able to wear funny hats and laugh out…loudly…it that’s what they want.

I don’t believe people should have citizenship given to them if they arrived here to stay illegally. Sure, there are some exceptions to that… but I have friends from El Salvador, Canada, Vietnam, Africa, Cambodia, Cuba, Europe, China, Mexico and the Philippines who all had to do it the hard way… the right way… and their years of waiting should mean something…and all those times I had to be quizzed on US History and was rewarded with a big grin because it was quite obvious they knew more than me…about my own Constitution…My embarrassment should not have been in vain.

I believe in the right to die with dignity…boots on. If you or someone you love can’t be saved, why the hell should anyone have to suffer and why should others be forced to watch. Get a pill and let each person go out singing “I did it my way”.

I believe in God. Yes, I know it’s out of vogue…but I make my own fashion style. There are those that would tell me I’m not a “proper Christian” believing things as I do. Oh well! My God doesn’t judge people the way human kind judges each other. My God is wise and loving and totally cool. He loves us all…even Howard Stearn…and Man, I’m tellin’ you…that’s love…

I won’t be allowing Jenifer Aniston, Madonna, Brad or Angelina to influence my vote or mind this election. Not even for homemade, fresh-out-of-the-oven, hot biscuits with homemade blackberry jelly.

Hey, GO VOTE!

Friends and Allies

After dinner tonight I had my Husband stop the jeep and let me out in front of a small, local gallery in another Beach City up the road. He knew exactly what I was going to do before I said a thing. He is forever wise and protective in most things and warned me that they would be competitors and that they would not want to give out any information. I told him “I’ll just look around to get ideas”…

I know myself. I’m a woman that generally believes in the goodness of people. I go into things positively and, at times, I am disappointed to find I am wrong… but…I keep trying.

I went inside. I looked at the wonderful watercolors, oils, woodcuts and the most fabulous sculptures. Then I turned and was greeted by a warm smile. I asked him a few general questions and was answered in a pleasant manner. Then I looked him straight in the eye….and promptly spilled my guts.

I told him about my dream, talked of my floor plans, where the building was located and shared some of my ideas. He allowed me to picked his brain about insurance, openings, hours and how he selected his artists. He graciously showed me the art collections now being displayed and told me about his own 60/40 consignment pricing. Then he smiled as he proudly handed me a photograph of his main 6 artist’s. He explained that their art is rotated constantly and all are long time associates…and friends.

He showed me warmth, friendship and a intuitive understanding and he gave me a card and made me promise to come back when I was closer to opening up.

I took a chance and followed my heart. Now, I’ve made a new friend and ally. Touche’

Tombstone’s Boot Hill

One of the few precious childhood memories I have is of wearing a holster with two 6 shooters, a black suede, fringed vest sporting a most beloved sheriff badge, a pair of black cowboy boots and my head topped with a beautifully embroidered black cowboy hat. Now back then, as is still now the case, I tried never to take sides when the choice between good and evil was blurred. Even as a small child of 5… I alternated back and forth between my cowboy getup and my giant colorful Chieftain headdress with feathers that ran all the way down my back, accompanied by my war drum and bow and arrows. I do have to admit, I always wore the vest with that badge, regardless of the rest of the ensemble. Kinda Switzerland even then.

This past week we were lucky enough to go back in time (if you will) to the land of Cowboys and Indians. Crossing plains that Geronimo, Cochise and Sitting Bull rode over and visiting towns that Billy the Kid and Bat Masterson gambled in…well that’s just plain old cool stuff to someone who loves history. Along the way there were characters who take this stuff mighty serious and have tried their darn best to preserve what’s left for people like you and me to enjoy. I saw things that saddened me, some that plain angered me and things that absolutely enchanted me. I’ll do my best to share them with you…a little at a time.

Upon arriving in Tombstone, the first destination was Boot Hill. Now, if you don’t know what Boot Hill is (or was) it’s a place of rest for some of the most notorious gunslingers and even some innocents that died in childbirth, or of cholera…or even hung without cause… all in one large graveyard. Many old western grave-sites are referred to as “Boot Hill” but to me… there’s always been only one. Now I’m here to say that sadly Boot Hill was left for many years to decay, and in it’s forlorn state, some well meaning folks resurrected these old grave-sites and now everything is completely new. I asked an old Cowboy caretaker inside, with as much patience as I could muster…”Why?”. He told me with equal patience (for a City slicker) that the graves were destroyed, lost forever and had to be researched and rebuilt. He had no idea I currently have 5 of my Father’s vintage rifles in my closet and I take History quite serious. I think in the end we came to understand each other and each loved this place in our own way. He passed me a little map and we followed it on the trail to all those laid in infamy.

As we walked, I could not help being angry. Why would people let something so important to this country’s roots…disappear? Why is there so much money spent on things like researching who used steroids in Baseball (when they weren’t even illegal and who bloody cares anyway?) or analyzing trendy colors and names for the next generation of cell phones…but no one see the significance in holding on to something so precious? Why leave history keeping in the hands of folks with barely enough funds to live on, let alone try to finance the restoration of the most famous American Western Grave Site in the US? WHY? That’s a question someone in power needs to answer to to our Children, our Grandchildren and those beyond. Me, I’d just do the obvious. I’d make sure they had the cash to restore it properly.

I have no photos to share of Boot Hill. Nothing to give you an idea of where Gunslingers like Frank McLaury, Tom McLaury and Billy Claiborn were laid to rest after dying in the most famous gun battle in American Western History. I left without taking a single one. I have only some words and the memory of yellow crosses made of simple wood and piles of rocks, tenderly laid by well meaning folks… paying a simple man’s homage to the bones that lie beneath.

AS YOU-PASS-BY
REMEMBER-THAT-AS
YOU ARE

SO-ONCE-WAS -I
AND-AS-I AM-

YOU SOON-WILL-BE
REMEMBER-ME

Christmas in CAL 7