Click on photo  to see a larger image.

 MURRAY COUNTY

PAWS FOR A CAUSE CAMPAIGN

Won’t you help build a new animal shelter?

100% of every donation goes directly to the building of a new county shelter and the name of EVERY donor will be permanently displayed as part of the new shelter building.

There are Three Sponsorship Levels:

FRIEND OF THE SHELTER:   $1 – $499

PARTNER OF THE SHELTER:  $500 – $999

CHAMPION OF THE SHELTER:   $1,000 and Over

Donations are tax deductible. Make checks payable to DOAV (Davis Oklahoma Animal Volunteers) and mail to DOAV, 317 East Main Street, Davis, OK 73030

WALL-E‘s friends

Adopt or foster a pet. call us at 580-622-6266 or 580-618-3204

MURRAY COUNTY

PAWS FOR A CAUSE CAMPAIGN

Won’t you help build a new animal shelter?

100% of every donation goes directly to the building of a new county shelter and the name of EVERY donor will be permanently displayed as part of the new shelter building.

There are Three Sponsorship Levels:

FRIEND OF THE SHELTER: $1 – $499

PARTNER OF THE SHELTER: $500 – $999

CHAMPION OF THE SHELTER: $1,000 and Over

Donations are tax deductible. Make checks payable to DOAV and mail to 317 East Main Street, Davis, OK 73030

UPDATE: HOLY MILK COW FUND

[

Photo video of my mother with music.

There was a break in the rural water line which runs under the road directly in front of my property. A little after lunchtime, the crew of three from the rural water department arrived with shovels and backhoe to repair the line. Friendly Karen (or nosey, depending on who you ask) went out to make small-talk with the guys.

Bo (gazing in my yard): Is that a pear tree over there? I love pears.
Me: Yeah, it’s an Anjou. It did not produce this year as it has in the past.
Bo: I love pears.
Me: A few years ago, it made over 200 pounds of pears.
Bo: I love pears.
Me: I gave pears away to everybody I knew and still had plenty for the freezer.
Bo: I sure do love pears.
Me (pointing): The one over there with the reddish pears is an Orient.
Bo: Mmmm, I love pears.
Me: You’re welcome to come back for them.
Bo: Thank ya, I’d sure like that. I love them pears. If’n you see me out here in your yard, don’t get your gun after me.
(I’m wondering what he’s heard about me and my firearms.)
Me: Aww, no worries. Just watch out for the dog. [Chance was a pit/bullmastiff mix and weighed 120# or more, was mostly blind and would only hurt you by drowning you with slobbers or knocking you off your feet with his violent tail-wagging.]
Bo: I already met the dog. He’s ah-right, pretty nice.
(LOL..LOL)
Me: Yea, he’s okay..
Bo: I ain’t scared of nothin’..’cept women.
Me: As you should be..they’re the most dangerous.
Bo (pointing to his co-worker): That ol’ boy is scared of everthang that moves. Boss has some of them rubber reptiles and’ll lay one down on the floor and that ol’ boy will jump and holler and scream like a lil ol’ girl.
Me (hum..*giggle*): I’m afraid of reptiles, too.
Bo: Not me, I ain’t scared of nothin’ ‘cept women.
Me: Uh-huh
Bo: I love pears.
Me: You’re welcome to them. Come back when they’re ripe. (smiling)
Bo: Thank ya. I will.
Me: Bye then.
(I turn to walk back up the driveway..)
Bo: Thank ya! Bye. Bubba! Did you see them pears!? I love pears, boy howdy.

Had to be there, I guess..

I’ve talked about my father in these posts. He was certainly a great man, and I miss him tremendously. But, I think it is time to talk about my mother. Yes, I have one and she, is great. Putting aside her controlling, narcissistic personality and her unending chatter, she is a wonderfully strong woman.
My mother was born in March 1924, the 9th of 10 children. Her father was a cowboy (yes, a REAL one), a blacksmith, a store owner, a sorghum mill owner/operator and a dedicated beer drinker. Mother had more than her share of abuse during his drunken binges and attributes some of his anger toward her and a select few of her siblings to their dark hair, dark eyes and skin. The few that resembled my grandmother and the Native American side of the family were singled out to receive the brunt of the blows from this very large man.
My grandmother, Lizzie, on the other hand was saintly. Quiet, soft-spoken, and a devout Christian, she, too was a very strong woman who instilled values in her children that my grandfather lacked.
When my mother was 13 years old, she had appendicitis, the appendix ruptured and she was hospitalized. This was before modern antibiotics and my mother came very close to death, but by some miracle, she did survive. One of her memories of the hospital was the nurses dressed all in white. To her, they were beautiful angels. From that time, her mission in life and her dream was to become a nurse.
And she did.
After the death of my 20 year old brother, at the age of 42 years, she began nursing school with money from my grandfather’s estate. She thought it fitting that he should pay for her education at that time since he had always told her that she “would never amount to anything” and “wasn’t worth the salt that he put in his bread.”

[*Aside* My grandfather, the cowboy, forced the kids to work from the time they could carry a bucket and my mother and her siblings were only allowed to attend school for three months of the school year, and then only until they reached 9th grade. Consequently, my mother never graduated high school.]

She received her GED and enrolled in a Vocational Technical school’s nursing program. One year later, she passed the State Board with excellent scores as a Licensed Practical Nurse and soon began realizing her dream.

Both my brothers were born with one kidney each. No, they weren’t twins, they were born several years apart. And each died from renal failure. David, 20, in 1967, and Gary, 32, in 1985. My only sister died in 1987, at age 42 from a massive aortic aneurysm. So I am the only surviving child of this brood.

Mother was very “torn up” after David’s sudden death. She blamed everyone around her. Gary’s death was not so sudden, and my mother cared for him during the last six months of his life. She never left him, for any reason, and during his last hospital stay of two months, she stayed in his room, refusing to leave the hospital. I was there with them the last nights of his life. I saw the pain in their faces and the exhaustion of their bodies. Gary died June 17, 1985.

May1987. The remaining family members gathered at “the farm” for fellowship and dinner. That was the last time we saw my sister alive. She was admitted to the hospital for tests and died suddenly from an aneurysm.

My mother, after the deaths of three of her four children and a grandchild, has of course been affected emotionally and mentally by all this. But her rebounding spirit and dedication became evident when my father was diagnosed with cancer. Again, she took on the role of nurse and cared for him until he died.

She still insists that she can do most things on her own, or at least she was insistent until she broke her leg last Memorial Day weekend while working in her yard. After the surgery, her physician ordered that her leg be non-weight bearing for at least six months.

[*Aside* Being a child during the depression years and being poor most of her life, she has a tendency to "save" stuff. While she was still in the hospital, she gave me permission to "clean" her house. Boy, was THAT a mistake!! I'm still hearing about things that are missing.]

It was then MY turn to take on the role of nurse and provider. During summer session, I spent Thursdays through Sundays with her, cooking, cleaning and running hither and yon and decided right then and there that we could NOT live together.

She is a very independent spirit, a bit of a narcissist, fires a lot of sarcasm and is sometimes downright mean. But, I love her nonetheless and I visit more often but the visits are not as long. And yes, I am still “in trouble” and chastised for discarding things that she was saving in case of need by her or some acquaintance, and I sit there and take it. I’ll be damned if I talk back.

She’s my mother. I love her dearly we need each other.
So be it.

April 22, 2011 – Mother has been hospitalized since March 7, except for a ten day stint in a nursing home where her weight decreased and her health worsened. Each night, I wonder if it will be her last. Each day, I’m surprised to find her hanging on. She is just a shell of her former self and quite unlike my Mom. Her memories lie in the past and her body is pale and thin.  She is depressed and she sleeps most of the day, hardly realizing that I am in the room with her.  She seldom speaks, but when she does, her words are exact and specific when questioned.  Usually, it is a solid NO, when I ask her to take another bite of food.

She is tired. She is sometimes in pain. Her mind doesn’t work like it used to and she must be prompted to open her mouth to take a bite of food or drink from a straw.

I’m sad. I am so very sad.

~K.

May 13, 2011
Mother died yesterday afternoon. She will be missed.

Priorities are food, shelter, utilities, and health care for everyone in your house that you’re responsible for, but only in REAL life. Imaginary crops, hammers, bricks and pink sheep for a freakin’ Facebook game are NOT. Neither should the Facebook credits to buy any of those aforementioned items be anywhere near the top of your “must have” list. And, you definitely do not borrow money to purchase credits from your elderly parent who lives on a less than adequate fixed income. And, you absolutely should not lie and tell said parent that a grandchild is 1.) deathly ill; 2.) about to be evicted or 3.) in jail in order secure the loan that you have no intention of paying back. I mean, seriously, how low can you go?
Now, you may say that none of this is any business of mine, but it affects me in a trickle-down-at-a-sharp- angle sort of way but mostly, it just pisses me off. (The trickling is through someone who NEVER had his priorities straight and has suffered from “I” trouble as long as I have known him.)
I’ll admit that I have gotten facebook credits but never have I bought them outright. I happened to get bonus credits when I made an online purchase of two shirts from Old Navy. Most of them remain in my account on Facebook. The others were wasted on the stupid revival of Oregon Trail, which was the most hype and the biggest flop ever, in my opinion.

On another note: According to the local freecycle, someone in the next town north needs a microwave. So, later today, I’m going to deliver one to them that I don’t need. I’ll be glad to get it off my porch.

That is all.

Now, of course, the city councils of most cities are supposed to be composed of members who will work for the good of the city and keep partisan politics out of city business. But, when bank officer Charlie Swinton’s supporters started throwing money around to discredit Dr. Shadid (to the tune of half a million dollars) politics and big business obviously became involved in a big way. To Swinton’s credit, it is reported that he did tell his supporters to stop with the negative ads and mailers a week or two prior to the runoff. Last night, however, he stated, “… I’m proud of my supporters; proud of what we tried to accomplish.”

What a waste of money and time. The money could not guarantee the seat for Swinton, who received only 85 more votes in the runoff than he did in the primary. And Shadid’s numbers? Almost doubled. Tuesday tallies totaled 3,134 compared to 1,461 in the primary.

I don’t even live in Oklahoma City, so why am I writing about a runoff election? Because something has happened that was NEVER expected to happen: A progressive candidate has secured a seat on the Oklahoma City council. And, I have a feeling that Dr. Shadid will not sit quietly when corporate priorities threaten to override public projects that benefit ALL the citizens of OKC.