Dear Ones,
As many of you know, my darlin’ wife has been in failing health over the past year. She had several falls, one with a nasty concussion, & her ability to walk has deteriorated. Her Post-Polio Syndrome was proceeding rapidly, & it was difficult for her to pass on the mundane tasks of life & care to me as they became increasingly more difficult.
Through it all, her faith was unstoppable, & she refused to allow me to get her medical treatment. She had had enough of doctors, she said, after the polio, heart issues, rheumatic & scarlet fevers, 6 pregnancies, gall bladder: you get the picture. So, it was left to me & Doctor God to care for her, & I tried everything that I could think of to maximize her comfort & functionality.
On the evening of Friday April 25th, several family members visited for the evening. After they left, we spent 3 agonizing hours trying to get my beloved out of her chair, finally succeeding at 1:30am, exhilarated that we had discovered how to do it with a minimum of pain & discomfort for her. A few hours later, we tried again & she could not get up. Again we tried a couple of hours later, & she was unable to stand.
At this point, I sat down & told her that I could not do what she needed anymore, & she agreed to allow me to call 911. The paramedics were wonderful & took her to the local hospital, where she underwent several hours of intensely painful tests. They determined that she had advanced breast cancer & a mass on her liver, which was causing many of her problems. They transported her to an Austin hospital, expecting to take her to ICU. She spent most of the night in ER, & got to Intermediate Care early Saturday morning. She endured more tortuous pain as they staff evaluated her, & we got the results mid week that she indeed had an unfixable breast cancer & a mass on her liver. She did not want to undergo surgery, so we signed the Advanced Directive, her Do Not Resuscitate orders were in place, & we began the process to get her into Hospice care.
Throughout the week, as innumerable doctors came & went, poked, prodded, injected, tested, & manhandled her precious body, her spirits stayed strong. She enjoyed watching the pigeon family on the balcony, with one just learning to fly, 2 eggs, a doting mother & strutting father. True to form she was more worried for me than for herself. She told me, “I may have robbed you of a few years with a wife, but I hope you understand…” I did.
We witnessed love & cruelty, compassion & indifference, kindness & anger, as the parade of staff & volunteers seemed unending. The chaplains & social workers were of great comfort, especially when a particularly cold-hearted oncologist threatened our Hospice plan if we would not consent to yet another intensely painful test. By this time, my darlin’ was so distraught that she was unable to speak, & motioned for me to step in. I confronted this furious, hate-filled testmonger, who had deliberately misled us as to the nature of this test: (“It’s just a little needle, just a little needle…”) when in reality it entailed deflating her air bed & putting her on a flat table, which had been so painful to try earlier in the week that the nurse halted the test prep fearing a cardiac arrest due to her “howling in pain”. As she had a DNR on file, he would have had to let her die, all for a TEST! Upon my refusal to allow the test, Dr. TestMonger repeatedly threatened our Hospice plan. However, we are Wolf, & after a long, despairing night which caused my darlin’ to have severe chest pains, we rallied the troops of nurses, Drs, patient reps, social workers, chaplains, & Hospice nurses & accelerated the move to in-patient Hospice that Friday afternoon.
Despite a particularly rough & unconcerned (read 20 yrs Navy) ambulance crew chief, my darlin’ settled in, happy to be in such a comforting, loving, & beautiful setting. The intake nurse evaluated her, & filled me in on what I could expect, She said that there could be a significant & rapid decline in her condition within a couple of days, due to how she was presenting. I waved that off, telling her that my darlin’ had a really bad 24 hours before getting there, & that she would perk up once she rested & recovered from the trauma. I told her that I needed to visit with the social worker on Monday to begin evaluating skilled nursing facilities & making final arrangements, as I knew we could not stay there for long, just until her pain was under control. I was charging ahead at a full gallop when the nurse stopped me, put her hand on my knee, & said, “Mr. Hritz, at this point, we will take it 1 day at a time.”
They gave me a small booklet entitled “Gone From My Sight”, which compared death to a sailing ship nearing the horizon. As it passes out of view, we on the shore say “There she goes”: at the same time, folks on the other shore see the ship come into view & say, “Here she comes!” The booklet detailed the stages of death, & I began to check them off. She was on a morphine pump, & hallucinated all night; at one point she called to me, asking if all those people were really in the room: I told her that she & I were the only ones really there, but I knew she was in the company of loved ones that had gone before. By morning she had settled into a deep & snory sleep.
Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 visited along with her daughter & grandson. I took the opportunity to run home, tend our animals, grab some laundry & an Indian blanket she wanted. While I was gone, she had a surge of energy, telling BBD#3 that she did not know what was real & what was not, & that she thought she saw her granddaughter, who she indeed did see at her bedside. By the time I returned, she was asleep again. Family left, & I spent hours talking to my darlin’, playing my river cane Kiowa & our son’s cedar wolf Kiowa flute, playing Virgie Ravenhawk’s music, praying, thanking her for everything I could recall, praying & drumming in the Serenity Room, brushing her hair, warming her always-cold hands, & timing her breaths.
I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #4 late that night, driven by the Creator to contact her after 17 years of estrangement. She was very kind to me, & got to hear her mother’s voice. My darlin’s eyes were open almost constantly, but there was no recollection in them. I begged her to see me one last time – she could not. She did rally, taking 3 quick, deep breaths, & said “I love you, I love you, I love you…” I fell asleep at 12:30am, & again as staff tended to her comfort & showed me what to do for her. I rose at 6, grabbed a coffee, & settled in at her side again, timing breaths & watching her pulse. I asked the nurse how much of what she was doing was the morphine, which had been steadily increasing in dosage, & how much was her condition. She said very little was the morphine, that she was actively dying. I returned to her side, talking to her & watching her pulse & her breathing. I called Blond Bombshell Daughter #3 later that morning, & as I was holding her mother’s hand, I saw the pulse go away. I told BBD#3 what was going on, hung up & called the nurse. I noticed that her breathing had also stopped, & in the few moments before the nurse & doctor arrived, her face color changed, & I knew that my darlin’, my beloved pretty girl, my lady, my queen without a king, was gone. The nurse knew it as soon as she opened the door, & looked at me knowingly. I nodded, she checked for a pulse as the doctor distracted me, & they called her time of death at 10:49am, May 4, 2008.
The nurse hugged me, I cried with her for a while, & pointed to my beloved, saying, “That woman lying there is an amazing woman: she sang for a President at the White House, at Carnegie Hall, the ryman Auditorium, as backup for Hank Williams Sr., & she loved me for 36 years, which is the most amazing thing she did!” I closed her beautiful baby blue eyes & kissed her. They left me alone & I began to call our loved ones. They said we could keep her for up to 12 hours, the chaplain called & prayed with me, the social worker helped me contact funeral homes, & friends & family gathered to honor her & lift me up.
Praise the Creator that she is no longer in pain, or discomfort: she is a bright shining light in the presence of God: she does not need to walk now, for she can fly. She will live forever in glory, & I pray that I can live my life well enough to join her for eternity.
There were many moments of joy through this journey: I will detail them in a later post. Please forgive that I have not posted sooner.
Blessings & Light,
Michael
Monday, May 19, 2008
Monday, April 07, 2008
I Wish I Was a Robot!
I wish I was a Robot!
I really, really do!
I wish I was a Robot,
Held together by bolts & screws!
I’d be a big strong Robot!
I’d never trip or squirm!
I’d be a big strong Robot,
Never bothered by a germ!
I wish I was a Robot!
I never would be tired!
I wish I was a Robot,
It’s what I’ve long desired!
I’d be a handsome Robot!
No hair to watch fall out!
I’d be a handsome Robot,
Without a sneezy snout!
I wish I was a Robot!
A marvel of design!
I wish I was a Robot,
On electricity I’d dine!
I’d be a real hot Robot!
All shiny & all polished!
I’d be a real hot Robot,
Until I was demolished!
I wish I was a Robot!
There’d be nothing I couldn’t take!
I wish I was a Robot,
So my heart would never break!
I really, really do!
I wish I was a Robot,
Held together by bolts & screws!
I’d be a big strong Robot!
I’d never trip or squirm!
I’d be a big strong Robot,
Never bothered by a germ!
I wish I was a Robot!
I never would be tired!
I wish I was a Robot,
It’s what I’ve long desired!
I’d be a handsome Robot!
No hair to watch fall out!
I’d be a handsome Robot,
Without a sneezy snout!
I wish I was a Robot!
A marvel of design!
I wish I was a Robot,
On electricity I’d dine!
I’d be a real hot Robot!
All shiny & all polished!
I’d be a real hot Robot,
Until I was demolished!
I wish I was a Robot!
There’d be nothing I couldn’t take!
I wish I was a Robot,
So my heart would never break!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Mists Continued: First Chapter - The Beginnings
The morning was unwelcome, when we set out across the vale to escape our wee valley.
The palaver went on beyond the wee hours, the discussion warming & waning as the ale dwindled & weighty decisions were made. Finally, ere the first gleam of dawn smiled upon the ebon sky, they were asleep with murmuring dreams, the rumblings of burdens taken up, & dire things to come.
Sleep did little to steel resolve - there was too much truth for such a thing. Still, I strove to stand my ground in the far corner, behind the glow of the paling embers, eyes wide & refusing rest as I struggled to understand what we must do, & to find within me the strength of conviction to know that I was capable of it.
Dawn was unwelcome, for my spirit was not yet convinced.
Under a foreboding sky, I stood, my morning cup of too-strong tea cooling in my hand, unattended. I looked out across this valley that had been my cradle, my swaddling cloak of green forest tucked deep between the snowy peaks, the slow river an unbroken sash of deeper green girding the whole of what had been my home. Had been: I grunted mirthlessly. Have I already abandoned hope of return?
I heard the massive oaken door creak open behind me, accented by a sharp draw of breath at the chill of the early morn. Lairik, my brother, stamped to my side in a cloud of warmth & steaming breath, his bison fur cloak slung haphazardly across his broad shoulders. “Mishka,” he grumbled, “up so early, yet I see your tea has gone cold: is this how you waste the fire?” I said nothing, but sipped the bitter brew to satisfy him.
“The others will be about soon – I do not wish to set out so late that we are caught too far from the pass at nightfall.” He paused, looking at me with a scowl. “you were quiet last night, and silent you are today-have you nothing to contribute?”
Truly, I wanted no conversings save my communing with my beloved homeland, in sooth for goodbyes & futile promises. For farewells & remembrances, for writing upon my memories the events of my 24 summers here, in this blessed place. Still, Lairik was not one to be denied, as my sibling & as my chieftan. With a rousing sigh, I turned to his scowl & smiled, “Unlike the council, I reserve my words for import.” “If I speak with no weight or meaning, they flutter aloft like lifting dews, useless, gone & forgotten more quickly than a wench’s glance.” His scowl deepened to glower; “Poets! Pfah! Of no consequence, like your mutterings. Come, let us break our fast, and join the trail. The day is leaving our grasp already!” We turned as brothers, his massive arm thumping onto my shoulder, & we strode back into the house, the smells of roasting bison & loon eggs wafting out.
The palaver went on beyond the wee hours, the discussion warming & waning as the ale dwindled & weighty decisions were made. Finally, ere the first gleam of dawn smiled upon the ebon sky, they were asleep with murmuring dreams, the rumblings of burdens taken up, & dire things to come.
Sleep did little to steel resolve - there was too much truth for such a thing. Still, I strove to stand my ground in the far corner, behind the glow of the paling embers, eyes wide & refusing rest as I struggled to understand what we must do, & to find within me the strength of conviction to know that I was capable of it.
Dawn was unwelcome, for my spirit was not yet convinced.
Under a foreboding sky, I stood, my morning cup of too-strong tea cooling in my hand, unattended. I looked out across this valley that had been my cradle, my swaddling cloak of green forest tucked deep between the snowy peaks, the slow river an unbroken sash of deeper green girding the whole of what had been my home. Had been: I grunted mirthlessly. Have I already abandoned hope of return?
I heard the massive oaken door creak open behind me, accented by a sharp draw of breath at the chill of the early morn. Lairik, my brother, stamped to my side in a cloud of warmth & steaming breath, his bison fur cloak slung haphazardly across his broad shoulders. “Mishka,” he grumbled, “up so early, yet I see your tea has gone cold: is this how you waste the fire?” I said nothing, but sipped the bitter brew to satisfy him.
“The others will be about soon – I do not wish to set out so late that we are caught too far from the pass at nightfall.” He paused, looking at me with a scowl. “you were quiet last night, and silent you are today-have you nothing to contribute?”
Truly, I wanted no conversings save my communing with my beloved homeland, in sooth for goodbyes & futile promises. For farewells & remembrances, for writing upon my memories the events of my 24 summers here, in this blessed place. Still, Lairik was not one to be denied, as my sibling & as my chieftan. With a rousing sigh, I turned to his scowl & smiled, “Unlike the council, I reserve my words for import.” “If I speak with no weight or meaning, they flutter aloft like lifting dews, useless, gone & forgotten more quickly than a wench’s glance.” His scowl deepened to glower; “Poets! Pfah! Of no consequence, like your mutterings. Come, let us break our fast, and join the trail. The day is leaving our grasp already!” We turned as brothers, his massive arm thumping onto my shoulder, & we strode back into the house, the smells of roasting bison & loon eggs wafting out.
Writing an Ongoing Story from the Middle - Mists...
This is a scene I wrote, which I envisioned as the promo excerpt for a longer story. I plan to complete the story as it arrives within my spirit...
We strode thru morning misted fields without a destination, the sky reflecting nothing of the grassy moors beneath. 'Twas if the clouds were pressing down, entreating "Stay. Stay & rest, for the noontide will ye soon welcome". My heart well bade me linger, and stroll in leisure among the quiet. Yet on we strode, our boots running with the dews, our eyes intent upon the ground, for there was naught to see before them. There were no other sounds but the sighs of our steps wading thru the low grasses, & the dull tamp of our staffs upon the ground. And above these drifting vapored banks there rose… the oak.
Beneath its’ ancient limbs, the mists parted. It’s dappling shade was somehow clearer than the mists, which slid about it as if wafted by zephyrs we could not discern. A steady, light rain fell from the branches, and cold pools sat among the roots, which were topped with emerald mosses.
We are here, I thought. After all this, we are here.
First chapter: The Beginnings
We strode thru morning misted fields without a destination, the sky reflecting nothing of the grassy moors beneath. 'Twas if the clouds were pressing down, entreating "Stay. Stay & rest, for the noontide will ye soon welcome". My heart well bade me linger, and stroll in leisure among the quiet. Yet on we strode, our boots running with the dews, our eyes intent upon the ground, for there was naught to see before them. There were no other sounds but the sighs of our steps wading thru the low grasses, & the dull tamp of our staffs upon the ground. And above these drifting vapored banks there rose… the oak.
Beneath its’ ancient limbs, the mists parted. It’s dappling shade was somehow clearer than the mists, which slid about it as if wafted by zephyrs we could not discern. A steady, light rain fell from the branches, and cold pools sat among the roots, which were topped with emerald mosses.
We are here, I thought. After all this, we are here.
First chapter: The Beginnings
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Free Stickers? What Could Be Cooler?
The handmade community at Etsy.com is diverse to the extreme. So many different styles & types of items, so many sellers crafting fun & funky & fantastic pieces of art or jewelry or pottery or paintings - you get the idea! So it was with a grin-enducing "Yeah, that doesn't surprise ME!" that I came across a deal from an Etsy seller named "Moopf" (which I thought was the sound I make when I carry too many grocery bags thru the lodge door at once).
The MoopfSter is offering Free Stickers, which he prints in myriad colors & designs. He even includes shipping (but not duties or customs, which should be negligible: hey, htey're STICKERS, right?). So go get your Moopf on at http://www.moopf.com/etsy/freestickers/, & get Moopfsterized today!
After your sticker procurement is complete, check out the rest of the Etsy universe, including my little shop, WolfLodge.etsy.com. I KNOW you will be an Estsyan for life!
The MoopfSter is offering Free Stickers, which he prints in myriad colors & designs. He even includes shipping (but not duties or customs, which should be negligible: hey, htey're STICKERS, right?). So go get your Moopf on at http://www.moopf.com/etsy/freestickers/, & get Moopfsterized today!
After your sticker procurement is complete, check out the rest of the Etsy universe, including my little shop, WolfLodge.etsy.com. I KNOW you will be an Estsyan for life!
Friday, February 08, 2008
Why I weep for America - The Battle Joined
Many years ago now, I reconnected with a buddy that I had not seen for several years, & he was transformed from a hard-drinking, violent man into a shining, happy person. Since then, he went on to become a minister. He told me that he resisted the calling for a few years, then gave in. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
Within 6 months, I had also reconnected with my bio-brother after a few years ignoring each other. He was transformed into a shining, happy person. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
These 2 guys never met, in fact they lived 800+ miles apart, but their stories & their reasons for change were identical. That battle is ramping up in this America. though I have faith regarding the outcome, I weep for the road we shall travel, and for those who are lost, and those who shall be lost.
Within 6 months, I had also reconnected with my bio-brother after a few years ignoring each other. He was transformed into a shining, happy person. When I asked him what had precipitated the change, he said that God had told him that the US would be the site of the final battle with the Dark One, & he felt an overwhelming need to help the youth of America prepare for spiritual battle.
These 2 guys never met, in fact they lived 800+ miles apart, but their stories & their reasons for change were identical. That battle is ramping up in this America. though I have faith regarding the outcome, I weep for the road we shall travel, and for those who are lost, and those who shall be lost.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Why do I weep for America II - the Dream Train
I weep for lost possibilities. I weep because I have seen the mighty train of the path of this Great American Dream overloaded, its' once-unstoppable firebox now caked with the soot & cinder of untamed consumption & greed & entitlement; its' boiler thinned & warped by the overheated fires of disregard for tomorrow's consequences; its' brakes ground past their purpose as no one will stop to say, "This is enough! This is not right! This must not continue!"
It's once-proud whistle is now a mournful wail; and the rails upon which it rolls are weakened, & crooked, & rusted with corruption & lack of care - too many switches, too many turns, too-few straight stretches of track. This Great American Dream Train once excelled at pulling all loads up the steepest grades of the needs of the world: "I Know we can, I KNOW we can, I KNOW WE CAN!" Now, we have crested the final hill of potentiality, & are hurtling down the mountain into the valleys of despair.
Hank Williams Sr. wrote a song for my StepDad, & it echoes in my ears: "The midnight train, is whinin' low: I'm so lonesome I could cry..."
It's once-proud whistle is now a mournful wail; and the rails upon which it rolls are weakened, & crooked, & rusted with corruption & lack of care - too many switches, too many turns, too-few straight stretches of track. This Great American Dream Train once excelled at pulling all loads up the steepest grades of the needs of the world: "I Know we can, I KNOW we can, I KNOW WE CAN!" Now, we have crested the final hill of potentiality, & are hurtling down the mountain into the valleys of despair.
Hank Williams Sr. wrote a song for my StepDad, & it echoes in my ears: "The midnight train, is whinin' low: I'm so lonesome I could cry..."
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Why do I weep for America?
My friends, I am nearly overcome. I feel today as if my beloved USA is slipping away, & my hands are not strong enough to hold on to it. To quote the Rock Biter from Never Ending Story, "They look like good, strong hands, don't they?" That's what I always thought they were - good, strong, artistic hands. Sadly, I have been proven wrong, so many times. Like the Biter, I cannot hold onto Nothing.
My vision of the US (heretofore arbitrarily referred to as 'America') was of a wondrous place where the only bounds were those of possibility; where the fact of my "Difference" was to be celebrated within the bounds of inclusion. An America where all that was needed was the will, the energy, the verve & determination, because nothing else would be put in your way.
My grandfathers slaved in coal mines & paid the price with their broken bodies & destroyed lungs. Thru it all, they loved this America & supported it proudly. Two sons served under our flag - one was never the same after Korea. Still, Grandpap knew the price of freedom.
When my sister died in Egypt, her husband, a Saudi pilot, was devastated. We lost track of him until Desert Storm, when he was interviewed by CNN on the tarmac: his quote, with tears running down his cheeks, "Gentlemen, all I can tell you is God Bless the United States of America!" Abdullah knew the price of freedom.
My late Cajun buddy Jack served in Vietnam, & suffered from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Jack knew the price of freedom.
I do not advocate blind allegiance - Grandpap made that clear when we discussed the possibility that I would be drafted. You can be loyal to your country without sacrificing your right to disagree or dissent where appropriate.
My darlin' wife can look at me & say, "Your hands hurt, don't they." I cry the tears of the Rock Biter, staring at them, knowing I am not strong enough.
My vision of the US (heretofore arbitrarily referred to as 'America') was of a wondrous place where the only bounds were those of possibility; where the fact of my "Difference" was to be celebrated within the bounds of inclusion. An America where all that was needed was the will, the energy, the verve & determination, because nothing else would be put in your way.
My grandfathers slaved in coal mines & paid the price with their broken bodies & destroyed lungs. Thru it all, they loved this America & supported it proudly. Two sons served under our flag - one was never the same after Korea. Still, Grandpap knew the price of freedom.
When my sister died in Egypt, her husband, a Saudi pilot, was devastated. We lost track of him until Desert Storm, when he was interviewed by CNN on the tarmac: his quote, with tears running down his cheeks, "Gentlemen, all I can tell you is God Bless the United States of America!" Abdullah knew the price of freedom.
My late Cajun buddy Jack served in Vietnam, & suffered from the effects of Agent Orange exposure. Jack knew the price of freedom.
I do not advocate blind allegiance - Grandpap made that clear when we discussed the possibility that I would be drafted. You can be loyal to your country without sacrificing your right to disagree or dissent where appropriate.
My darlin' wife can look at me & say, "Your hands hurt, don't they." I cry the tears of the Rock Biter, staring at them, knowing I am not strong enough.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Lakota Nation Makes Its Own Way
On Wednesday December 19th, 2007, the Lakota Nation declared itself a sovereign nation, 2 days after withdrawing from every treaty it had ever signed with the United States.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!”
The failures of the U.S. to honor & follow the tenets of the treaties are many & well documented. My darlin' wife followed in the tracks of her beloved Grandmother, who lived among Pawnee & Lakota in Nebraska, as well as Pacific Northwest tribes as a cook in the logging camps. Both women have seen firsthand the plight of these proud peoples, their numbers decimated by war, genocide, starvation, & inflicted poverty. Both have fed those that they could, & the hearts of my family are with them.
Some of the statistics cited at http://www.republicoflakotah.com/why.html are stunning:
Life expectancy of Lakotah males - 44 years
Death rates highest in US, infant mortality 300% more, teen suicide 150% of US average.
Over 50% battle addictions, 80% of homes affected by alcohol. Along with drug & alcohol abuse comes unnaturally high rates of incarceration.
Tuberculosis: +800%
Cervical cancer: +300%
Under the poverty line: +97%
No clean water/sweage systems: +33%
Unemployment: +80%
We encourage you to visit the site & read the rest of the data there to improve understanding of the plight of indigenous peoples with the boundaries of the U.S.
It remains to see what we the non-Native residents of the United States of America can do to assist our Lakota bretheren, as well as all the tribes on this continent.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!”
The failures of the U.S. to honor & follow the tenets of the treaties are many & well documented. My darlin' wife followed in the tracks of her beloved Grandmother, who lived among Pawnee & Lakota in Nebraska, as well as Pacific Northwest tribes as a cook in the logging camps. Both women have seen firsthand the plight of these proud peoples, their numbers decimated by war, genocide, starvation, & inflicted poverty. Both have fed those that they could, & the hearts of my family are with them.
Some of the statistics cited at http://www.republicoflakotah.com/why.html are stunning:
Life expectancy of Lakotah males - 44 years
Death rates highest in US, infant mortality 300% more, teen suicide 150% of US average.
Over 50% battle addictions, 80% of homes affected by alcohol. Along with drug & alcohol abuse comes unnaturally high rates of incarceration.
Tuberculosis: +800%
Cervical cancer: +300%
Under the poverty line: +97%
No clean water/sweage systems: +33%
Unemployment: +80%
We encourage you to visit the site & read the rest of the data there to improve understanding of the plight of indigenous peoples with the boundaries of the U.S.
It remains to see what we the non-Native residents of the United States of America can do to assist our Lakota bretheren, as well as all the tribes on this continent.
Lakota Freedom Declaration
On December 19th, 2007, the Lakota Nation declared itself a sovereign nation after withdrawing from all treaties with the United States 2 days before.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!
The document is available at www.lakotafreedom.com/121907.pdf & outlines the reasons for this action. More detail is available at www.lakotafreedom.com.
“This is an historic day for our Lakota people,” declared Russell Means, Itacan of Lakota. “United States colonial rule is at its end!
The document is available at www.lakotafreedom.com/121907.pdf & outlines the reasons for this action. More detail is available at www.lakotafreedom.com.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Why I love my wife!
I just figured it was a good time to go ahead & try, at least, to count the ways...
35 years, & more in love every day.
She GETS me.
She adores me - (really!)Surprising as that may seem.
She is kindhearted.
She is patient (see 35 yrs above).
I can tell her moods & health by the color of those stunning baby blues.
She has a healing touch, even before the Reiki training.
She is a world-class cook.
She is tough when she has to be.
She's as defenseless as a howitzer.
She is a polio survivor.
She is a 2-time cancer survivor.
She is a been-married-to-Wolf survivor.
She is goofy.
She calls her delicate wonderful hands "stubby mitts"
She suffers thru all my Ernest & Mr. Bean videos.
She sits thru all those hours of pro rasslin' I watch every week.
She's better informed than I am (even tho I work at a newspaper!)
I find her just staring at me in that way that makes me feel so fine!
She is gorgeous in my eyes even though not in hers (when I state it, she reminds me how blind I am - but I do not need eyes to see her beauty).
We grew up the same, surrounded by hatred, violence, & sneering disdain, so we KNOW.
She considers me a gift from God, & I know she is the same for me.
She never gives up, never gives up, never gives up!
She wants me to buy the tools I need even when I'm too cheap.
She doesn't mind that I am NOT a plumber.
She gives me great input about choker designs.
She is amazed at what I can build, even tho it may not be perfect.
She comes outside to watch me work, just to be close to me. Recently did this even tho the walk took a lot out of her, to watch me build a brick pedestal for one of our wolf statues.
She lets me wait on her, even when she feels it should be the other way around.
When she was hurt so badly recently, she insisted that it would be a temporary situation. It was, & she is walking pretty well now!
When she was mostly paralyzed by polio, she operated diaper pins with her teeth!
She very rarely used disposable diapers on our son – taught me to fold cloth ones like a pro!
After one of my back injuries, she threw me on her back & dragged me to bed, when I couldn’t walk on my own.
She stayed up all night with our infant son when he had this breathing-is-sooo- overrated phase.
She’s 4’ 11 ¾”, but we let her claim 5’.
Claims not to be an animal lover, but loves it when the cats jump up & snuggle.
Misses the squirrels that used to hang out around the lodge, & gets as excited as I do when the deer come by.
Used to be a crack shot, great hunter, could light & put out matches with her .22
Grandkids love her as much as I do
Has sung at Carnegie Hall, the White House, the Ryman Auditorium, & as backup for Hank Williams. (my stepdad's ol' drinkin' buddy)
Her head fits perfectly on my shoulder
My arm fits perfectly around her waist
She doesn’t mind me pushing her around (in her wheelchair)
She keeps telling me I need to order more beads, or to go to Tandy Leather…
She didn’t mind when I brought in 3 truckloads of free cedar lumber (Yes, I’m using it!)
She didn’t mind when I brought in a trailer load of free brick pavers (Yes, I’m using it!)
Keeps the TV on the country music channel because our birds bitch if she doesn’t
She is thrifty except when it comes to me.
She never complained about having to eat my cooking for 7 weeks.
She loves my coffee & can’t wait for the weekend when I cook a couple pots.
She brags about my mondo eggs that I make mebbe twice a year
She sings to me
She loves to hear me sing
She shares my Steelers addiction
She chides me for not pursuing my lil’ acting career or my radio fetish
She RARELY wears makeup, so I can see how beautiful she really is
She shares our ministry
The hypocrisy in Religion does not diminish her FAITH
She has a rockin’ knife collection
She knows how to use a machete
Every time I leave, she tells me to be careful
She never minds when I call her
She taught me & trained my voice for an operatic competition (tied for 1st with a roaring chest cold)
She used to bake bread for hungry reservation families in S. Dakota
An elderly chief at our flea market booth in Austin recognized her immediately from all those yrs ago
She can order those coconut cookies from the ancient woman at the flea market who speaks no English even tho she speaks no Spanish (while our son, a fluent Espanoler, has a tough time w/her).
Bikers think she’s great
She took NO CRAP from my drunken bio-family
Her Grandmother died in her arms when she was 14: she had already learned a lifetime of knowledge from her.
Come to think of it, she takes NO CRAP from anybody…except occasionally lil' ol’ me
She calls me FireFace.
She still loves my almost-waist-length mane
She used to play connect-the-dots with my freckles
She doesn’t mind that I have destroyed my wedding ring numerous times – more concerned with my fingers surviving
When her assistant was trapped under the front wheel of a Suburban, the crowd around was unable to get the truck off her. With my best Wolf growl I dove into the wheel well, grabbed the rim & suspension, & heaved the truck into the air. My dainty wife with a hearty “Oh, s**t!” grabbed the woman’s jeans & yanked. Her hands tore right thru the denim. She let out an equally hearty “Damn it!”, grabbed belt & bra, & whipped that looney out like she was on ball bearings! I set it down, she’s yelling for me to get out, I say it’s still in gear, & we’re on a hill: she leaps into the big truck & hits the emergency brake & slams it into park so that I can ease out. Didn’t even make me go to the hospital even tho my back was split open from right shoulder to left hip.
She loves to have supper ready when I get home, & to serve me at the table
When she hears the lids “set” on the canning jars she laughs with joy
She loves to garden with me
She pours my iced tea first, as do I hers
She loves fires in the fireplace in winter
She enjoys an occasional glass of wine, or a sip of my monthly beer; she mentions how proud she is that we can have booze in the house & not get drunk as my bio-family does.
She bakes wonderful breads & indulges my addiction to pie. MMMMmmm, pIIIIIeeee..
She asks me for menu ideas & then cooks what I want
She teaches stuff to our birds
She bought me an animated turtle that looks like Diana Ross – dances & sings “You Can’t Hurry Love!”
She oft compares me to her 1st husband, & tells me I win every time.
She thanks me that she can just be “her” around me – says she never had that before
She loves my hands
I realize she can still kick my butt
When I am in pain, she knows it
She gives me Reiki treatment while I sleep if she knows I am hurting
She lets me keep the bedroom cool & piles on her own blankets, so I can sleep better.
She orders her shrimp when she wants it, knowing I can’t stand the stuff – makes sure I get my oysters when I want.
She hates liver as much as I do
She’ll make me pierogies even though she doesn’t care for them
She tries really hard to recreate foods from my Hunky childhood even though my descriptions/recollections are pretty poor
She indulges my passion for deep frying turkeys, which she doesn’t like that much.
She likes my homemade soymilk ice cream experiments
She loves to hang out on the swing or one of our gliders with me
She loves our screened deck & is going to put up with the wheelchair ramp, even tho she’d rather step up on her own.
She puts up with me bringing her a wildflower, or a particularly cool leaf, or something unexpected from the woods or the garden.
She sees what I see in nature.
She once did a Reiki treatment on a lifeless hummingbird that our hunting mama cat dropped in her lap. After a while it fluttered its wings, lifted off, turned & chirped at her, & left. She still tears up about that one!
She did a Reiki treatment on a frozen stiff newborn kitten that my wacky cat birthed on January 31st. She had them on our concrete carport slab, & this one wedged itself in next to my chimney. My son extracted it & called for Mom. After a while it stirred, she kept it from Mama til it was squirming quite well, & it became the most active of the litter. We call her “Dead Cat”. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
She loves venison
She makes these hearty soup that are so thick I call them “Stewp”
She loves limburger & onion sammiches
She doesn’t mind when I eat my “stinky cheese” (Bleu or gorgonzola)
She called my stepdad “Pops”
Her hair just SHINES!
She once sat up all night sewing fake fur into my jacket & cap & pockets because I had to walk several miles to catch the bus for work.
There are innumerous more reasons why I love, cherish, & adore this wonderful woman, who is a true gift from the Creator. I pray to be able to extend this list for years to come.
35 years, & more in love every day.
She GETS me.
She adores me - (really!)Surprising as that may seem.
She is kindhearted.
She is patient (see 35 yrs above).
I can tell her moods & health by the color of those stunning baby blues.
She has a healing touch, even before the Reiki training.
She is a world-class cook.
She is tough when she has to be.
She's as defenseless as a howitzer.
She is a polio survivor.
She is a 2-time cancer survivor.
She is a been-married-to-Wolf survivor.
She is goofy.
She calls her delicate wonderful hands "stubby mitts"
She suffers thru all my Ernest & Mr. Bean videos.
She sits thru all those hours of pro rasslin' I watch every week.
She's better informed than I am (even tho I work at a newspaper!)
I find her just staring at me in that way that makes me feel so fine!
She is gorgeous in my eyes even though not in hers (when I state it, she reminds me how blind I am - but I do not need eyes to see her beauty).
We grew up the same, surrounded by hatred, violence, & sneering disdain, so we KNOW.
She considers me a gift from God, & I know she is the same for me.
She never gives up, never gives up, never gives up!
She wants me to buy the tools I need even when I'm too cheap.
She doesn't mind that I am NOT a plumber.
She gives me great input about choker designs.
She is amazed at what I can build, even tho it may not be perfect.
She comes outside to watch me work, just to be close to me. Recently did this even tho the walk took a lot out of her, to watch me build a brick pedestal for one of our wolf statues.
She lets me wait on her, even when she feels it should be the other way around.
When she was hurt so badly recently, she insisted that it would be a temporary situation. It was, & she is walking pretty well now!
When she was mostly paralyzed by polio, she operated diaper pins with her teeth!
She very rarely used disposable diapers on our son – taught me to fold cloth ones like a pro!
After one of my back injuries, she threw me on her back & dragged me to bed, when I couldn’t walk on my own.
She stayed up all night with our infant son when he had this breathing-is-sooo- overrated phase.
She’s 4’ 11 ¾”, but we let her claim 5’.
Claims not to be an animal lover, but loves it when the cats jump up & snuggle.
Misses the squirrels that used to hang out around the lodge, & gets as excited as I do when the deer come by.
Used to be a crack shot, great hunter, could light & put out matches with her .22
Grandkids love her as much as I do
Has sung at Carnegie Hall, the White House, the Ryman Auditorium, & as backup for Hank Williams. (my stepdad's ol' drinkin' buddy)
Her head fits perfectly on my shoulder
My arm fits perfectly around her waist
She doesn’t mind me pushing her around (in her wheelchair)
She keeps telling me I need to order more beads, or to go to Tandy Leather…
She didn’t mind when I brought in 3 truckloads of free cedar lumber (Yes, I’m using it!)
She didn’t mind when I brought in a trailer load of free brick pavers (Yes, I’m using it!)
Keeps the TV on the country music channel because our birds bitch if she doesn’t
She is thrifty except when it comes to me.
She never complained about having to eat my cooking for 7 weeks.
She loves my coffee & can’t wait for the weekend when I cook a couple pots.
She brags about my mondo eggs that I make mebbe twice a year
She sings to me
She loves to hear me sing
She shares my Steelers addiction
She chides me for not pursuing my lil’ acting career or my radio fetish
She RARELY wears makeup, so I can see how beautiful she really is
She shares our ministry
The hypocrisy in Religion does not diminish her FAITH
She has a rockin’ knife collection
She knows how to use a machete
Every time I leave, she tells me to be careful
She never minds when I call her
She taught me & trained my voice for an operatic competition (tied for 1st with a roaring chest cold)
She used to bake bread for hungry reservation families in S. Dakota
An elderly chief at our flea market booth in Austin recognized her immediately from all those yrs ago
She can order those coconut cookies from the ancient woman at the flea market who speaks no English even tho she speaks no Spanish (while our son, a fluent Espanoler, has a tough time w/her).
Bikers think she’s great
She took NO CRAP from my drunken bio-family
Her Grandmother died in her arms when she was 14: she had already learned a lifetime of knowledge from her.
Come to think of it, she takes NO CRAP from anybody…except occasionally lil' ol’ me
She calls me FireFace.
She still loves my almost-waist-length mane
She used to play connect-the-dots with my freckles
She doesn’t mind that I have destroyed my wedding ring numerous times – more concerned with my fingers surviving
When her assistant was trapped under the front wheel of a Suburban, the crowd around was unable to get the truck off her. With my best Wolf growl I dove into the wheel well, grabbed the rim & suspension, & heaved the truck into the air. My dainty wife with a hearty “Oh, s**t!” grabbed the woman’s jeans & yanked. Her hands tore right thru the denim. She let out an equally hearty “Damn it!”, grabbed belt & bra, & whipped that looney out like she was on ball bearings! I set it down, she’s yelling for me to get out, I say it’s still in gear, & we’re on a hill: she leaps into the big truck & hits the emergency brake & slams it into park so that I can ease out. Didn’t even make me go to the hospital even tho my back was split open from right shoulder to left hip.
She loves to have supper ready when I get home, & to serve me at the table
When she hears the lids “set” on the canning jars she laughs with joy
She loves to garden with me
She pours my iced tea first, as do I hers
She loves fires in the fireplace in winter
She enjoys an occasional glass of wine, or a sip of my monthly beer; she mentions how proud she is that we can have booze in the house & not get drunk as my bio-family does.
She bakes wonderful breads & indulges my addiction to pie. MMMMmmm, pIIIIIeeee..
She asks me for menu ideas & then cooks what I want
She teaches stuff to our birds
She bought me an animated turtle that looks like Diana Ross – dances & sings “You Can’t Hurry Love!”
She oft compares me to her 1st husband, & tells me I win every time.
She thanks me that she can just be “her” around me – says she never had that before
She loves my hands
I realize she can still kick my butt
When I am in pain, she knows it
She gives me Reiki treatment while I sleep if she knows I am hurting
She lets me keep the bedroom cool & piles on her own blankets, so I can sleep better.
She orders her shrimp when she wants it, knowing I can’t stand the stuff – makes sure I get my oysters when I want.
She hates liver as much as I do
She’ll make me pierogies even though she doesn’t care for them
She tries really hard to recreate foods from my Hunky childhood even though my descriptions/recollections are pretty poor
She indulges my passion for deep frying turkeys, which she doesn’t like that much.
She likes my homemade soymilk ice cream experiments
She loves to hang out on the swing or one of our gliders with me
She loves our screened deck & is going to put up with the wheelchair ramp, even tho she’d rather step up on her own.
She puts up with me bringing her a wildflower, or a particularly cool leaf, or something unexpected from the woods or the garden.
She sees what I see in nature.
She once did a Reiki treatment on a lifeless hummingbird that our hunting mama cat dropped in her lap. After a while it fluttered its wings, lifted off, turned & chirped at her, & left. She still tears up about that one!
She did a Reiki treatment on a frozen stiff newborn kitten that my wacky cat birthed on January 31st. She had them on our concrete carport slab, & this one wedged itself in next to my chimney. My son extracted it & called for Mom. After a while it stirred, she kept it from Mama til it was squirming quite well, & it became the most active of the litter. We call her “Dead Cat”. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
She loves venison
She makes these hearty soup that are so thick I call them “Stewp”
She loves limburger & onion sammiches
She doesn’t mind when I eat my “stinky cheese” (Bleu or gorgonzola)
She called my stepdad “Pops”
Her hair just SHINES!
She once sat up all night sewing fake fur into my jacket & cap & pockets because I had to walk several miles to catch the bus for work.
There are innumerous more reasons why I love, cherish, & adore this wonderful woman, who is a true gift from the Creator. I pray to be able to extend this list for years to come.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The Ol' Abbot's Bad Doggy Rodeo
Redneck neighbors have 2 very large dogs that are becoming aggressive. One is a chocolate lab, the other is yellow & looks like a lab/Great Dane mix. The brown one came onto our property once while back & I shooed him off. The yellow one has come over numerous times, & growls & snarls at me when I try to run him off before he hurts my cats/kittens.
Recently he was doing his macho bravado canine gig, so I drop down & give him my best alpha male wolf snarl. He yelps, jumps into the air, then clumsily skitters back to his own yard. He stops & turns, woofs: I growl, he tears off, taking up chocolate boy in tow as they bolt at full tilt past their humans' house.
Recently I heard him yelp - I bolted outside, he was in full retreat & my mama cat was strolling nonchalantly across the porch. Hmmm. Today my darlin' wife hears the same thing, opens the door & loses it. Out in the driveway is Big Yeller, howling for all he's worth as mama cat swings merrily on his side & he spins in crazy circles trying to dislodge this teeny tabby. Her tomcat tabby son is standing on Big Yeller's back, riding him like a mechanical bull. This goes on until he tires out & lies down. My cats climb down & saunter up the driveway. He jumps up & hauls for home. Yee-haaawww!
Funny today, but I worry about my wife being outside without me.I guess she'll be OK as long as little mama cat Jewel is on patrol. "Warning: this property guarded by nursing elderly attack kitty. "
Recently he was doing his macho bravado canine gig, so I drop down & give him my best alpha male wolf snarl. He yelps, jumps into the air, then clumsily skitters back to his own yard. He stops & turns, woofs: I growl, he tears off, taking up chocolate boy in tow as they bolt at full tilt past their humans' house.
Recently I heard him yelp - I bolted outside, he was in full retreat & my mama cat was strolling nonchalantly across the porch. Hmmm. Today my darlin' wife hears the same thing, opens the door & loses it. Out in the driveway is Big Yeller, howling for all he's worth as mama cat swings merrily on his side & he spins in crazy circles trying to dislodge this teeny tabby. Her tomcat tabby son is standing on Big Yeller's back, riding him like a mechanical bull. This goes on until he tires out & lies down. My cats climb down & saunter up the driveway. He jumps up & hauls for home. Yee-haaawww!
Funny today, but I worry about my wife being outside without me.I guess she'll be OK as long as little mama cat Jewel is on patrol. "Warning: this property guarded by nursing elderly attack kitty. "
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
2-rows, 3-rows, 4-rows, we got 'em!
It is always an exciting time when we craftaholics take the opportunity to add new styles to our repertoire. I have been doing 3-row chokers since the beginning, & added 2-row pieces a few months ago. I just added 4-row chokers & sold my 1st one as a custom order!
So cool to be able to build another person’s vision!
So cool to be able to build another person’s vision!
Also working on a Design-Your-Own Tribal Choker page on my website at www.WolfLodgeTX.com with a photo of the glass crow bead colors I usually have in stock. Need to add photos of the bone & horn hairpipe sizes & the options for golden deerskin or black leather, & bone vs. leather spacers. Whew!Wouldn’t it be neat to have a page that would let you play around with components & be able to see a virtual mockup of your finished design? Sort of like how many clothing catalog sites let you see an item in various colors: it can be done, but it’s out of my pricing budget for the foreseeable future.
Built another 4-row custom order in dark red last night, have 1 more to build in a nice aqua/teal color. Hopefully these will be satisfactory!
I found some really neat turquoise pendants about 1 ½” wide; one blue & one green, each with an interesting matrix. Have to find the exact combination of colors to show them off properly.
Still working on my 3rd dice tower with my 1st attempt at abalone inlay – a whole lot more work than I expected!
I have more designs in my brain bucket than I have time to fashion, as well as all those home projects: the brick walkways, brick pedestals for our wolf statues (1 of the 3 still awaits paint), rebuilding the porch for a wheelchair ramp, as well as adding a ramp & screen door to our little screened room. I already have all the brick (free!), and those piles of cedar lumber (free!), just have to haul sand & mortar & my butt out there to get to work (free!). Boy, do I need retirement or what?!?
My darlin’ wife is doing better, 6 weeks out from her concussion. She is up & around somewhat, & is doing the cooking again – woo-hoo! Our zoo is very happy to see her again.
Thank You, Father, for your blessings. May we ever prove worthy of them: amen!
Monday, September 10, 2007
The Process of Family - The Beginning
It may seem otherwise to those who are blessed enough to know all their relations – warts & all – but to me, family is an ever-changing, dynamic thing, more of a process than an entity. My perception of family is a lake into which souls flow, stay varying lengths of time, then flow out again. Some float atop the waves, riding the tempests & foundering in the calms, others dive deep, & most flow out the other end. Some evaporate, a few sink into the depths. And all the while, we are floating in others’ lakes, an unending overlapping sea of transitory human experience.
At the headwaters of my particular stream, (back home, we called ‘em “cricks”), I had 2 siblings, a Mother, an aunt, 2 Grandparents. & asst. drunks. I have searched for years to find my Father, & my 5-6 half-siblings, to no avail. As no trace of this purported parent has ever surfaced, and knowing that my Mum was definitely not a candidate for ’Immaculate Conception II, the Sequel’, I have to accept that I have been misled. Funny that, as Grandma was overly fond of reminding us that the
So, how do you build a family when the fish refuse to swim together? You try to become a transitional generation. My son knows the meaning of both love & affection. Other swimmers have joined our little armada, & are closer to us than are our bio-relatives. Here is another incarnation of the Process of Family. The woman I refer to as Mother I met just 10 yrs. ago. Her son – my twin-brother-of-a-different-mother swims deeper in my heart than my sibling bro. It turns out that this Familial Process is the goal, after all. Gather in friends, acquaintances, blood relatives if you must; swim together, & watch carefully for the sharks of dysfunction.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Up Against the Wall, RedHead Fathers!
Well, here we are - smack dab in the middle of September, facing the Gallows of October. As of that fateful month, our jobs require that we achieve 80% of our revenue goals or forfeit all commission pay for the month's labors. In my case that leaves me making less than $8/hour at the tenderly ripe age of 52 years. For 6 months prior to this Doomsday Sword of Damocles, we needed to achieve 60% or go without. My desk has been averaging right around 67%: this month a bit less, & every other desk in our group is doing the same percentage. Of course, some desk have much more revenue in their book of business (much of which used to be MY business) so 'tis not really apples vs. the oranges.
Tack onto this a catastrophic diminution of my driven attitude & my competitive spirit, & the outlook is bleaker than Starbucks' chances of opening a few stores in Darfur.
So what's an Ol' Abbot to do when he is graying without growing earnings? My eBay biz slowed to a crawl & actually shifted into reverse as my fees have outstripped my sales for months now. My sales at etsy.com have been better, but still too few to cover my associated fees. I have revised almost all my photos on etsy, as well as on WolfLodgeTX.com .I am looking into a couple other sites, yessy,com for art , cafepress.com for images on t-shirts, mugs etc., & Elance.com for writing. Now if only I can earn enough for the startup fees to get into them...
Meanwhile I have been busily constructing a dice tower for resale, a castle tower with all the rock work already carved. I carefully hollowed out a niche to inlay an abalone shell only to break the shell after an hour's work. I have another shell, but his particular one was beautiful beyond any I have ever seen. Gonna make lemonade with this lemon as I have wanted to experiment with carving abalone - now I have an excuse! I have several new designs fior these towers ingrained in my brainbucket - oh for time time time!
I have piles of old cedar planks which I have used to surface a 10x12 deck & make a tabletop. A few ideas about that stuff are percolating around also.
My beloved darlin' of 35 years has been having serious health issues. She has taken 3 falls in the past 2 months, the last one incurring a concussion & a particularly nasty head wound. As a polio & cancer survivor, she is adamant that there will be no doctors or EMTs involved. So I am her healer.
Thank the Creator for Reiki & prayer & His healing touch! She has been subjected to my cooking & shopping & laundry "skills" for weeks now. Being unable to travel, I know she is detesting her confinement to the bedroom, & is getting "itchy" these past several days. Perhaps this weekend she can come out to sit in the great room for a while so that our zoo can hang out with her.
Our son is having a tough time with his roomie being unable to work for a while, & then his pay was shorted over 60% this week. Our Blond Bombshell daughter is raising her 4 yr old grandson: now his bio-mother is threatening to take him away.
I am beginning to think we should all change our names to Job! Still, on we slog through the fog of uncertainty, bound by love & leaning upon all the shoulders we can, because we know that the Father's will shall be done, & His rewards are there, somewhere, somewhen...somehow.
Tack onto this a catastrophic diminution of my driven attitude & my competitive spirit, & the outlook is bleaker than Starbucks' chances of opening a few stores in Darfur.
So what's an Ol' Abbot to do when he is graying without growing earnings? My eBay biz slowed to a crawl & actually shifted into reverse as my fees have outstripped my sales for months now. My sales at etsy.com have been better, but still too few to cover my associated fees. I have revised almost all my photos on etsy, as well as on WolfLodgeTX.com .I am looking into a couple other sites, yessy,com for art , cafepress.com for images on t-shirts, mugs etc., & Elance.com for writing. Now if only I can earn enough for the startup fees to get into them...
Meanwhile I have been busily constructing a dice tower for resale, a castle tower with all the rock work already carved. I carefully hollowed out a niche to inlay an abalone shell only to break the shell after an hour's work. I have another shell, but his particular one was beautiful beyond any I have ever seen. Gonna make lemonade with this lemon as I have wanted to experiment with carving abalone - now I have an excuse! I have several new designs fior these towers ingrained in my brainbucket - oh for time time time!
I have piles of old cedar planks which I have used to surface a 10x12 deck & make a tabletop. A few ideas about that stuff are percolating around also.
My beloved darlin' of 35 years has been having serious health issues. She has taken 3 falls in the past 2 months, the last one incurring a concussion & a particularly nasty head wound. As a polio & cancer survivor, she is adamant that there will be no doctors or EMTs involved. So I am her healer.
Thank the Creator for Reiki & prayer & His healing touch! She has been subjected to my cooking & shopping & laundry "skills" for weeks now. Being unable to travel, I know she is detesting her confinement to the bedroom, & is getting "itchy" these past several days. Perhaps this weekend she can come out to sit in the great room for a while so that our zoo can hang out with her.
Our son is having a tough time with his roomie being unable to work for a while, & then his pay was shorted over 60% this week. Our Blond Bombshell daughter is raising her 4 yr old grandson: now his bio-mother is threatening to take him away.
I am beginning to think we should all change our names to Job! Still, on we slog through the fog of uncertainty, bound by love & leaning upon all the shoulders we can, because we know that the Father's will shall be done, & His rewards are there, somewhere, somewhen...somehow.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Etsy.com - A Fees-Lite Family of Creative Folks
In my continuing efforts to escape the ravages of Cubicleism, I turned to my innate creativuty to magically create additional income while enjoying an artistic outlet. First, I naturally turned to eBay, where I still (barely) maintain a shop as Wolf Lodge Enterprises. Holy FeeCharger, BatGuy! As sales slowed to a, well, STOP, I find myself covering monthly charges out of pocket.
Last Fall I discovered http://www.etsy.com/, which provides an exquisitely affordable marketplace for handmade items only. With an ever-growing assortment of crafts & arts of varying styles & values, it quickly becomes addictive. You have GOT to check out the Time Machine!!!
My shop is at http://www.wolflodge.etsy.com/, where I offer Native American chokers built by my Ojibwe daughter-in-law as well as my own Tribal versions of hatbands, chokers, armbands, & boot chokers. A few of my oil paintings live there to color up the place.
The real value of Etsy is in the community of sellers who offer up their remarkable wares & a never-ending stream of information, guidancce, & assistance thru the Forums & Chat Rooms. For example, I read thru a 34-page (& counting) thread on identification of gemstones, manmade & natural. Information overload? You bet! And worth every word.
Some of my favorite Etsy sellers are linked at right. I admire their fresh, funny, & often irreverent views on the world as expressed thru their art. I can only hope that my art will move someone as well.
I also created my own website at http://www.wolflodgetx.com/ which is a work in progress as I learn & grow. My partner is my Beloved wife of 35 years, who shares with me a passion for Native American art & life, so our powwow visits are chronicled there as well. Please check out my favorite Etsyans, & let the cool waters of creativity buoy you up, & raise your spirits, bringing you closer to The Creator. (And while you're up there, could you put in a good word for the Ol' Wolf?)
Last Fall I discovered http://www.etsy.com/, which provides an exquisitely affordable marketplace for handmade items only. With an ever-growing assortment of crafts & arts of varying styles & values, it quickly becomes addictive. You have GOT to check out the Time Machine!!!
My shop is at http://www.wolflodge.etsy.com/, where I offer Native American chokers built by my Ojibwe daughter-in-law as well as my own Tribal versions of hatbands, chokers, armbands, & boot chokers. A few of my oil paintings live there to color up the place.
The real value of Etsy is in the community of sellers who offer up their remarkable wares & a never-ending stream of information, guidancce, & assistance thru the Forums & Chat Rooms. For example, I read thru a 34-page (& counting) thread on identification of gemstones, manmade & natural. Information overload? You bet! And worth every word.
Some of my favorite Etsy sellers are linked at right. I admire their fresh, funny, & often irreverent views on the world as expressed thru their art. I can only hope that my art will move someone as well.
I also created my own website at http://www.wolflodgetx.com/ which is a work in progress as I learn & grow. My partner is my Beloved wife of 35 years, who shares with me a passion for Native American art & life, so our powwow visits are chronicled there as well. Please check out my favorite Etsyans, & let the cool waters of creativity buoy you up, & raise your spirits, bringing you closer to The Creator. (And while you're up there, could you put in a good word for the Ol' Wolf?)
One Year, One Tear
One year has gone since Wes, my beloved Brother of a Different Mother, passed home. It is terribly difficult to grab on to the fact that I have not hugged him in that long. He wanders around my heart & through my thoughts every single day, as if I just got back from hanging out with him in East Texas, digging up mischief & causing those Exasperated Eye Rolls we both loved. I can still hear his voice & see his face clearly. I thank God that he gave him to us to love, and that He ended his suffering.
We lost a treasured friend last November. Nick was the first person to accept us & befriend me when we moved here 20 years ago. He remained a tried & true friend to all my family until we lost touch with him a couple of years ago. Whenever we speak of Nick, it is with deep love, respect, & admiration at the kind of man whe was. He touched many people over the years, & even his few detractors had to admit he was one heck of a man. I had seen him in the depths of sorrow at the loss of his mother, joyfully doing his best James Brown shuffle, touching my wife's shoulder with the greatest of loving touches, & standing tall in a courtroom after being insulted by a shoplifter who did not know his character.
It is startling to realize the impact cancer has had on my life. These are the loved ones it has taken from me:
Sandra Hashim (bio-sister)
Wes Willis
Nick McDonald
Nick Flanjack (Cousin)
John Hritz (Stepfather)
I am sure that I missed some, & that the list will grow. My belove wife has survived it twice. My cubicle neighbor is a survivor as well. My son was horrendously misdiagnosed with leukemia as a small child. Cancer: it's like an evil mist that swirls around our lives. We cannot help but breathe in its' vapors: we can only pray that we breathe them out as well.
We lost a treasured friend last November. Nick was the first person to accept us & befriend me when we moved here 20 years ago. He remained a tried & true friend to all my family until we lost touch with him a couple of years ago. Whenever we speak of Nick, it is with deep love, respect, & admiration at the kind of man whe was. He touched many people over the years, & even his few detractors had to admit he was one heck of a man. I had seen him in the depths of sorrow at the loss of his mother, joyfully doing his best James Brown shuffle, touching my wife's shoulder with the greatest of loving touches, & standing tall in a courtroom after being insulted by a shoplifter who did not know his character.
It is startling to realize the impact cancer has had on my life. These are the loved ones it has taken from me:
Sandra Hashim (bio-sister)
Wes Willis
Nick McDonald
Nick Flanjack (Cousin)
John Hritz (Stepfather)
I am sure that I missed some, & that the list will grow. My belove wife has survived it twice. My cubicle neighbor is a survivor as well. My son was horrendously misdiagnosed with leukemia as a small child. Cancer: it's like an evil mist that swirls around our lives. We cannot help but breathe in its' vapors: we can only pray that we breathe them out as well.
Life Times at Best Buy
ROWE vs. Wade: as in wading thru life slogging thru the mire of a dead end career, thigh deep in dissatisfaction, depression, & dissillusionment. Every day to the pointless solitude of my corporate gray cube I go, hoping against hope to find another source of free Sudoku & crosswords to pass the time til the tide of commuting laps against the clock.
Tides & times have passed me by - I can dream only of that elusive & ephemeral dream job that would let me live my life in peace, close to my beloved wife of 30+ years, & oceans away from the increasingly deadly hour-plus commute of doom & the riptides of drowning opportunities.
Enter the tsunami of the ROWE program at Best Buy. The acronym stands for "Results Only Work Environment. This revolutionary outlook on the work-life balance (it is to laugh!) eliminates scheduled hours, cubicles, mandatory meetings, & face time. Employees can work from home, the park, the beach, or in some cases, a deer blind, as long as their work is done & their productivity is high. Gone are the long commutes, gone are the decisions between work & familial responsibilities & time conflicts. In the case of Best Buy, productivity is up, as is job satisfaction.
I have often opined to my bosses that I am a prime candidate for telecommuting. However, my job is such that I cannot currently perform it remotely. Or can I? ROWE makes all things possible. Quite frankly, I have an increasingly difficult time leaving my darling wife each day. I am not a lazy person, I like to work hard, but I cannot shake the feeling that I am missing the biggest part of life by repeating my death drive every Monday thru Friday.
I know that my lack of higher education is coming back to haunt me, like a ghostly pirate stalking the holds of my career caravel. I hear his chains rattle, his cutlass straining to lift itself from its' scabbard of restraint. Unless there is a sea change, it's Davy Jones' locker for my working career. Pink slip at morning, sailor take warning. Oh, to ROWE, ROWE. ROWE my boat to Minnesota...
Tides & times have passed me by - I can dream only of that elusive & ephemeral dream job that would let me live my life in peace, close to my beloved wife of 30+ years, & oceans away from the increasingly deadly hour-plus commute of doom & the riptides of drowning opportunities.
Enter the tsunami of the ROWE program at Best Buy. The acronym stands for "Results Only Work Environment. This revolutionary outlook on the work-life balance (it is to laugh!) eliminates scheduled hours, cubicles, mandatory meetings, & face time. Employees can work from home, the park, the beach, or in some cases, a deer blind, as long as their work is done & their productivity is high. Gone are the long commutes, gone are the decisions between work & familial responsibilities & time conflicts. In the case of Best Buy, productivity is up, as is job satisfaction.
I have often opined to my bosses that I am a prime candidate for telecommuting. However, my job is such that I cannot currently perform it remotely. Or can I? ROWE makes all things possible. Quite frankly, I have an increasingly difficult time leaving my darling wife each day. I am not a lazy person, I like to work hard, but I cannot shake the feeling that I am missing the biggest part of life by repeating my death drive every Monday thru Friday.
I know that my lack of higher education is coming back to haunt me, like a ghostly pirate stalking the holds of my career caravel. I hear his chains rattle, his cutlass straining to lift itself from its' scabbard of restraint. Unless there is a sea change, it's Davy Jones' locker for my working career. Pink slip at morning, sailor take warning. Oh, to ROWE, ROWE. ROWE my boat to Minnesota...
Thursday, June 14, 2007
One More Earthtrip Around the Sun
The Big Blue Marble has spun completely thru its' orbit since I started this new work assignment last March. Just had my annual review ( only 2 weeks late this year - woo-hoo!!) & it was relatively painless compared to the chew-him-up & hit-the-spitoon session I had last year. My new boss is very kind to me & does a bang-up job despite it being her first command.
She was bothered by my inherent lack of positive outlook regarding my future. To sum it all up, my long term (10 years) goal is basically "Cremated & Forgotten". Don't get me wrong, I know I have family that will miss me: however the workplace will not. So what? Who cares if I'm "Tits-Up" instead of "Guns Up!?
My previous boss in this job was catastrophically inept. Shortly after I moved over by the windows here our product underwent a major header-to-footer remodel. Some of the changes were great - most were so badly mishandled that my Director plans to use the whole debacle as a case study on how NOT to go to market, when he retires soon to teach at the University level.
Within a few months of my move, all my major accounts were stripped away & given to co-workers who were already overloaded with business. Now a year later I still have not been told the real reason why, so I must conclude that it was performance-based. Despite winning a sales award my first month in position, I must characterize the last 14 months as a failure which I have been unable to overcome. I have faced great adversity in the workplace over the years & traditionally clawed my way back to the top. Not this time - my clawing days are over.
For several years I have tried my best to transition out of Sales, to no avail. Amazing what few opportunities there are for 50+'ers with no skills! That loud Baby BOOM was me hitting the bottom sans bounce! So, here I sit. Now we have a new compensation plan which is tied solely to percentage of goal attainment. Payout is zero unless you achieve 60% of goal: in October, that increases to 80%. Like I needed more stress, right?
MSN had a recent article relating to the decrease in life expectancy caused by chronic stress. Put 2 & 2 together, you get Bye-Bye!! So, I will spend the time I have trying to make my Beloved Darlin' of 35 years as happy as I can. A legacy would be too much to ask...
She was bothered by my inherent lack of positive outlook regarding my future. To sum it all up, my long term (10 years) goal is basically "Cremated & Forgotten". Don't get me wrong, I know I have family that will miss me: however the workplace will not. So what? Who cares if I'm "Tits-Up" instead of "Guns Up!?
My previous boss in this job was catastrophically inept. Shortly after I moved over by the windows here our product underwent a major header-to-footer remodel. Some of the changes were great - most were so badly mishandled that my Director plans to use the whole debacle as a case study on how NOT to go to market, when he retires soon to teach at the University level.
Within a few months of my move, all my major accounts were stripped away & given to co-workers who were already overloaded with business. Now a year later I still have not been told the real reason why, so I must conclude that it was performance-based. Despite winning a sales award my first month in position, I must characterize the last 14 months as a failure which I have been unable to overcome. I have faced great adversity in the workplace over the years & traditionally clawed my way back to the top. Not this time - my clawing days are over.
For several years I have tried my best to transition out of Sales, to no avail. Amazing what few opportunities there are for 50+'ers with no skills! That loud Baby BOOM was me hitting the bottom sans bounce! So, here I sit. Now we have a new compensation plan which is tied solely to percentage of goal attainment. Payout is zero unless you achieve 60% of goal: in October, that increases to 80%. Like I needed more stress, right?
MSN had a recent article relating to the decrease in life expectancy caused by chronic stress. Put 2 & 2 together, you get Bye-Bye!! So, I will spend the time I have trying to make my Beloved Darlin' of 35 years as happy as I can. A legacy would be too much to ask...
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
The Wanderer's Final Walk
The Wanderer’s Final Walk
My twin brother of a different mother is gone. 3 weeks after his diagnosis of inoperable lung cancer, Wes the Wanderer took the journey. The Ol’ Abbot is a selfish sort, so I miss him terribly. Fast, man, way too fast, although he’d been in poor health for a few years. It came as no huge surprise that his time was gone, but as my pal Jim says “You can be completely prepared, but you can never be completely ready.” Yeah, it’s just like you, bro: now that you can breathe all you want, you don’t have to anymore.
Wes chose hospice rather than chemical assault. His doctor was frank & compassionate enough to tell him it might prolong his life a few months, but he would be sick all the time. Although I wanted him around longer (see “selfish” above), I respect his decision. Hospice was wonderful, providing all the physical comfort they could manage. In the end he passed in his mother’s house w/Ma & his sister by his side.
Earlier in the week, the Father gifted us with a great blessing. Wes was well enough to sit up for a meal w/family & friend, after which his sister spotted his beloved wild raccoon Lucy in the yard, w/5 babies! Wes actually found the strength to walk out into the yard, sit cross-legged on the ground & call her. The Raccoon Platoon ambled on over to visit with him for the final time. Two days later he crossed over. Now he can REALLY call “Luuuuuucy, I’m Hooo-ome!”
The week prior to his departure, I lay awake about 3am, as I often do. Into my consciousness sprang a song, as they often do. A few hours later my darlin’ wife found me scribbling furiously to capture the lyrics before they faded. A few days stewing over one line & I had it. “Problem is,” I told her, “I can only sing this after he’s gone.” God gave me my cue shortly thereafter. I have promised it to Mother Ruth: since I have not yet delivered it, I will not post it until she has it in hand & heart.
We had a wonderfully informal wake at his sister’s & her partner’s home. Friends known & unknown came & went. Dear friends we introduced to Wes & Co. a few years ago at our annual Boar’s Head Feastival spent the day as we loved each other & his memory.
Last weekend we visited to help Mom go thru his stuff. Wonderful memories & fellowship, mixed with melancholy (see “selfish” above). His passing is a burden, but his care is a burden lifted. (Insert comforting clichés here). We all now have keepsakes with which to honor our brother. His last words to me were “I love you, bro!” I don’t have last words for him, as I speak to him every day.
"Unkis kiksuye utikawa wacignuni mitiblo ki oiha ke wanil" - We remember our Wandering Brother forever
My twin brother of a different mother is gone. 3 weeks after his diagnosis of inoperable lung cancer, Wes the Wanderer took the journey. The Ol’ Abbot is a selfish sort, so I miss him terribly. Fast, man, way too fast, although he’d been in poor health for a few years. It came as no huge surprise that his time was gone, but as my pal Jim says “You can be completely prepared, but you can never be completely ready.” Yeah, it’s just like you, bro: now that you can breathe all you want, you don’t have to anymore.
Wes chose hospice rather than chemical assault. His doctor was frank & compassionate enough to tell him it might prolong his life a few months, but he would be sick all the time. Although I wanted him around longer (see “selfish” above), I respect his decision. Hospice was wonderful, providing all the physical comfort they could manage. In the end he passed in his mother’s house w/Ma & his sister by his side.
Earlier in the week, the Father gifted us with a great blessing. Wes was well enough to sit up for a meal w/family & friend, after which his sister spotted his beloved wild raccoon Lucy in the yard, w/5 babies! Wes actually found the strength to walk out into the yard, sit cross-legged on the ground & call her. The Raccoon Platoon ambled on over to visit with him for the final time. Two days later he crossed over. Now he can REALLY call “Luuuuuucy, I’m Hooo-ome!”
The week prior to his departure, I lay awake about 3am, as I often do. Into my consciousness sprang a song, as they often do. A few hours later my darlin’ wife found me scribbling furiously to capture the lyrics before they faded. A few days stewing over one line & I had it. “Problem is,” I told her, “I can only sing this after he’s gone.” God gave me my cue shortly thereafter. I have promised it to Mother Ruth: since I have not yet delivered it, I will not post it until she has it in hand & heart.
We had a wonderfully informal wake at his sister’s & her partner’s home. Friends known & unknown came & went. Dear friends we introduced to Wes & Co. a few years ago at our annual Boar’s Head Feastival spent the day as we loved each other & his memory.
Last weekend we visited to help Mom go thru his stuff. Wonderful memories & fellowship, mixed with melancholy (see “selfish” above). His passing is a burden, but his care is a burden lifted. (Insert comforting clichés here). We all now have keepsakes with which to honor our brother. His last words to me were “I love you, bro!” I don’t have last words for him, as I speak to him every day.
"Unkis kiksuye utikawa wacignuni mitiblo ki oiha ke wanil" - We remember our Wandering Brother forever
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