Boardwalk

As a kid I never really understood the game of Monopoly. I could play it, but I didn't necessarily enjoy it. I do, however, remember that everyone wanted to buy "Boardwalk". It somehow meant you could better win the game. It was years before I knew where the famous Boardwalk was, and only in recent years that I understood how it applied to coastal living. 

This isn't even really a boardwalk, but rather a pier. However, it sent my mind back to those days, long ago, when we would pull out the game board, divvy up the money, and see who could out-buy everyone else. Just a little walk down memory (Boardwalk) lane.

Balusters by the Dozen

I was able to do a little woodworking today. It wasn't too many years ago that my dad got a lathe. We made plans for me to go help him and together we'd make balusters for the banister in my house. We never quite found the time to do it, and now the house has been sold, I've moved, and my dad's health doesn't allow for those kinds of activities anymore. I wish I could have made that memory with him. I am grateful, however, for the memories I do have. Without him I definitely wouldn't be who or where I am today. 

What A Story!

I just have to share the rest of the story of "Standing Watch". I attended the Opening Reception at the North Country Recreation Center in Nehalem, Oregon. I was so very impressed with the turnout and the support of this community. Three leaders from the Nehalem-Catsop tribe were present and shared their gratitude and what they are doing to work toward restoring their national tribal status with all of its rights and privileges. Two of the leaders kept asking me about the painting. I told them how I had researched their people and tried to place myself in the place and time of the early people. I talked about what it would mean to stand watch and wait for my sons and/or my husband to come home. And how I felt that there would be a Chief and perhaps even a Great Spirit standing watch, waiting for the People to come home. One of the leaders, with tears in her eyes, told me she'd had a dream (I don't feel that the details are mine to share here) and when she woke she knew the dream was about her people coming home. They were so touched by my painting that the tribe has decided to purchase it. I am so honored and excited. What a great opportunity this turned out to be. Not only was I inspired to create something, but also to touch the lives of others, and share a moment in eternity with some incredibly special people. Definitely a memory I will treasure. 

Share the Road in Sutherland

I grew up on a small farm in the middle of nowhere. As we drove around sharing memories we passed this sign. We had to turn around and go back for a photo. In the Portland area we see these signs all over the place. Of course we see cyclists all over the place too. There's hardly a need, way out here, to share the road with other vehicles, let alone bicycles. So the irony was just too fun not to capture. And yet, shouldn't we always be sharing whatever we have, with whomever else is out there? Share the road of life... 

Sutherland Sunset

Thought I'd share the sunset I enjoyed this evening. Spent some time driving down one memory lane after another, sharing childhood memories with my Honey. When we got back to my dad's house, this was waiting for us. No filters. No professional camera. Just a beautiful moment in time.

Chaps

Growing up I always wanted my own pair of chaps. My dad never went riding without his and in my mind they were what made you a real cowboy. Until my son was in Fourth Grade I'd only ever heard that word pronounced /sh/aps - like shag. But then his teacher pronounced it /ch/aps - like it is spelled - like when your lips are dry. He tried correcting her and she told him he was wrong. Well, no one told my son that his knowledge of cowboying was wrong, so he had me go talk to her. I set her straight in a very gentle and diplomatic way - by telling her that's how my dad always said it. Since then I've heard other actual cowboys pronounce it the same way she did. So now I'm curious... is it a tomayto/tomahto kind of thing? Or is someone out there saying it wrong?

Pony Tail

I used to love having my hair in a ponytail. I would toss it and flick it and wonder if it really looked like my pony's tail. In my mind it most definitely did. I also wondered why pigtails were called pigtails... pigs didn't have two tails, and my hair didn't curl like a pig's tail did... 

But oh well. This horse doesn't have to worry about it. He can flick his pony tail all he wants.