Come with me
All Hallow's night
We'll frighten everyone in sight...
-Anonymous
The Pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela is a centuries old trek across northern Spain done by following "The Camino de Santiago", the road to Santiago. Before February of 2001 I had not heard of "The Camino" nor of the Pilgrimage. By the end of October of that year I was in Santiago after completing the walk myself. I thought that when I reached Santiago my journey was over but I see now that my journey started way before I got to Spain and still has not ended.
Cannot let Halloween pass with out at least one true ghost story.
I’ve been watching The Ellen Degeneres Show week day mornings. Well, recording it and watching it later. I hate to sit through commercials anymore. I watch mostly because I love her monologues. Listening to her is like having a friend invite you for a drive around the block in their car. You take off and the next thing you know you are driving down a street you’ve never been on before, making turns onto other roads from a direction you never expected, and, seemingly, meandering around with no direction. Right when you think you are lost, you pull up in front of your own house, delighted with the ride you have just taken.
"Bud" Neusteter died this week. His family owned Neusteter’s clothing store in Denver on the corner of 16th and Stout back when downtown Denver was the place to shop. I remember walking through the big brass revolving door at the entrance with my mother and past the sales clerks (always dressed in black) to the elevators at the back of the stores. While waiting for the elevator to arrive I would examine the murals depicting fashionable women painted on the walls. The place was elegant and every time I went in I knew I was entering a “grownup store.” No messing around, these people where serious about what went on in there. The grownup business of buying and selling quality clothing.
Maintenance
We have a guest blogger today, my 13 year old niece. She doesn't know she is blogging today but has been sending me e-mails all weekend and I would like to share them with you. It seems she has just found out about that Colorado anti-hero Alfred E. Packer and his deeds. She was so inspired by this story that she has been writing songs about it all weekend. Here are the e-mails she sent me.
I just got back from the town 36 miles to the south of me. That’s 72 miles roundtrip.
Just finished catching up on the blogs I read. At Rashunda's site she had this link, Awful Plastic Surgery, and I hate to admit I spent a half hour there. The shame, the shame.
Stories of my birth
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Here is an e-mail I sent this morning:
Good morning, everyone. Still windy here and the temp is in the 40's (F). The weather service is predicting rain today. Something we need badly as we are at "near drought conditions." I was talking to a friend last week and he said that right now we need a lot of rain because the sub-moisture is gone. Which means when you dig into the soil you do not hit moist earth under the dry top. He had been digging four foot deep post holes and the soil was powdery dry to the bottom. Please rain, please rain, please rain.
Got to write fast
We have a couple of surveys going on in Blogland today. One at Blue Witch's site to find out what the most common star signs of bloggers are and whether or not bloggers keep diaries. Over at Coopblog, Elsie is doing a quick sex survey. Be brave- go do it. Scroll down a bit on both sites to find the surveys.
Left Over Camino Story
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Welcome to the Hotel California
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I did my morning walk through the fog. Fog is rare here, we get it maybe three times a year. This morning I noticed for the first time that when it gets foggy like this, it's like walking in a Turner painting. Then I realized that Turner painted what he saw and was not being creative when he did his landscapes with that haze over everything. Since I grew up in an area where the humidity never got above 30%, everything was always in sharp focus. Turner's work had a dream like quality for me, but this morning I could see what Turner saw and it was beautiful.
Finally rested enough to feel like writing something today. Those short trips to Denver always exhaust me. The turn around is too quick. The emotional roller coaster wasn't easy either. Arie's funeral was bittersweet. I reconnected with people I haven't seen in years while never forgetting the reason we were all there. The funeral was a celebration of Arie's life which meant lots of loving stories about Arie, singing, and laughter. It was long, three hours, but that's what happens when a bunch of politicians are allowed to get up in front of people and talk. Since it was Arie they were talking about, some just could not be brief. A lot of love in that church. My sister and I did very well until the casket rolled by us at the end then we lost it and cried. Arie will be missed.
I am leaving for Denver this afternoon. Arie Taylor's funeral is tomorrow morning. I won't be writing anything more until next Monday. Have a good weekend everyone.
My horoscope today.
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What we know about our parents is based on the stories they have told us or the stories we have heard about them. The week before last, when I got back from Denver, there was a large manila envelope waiting for me. It was addressed to my father. Why am I getting mail addressed to a man dead 30 years? Then I looked at the return address and see that it was from National Personnel Records Center in St. Louis, Missouri. Last April I had written them asking for copies of all of my father’s military records, so long ago I had forgotten about it. Finally, they are here.