"Rocking" w/ John Denver? An oxymoron? I think not!

I can still remember that day in particular, just like it was yesterday, and after we talked about it today, I guess she can too. It was such a beautiful warm and sunny early summer day, just a little under 20 years ago. My mother and I was spending the day at my grandparents home just across town (listening to old records and playing on the floor). Then I can see the light streaming through the old farmhouse livingroom windows, and hear my mothers voice singing to me. Songs that didn't seem quite as familiar to me as they do today, but nevertheless were calming, peaceful, and beautiful. I still feel the discomfort of the arms of that old wooden rocking chair prodding me as I squirmed around trying to find a softer place in her arms.(I was a big baby, I probably was barely 6 months old in this picture! ;) Lol) It seems so funny to think of now, Lol. I don't think I ever found that comfortable spot that I was looking for, but thats O.K. because I guess I was awake to form these happiest of memories for all of these years later.



As I was growing up, my mother listened almost exclusively to "John Denver," and I believe that the values expressed in much of his music became one of the biggest influences of my life,(his goofy 70's "Folky Westernish" style of dress is quite another story altogether. ;) Yeah, I got my own goofy style!) . He most often sang simple songs about life, love, family, farms and the biggest thing that seems to set him apart was that they were filled with images from nature. My family had always encouraged me to notice and study all of the things out in nature, but I think his music is one of the first things to make me think that there was something special about the woods and to create an irresistable pull for me out there. Maybe I am biased growing up with it, but it seems to be true to all of those I know who listen.

So I still remember so clearly most of the songs that she sang as she rocked me on that day. And either directly, or indirectly, some of my favorites have come to be about children, or songs that my "Mommy" adapted to better fit her purposes as she sang. ( for instance, "My Sweet Baby", might be much better known as "My Sweet Lady." But we won't have to tell anybody now will we. Lol ) All of these years later, and now I often play them to her in the evenings. Lol, but I skip over the whole rocking thing, I remember how uncomfortable that was. Now I am just starting to get over a cold, and I just about lost my voice this morning and can still barely breathe, but I find it irresistable to sing when the urge hits me, so at least I am sure ya'll will enjoy the funny faces I can't help but make when I try. Lol

"Zachary and Jennifer" is one of my very favorites, especially the last line of the song.


"Annies Song" was a love song for his wife, but my mother seemed to think that it fit well enough for her baby, Lol. I think I can agree.


"My Sweet Baby," not the actual title, but I still like it much better. This is something along the lines of a lullaby, kinda-sorta. (This is the one I remember the clearest)


And "For Baby, for Bobbie" yet another love song that also became a song about children. Makes no difference anyways.

So if ya survived at least a few of those, here in lies my lesson for today. Don't ever think that children won't remember, enjoy them and spend time with them when they are still young and impressionable, fill their little minds with love and they won't ever forget that you did. I don't know about you, but I really feel like I had my life all figured out by time I was 3, Lol, what things I care about and strive for, haven't hardly changed a bit. And #2 if you ever find your self rocking your own child, be sure you sing a song you wont mind hearing in 20 years, over, and over, and over...

My Life Through Rose Colored Glasses, (subtitled) "What Teddy does when no ones watching"

So this last fall I was picking through the garbage barrel looking at all of the wonderful things that my mother had thrown away, and I came across a pair of red tinted sunglasses. I was never one to lower myself to wear such things, but I had some experiences with the sun being in my eyes while driving in the mornings, so I thought hey why not, no one will ever see me! I tried them on, and it has changed my life forever....... (fades into a story, this very morning in fact!)

So once there was a certain carpenter who had a big green gas guzzling truck, so he put on his grungy green jacket, buckled his seat belt and began to drive his big green truck. Now don't get me wrong, it was a great green truck, but it just liked to guzzle more gas than this certain carpenter would have enjoyed pumping. So he was sad, can you see how sad this grungy green jacketed carpenter was! It's so sad!

Well, then out of no wheres, this little car came flying past the great green gas guzzling truck! "What!?" Exclaimed the sad carpenter, as he looked at his speedometer! "I'm doing 57mph just like always! You know, slow enough to not get a ticket from the nice policeman, and fast enough where traffic won't be piling up behind me! Ya know?"

So this certain carpenter began to get angry! Grrrr, why he could just, could just!!! Then a thought came into his head, "Thats right, I have my sunglasses! Everything is gonna be O.K. !! Yeah!! Well at first not much happened.

But slowly he began to be immersed in a happy world full of pinks, purples, and deep reds. "Why there isn't even any cold white snow in this pretty place he thought." This especially seemed to soften his raring road rage, he was back down to 57mph again, with at least 3 car lengths between him and the little zippy car.

With each passing mile the Rosey colored glasses worked their magic as the certain grungy green jacketed carpenter in the great green gas guzzling truck tootled along happily behind the zippy little car. Finally as the little car had no other choice but to turn down another happy highway, the smiling carpenter waved his last goodbye to the speedy little sporty car. "I'll miss you! Have a very nice trip!" He yelled out the window as the operator of the tiny vehicle stared on in confusion.

So once again the crazy carpenter, and the terrific truck rolled away in the distance. Visiting every hardware store they passed on their way into the sunrise... Such a happy ending, I love this story, and I KNOW you do too! Hurray!!!

O.k. So now it's official, I am certifiably insane. I not only wear pink sunglasses that makes me feel cheery, and very possibly might be womans for all I know, but I take pictures of myself, and write Dr. Suess books about myself in the third person. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't be publishing this post? Oh well, I have no pride anyways.... and by the way, no little zippy cars were harmed in the making of this blog, and any and all resemblances of the characters to me or my truck, are strictly coincidental. copyright 2010

A Man after God's own Heart

What must you do, or be to succede in life? How do you live to your fullest potential? Does it have anything to do with your dreams? Your bank account, how or where you live? etc, etc... I've been driving again, a time that inevitably for me is filled with deep thought, questions, and prayers. Often times I tend to forget that I'm actually heading somewhere, and that can get kinda interesting too, but that surely could be another post altogether.

My grandfathers name is Luther Lamont Skinner. If you have ever met him, he was likely either busily working around his old farmhouse or quietely sitting out of the way grinning behind those squinty gentle eyes. ;) But if I must pick one person that I would model to live my life like, without hesitation he would be it. He had dreams too, he wanted to be a pastor, and I know that he dreamed once of being a pilot. (He even made a pair of glider wings out of cardboard as a young teenager, and bravely ventured to jumped off the peak of his fathers barn roof. It had some kinks to be ironed out still. Lol) I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is so much more that he has never told me, or probably anyone, not usually being one to discuss such things. But before nineth grade he quite school to help his father out on the farm. He married my grandmother Dorothy Jean Larock I believe at 23, bought their first home, his old school house and rolled it down the road behind the tractor on logs for a couple miles, and up a rather steep hill and set it down on a basement he had laid. He spent most of the rest of his life farming, or working as a carpenter when ever he could find an odd job. Later in life after he lost the farm, he spent several miserable years working in a wire mill in town. I remember him coming home night after night with his shirts cut to shreds because of some mean spirited guy with tin snips he called a "friend." When I would ask, he would just laugh and joke about it and sew them back up again, I just though it was funny until I got old enough to really understand. My grandparents had 3 children, my mother and 2 uncles. I know it wasn't easy, but they were always provided for. When the bank took the farm (which God miraculasly worked out to give back a couple years later) they went out into the bean fields after the harvest and gleaned and canned enough green beans to live on through the winter. As bad as that might sound to us, now they all think of it as a wonderful memory. " The steps of a good man are ordered by the Lord, and He delights in his way. Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; For the Lord upholds him with His hand. I have been young, and now am old; Yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken, Nor his descendants begging bread. He is ever merciful, and lends; And his descendants are blessed." Psalm 37:23-26 I can't begin to say how very much this promise means to me!

Growing up, I spent every single day I possibly could with my grandpa. I would follow him around and observe how he fixed things up, or remodeled the house. A thing I am so very greatful for now, to have a good career passed on to me without ever a single thought about what I was doing, or paying a dime for it. I always had a plan for a new invention, and he would always leave his never ending list of things to fix, and join me in the cellar workshop to build seriously every and anything you can imagine, we even build an elaborate little "cotton gin" that you put milkweed fluff into, and it seperated the seeds from the fluff when you cranked the handle! Just so that I could try my hand at spinning it into yarn, and weaving on a homemade loom. The blanket never turned out as good as the "gin" did. Lol. And I know he knew that, but that never stopped him from being there to help me work through the technicalities of my contraption. He helped me build bows and arrows, crossbows, goat wagons, a pack saddle, knives, re-haft dozens of axe heads, motor bikes, a 2 person bicycle, wooden sleds, snowshoes, wooden boxes galore (each with a secret compartment), furniture and shelves, a real wooden lock to put on one of my cabins that only opened with a special wooden key!, when I was 9 he gave me a room of his barn to turn into a museum and helped me fill it up with farm antiques, he even dammed up his little stream to make me a pond to float my boat in that he made for me out of an old mortar pan and lots of tar. There wasn't any idea that my young mind could come up with, that he didn't straight way go to the farthest reaches of his ability to make into reality for me. He has always shown the greatest of selfless love and endless patience, always without complaint. I don't know how many times I dragged him into the woods to help me pick the perfect tree for my next project. His love and interest in my life has been such a perfect example of what Jesus is like to me.

It is nearly 1am, and I probably should finish up, so I will try to get my thoughts across now. I have recently heard grandpa in a rare moment of opening up, say that he feels like he was a failure and didn't take care of his family how he wanted to. But I am here to tell you that when I look at life, that I don't believe that our ideas of success or how things should be, are hardly ever in line with Gods. I really think that we sometimes need to step back and surrender our lives and plans to His will. As much as I struggle with this, our idea of what we should become, or accomplish, is usually quite a ways from the mark. Grandpa is not a pastor, but I believe with all of my heart that he has touched more lives for Christ in his gentle, oh so quiet way, than he ever would of in that position. A Godly man or woman glorifies God by every action, and I know every one who has spent any time with Grandpa, has seen the character of God without him ever having to preach a sermon, or utter a word. His testimony is in his life. Things will never be perfect on this earth, Thankfully!! It gives us so much more to look forward to in Heaven. Although I forget this principle daily ( as often as I do where I left my tape measure or pencil, ;) I have come to at least sometimes learn to rejoice in trials. God brings So many beautiful things out of this ugly life. I love the stories of David, and my greatest prayer and desire has been for so long, to have God mold me into a man after His own heart. I've felt for so long like that prayer wasn't heard until just a couple of days ago while reading, it hit me just how much trouble David went through! That is Gods method of character development, I knew it all along, but it just makes sense now. There were so many times that David felt like God was not listening to him, had abandoned him, and so many times in my own life when the loneliness becomes unbearable and I begin to wonder if He really is there for me. So, I know this is not as well written as I want it to be, and I hope it makes sense without too many trails running in every direction, but I just want to remind everyone to live your lives to glorify God right were you are. You probably won't feel like you are accomplishing anything of worth, but you are where you are for a good purpose, and all you have to do is build up your relationship with Him and the world won't be able to avoid seeing Jesus in you. And your life faithfully lived is you at your greatest potential, everything else we think we need in this world is temporary and worthless. I really gotta sleep now! lol

Nothing New Under the Sun

I thought this was pretty interesting, a 200 a.d. Roman multi tool.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1247230/The-Roman-Army-Knife-Or-ingenuity-Swiss-beaten-1-800-years.html

(from frontierfolk.net )

" Many historians credit Englishman Thomas Coryat, who having traveled "south" in 1608, wrote ao, in a book titled "Coryat's Curdities Hastily gobbled up in Five Months Travels in France, Savoy, Italy, &c.," published in London, 1611- as having introduced the fork to England.

I observed a custome in all those Italian Cities and Townes through which I passed, that is not used in any other country that I saw in my travels, neither do I thinke that any other nation of Christendome doth use it, but only Italy. The Italian, and also most strangers that are commorant in Italy, doe alwaies, at their meales use a little forke when they cut the meate; for while with their knife, which they hold in one hand, they cut the meate out of the dish, they fasten their forke which they hold in their other hande, upon the same dish, so that whatsoever he be that sitteth in the company of any others at meate, should unadvisedly touch the dish of meate with his fingers, from which all at the table doe cut he will give occasion of offence unto the company as having transgressed the lawes of good manners, insomuch for his error he shall be at least browbeaten, if not reprehended in words. This forme of feeding I understand is generally used in all places of Italy, their forks being for the most part made of yron or steele, and some of silver, but those are used only by gentlemen. The reason of this their curiosity, is because the Italian cannot by any means endure to have his dish touched with fingers, seeing all men's fingers are not alike cleane. Hereupon I myselfe thought good to imitate the Italian fashion by this forked cutting of meate, not only while I was in Italy, but also in Germany, and oftentimes in England, since I came home, being once quipped for that frequent using of my forke by a certain learned gentleman a familiar friend of mine, one Mr. Lawrence Whittaker, who in his merry humour, doubted not to call me at table Furcifer, only for using a forke at feeding but for no other cause.

Even through the 17th century, teh fork was more a matter of the upper classes who could afford the novelty of the status associated with them.

Some historians put the normally, usually, generally popular use of the fork in America just before the Civil War when etiquette shifted with the ways meals were eaten with the Service Russe replacing the Service Francais.
That being said, forks are claimed to be attributed to British soldier Rev War camps.

Four tyne forks date to Frnace in the lte 17th century as a way to deal with food sliidng off or fallling through the two tyne fork. "

Yup, I'm doing good

LAST WEEK: I am done working for the day, I empty all of the odds and ends I have collected out of my pockets, and throw out all of the scrap papers. Lists, measurements, gum wrappers, old wiring diagrams, & my wallet.

LAST NIGHT: While filling up the outside wood furnace, I step on the hoe and it flies up and whacks me, I mumble at it. A moment later I step on it again with similiar results, and set it aside. Before I knew what hit me, I was attacked the third time, and finally it "hit me" that I should put it in exile far beyond it's effective striking range.

TONIGHT: While driving home I am coming fast down a hill with a truck tailgaiting me, I have to make a sharp left turn at the very bottom. So what else would I do, but crank down my left window as a signal that I was about to make a turn. I'm just glad that I didn't have to turn right! That could of been tricky, and what if I didn't get that window down in time? He would of NEVER known that I was making a turn. Disasterous!! Phew, was I lucky....

And I have noticed lately, that as I play my guitar in the evening I have been starting out playing one song and ending on another. Some very interesting medelys have come about. I am especially impressed when I change not only songs, but keys so seamlessly that I have no idea what happened. My skills must be improving!? I don't know what is going on with me, most weeks aren't this good! And it's only wednesday.....

My little sister?

Fuzzy head, excessive facial hair, and a big funny looking nose, I know what your thinking, " Its gotta be some relative of Teddy's." But she aint no kin on mine, blood relation at least ;) This goofy looking ball of whitish fluff is my mothers poodle Natalie. She also answers to doodle bug, pom-pom head, fuzzy wuzzy, but generally just "Hey Poodle!" Pretty much anything that has to do with fluff, or rhymes with poodle.

So by now you are wondering why I am rambling on about something that only the very boredest of you might care about, well... The night after taking this picture, I lay awake until at least 2:30 thinking about this big cotton wad, and all of the little adventures we have had together. Needless to say, I was too busy laughing to sleep. So if ya don't mind, I think I'm gonna share just a couple.

As far back as I can remember, I thought that I wanted a dog to take in the woods with me. My problem was that my mother raised Shih-Tzu's, and roaming the forests with a pack of ankle high, longhaired, "woodchucks" with bad attitudes, just didn't fit the romantic picture I had in my head. So I spent years teasing for a big dog, a german shepherd, husky, retriever, lab, anything manly that I could take with me on my expeditions into "the forbidden forests" that I routinely enjoyed trespassing on. So imagine my surprise when I was about 15yrs old, and my parents called me and told me that they got a puppy! I was so excited, I can still see that front door opening (in slow motion) as Natalie comes running across the kitchen floor to me. About half way across, I started to get the suspicion that this might not be the manly dog I put my order in for. Lol "What!? you got a poodle! Why are you doing this to me! I can't go out in public with that!" etc... After much deliberation, and possibly even a few tears, I secured a promise that she would never, ever be given a poodle cut. " The fact of what she truly is, must never leave this room! O.k?" Lol

So now I have fallen in love with her, and we are about ready to head off into the snow covered hills for our first big trek, but there is one problem. Natalie has a habit of running away and being gone for hours before returning home, and if any of you have ever tried to walk a dog on a leash in the woods, you know that invariably if you will pick the left side of the tree they pick the right, and vice versa. So I quickly find the perfect solution. I took a long strip of soft leather, and hobbled her front legs together and we were off! So now instead of little woodchucks, I have a big floppy eared, cropped tailed, white rabbit hopping happily behind me as I explore. That worked wonderful, until her hairy feet collected big snow balls that froze to her fur. So from then on she wore 2 pairs of my socks, held on with rubber bands, and her hobbles. It was just like I had always imagined! I finally had my manly woods dog! Lol ;)

Just a couple of years down the road, and I am working on an OOLD fashioned farm that lies exactly 5 miles away. I was much more full of energy than I could ever hope to be again, and I loved to run. So I would get up bright and early every morning run to work, work a long hard day, and run home, and most days never think anything of it. Weekend would come, and with no place I had to run to, I would go out for an even longer run just for the fun of it. Well one day, I decided that Natalie might like to go with me. So we take off and she is dragging me for quite a while, of course I enjoy it because it gives me a challenge to keep up with her. well a few more miles into it, we are keeping pretty good time with each other, and we keep going. (probably both panting with our tongues out. :) At what I figured up was about 8 miles, Natalie puts on the brakes and collapses in exhaustion. I am kind of smug and proud of myself at this point, that I won the race, so I start to walk back towards home and she is too tired to stand, let alone walk. So I put her up on my shoulders and head home, probably looking for all the vehicles passing by like a shepherd heading home with his little lost lamb. A while down the road she starts getting restless up there, so I put her down and let her walk. Half way home, we are passing this house and I see it has a big black dog in front of it. I walk a little more quitely, Natalie fully recuperated by this time, starts barking and growling and tugging on her leash. The black dog, sees us and takes off running at full speed not looking one bit happy to see us. He is gaining ground, more than half way to us now, and my loud mouthed lamb starts to think twice about what she started and she literally jumps into my arms!!! Lol you should of seen it, here I am holding this big fluffy whimpy poodle up as high above my head as I could, as that dog is barking and growling at us standing just a few feet away. Luckily the woman who owns him was in their garage and came rushing out to save us, after apologies were exchanged we set back off for home. A short ways down the road I tried to set her down, but she was very sure by this point that she was going to ride out the rest of this horrible trip I forced her to go on with me. Lol

This is only the beginning, but it is sufficient to say that I have come to appreciate that clown regardless of breed. ;) She absolutely loves to stand up and wrap her fluffy little arms around my waist and give me a "poodle hug" while I rub her soft curly little head, and it has become a ritual that is expected of me every time I am leaving, or coming home. If I forget to, I am not easily forgiven. Lol So much for a manly dog, I wonder how huskys feel about hugging?

Do you pick up wet and smelly hitchhikers?

9:00 tonight, it is wet and cold. We are through half of my mothers almost 6 hr. paper route. A commonly eventful weekly routine that has been going on for the last 24 yrs. I must admit that I do enjoy it far more than is considered normal by most anybody who has experienced it.
So on this back country road we glimpse 2 dark shadows coming our way through an open field. We pass by and then my mother has a thought, could it be we have had the good fortune of running into the latest talk of the town? The runaways with the price on their heads, a bounty of $2500 why that could buy a small economic used car with minimal rust, or even almost pay for my trucks fuel for an entire month! Wow, we are going back! So we do, and much to my surprise it is true. Two black labs looking lost and lonely, my next thoughts are what if they run? I quickly decide that anything worth that much hasn't a chance of escaping me. I don't have anything that important planned for tomorrow anyways! So my mother opens her door and calls "here doggy, doggy" as my adrenaline builds and muscles tense for the glorious chase. Very much to my surprise, they dive in over her and the youngest looking aromatic prodigals pooch takes up residence on my lap. I cant believe it! That was way too easy, (O.K. whats the catch huh, I ask my self.) We begin to go over what we can remember of the "Wanted Poster" we had just seen an hour ago posted on the gas stations wall. 2 black labs, "Dock", and "Wyatt", one with a red collar and the other with a blue, both tagged. So here is where our dreams begin to fade, lol. Wrong color collars and no tags, ut oh... Do you think that their real owners will miss them I ask, maybe they will put out an even bigger reward? Lol no I didn't say that, but we did decide that It wasn't worth the chance. Especially when two cars went slowly by, Probably wondering why their dogs were hijacking our car. So after much deep deliberation we decide to let them go with a warning, my mother opens her door once more and the longer haired wanderer steps back out into the rainy night. My new aquaintance has settled in and has other thoughts. " You have to go now." (no thats alright I was heading this way anyways.) "Come on now I am done with you, get out." (do you know how much I'm worth! Come on just take me home, you wont regret it, etc, etc...) So after much wrestling and clawing I manage to throw him in the back seat from which we opened the door and he begrudgently joins his much more sobber traveling companion. To be truthful, I did not want nor ever intend to accept the reward, but it did make a much more interesting story though didn't it.?! We were still a little bit concerned that we had re-lost somebodies dogs, so we hunted down the number on the posters and called the family of the "truly" lost labs to confirm that we had indeed made the correct decision. I feel relieved of that much, but I am sure that our 2 impersonaters are still just a little bit perturbed to be exile from the once dry car. The moral of this story, please don't pick up hitchhikers no matter how innocent and cold they may look. You just never know how hard you will have to work to get them back out again. Lol "IT BE TRUE I TELL YA!!"