Monday, November 23, 2015

Where's the Nickel?

Do You Ever See Nickels Anymore?

In fact do you ever see change anymore, you know
that loose stuff in your pockets...... the jingling stuff.
They used to talk about pockets that jingle.
 I recall an old song
.....I wish I were single again
Cause when I was single
My pockets did jingle
Oh, I wish I were single again

You might also hear, "He doesn't have 2 nickels to rub
together." That always confused me. Why would you
rub 2 coins together? Rub, rub, rub.

I think that one meant they were poor....most likely it
came from the depression when everyone was poor
 but a nickel could buy a couple of carrots, a
potato and an onion for a stew. Hobo stew, it was
called could go to the nickelodeon.
Duh, guess how much it cost.

And in place of a "good-by" someone might say,
"don't take any wooden nickels."
hmmmmm  what meaning?  Maybe lookout for
scammers or don't accept a worthless token. ???
Beats me.

Restaurants and many public places that had a
rest room had nickel coin boxes outside of the
stalls. Women (in the days when there was a
division between men and women) would write
on the inside of the stalls. I recall one duezy......
Here I sit all broken hearted
Paid 5 cents and only farted

(I could never bring myself to use that word.
Proves I'm not a Lady anymore, Blue. Now
I've earned the title "Broad". )

Buffalo nickels, that's the name. There used to
be a lot of Native Americans and their symbols
on the coins.

War Nickels...... I remember the name but I had
to look this up. They were minted from 1941 to
1945 and have a large P over the building
(Monticello) on the back. Find one.

That's all I remember about nickels. Here's a useless
bit of information about the amount of silver in coins.

Dimes, quarters, half dollars or dollars, dated 1964
or earlier are 90% silver.

But half dollars dated 1965--1970 contain only
40% silver.
Don't take any wooden credit cards. Nyuk, nyuk

Friday, November 20, 2015

Gleanings from an Iconoclast

Political cartoonists have a rare sense of
humor. I love em. 

I know nothing about Kentucky except that I always got
confused if Davy Crockett was from Kentucky or Tennessee.
But I'm sure it is the latter. As for Kentucky, I don't know
 the govenor's name nor anything about him either but this
morning the radio newsman said the Kentucky governor
and his wife had adopted 4 kids from Ethiopia.

Newsman went on to say the Governor wasn't pleased with
this mornings political cartoon which depicted the Governor
hiding under his desk with the caption saying, "Sir, they're
 not terrorists, they're your own adopted kids. "

Iconoclast or not, it made me laugh out loud and it wasn't
a demeaning laugh on Kentucky or it's Governor. It just struck
me funny
If it's funny captions on political cartoons that you're hankering
for, take a hop over to "Penwasser Place" Al's salacious
humor always promises a morning snicker. I guess he recently
got in a little trouble at someone's blog. I didn't see what
it was but I bet it was a good one.

Hey, I'm an old broad. I appreciate a little salacity once in a

Monday, November 16, 2015

Yay for Craig's List

My big old tree........gone.
Here's my tree.
You can see how
the inside is rotted
away and would
withstand very
little wind stress.

I told the tree men
to leave the cut up
pieces by the alley
and neighbors could
help themselves
to fire wood
But, I hadn't
the huge pieces
of the tree trunk. Snow may be visiting us this week and I wanted
the wood gone. Craig's list..... I'll try that. I entered an ad at 10 AM
and the wood was all gone by 2 o'clock.  The first man to call took
every scrap of wood. He came with a big trailer and 2 sons and they
had it loaded in a blink. He estimated some of the large pieces of
trunk weighed up to 300 lbs. But they brought a dolly and the
moving seemed effortless for 3 burly Montana guys.

I'm excited now because my head holds a vision for a new vegetable
garden, as I had given my old garden space to the chickens.

I'm impressed with Craig's List.  List at 10 and gone by 2 and even
on a Sunday.

Have you ever used that much-touted Craig's List?

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

Papercuts and Movie Buffs

Papercuts sting. Every time I get one, I think of an old
movie, "36 Hours," starring James Garner and Eva Marie
Saint. It takes place just prior to D-Day, June 6, 1944.
Garner, an intelligence officer is going over the plans in
a briefing when he gets a paper cut. He does the usual,
comments on it, puts the finger to his mouth and goes
on his way to a secret mission in Lisbon.

There, the Nazi's drug him, capture him, take him to a
phony U.S. Military Hospital, work on his body to make
it appear as if he had aged 6 years. When he awakens,
they tell him it is now 1950 (even with dated newspapers),
that they are in Germany and the allies won the war.
They make him believe he's had amnesia all this time.
Of course, all the workers in the hospital set-up, are
German actors for this elaborate ruse in order to get
Garner to divulge the D-Day date.

At first, Garner completely falls for the perfect charade,
especially when he sees his gray hair and advanced-age
vision but THEN he feels the sting of the PAPERCUT
they missed.

Of course, lots of intrigue and action follows.  I never
get tired of watching this movie but why does it always
come on the tube when I'm extremely busy. I suppose
I could somehow tape it for later but I forgot how to do
that so what the heck, I just drop everything and watch
I love movies. Does that mean I don't have a life?
Maybe. If I see a movie advertised at the Cinemark,
a few blocks away, I toss off my apron, (yes I still
wear aprons) stuff a few bucks in my pocket and
get my movie fix for the day.

Anyone else have that habit?

Thursday, November 5, 2015

When is a Tree Not a Tree?

After a tree is cut down, is it still a
 tree? I'd call it firewood. 
After a shady rock garden no longer
has shade, is it now a sun rock garden?

Dang Sam, I'm losing a big huge tree that shades a large
rock garden AND a portion of my neighbors house.  The
tree was old (next to ancient) some 30 years ago when I
bought this property and now, when the wind blows free,
it sends it's parts, like old bones, crashing to the land. I do
not want to think of deadwood piercing my neighbor's roof.

In 1865, gold was discovered in this area of Montana while
the Civil War was raging in the East. The first man to acquire
this particular chunk of land, ran cattle to supply fresh meat
to the miners.  My house was a log cabin house and my
neighbor's house was the bunkhouse. Years later, when this
land was plotted out to become Helena, the capital of MT,
the log cabin and bunkhouse were grandfathered in and the
block kinda carved around them. My neighbor had built
his house where the bunkhouse stood and that
eventually put his house far in the back of his land and
almost spot-on the lot line dividing our properties.

The old log cabin still stands beneath the added wood siding  of
my simple farmhouse. It was enlarged and an upper floor
added but I can envision the old log cabin when I enter the
cellar with all it's spooky ghosts.

Somewhere along that time, a tree seedling must have
taken root and the shade seemed like a good idea. No one would
ever plant a tree in that precarious spot where the tree is
sandwiched in among high-wires, fences, the alley and the
neighbors house. No, none of those things were there and I
often sit beneath that old tree and can see the cowboys lolly-
gagg'n aroung the bunkhouse after the evening meal, while a
lone harmonica wails out an old haunting tune.

I asked Brady, the treeman, how his crew would get the tree
out of there.

"Very carefully," he replied.
(ummmmm....we'll see)

I do know one thing. I'll get real misty-eyed, along with the birds,
as it's being cut down.

I'm really going to miss that tree, my old friend.

Monday, September 28, 2015

A Kiss in a Cup

Do you ever really listen to the words of songs?
I don't. I'm kinda a beat person and only feel
beats for dancing. When I do my closet-screeching,
the dog howls. I guess it hurts her ears,
poor thing.

One of my morning favorites is "Drink to me
Only With Thine Eyes," an old English troubadorian
ballad from "Song to Celia." I wonder why troubadours
gave up the Trubing business. They could add a
nice contrast to some of today's raucous music.
Can you imagine Troubadours in Montana?

1. Drink to me only with thine eyes and I will pledge
with mine. 
   The burned out bull-rider at the end of the bar,
watches the glassy-eye, hotsy-totsy rodeo queen
hoist her mug of Buds. "She's the one," he thinks.

2. Or leave a kiss within the cup and I'll not ask for
    Did she just lick the mug or was that a kiss, as
she glanced in his direction and no one drinks wine
in a cowboy bar. 

3. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, doth ask
a drink divine.
    "She's so beautiful, " thinks the bull rider, "if I
buy her a beer, I wonder if she'll take a ride in my pickup.

4. But might I of Joves nector sup,  I would not 
change for thine.
    "Oh what the hell, it's late so I'll just take mah
roady, get my Border Collie and head back to the

And life goes on in Montana.


Tuesday, September 22, 2015


Old age is the time for reflection or so we're lead to
believe.  Certain truths smack us right in the face,
usually kicked off by thoughtless remarks of our

My first truth is that our kids don't have a clue as
to who we really are or that we had a vibrant life
before they took that first gulp of oxygen. Often
 kid's remarks stop us dead in our tracks and we
think, "Why try to explain?  They won't get it."

For instance, child #3 (with all her fancy education) 
said to me, "You never went to college but you
don't talk like a hill-billy."  I opened my mouth
but was too stunned to reply so I let it go.

Were my kids really THAT self centered and
preoccupied NOT to notice that I took college
courses every chance I could get, for ten years?
They probably never did notice because my classes
were evenings and day time while they were in school.

I never intended to get a was knowledge
I was seeking. I doubt if young people today would
understand that. When I was advised to choose a
major, it always changed. English, psychology, horticulture...
but no hill-billy talk.

The whole economy was different and wives were not
expected to work. In fact, I never wanted to work outside
 the home, I just wanted to be aware of what was going
on out there.  I loved my life as wife and mother although
now I realize I must have looked to my kids, like the
boring, shades of gray, home-maker.  We were all June
Cleaver's back then.

Should I have tried to explain to my daughter? Would
she understand?  I don't know. What do you think?