tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-48175287806742246992024-03-24T15:54:52.618-07:00NANSENSE by Nancy K. KincaidI'm passionate about Life, Liberty, Justice and Common
Sense.Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.comBlogger758125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-90062908495569124142024-03-18T08:02:00.000-07:002024-03-18T08:02:47.361-07:00"Look it up."<p> Intelligence could possibly be measured by how many times a day one refers to "GOOGLE". Years ago, the Webster's Collegiate Dictionary and the World Book Encyclopedia, held all the general knowledge any one ever needed. Today, we have it all, at a simple click of a mouse!</p><p>Recently, the name Chouteau was dropped in a simple dining table discussion. I knew a tiny bit about Auguste Chouteau (his first name for instance) and the fact that he had been involved in the fur trading business along the Missouri River. But, my interested was piqued. </p><p>Auguste Chouteau was born in 1749, in New Orleans. His mother, along with Pierre LaClede, moved the family up the Mississippi River. Chouteau and Laclede (Laclede County, Laclede's Landing,etc.) are considered the co-founders of St. Louis. Chouteau organized trade with the Osage Indians, along the Missouri and amassed great power and wealth within the region. After the Louisiana Territory was purchased by the US, he became one of the first Judges of the region. He died in 1829.</p><p>Lots of items, all over the state of Missouri are named for Chouteau....streets, schools, bridges, buildings, counties, clubs. Actually it's about the only French word, "Missourahns" pronounce correctly. Now thanks to a quick search on the Internet, you, informed reader, know all about him.</p><p>Here's a quote to think about......<i>"there are two types of families. 1. Those who need a dictionary to get through dinner 2. Those who don't." Pausch </i></p><p>Never stop learning.</p><p>........................................................................................................................................................................</p><p>All Knowing and Powerful God. You have given us free will to knowledge and truth. Teach us to use it wisely, for the good of the all.<br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-22198350232949211762024-03-17T07:39:00.000-07:002024-03-17T07:39:18.808-07:00News from Hollywood<p> I haven't been to an actual movie theater in years, but that doesn't mean I am not a fan of the cinema. No longer do I park myself in front of the TV, as I once did, eager to watch the unfolding annual Oscar Extravaganza. I just figure, one of these days I will see the movies, maybe on cable or something, that have been just released. I'll just wait until all of the hype mellows a bit. <br /></p><p>I did get a chance to see one 2023 released movie, via a small screen airplane viewer. Trapped, and buckled in my skinny seat, I sat through the whole thing. Maybe, I missed the point (if it had one), but, frankly, I thought it was really dumb.</p><p>Last night, we happened across a really old thriller "Woman of Straw". The cast looked good, and we decided to give it a try. Excellent. Produced in 1964, and set in a Downton Abby-type country home, Ralph Richardson and Sean Connery fit the parts they played, nasty old man and his debonair nephew. But, surprise, surprise, I would have awarded a Best Actress Oscar to Gina Lollobrigida, for playing the title roll. At the time, she was just a pretty face and a gorgeous body. Who knew that woman could act?</p><p>Some movies, like wine improve with age. Maybe there is hope for "The Barbie Movie"?</p><p>......................................................................................................................................................................... <br /></p><p>Dear Lord. We are blessed by many things. Sometimes we fail to see the forest for the trees. Blessings come in all sorts of packages, often as surprise.<br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-31719738604064632352024-03-14T16:50:00.000-07:002024-03-15T05:36:32.918-07:00Gesundheit<p> The last time that I had a rip-roaring, slug down both the DayQuil and NyQuil Cold Medicines, was way before the advent of COVID. I mean, weren't we all so worried about getting Covid, that we didn't worry about having a simple old cold?</p><p>Last week, when I began to feel a heaviness in my head, throat and chest, I was puzzled for a moment. What was happening to me? Within 24 hours, I developed a hacking cough, sore throat, headache and the normal surliness that goes along with the common cold. Now, almost a week later, I feel like I will recover sooner than later. Maybe a couple of more days and I'll be good as new.</p><p> I don't know where I caught this bug, but my wise daughter is convinced that my cold was caused by stress. More likely, someone sneezed on me. Whatever the reason, as I stumbled through this thing, I realized that help is there, friends and family, when you really need them. I was reminded that our lives are not meant to be perfect, we have to adapt to our situation and tomorrow is another day.</p><p>I would try to think of a few more appropriate adages, to close this post, but, I need to take my NyQuil and hit the sack.</p><p>..........................................................................................................................................................................</p><p>GOOD LORD; Thank you for answering our prayers.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-8889736779066375372024-03-01T14:48:00.000-08:002024-03-01T14:48:33.954-08:00Give me a "K"<p>I'm moving. For the past 45 years, my ranch style house has been my one and only home. I have enjoyed living there, but I am headed to a new place, in another part of town. Actually, in another state, but still in the metropolitan area. I'm headed back to my home state.</p><p>In spite of being the "Lyric Queen of the Universe" I know only two songs with Missouri, in the title or in the lyrics. "Shenandoah" happens to be one of them. The words repeat in every verse, "across the wide Missouri." Actually, the Missouri River is wide, but it can better be described at very muddy and extremely fast moving. The other is the "Missouri Waltz", played reluctantly by Harry Truman, every time he happened to walk in a room that contained a piano. Apparently, it was not his favorite tune.</p><p>But, I am moving "Back to Kansas, where the great big Sunflowers grow". I will always be "A Sunflower from the Sunflower State". After all, I graduated from Kansas University and "I'm a "Jay, Jay, Jay, Jay, Jayhawk from up at Lawrence on the Kaw". And one of my favorite songs (please have it played at my memorial service) is the Kansas State Song, "Home on the Range". </p><p>Who doesn't appreciate "Atchison, Topeka and the Santa Fe" (Kansas towns)? And we have all listened to songs by the group, Kansas (They are from Topeka, by the way.). Kansas is more than a "Flyover State", and how about " Wichita Lineman" by Glen Campbell?</p><p>Anyway, I am excited to going "Back to Kansas". I have plenty to sing about.</p><p> ............................................................................</p><p>Thank you, Lord, for showing us new paths along our life's journeys.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-17855918930815589132024-02-23T04:12:00.000-08:002024-02-23T04:12:26.653-08:00EXTRA, EXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT<p>The Headline read "US Craft lands on the Moon" The photo, under it, looked like a pile of jumbled and twisted cords and rods. My un-scientific mind told me, "WOW, that's someone's crochet project. Why is it on the Moon?" Duh. It took me a moment to realize that "craft" meant spacecraft!</p><p>But, oh my, the possibilities. Piles and piles of twisted and snarled yarn stash, dumped on the moon's surface. Every crochet addict has a "stash" of yarn. Lots of yarn. Skeins purchased and unused, as yet. Holiday colors for a toddler's hat and scarf (only, the toddler started high school last fall). Pounds of short scraps and tiny balls of leftover yarn, in numerous drawers, all over the house. Just imagine, a corner-to-corner Afghan draped over the remains of the lunar module. Or a colorful granny square blanket on the lunar surface, awaiting the arrival of the next generation of Neil Armstrongs!!!!It's a cozy and warm picture.</p><p>Then, there are the crochet hooks. I have dozens of those little rods. Teeny, tiny thin ones and big fat thumb-thick ones. I buy them, lose them in under chair cushions, and buy more. An assortment is essential for my many projects. </p><p>Obviously I am an avid, long-time yarn-crafter, and I am, you may be thinking, in need of a bit of rest and relaxation. "Poor old lady. She's gone off the deep end." But, crafting is one way I relax. Crocheting is best done while watching TV. I am able to crochet while riding in a car or traveling by plane. My stitches are mostly even, when I crochet in the dark. And, most important, it's really not possible to snack, while crocheting, because both of my hands are occupied!. </p><p>If I were to travel to the Moon, I would be taking along my latest crochet project. I'd work on it while traveling through space, and perhaps have it completed and ready to use, by the time I arrived. Actually, I think I will offer my services to the Space Corps or NASA, as a craft instructor for the astronauts!!!</p><p> .......................................</p><p>Dear Lord, help us to focus on the joys of life. Troubles will always find us, but our blessings will always outnumber our sorrows. Be our guide and protector as we travel through this life.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-26818398632184507582024-02-20T03:47:00.000-08:002024-02-20T09:25:01.190-08:00Pride and Prejudice/Hop on Pop<p>I've been thinking a lot about books lately. I love to read, but I am not an accumulator of books. Oh yes, I have owned my share of books, but I don't really "collect" them. At least not hundreds of them.</p><p>Everyone should own some favorite printed books, touch them, reread them, keep and enjoy them. However, hoarding of books should definitely be discouraged. Large quantities of books are called libraries, and they are generally found in schools, corporations, or public buildings specifically designed to house such collections. Andrew Carnegie (1835-1919) built many of these Public Libraries. Such buildings have sprinkler systems to protect their highly flammable volumes. Large libraries are not meant to be kept in your large closets or in your spare bedrooms or attics. That's too much paper in one place. Folks, keeping thousands of books in your bedroom closet or in your attic, however big those spaces might be, is a fire hazard. Don't do it.</p><p>I'm not even going to mention, the smell of musty dusty volumes. let's just say, that they can be a health hazard. Public libraries have solutions for that, also. </p><p>Lending Libraries have been around for over 200 years. Also, electronic books, like Kindles, tablets or even PCs, give readers a personal "ownership" of written material and take up a teeny tiny bit of space. On these tools, you can even enlarge or reduce the size of the print to suit your personal eyesight. You may have a whole library, in one small, even hand-held space. </p><p>Holding onto books that you will never, ever read again, isn't practical. Knowledge is not determined by the number of books that you have read or own. Knowledge is how you put the words that you have read, to use. Step into the 21st Century and keep reading. But do it sensibly. </p><p> ..................................</p><p>Dear Lord. Thank you for giving us an occasional "wake-up" call. Knowlege is a Gift of the Spirit. Help us to seek it. Wisdom is also a Gift. Remind us to use knowledge wisely.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-64966639040726506602024-02-06T02:47:00.000-08:002024-02-09T05:18:54.241-08:00Fluffy, Spot and Chomper<p> I don't have any pets, and I haven't had any in a very long time. It's not that I don't like animals, and I truly wouldn't mind caring for a small dog or fish or something, someday. If you ask me, I would probably dog-sit for your fur babies. But actually, at this stage of my life, I'm having a hard enough taking care of me, myself and I. Presently, the three of us are struggling. </p><p>In childhood I had, if I remember correctly, maybe one cat and one dog (at different times), and I can't even recall their names. As an adult, our family had only one cat (we found out we were all allergic to felines) and three long-lived, fairly well behaved, large dogs. Normal, I thought.</p><p>Well, maybe not so much. I have a friend who is crazy about bats. I don't know if she has any pet bats, but she often posts pictures of them, on Facebook. And, then I have another friend, who just adopted two tiny bulldog puppies. Two. And, I am so glad she got them. Judging by the photos she has posted on the Net, I was worried that she would become the mother of an orangutan!!</p><p>But the pet owner, of all times, is yet another friend, whom I have known from childhood. He has had, over his lifetime, an owl, goats, ducks, cats, dogs, dozens of fish, a turtle or two and, believe it or not, an alligator. That's an abbreviated list. I'm not going to list all of the pets his children had, but I do recall that his sister had a pony and his father had a pet monkey!.</p><p>Having a furry or scaley pet, is a necessity for some folks. I will appreciate and honor anyone's pet choices. I'd love to have a chance to meet all of them.......at your place.</p><p> ..........................................</p><p>All powerful God. Thank you for giving us people and animals to love and care for. Teach us to appreciate all of your creations.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-74772588126370427542024-02-02T14:20:00.000-08:002024-02-02T14:20:01.622-08:00"Stop and Consider......."<p> I am blessed to live in a really nice house. My large kitchen window and a slightly smaller one, over my sink, face East. I can, although I rarely take the time to do it, observe the morning sunrise, from either spot. And, when I have seen the Sun coming up, I have noticed that it is often colorful and interesting. But, mostly I just simply drink my morning coffee, start my day and the Sun just rises, without me bothering to notice.</p><p>But, oh my, I can now compare my common place, Kansas City sunrise, to 16 days of Caribbean sunrises, and honestly, I'm not sure it is the same Sun! Near the Equator, the glowing orange/red ball, which slowly emerges from the deep blue, watery horizon each morning, cannot be the same Sun, that comes peeking over the Worlds of Fun water tower, from my kitchen window. </p><p>Each Caribbean sunrise was stunning and unique. Sometimes a perfect sphere would just pop up, and other mornings, for four or five minutes a warm orange glow would light the entire horizon, before a dazzling globe would appear. </p><p>On several mornings the rays, from the rising Sun, would make a perfect hourglass shape, shining above and before the big ball. Other days, the Sun would peek out from low clusters of clouds, just giving everything a shiny silver lining, in anticipation for a last-minute burst of sunlight.</p><p>Every morning the sunrise was a wow....a TEN. </p><p>Take the time to enjoy the Sunrise. Take time to smell the flowers. We are all too busy. We are planning for tomorrow, next week, next year. But, sincerely, all we really have is the present. Take time to enjoy it. Today is a blessing.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-61110860571939925502024-01-11T05:31:00.000-08:002024-02-06T02:48:31.571-08:00"Do You Want To Build A Snowman?"<p>We are nearing the end of the second week of the New Year. As statistics go, we are currently averaging one snow fall a week. Our first snowstorm, of the year, was minor. By that I mean, there was snow covering the ground, but nothing sticking to our miles and miles of city streets. However, the second storm was a big whoop!</p><p>Snowplows, sand and salt on the streets, car crashes, multi vehicle pile-ups and below freezing temperatures. I just saw a photo of a car stuck in a creek, in my neighborhood. It was a major snowfall, for sure. Hundreds of businesses and homes are currently without electricity, due to heavy snow on elevated wires. As I type, another major drop in temperature and multiple inches of snow are due, in a little over 24 hours. That new storm is going to mess up our "once-a-week average".</p><p>But. look folks. It's winter. We live in the Midwest, for gosh sakes. None of this weather should be a surprise. My best advice, as a seasoned weather survivor, is to just "RELAX". Hunker down for a day or so, if you can. Don't go anyplace. Frankly, one day of staying home, won't hurt anyone. Cancel your appointments and your scheduled lunch with a friend. Pull some mystery meat out of the freezer, warm it up and eat it. Step outside and build a snowman.</p><p>Snow melts. Spring is just a couple of months away. </p><p>Just let it go. Take a snow day. </p><p> ..............................................................</p><p>Good and great God. Weather is part of Your plan. Worry doesn't help. Snow and ice do not melt with worry. We are in Your hands.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-49293924471495203642024-01-03T06:21:00.000-08:002024-01-03T09:21:08.998-08:00Silence is Golden<p> Seriously, I had the best visit to my closest Chain Pharmacy, yesterday afternoon. The parking lot was pretty crowded, perhaps because of the closing of the Chain Pharmacy store, that was much closer to me. I didn't mind the extra drive, and apparently a whole lot of other people are reacting in the same way.</p><p>The store was crowded. I found what I wanted and spent a little more time just trolling the aisles. There were a few "after Christmas" sales, that caught my eye. However, I resisted all of the un-sold chocolate and holiday paper goods. I told myself that I had enough Christmas stuff and buying anything, just because it's on sale, is not prudent. Then, I made my way to the Check-Out area. The lines in front of the two clerks were pretty long, so I opted for one of the two Self-Checkout stations. No lines there.</p><p>The Self-Checkout Machine and I are fairly close. I've interacted with her (I believe it identifies as a female), or her cousin machines, at a whole lot of stores. Sometimes I get a bit agitated when we chat. She is, in my opinion, way too cheeky in her demands. And, sometimes she makes me repeat my scans or tap my card several times. I'm often not quick enough for her! Last night, our silent exchange was civil and without incident. I silently thanked her for her service, gathered up my self-packed bags and left the store.</p><p>I have to admit that I did miss the personal human contact, last night. I missed saying Happy New Year, to a clerk. I really enjoy talking, you know. However, that was remedied when I got into the car and turned on the radio. Singing along with Patsy Cline's, "After Midnight" CD (it's my favorite), can lift a girl's mood, anytime.</p><p> ...................................................................................</p><p>Dear Lord, Thank you for this beautiful new year. We have so many blessings.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-46194527745659087642024-01-01T16:41:00.000-08:002024-01-01T16:41:24.457-08:00Hey You Guys<p> I think that most folks have a personal DOAT (Dumbest of all time) word. Mine happens to be, the four-letter word used by, according to my annoyance level, more than any other word in the English Language. </p><p>This word appears in speech, every time a person addresses a group of people. It can be prefaced by the word "you" or not. In former times this word was used in the presence of a crowd of men only. Now, and that's what annoys me the most, it is used for mixed company or even when addressing a group of folks who identify as female. </p><p>Sometimes, I find myself using it. When that happens, I almost always gag and apologize. Seriously, I think it's use is common and rude.</p><p>This four-letter word, sometimes preceded by YOU, is the group word, GUYS. When did we commonly start referring to a group of men and women, or just women, as guys? Where are the flaming liberals on this one? Guys has always been gender specific. While we have been pushing the use of gender-free pronouns, we've pumped up the use of the word GUYS. </p><p>I am not a GUY. I have never been a GUY. And, I do not want to be addressed as a GUY, anymore that I want to be called a Gentlemen or MAN (which we old folks were once taught to mean....humankind.) </p><p>I want it stopped. It's not that hard to use "Ladies and Gentlemen", folks, attendees, participants, guests, students, or whatever group-word is appropriate. Heck, you could even say "Good Morning Humanity". Furthermore, if you are caught up in the LGBTQ-plus movement, the word GUY, should be offensive. 50% percent of the people in this world do not have penises. Give us some credit!!</p><p> ...................................................</p><p>Dear Lord. A whole bunch of your folks have causes. Humans care and we strive to be heard. Remind us of the purpose of life. Remind us to do your will, to be kind and above all to be aware of all God's creatures.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-56400629823415145442023-12-28T12:23:00.000-08:002024-01-01T15:57:45.772-08:00Happy New Year????<p>Well, how about this for a downer? Someone just sent me an opportunity to join a new group.........It was called, "EVERYTHING Vintage and Shabby". Who sent me this?? Were they hinting at something? Oh, My Golly. </p><p>I ran to the full-length mirror. Standing there, I checked out the reflection. Yes, I think I would agree with vintage. After all, the calendar and the mirror, don't lie. Mid-seventy doesn't resemble mid-forty, does it? But shabby, not so much. Only about half of my wardrobe, I estimated, is showing a bit of wear.</p><p>Time for a change. Beginning today, I am going to start a major overhaul of my personal clothing collection. I am going to eliminate any possibility of shabby.</p><p> <span> </span>#1. Anything bought before 2000, has to go. (that's 24 years old folks) Anything that old just <span> smacks of</span> VINTAGE, which is a Fancy Nancy word for OLD.</p><p><span> </span><span> </span>#2. Greys and blacks are probably not the most attractive colors for seniors. If I can't jazz it up with <span> </span>Red or Hot Pink, it's gone. Anything that screams dull, just doesn't work. Dull is absolutely SHABBY.</p><p><span> </span><span> </span>#3. If I haven't worn an article in 5 years.......OUT. (And that goes for shoes, too.)</p><p>It's a New Year, and instead of old and drab, I'm aiming for Mature and Marvelous. Or how about Elderly and Elegant? Do any of my readers want to join my new group......"Seventies.... Sensational and Savy!</p><p> ...................................................</p><p>Dear God. Faith is necessary for a complete life. Change is inevitable. You are our Constant.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-70955222027344397172023-12-12T07:18:00.000-08:002023-12-12T07:20:47.268-08:00"Caroling, Caroling Through the Snow"<p> "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year", or so the song goes. It's that time of year, when I expound on Christmas tunes. I've written before about my unmarketable talent for recalling song lyrics, and of course Christmas Song Lyrics are some of my favorites. I've gone on and on about how I dislike anyone singing any version of "O Holy Night" and that my favorite Christmas Song is "Here comes Santa Claus". Especially, when it's sung by one of my childhood heroes, Gene Autry, the Singing Cowboy. </p><p>This year however, I'd like to focus on mis-quoted or humorous interpretations of these classic songs. The Internet is great for this kind of thing. Yesterday, someone sent me a photo of one lonely reindeer peering out over a fence, at hundreds of other frolicking reindeer. The caption read, "Proof that Rudolph was not allowed to join in any reindeer games." Then, I received another picture of a bowl of tater tots, each sporting neon green alien eyes. "Tiny tots with their eyes all a glow, will find it hard to EAT tonight." I laughed. </p><p>Well really. Who can remember all of the 12 days of Christmas Gifts? And, just who would want to receive any of them, anyway? Birds are downright messy. I'd like a show of hands for every high school holiday band concert you've attended, where the cracking whip sound in "Sleigh Ride" was played on the right beat! Did Frosty really have a "broom stuck in his head"??</p><p>So folks, whether you sing "round yon Virgin" or "Round John Virgin", or belt out "Up on the housetop, reindeer PAWS or pause", just remember to have a very happy Christmas and a joyous holiday season.</p><p> .........................................</p><p>Lord you are the reason for this season. Let us all be in the spirit of joyfully giving and graciously receiving. Remind us to sing a little.</p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-72772652086994226032023-12-05T05:40:00.000-08:002023-12-05T05:40:35.724-08:00Winners??????<p> I am a proud graduate of the University of Kansas. I follow Jayhawk Basketball, fairly closely. Kansas has been a winner, on the court, for ages. After all, James Naismith, the inventor of the game, taught and coached at Kansas for decades. Kansas Football Teams have been much less successful. Since the early 1970s, they have rarely had a winning season. </p><p>Recently, things have been looking up for the Hawks. I mean, they have actually won some games. They finished their 2023 regular season with 8 wins and 4 losses. Definitely an improvement, but not spectacular, in my opinion. </p><p>Now, imagine my surprise when I heard, via radio, that in spite of such a mediocre record, the Jayhawks are scheduled to play in a College Bowl Game. The school will be in the post-season "Big Time", along with long-time rivals, K-State (8-4) and Mizzou (10-2)</p><p>With that snippet of knowledge, I decided to do a bit of Bowl Research. After all, I have, in past years watched parts of the Sugar, Rose and Cotton Bowls. Those bowls have been around, forever. This year, there will be approximately 20 major Bowl Games. They'll be played from December 16th to January 8th. And, yes, you can have a losing season and play in a Bowl Game. Do the math, folks. You have to have 40 teams, to play in 20 games. Some of them are bound to be losers!</p><p>All modern era Bowl Games include the name of the "big money" sponsor, in their titles. Kansas State will not play in the Tony the Tiger Bowl, but instead will play in the Pop Tarts Bowl. Kansas will play, December 26th, in the Guaranteed Rate Bowl and Mizzou will play in the Goodyear Cotton Bowl, not the Cheeze It Bowl. The other bowl games include the Chick fil a Bowl, the Isleta Bowl, the Famous Toastery Bowl, and the Scooter's Coffee Bowl.</p><p>That's the truth, folks. Congratulations to all the teams. I hope all of the players get free samples.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiP_eX8FGp-Godn1B8FQJHhEMc_Dp5XuC0NBQZ1Iw7wp7hh4vu7f2qyg7wpWn-JENmA8dE2oEQf5Yw7MOJtB4TDXAMmYGAqucaPJ0x9JBqrahsohpDykzIKPP3FgktcTQOXqAjW_W6xitIR6yn5XMTVn7RY1PBvAIUC7yGZdSgtjuM3S5Z6coCeVNqCjw/s123/Jayhawk.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="106" data-original-width="123" height="106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyiP_eX8FGp-Godn1B8FQJHhEMc_Dp5XuC0NBQZ1Iw7wp7hh4vu7f2qyg7wpWn-JENmA8dE2oEQf5Yw7MOJtB4TDXAMmYGAqucaPJ0x9JBqrahsohpDykzIKPP3FgktcTQOXqAjW_W6xitIR6yn5XMTVn7RY1PBvAIUC7yGZdSgtjuM3S5Z6coCeVNqCjw/s1600/Jayhawk.gif" width="123" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p> ............................................................</p><p>Lord. Show us the humor in our life's journey. Bring peace to our souls. Be our strength and our salvation.</p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-32186165461004958902023-11-18T05:36:00.000-08:002024-01-01T16:42:59.933-08:00I'll be with you, Shortly.<p>As I look up at them, I often amuse folks by telling them about a mistaken belief of mine. Well into my adult years, I thought I was a tall person. After all, in school pictures, sometimes I was on the second row. Many of my classmates were much shorter than me. No one teased me about being a shorty. Adults, by the time I was around 14, looked me in the eye.</p><p>When I left my hometown, I realized the truth. I was vertically challenged. Because no one, from where I was reared, was tall. Most of my classmates, if they were Southeast Kansans, born and bred, with first generation American parents, were the grandsons and granddaughters of European coal miners. Deep shaft mines were abundant in that area, and miners tended to be on the shorter side. Therefore, with the exception of a few outsiders, we were all a bunch of shorties. </p><p>Well, five foot, two inches isn't tall. I soon learned that. However, being short does have its advantages. I can easily reach down and pick up dropped stuff. I'm good at finding lost articles, stored away on bottom shelves. Short people are great at tying shoelaces, their own and those of others. Decorating the lower branches of Christmas Trees, has always been my specialty. Tall people are normally eager to reach high things, for me. Crawling on my hands and knees is easy, getting up, not so much.</p><p>I do, unfortunately have a couple of very tall, cheeky friends who make a habit of resting their elbows on my head. Just part of the "short people" experience. As Popeye always said, "I am what I am. and that's all that I am." Some things can't be changed.</p><p> .............................................................................................................</p><p>Lord, I am thankful for who and whose I am. I will strive to be the best person I can be, within a few physical limitations. I am blessed. You are my strength.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-64736578625136980892023-11-16T14:27:00.000-08:002023-11-16T14:27:12.173-08:00Three Feet in a Yard<p>There is a terribly funny, Saturday Night Live Sketch about the Founding Fathers of the United States and how they set up "OUR" system of measurement, versus the way the rest of the world measures stuff. I particularly remember the George Washington character relating how logically all of our numbered distances were, especially the fact that there are 5,280 feet in a mile. That number was chosen, he related, because it was such an easy number to remember. How bizarre is that?????</p><p>Now, frankly, I have never understood math. Well, I can add, subtract, multiply and work long division. Not easily, in my head, but I can do it. I taught elementary school, for goodness sakes. I can also tell time, both on an analog clock and a digital device. So, imagine my surprise when I got a text telling me to report to the local hospital for tests at 15:00 and 16:00. Military Time for goodness sake!</p><p>I have never saluted anyone. I couldn't tell you who has more stripes, a Private or a Corporal. I can't tell time using the Military System. Who do they think I am?????</p><p>Praise the Lord, for the Internet. You can have almost any question answered. The Internet explains obscure knowledge. If my research is correct, I have one appointment at 3, and another at 4 p.m. Easy Peasy. The next thing I plan to conquer is a Sun Dial. </p><p> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>..................................................................</p><p>Great God: Our knowledge is limited. Help us have the sense to ask for Your help when we need it. Life is too hard to do it by ourselves. </p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-43805679446393774012023-11-10T05:30:00.002-08:002023-11-13T13:09:54.290-08:00The Wintle Boys<p> Before the turn of the last Century, when almost everything in this country was fueled by coal, miners from around the world flocked to the mines of Southeast Kansas. My grandfather, Walter Wintle, a seventeen-year-old English miner, came to America, landing at Castle Garden, NY, in June of 1882. He was accompanied by his father and a brother.</p><p>Walter married Jennie Stanley, who had arrived in Kansas, by covered wagon. They produced seven sons and one daughter. The "boys" as they were called, were a gregarious bunch, close in age, and understandably a handful to corral. None of them seemed particularly eager to leave their 2-bedroom family home on Rouse Street in Pittsburg, Kansas. And, the large family stayed together in that house, even after some of the older boys married. My mother was actually born, in that house.</p><p>As they became adults, the boys all worked shifts in the mines. Their sister, Hazel, played the piano at local silent movie houses, of which there were several. Then, along came World War I. Three of the "boys" were of draft age and in 1918, they all found themselves in uniform. Thomas, the eldest of the three, my grandpa, was drafted and trained, but never made it "Over There". Harry and another brother. Alfred, both served in the terrible trench warfare in France and Belgium. All three were discharged at the end of the conflict.</p><p>The "boys" came home. They were definitely not "boys" anymore. They "had seen Paree", electrified cites, the ocean and probably learned a few words of French. Harry had received some serious wounds, and we were cautioned, during his entire long lifetime, not to make any loud sudden noises around Uncle Harry, because he had been "shell shocked".</p><p>World War I, "the war to end all wars", wasn't. It has become a mostly forgotten conflict and rarely even mentioned in today's public-school curriculum. But, 9 million combatant lives were lost, in the trenches, in the air and on the ocean. The conflict changed the identity of world powers. My three relatives returned to their pre-war lives, married, raised families and a couple of generations later, my cousins, my sister and I arrived.</p><p>Veterans Day is approaching. It was originally established to celebrate the combatants, dead and surviving, who fought in World War I. There is a small brick in front of the only National WWI Museum and Memorial, in this country, that honors the service of the "Wintle Boys" of Pittsburg, Kansas. Their family has not forgotten. </p><p>Please, remember all those who have served their country.</p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyENCZs9ms_zw5_l2oT8V3xg1EP2FDhWW1RXVGPXUw0QHaJVBe-Q7Q8FKoHEuqj4R-Jc4YLoh7pAZQwYpPrcYinD_XSW2v3z2l6QlaIQrofuw9H2gY1kURMctvv9iYjoaOwVP9ALkAaQVRPKjk83KCOyxe9vvjfTIDI5Y3WmtfhDfedgBL8e75bovFyKI9" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="693" data-original-width="1092" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgyENCZs9ms_zw5_l2oT8V3xg1EP2FDhWW1RXVGPXUw0QHaJVBe-Q7Q8FKoHEuqj4R-Jc4YLoh7pAZQwYpPrcYinD_XSW2v3z2l6QlaIQrofuw9H2gY1kURMctvv9iYjoaOwVP9ALkAaQVRPKjk83KCOyxe9vvjfTIDI5Y3WmtfhDfedgBL8e75bovFyKI9=w391-h248" width="391" /></a></div><br /> The Wintle "Boys" and baby Nancy (1947).<p></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-21384824033278107282023-11-02T05:27:00.000-07:002023-11-02T05:27:43.363-07:00OOOOOOH NO!!!!!<p> </p><p>I am my worst own enemy. Sometimes my vanity (I am rather deaf and I pretend that I am not) or maybe my stupidity, gets me into a lot of trouble. </p><p>This tale might seem familiar to some of you. </p><p>Out of the blue, my short hair is suddenly too long. I need a haircut, immediately. If it is late at night, I have been known to take a pair of scissors and cut it myself (often with disastrous results) or rush to a salon ASAP. </p><p>Tuesday morning, I walked into the salon, near me. I'd been there before. The woman at the counter asked my name (I think), she pulled out a card and looked it over, presumably to find out what they had done, for me, in the past. Then, she asked me something that sounded like "the same as last time". I replied, "Sure." I sit down, take out my hearing aids (now I am completely deaf) and she begins. Her first move was to take an electric razor and carve a path through my hair. Too late to stop her, at that point. I was sporting a reverse Mohawk!!!!!</p><p>So, I now have the almost shortest haircut of my life. I've had Chemotherapy, and I lost all of my hair. That was the definitely the shortest. My hair will grow back, it always does. Someone once said that a bad haircut only lasts a couple of weeks. Let's hope. It's just such a shock when I look in the mirror. It's really bad.</p><p>I'm almost afraid to leave the house. </p><p>Lesson learned. I have to make sure that I really listen. Look before I leap! Pay attention. Don't make any stupid moves. Don't trust anyone. Be sure. Ask folks to repeat themselves....often.</p><p>Have I forgotten anything?????????</p><p> ......................................................................</p><p>Lord: We are foolish. Rescue us from the damage we do to ourselves. </p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-356017429909715652023-10-27T18:26:00.001-07:002023-10-28T13:33:30.572-07:00WARNING!!!!!!<p>I have, in my house, a tiny computer room. Last night, my adult daughter was standing over my shoulder, watching me attempt to post a message, when her sight must have wandered, beyond my back, towards the doorway. She says, "So, dad must have changed the way the door opened, at some time?" I finish typing and turn around. "No, I reply. I put a door lock on the inside, at the top of the door, to keep you kids out." Now, I haven't had any really small children in my care, for months. My youngest local grandchild is 11. So, imagine my surprise when the following astonishing thing happened, in my "child proofed" office.</p><p>After my announcement, I stand up, reach up and casually flip the lock into a closed position. "See." I told her. Well, the lock had not been used, in perhaps 40 years, so it was stuck. I couldn't open the lock. Right away we realized we were hopelessly confined. And, for some reason, both of us were immediately doubled over in hysterical laughter. Two adults, locking themselves into a 6 by 6 room, was ridiculously funny. After we failed, several times, to release the lock at floor level, I climbed on a chair. But, I still couldn't get the darn thing to open. Probably because I was laughing so hard. Climbing down, and still laughing, I searched for something, big enough to force the lock to open. I grabbed a stapler.</p><p>Back up on the chair, I whacked the lock a couple of times, and it finally slid into the open position. We were free. Thank goodness. We did have a phone, in the room with us, but of course we were locked in......not out. Who does that? The whole episode was a bizaare blend of an Agatha Christie "Who-Done-It", and a touch of "I Love Lucy" chaos. </p><p>The moral of this tale is.....Retirees: Check your homes for any old "Child Proof" items that you may have installed 40 or 50 years ago. Get rid of them. They can be dangerous and perhaps deadly to Senior Citizens.</p><p> ..............................................................................................</p><p><br /></p><p> All Knowing God, protect us from ourselves.</p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-11588609958424712402023-10-17T06:44:00.001-07:002023-10-19T06:03:13.336-07:00A penny for your thoughts?<p>For years, I have joked about my unusual ability to recall song lyrics......whether the occasion calls for it, or not. In fact that this incredible but totally useless talent has never, ever earned me one penny! Well, last weekend, that all changed.</p><p>Over the weekend, my patient traveling companion and I were visiting a 19th century, beautifully restored mansion, in a nearby city. The house has 26 rooms, all filled with period furnishings. We were led through the house by an excellent guide, who surprised us in the home's music room He sat down at a very nice, but tinny sounding Steinway, and hastily played a pretty little tune. Then, he stood up and boasted, "I'll give a dollar to the first person who can name that tune." So, I say "My Wild Irish Rose". Surprised (actually stunned) he whips out a bill and gives it to me. Saying, that he had not expected anyone to know that tune. (I would have sung the words, correctly, if he had asked me.)</p><p>Rare, you're thinking. Well, not really. The weekend before, at a Fall Festival, my same companion and I stopped to hear a 1850's pioneer re-enactor, tell the history of and then play a cute tune, "My Grandfather's Clock" Well, I sang along to that, knowing most of the words. My memory faulted at several of the verses. Unfortunately and as usual, no money was offered, for my talents.</p><p>My poor traveling companion has ceased to question whether I know the words to even the most obscure song. He just smiles and shrugs his shoulders. There you go.</p><p> .....................................................................</p><p>Lord. Life is full of small joys and blessings. Our talents, large or small come from You. We are truly thankful. </p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-81884394148975374172023-10-13T05:20:00.001-07:002023-10-13T05:20:13.062-07:00Wait a Minute.......<p> Late at night, you can often find me sitting alone in my bedroom, watching TV and crocheting. I've never been able to sit still for long, and I find that when my hands are busy with a yard and needle, I am less likely to be stuffing my face with junk food.</p><p>Anyway, I was watching some silly show (most shows these days are just silly) when a reality character voiced something, I thought, was rather profound. The speaker was a non-sighted person, that we would consider handicapped. He said, and this is a rough interpretation, that most of us see our adversities and those of others, as tragedies. We view overcoming those tragedies, as triumphs. But life, he continued, is not really a series of tragedies and triumphs, it's just about "getting on". Accepting and moving forward. Doing the everyday things. </p><p>Stuff happens. It happens to all of us. The real triumph is being able to get up every morning, and do the best we can. Life involves taking care of ourselves and helping others to succeed. If we have some spectacular successes, on this journey, GREAT. Otherwise, keep on traveling.</p><p> ................................................................................................................................................</p><p>Gracious God. Our blessings are many. Keep us focused on what we can do, not on what we can't do. We are thankful. We praise Your Holy Name.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-1850990790723442642023-10-10T06:46:00.000-07:002023-10-10T06:46:19.817-07:00Princess Summer-Fall-Winter-Spring<p>I remember studying about the process of POTLATCH, in a Social Studies class, sometime in my youth. Now, that's been a long time ago, but as I remember it, one or more native American tribes of the Northwest, practiced this method of giving away their possessions, and therefore kept what they personally owned to a minimum. After all, Native Americans did not have three bedroom teepees. or wickiups. Did they?</p><p>POTLATCH always included an elaborate ceremony of sort. The tribe shared food and danced as they celebrated something special, like a birth, death, wedding or a battle victory. Then the host family gave away their possessions. Well, I don't think they actually gave away what they needed to survive. Just the EXTRA stuff a family accumulates in their daily life.</p><p>So, I've decided to do a 21st Century, non indigenous, unceremonious, old lady Potlatch. I'm getting rid of all my EXTRA stuff. I am scheduled for every "Big Trash" pick-up Kansas City, offers me. The local Thrift Stores have begun to recognize me. My friends and family, however, are starting to avoid me. I'm learning that one woman's treasure can be another person's trash!!!!! Giving away my treasure is not always a welcome gift.</p><p>But, I'm going to continue. If all else fails, I've purchased some "extra" bag stickers, so that I can put out, by the curb, more than my two-bag-week trash limit. </p><p>.....................................................................................................................................................................</p><p>Dear Lord: Why do we think we need so much stuff? Shelter and food are really the basics. Thank You for giving us so much. Our lives are full. Help us to make good decisions.</p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-30140543395358210892023-10-05T13:52:00.002-07:002023-10-13T05:32:27.321-07:00Punkin' Head<p> September, went out like a hotcake and October, has come in about the same, but the calendar says Autumn is here. I've decked out my home in ceramic and crocheted pumpkins. I've probably got at least a half dozen food items in the cupboard, that include "pumpkin spice" in their labels. Fall has fallen upon my old ranch house!</p><p>So, imagine my glee when the computer offered me a DIY Video, on how to display a colorful live chrysanthemum, potted in a live pumpkin. Easy Peasy, said I, after watching the video a couple of times. I can do this. So, just as directed, I cut off the top of the pumpkin and removed the pumpkin "snot" and seeds. Next, I drilled holes in the shell for drainage. Then, I pulled the mum out of the plastic pot, that it came in. Carefully, I added soil to the empty, now holey, pumpkin. I filled that pumpkin shell and the empty pot, to the brim with potting soil. Finally, I removed the plastic pot and popped in the mum. Added some water and Presto. Beautiful!!!!!</p><p>Wellllllll. It took much longer than I expected. About an hour, not including a trip to the local plant emporium, to buy a potted plant and a similar sized pumpkin. My kitchen counter, sink and floor were dusted with black dirt. Dirt was everywhere! That had to be vacuumed and swept. Then, it took quite a bit of extra time to clean off my electric drill and bit. They'd gotten really messy. So messy, that my drill may never work again! The outside of the pumpkin, kept getting smeared with black soil. And, of course every time I added a bit of water to the pumpkin shell, mud ran down the shell, again. What a mess I made.</p><p>Finished, at last, I put the thing on a table, on my porch. It looks very nice. To quote Edgar Allen Poe ....."Nevermore." This will be my one and only, not to be tried again, attempt at pumpkin/flower art. </p><p> .................................................................................</p><p>Holy Lord. Help us to work on our common sense. Remind us that real life is not a Video. Always give us guidance. </p><p><br /></p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-81456161225557143282023-09-25T18:04:00.001-07:002023-09-25T18:41:20.213-07:00You had the right idea, Tina.<p> My friend and I visited Weston Bend State Park, over the weekend. Both of us had been there before, but certainly not recently. It's a beautiful woodsy spot, with overnight camping, meandering trails (some of them conveniently paved), an ancient tobacco barn, and a beautiful, high viewing spot, overlooking the fertile river valley. </p><p>This overlook gives the viewer a panorama of golden, Autumn corn fields, roads, farm houses and a distant view of a long stretch of the Missouri River. Now, as you all know, or maybe don't know, the song lyric, "across the wide Missouri", is pretty darn accurate. The river is wide, but it is pretty long, too. The headwaters of the Missouri, are near Three Forks, Montana, and, I think I remember it as a bunch of little rivulets. It's possible to very easily walk across the entire river, hoping from rock to rock, across a very shallow, very cold series of streams. Then, after traveling down through Nebraska, the river chews a chunk off the Kansas rectangle and slips across the middle of Missouri, dumping into the mighty, muddy Mississippi River.</p><p>But, the most interesting fact about Weston Bend State Park, is the realization that this beautiful view was once very different. In fact, had that viewing spot been erected in 1804, you might have observed Lewis and Clark, poling and rowing up the fast flowing Missouri, toward the West Coast of the Washington/Oregon Territory. But, the river isn't where it was, in 1804. The State of Missouri has conveniently provided park visitors, with a Missouri River Map, and its ever-changing course. One line on the map looks like a snake, then another line changes into a different snake and again and again. Before the U.S. Corps of Engineers got their hands and machines on the river, it changed course with every major flood. </p><p>The Missouri River that once made Weston, Missouri a thriving river port, and a haven for commerce and the budding Tobacco industry, is now many miles from the edge of the town. Today, you can't even tell that this cute little tourist attraction was ever located on the wide Missouri River.</p><p>Talk about metaphors! The Missouri River and Weston Bend State Park are about life. Are you able to change course, survive and keep rolling?</p><p> .........................................................................................</p><p>Lord of all Creation: Life is a "Journey of Discovery". Life is a meandering, ever changing river. It's full of floods and soft flowing moments. Sometimes we have torrents, waterfalls, eddys and swift currents. Keep us "Rolling on the River".You are our constant. You never change.</p><p> </p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4817528780674224699.post-37014929669214822132023-09-09T11:00:00.001-07:002023-09-09T11:00:52.286-07:00Benedict, What's His Name?<p>I've got loyalties folks! Real loyalties. Some of them may not be terribly reasonable, but honestly, you can call me "loyal to the core"!</p><p>Sometimes in my volunteer position, I get paired with someone I haven't met before, and that happened just the other day. Within 5 minutes of making this gentleman's acquaintance, I belted out the Jayhawk fight song, complete with long and confusing mascot-listing introduction. The reason I did this??? Well, he said he lived in Lawrence, Kansas, home of the University of Kansas (my alma mater) and the fighting Jayhawks!!!. Obviously stunned at my performance, he added that he knew nothing about Lawrence, as they had just moved there, only six months ago. Oh, I replied, sheepishly keeping my mouth shut for the rest of our hour together. </p><p>I'm loyal to Kansas City, too. Just mention that there's nothing to do in such a flat, dull, minor city, and I'll be all over you. "Everything's up to date in Kansas City" with our marvelous museums, jazz and Barbeque. I'll talk about the two states, our vast metro area, 12th Street and Vine and the fountains! It's hard to stop me, once I get started.</p><p>And, I'm loyal to my Southeast Kansas roots. I'll praise that place and its surrounding strip pits, until the day I die. I'll tell you about Lakeside Park, the Band Dome and dragging the gut. I can expound for hours, on my lifelong friends and what a fantastic childhood we all had. It's my hometown. I'm proud of it. </p><p>Now, what's wrong with being loyal? Not a darn thing. A lot of great people have been called loyal. No one is ever praised or remembered, for being disloyal. </p><p> ..................................................................................</p><p>Great Lord. You are ever present and ever loyal to Your children and Your creation. Our loyalty, to You, should be constant, in all of our endeavors. Your steadfast love endures forever.</p>Nancy K.http://www.blogger.com/profile/07854980098486232247noreply@blogger.com1