A Few More, & PC saga

Just reporting back on a few more temple construction items. I read my last post and realized I didn't mention that I took upwards of 300 pictures a day. Then downloaded them and inserted them into reports and the books that I wrote. 

Kevin, the owner of 3 Knolls Publishing did a lot of my editing...(I have issues contractions.)  I'm grateful to him for his help and cherish our friendship.  I discovered that many of my pictures couldn't go into either of the books. The books did not focus on individuals but many of my favorite pictures were of the men working. I was impressed with their dedication and skill. While working in the basement at first there were no lights so they were often in shadow. Those became my favorites. Each day it seems I remember something special that makes me appreciate my blessings more and more.

So many people who are younger than us seem to be so old. I think it's because they retire and sit. 
We fill every second with activity so we can fall into bed each night exhausted. Yesterday we planned our Sunday school lesson. We are teaching a class of kids year about the Bible.  We try to help them understand the truth and guidance they can receive from understanding the teachings in the scriptures.  In the afternoon re drove to Tucson to a Mariachi contest and concert. Young people in bands competed and we were able to see the winners in vocal, dance and music. Then the audience was treated to the LA Angel Mariachi group. Everyone in the amphitheater was whooping and whistling. This morning we got up early to take grand kids to a local park that has a large pond for a fishing.  Of course the only ones catching fish were the kids. Eleven year old Becca was the winner catching two...Yea for her pink fishing pole!  

A PC for Bubba 

Mike and Mom wanted to build Bubba a PC

We thought with our know-how it'd be very easy

After 7 trips on the freeway to computer part Frye's

Where they handed us both a bucket of lies

We toasted some Ram and a few Gigs too

So back on the freeway we flew

We stayed up real late, what we thought would be cake

Turned sour at midnight with a mother-board bake

The NO-English-Speak guy from Taiwan

Kept telling us "Talk Louder, GO ON"

"What does the Bios say?" was his constant cry

"Buddy, the screen is black!" was our repeated reply

He gave us no help from his long distance spot

and the system kept running too hot!

We folded, yes folded; We a-Team two

and decided no dud would be coming to you

So we went to the pros, gave them specs for a beauty

And they bargained with us for the duty

So late though it be, just you wait and see

It's with love from the Mike y and Meeeee

I've been gone for a while.

I've been gone for a while living in Tucson. Patrick, my husband, and I have been serving as missionaries at the Construction of the Tucson Latter-day Saint Temple. As missionaries one of the things we did was take care of the men on the site...which meant we participated in all the worker orientations and made sure the rules such as "no-foul-language, no music, no spitting, no marking on any of the building materials," etc.  My other main responsibility was to write the history of the LDS church in Tucson, and keep the records of the various stages of construction.

I had never worked on a construction site so needles to say the task was daunting, especially since I was the only woman allowed access to the site. We even had a chance to be a part of the Mormon Battalion re-enactment at "Old Tucson Studios. I had fun but Patrick did not like wearing a wool suit when the temperature was over 110 degrees. I can hardly blame him!

We met the most interesting and wonderful people it was difficult to leave when our job was completed.  Hopefully we can have the opportunity to work at another temple construction site. Right now we are getting knees fixed and replaced so we are in tip-top condition to give it our very best.  I hope to keep writing. After having my own 610 page book printed and adding about 250 pages to another book on the temple which mostly no one will read. I now am compiling my poetry which I started writing in 1968 to the present. I have my completed novel, "Treasure of the Chiasmus Cipher", and two of my student nurse murder mysteries completed. Working with publishers can get grueling at best! It may be that I will be under the sod when anyone gets a chance to read them.

Airport Blues

Flight travel is a tricky game at best

With Airports like armed camps and everyone distressed

The line to start your journey begins at the curb
You gather up your bags and start to feel absurd
For no matter how carefully you pack they are overstuffed and full

As you drag them to the counter looking quite pitiful
“That one weighs too much,” a uniformed man says with glee

So you re-arrange your underwear, out there for all to see                     

The worst insult comes as you stand in a winding line
And worry you’ll miss your flight even though you arrived on time
With cavalier sluggish movements from the man in charge up front
Who treats each person as if he’s on an insurgent weapons hunt

Frail old ladies are patted and searched while the wide-eyed children cry

Your head is screaming on the inside, but outside you only sigh

For they study passengers as if doing biological research

Your placed in front of an x-ray for the stripped full body search

You think one day you’ll die of radon and the Twinkies you adore

And then you’ll emit a blinding glow from L.A. to Baltimore

Is it worth the hassle that continues during the flight?

“Buckle-up don’t move, no bathrooms,” the gestapo isn’t polite!

You sit between the large man who’s flesh oozes into your lap

And the stinky guy on the other side uses your shoulder for his nap

So drive to your destination and avoid such worry and distress?

Even if it takes longer than taking the Airport nightmare express?

Consider this next time your on-line and plan to reserve a seat

Even with high gas prices, driving yourself can’t be beat

Stale Piece of Pie 

Sometimes life is a stale piece of pie

Sometimes people only think of “I”

Sometimes all I get are the crumbs

Sometimes I just sit and twiddle my thumbs

All I get are leftovers, dried out tired remnants

I want to make you a coat of cement

I should be happy with what I got

But I’m not! 

“Broken hearts and dogs that die”

Broken hearts and dogs that die

Lonely days and men that cry

Seems to be the theme of most

All Cowboys who play a tune, or sing, or boast

But it was never sadness or tragedy endured

That called those men to the west or cajoled them or lured

So why sing of the horse with the rock stuck in his shoe?

Is it so hard to croon of meadows damp and sparkling with silver dew?

Why do Cowboys think each tale should be loaded with distress?

 Writing or singing of happy days does not make a story less

To capture listening ears who said the story must be sad?

Or demand you tell of loneliness or conditions that are bad

Let people hear of the joy you feel with wind upon your face

Or when you wed your sweetheart in her gown of ivory lace

Don’t spread the lie and say your life is only pain and woe

And set aside deceitful words that echo over radio

For just this once please tell the truth; you live the life you love!

With prairie as your pillow as you gaze at stars above

I know you have a secret, it’s the one you won’t betray

The mysteries of the universe are in the Cowboy Way

“Naked Came the Bruce”

I guess as we get older lots of things about us change

Like how we look and how we think and we get mighty strange

I’ve noticed as my days and years quickly pass me by

Some things the elder generation does, leaves me to shrug and sigh

The eyes are most the first to go and with that a fashion sense

And if you make a small comment, you're met with impudence

"That stuff don’t match!" you mention, just to help a longtime friend

"The red and orange with that pink, it kind’a doesn't blend."

"You mind your manners" you are told, "I am the one who knows."

"I've been on this here earth much longer than Old Joe Blow."

The smell and taste are next to go and follows really fast

So enjoy your food while you are young, for it ain't gonna last

But, the ones who lose their modesty have really gone too far

Cuz naked folks ain't pretty when their teeth are in a jar!

"It shore is hot," Bruce said to me as he greeted at the door

He reminded me of the story of the foolish Emperor

"Come on in," he beckoned, just like nothing was amiss

He seemed to take no notice of his bare butt nakedness

So I went in and sat right down yet kept my eyes averted

We talked about the recent news, and other things we'd read

He wiped his brow and settled in on the couch of Naugahyde

And I wondered how to make a running break for the safety of outside

Then later as I pondered life and all that it can bring

I know that for a certainty, I beg you do this thing.

“GET OUT THAT GUN, AND SHOOT ME QUICK!” if I wander in my skin

Cuz it ain't pretty...not one bit, not even if it's kin.

 Pockets

My mom was a terrible cook; I think that’s why I was so thin

On Fridays she made us fish cakes much to my young chagrin

She covered the lumps with stale-crumbs, till they resembled turds from a beast

The smells made my young stomach do flip flops and detest attending the feast

Each meal started off with a blessing. Good thing! It would keep down the gag

I would secret each mouthful of foodstuff to stash in my made ready rag

When I saw the can of fish waiting to make into swill upon the counter top

I tried to encourage my friends to invite me over for a meal-time stop

And when no one was around for rescue from my Mom’s culinary disaster

I learned to change to my favorite dress, and do it faster and faster

This dress pink and red was adorned with eight pockets all over the frilly front

It was perfect to hide the nasty fish slop in its unappetizing chunks

Then into the waiting compartment, to save me from eating such mush

And off to the bathroom I’d run, and include all the cakes in the flush

I guess to this day I should thank her for keeping me healthy and trim

Because she was no good in the kitchen, during schooldays I was quite slim

“True love”

It’s always been my question though it’s never crossed my lips

Why all the stories of the hard won West

Never mentions the ladies or their difficult test

Now we all know men are made of puppy tails and snails

But the women who chose to love those men were loyal courageous females

They bore the daughters and sons of the men who homestead and tamed the land

And gave up their youth their beauty their souls and all the rough life demands

I know the tale of one of those gals taken from family comfort and all she knew

She married a cowboy, who until that time, lived alone with his dog named blue

In her ruffles and lace she beguiled this gent and they married in a whirl

He had no idea of her sacrifice made when he wed the city girl

But she loved him so she never looked back or longed for her childhood home

Most days she spent in the rough wooden shack on their homestead all alone

At first her cooking efforts were much like slop or swill

But he never complained or said negative words for he loved and cherished her still

How He longed for the bread like his mamma once made covered with berry jam

Then one day the aroma of baking came out when the swinging screen door gave a slam

“Now dear I knew you could do it” he cried as he hunted high and low

“I know I’m smelling fresh bread, did you hide it where did it go?”

“I have no idea of what you speak, just sit down and eat this meat”

“My skill with four does not exist so don’t plan on baked goods make of yeast.

His puzzlement grew when he saw on top of the stove a small pot of vegetable stew

No biscuits or rolls and his bride covered in flour with her apron all eschew

Then later that eve he gave grain to the cows and saw there hidden and flat

The sorriest loaf he ever had seen, brick heavy and much like a mat

A smile crossed his face as he thought of his dear

Trying to please him with home baked fare

And he loved her the more, never mentioned his find

for you and I know that true love is blind

Heaven or Hell

Days drift by in numbered succession

We work to buy another possession.

Routines of life burns the candle low

There is another world beyond this I know

Break through the fog and into the light

Open wide the cracks, escape from the blight

How to emerge from the darkness and gloom

And not remain trapped in an earthly tomb

Do what's right, set aside your fears

Keep your chin up and smile through your tears

Patience will bless us, with affliction we'll grow

Set aside temptation, for we reap what we sow

Yet for sure Heaven or Hell waits for us all

And there is one who gleefully wants us to fall

Or you can turn to Him who loves without condition

Looking over all, pulling us back from perdition

So turn back from temptation and go to the light

In your heart you feel and know what is right

Prevent the loss of your soul to utter destruction

There’s no joy in ruin or eternal damnation

For He knew long ago the mistakes we would make

And gave us the grand plan for us all to partake

He waits at the gate, arms wide to embrace

His countenance is in you, it shines in your face

One Hour in Church

Can I dance the wool from my brain as this hour begins?

Concentration is nonexistent so watch the big-cheek baby grin

I drift to wonder; do I have more sunsets behind me than in front?

Can I make this time count, so my rent on earth is paid?

Will I find the flakes of gold, from the small make something great?

Why does the man who spoke for just a minute make more sense?

Than the one with words abundant, voice thumping like a fan

I drift back to the babies’ cry, a hard chair, and wonder who I am?

Decision

but father we are afraid

our mansion, more grand than others

must be bought with coin of pain, sorrow, and sacrifice

will we be strong, will be worthy?

MY CHILDREN YOU, MORE BLESSED THAN OTHERS

WILL BE MORE TRIED THAN OTHERS

WILL HAVE MORE STRENGTH THAN OTHERS

MUST HAVE MORE FAITH THAN OTHERS

FEEL MY LIGHT, TRUST IN ME, MY LOVE IS WITH YOU

WHEN

            YOU

                        GO

                                    DOWN

we

                                    will

                                                go

                                                            down

   

I am putting my poetry from 1966 to 2018 into a book. Here a a few for you to read. let me know if you like them. Pat