https://youtu.be/ow5bPIeVTzU

The Horrors That Hide by Julianna Rowe (coming Soon)

Friday, May 29, 2015

Corrections!!

I spent the past week reading Chapter One thru Chapter 21. 
I also figure I must have been possessed at about 13 or somewhere in there.
Run on sentences by the score.  Even I got lost a few times. 
That said, I have corrected.  Sorry for the confusion but my mind takes off and my typing fingers
     cant always keep up.   I usually edit later. 
Working on the ending! 

Sunday, January 25, 2015

Dear Chad, Cody, and Chris...............Love Santa By Diane Ogden

Today I was cleaning out the old paper file box.  You know the old way of keeping paperwork. Now days you take a photo of it and file it on your computer.  Unless you find what I did today.  Notes to my children from Santa.....   I failed to put a date on the "elaborate" index cards I used but my guess is 28-30 years ago.  The middle son, Cody, was a very  face paced child. (I did not say hyper!) But he learned a bad word from some of the neighbor kids and found he got unlimited attention when he used it.  I think he was 4 and it was the bad word.....   as the index card from Santa reiterates.
Felt like sharing something from three decades ago from Mama Santa! 
 
 

Sunday, January 18, 2015

Sunday Morning ....................................by Diane Ogden

Every Sunday morning I treat myself by raising the head and foot of my fairly new Electric Bed.  I turn on the 32" VIZIO I pay $100 a month to watch while I recall the days I could watch for free.  I click to CBS to watch Sunday Morning with Charles Kuralt. (sp) Where I remain until it ends at 9:30.
Today they did a segment on Steve Harvey.  I enjoy watching Steve Harvey any time of the day or night.  He makes me laugh.  He is wise.  He is quite the charismatic person. And I do not care how many times he was married. (3)!  So have I.  I really should try to get that one right.
 He told how he grew up eating mayonnaise and bread sandwiches because they were poor.  I sat up farther in my electric bed, if that is even possible, thinking I should call my mother immediately to see how poor we really were considering I ate mayonnaise sandwiches for years.  I would guess from age 7 through 12 years old.  Along with hot chocolate and toast or pancakes for breakfast every day.   As well as my father required a desert after each meal.  My fav was the Mayonnaise Chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting that I would add to my breakfast routine whenever possible.  No wonder I have hypoglycemia!! 
  • 1 cup water
  •  1 cup mayonnaise
  •  1 teaspoon vanilla extract
  •  1 cup sugar
  •  3 tablespoons baking cocoa
  •  2 teaspoons baking soda
  • Pour into greased 9-in. square or 11-in. x 7-in. baking pan. Bake at 350° for 30-35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted near the center comes out clean. Cool completely.
     
    About the only thing of value in that cake was the cocoa!  So much for wonderful childhood memories that have caused me terrible issues.  Not to worry, I found a East Side Ovens of Milwaukee.  They make vegan brownies of which I partake on the weekend.  But only ONE.

    At the end of Sunday Morning there was a segment on beef jerky.  Suddenly another vivid memory comes charging into my head, or my heart?  My Granddaddy had the first bison ranch in Texas in the 1950's.  Or so he told me.  He also told me he rode with Poncho Via.  Regardless, he did make the best bison jerky I have ever eaten.  He was quite the cook.  His jerky wasn't full of fillers, or artificial flavors or GMO corn syrup.  I can almost taste it as I type it.  Genuine Bison Jerky.  And now there is a company producing the same natural bison jerky as my Granddaddy used to make.  I can recall the large metal smoker tank where he cooked the meat as well as a small house where he would hang the meat pieces to dry.  We would beg for more. 
    Nowadays I peer at the beef jerky in its fancy labeled small packages at the grocery store as I walk on past before any gag reflex sets in.  When you've had the best, the worst wont do.
    The photo is Granddad's buffalo ranch.  I have a newspaper article about he and the ranch but it is buried in the ancestor file box....along with the family genealogy. 
     
     
                                                    His Cookhouse....
                                             He was a cook during the War.  I still have his aviator Sunglasses
                                                           and his dog tags and a beautiful white silk scarf.  I
                                                 "wonder"  sometimes who will I pass them on to.
                                              No one else remembers him from the new generation.
                                                                 Where will they end up?
     

    Saturday, January 10, 2015

    Chop. Chop. Chop.......................by Diane Ogden

    Many of my friends as well as acquaintances believe I am a bit "anal" regarding my hair.  For instance, nearly every time I have gotten it cut the past few years I am beyond upset for two months.  Let me give you a couple examples:  (I don't believe I am anal. I believe beauticians are taught the latest style and have no real artist ability any longer!!)  They cut the sides long, the back short.  I have gotten modified mullets, dog ear cuts, the last one I looked like Moe from the three stooges.


    This was the last CUT!!  I pulled the bottom back into a long ponytail.  I have natural wavy hair that obviously shouldn't be cut like that~  I couldn't do much with it for two months. 
    Below is another fiasco.
    Sooooo.   Today I cut it myself which I swore I would never do again.  I watched some tutorials on You Tube and set out for the bathroom and the sharpest pair of scissors in the house.  I blocked off all the proper sections but did have a hard time with the back!  I suspect it is not a precision cut.  Joke of the week.  Given my hair is very thick it wont show. (I hope)  At this time it is drying.  And if I have any complaints it will be on me this time.  And it didn't cost me $45.00.

    That would be about four months growth!  No regrets......STOP! I said, No regrets! 

    Saturday, November 22, 2014

    The Rose.......................by Diane Ogden

    I enjoy the look of roses as well as the feel and smell of each one.  They remind me of antiques, pearls, lace, gentleness and peace of mind.  Riches. A calm and safe place.  Beauty of every color. Velvet.

    One of my clients is an artist.  She  enjoys painting people, landscapes, and animals in her spare time.  One day I spotted one of her finished canvas's.  It was a pink rose and pink is my favorite color.  I asked her if I could buy it from her.  She wasn't sure, but added maybe later.  I assumed  she may have had an upcoming art show. 

    A couple visits later I told her I would like to buy that for myself as a Birthday gift.  I always buy myself something nice for my birthday. After all it is MY birthday.

    Yesterday came and it was time for my bi weekly visit to Fran Klos.  When it came time for her to pay me for my services I told her to make the check out for $100 less as it was time for me to buy her beautiful Pink Rose for my Birthday gift.  She responded with, "Absolutely not, you may have that for your Birthday!"  I was shocked.  I am still not sure what I said as I am used to being the one that gives so when receiving, especially at that level, I was at a loss for words.   I think I said the standard OMG.  How classlessly tacky huh?  I may have said gosh vs God.  I probably added something like, "Oh you don't have to do that."  Jeepers I wish I would have stuck with OMG.   I recall her saying, "I am pleased to give this to you Diane."    And so I appropriately said, "Thank You Fran, this makes me very happy."

    And so I drove home with great anticipation of hanging the precious gift, "My Rose."

     
     

    Saturday, November 15, 2014

    The Fullest Pampers Box in the World................by Diane Ogden

    For some time now I have needed to send my son in California a few items.  With the UPS and or FED X and or Post Office Rates going up up lately I sort of put it off.  The last time at the Post Office I inquired how much a certain weight would be to ship to Cali.  They estimated ten pounds for $35.00.  Not bad... I had expected it to cost a lot more. 

    I boxed the items up in a Pampers box and headed for the Post Office.  The nice Postal employee-man who I have gotten to know over the years gave me the total and then checked my taping to his satisfaction.  As he tallied up the  I mentioned to him what was in the small box.  He looked at me with utter disbelief.  That is when I told him my son had better get those items out of that box a.s.a.p. next Friday or they will never be the same again.  After he agreed we both laughed at the craziness of how I got all those items in that small box along with a jar of my son's favorite cookies.

    One J.Crew Navy Pea Coat: Size LARGE
    One Columbia Winter Coat lined, for his camping trips:  Size LARGE

    Three Banana Republic Silk Cashmere Sweaters:  Black, Grey, Plum. Size LARGE
    And two very nice button down shirts:  Pink and White for under the million dollar sweaters.  
    One pickle jar of Gma Tillie's German Pfieffernut Cookies.

    EIGHT ITEMS:  I rolled the two coats up and stood them upright leaving a small space in the center of the box. I put the cookies between the two shirts I placed between the two coats  in the empty space. I did have to push pretty hard.  The three sweaters lay flat on top of everything.    (The size of the box also kept the cost down.)

    Not very interesting huh?  Yet fascinating indeed.  I can pack a UHaul just as good. Not that that is any major human feat.  Hey, some people cant do it. 

    I can now mark that off my list of to-do's.  It will arrive next Friday and hopefully the items will regain their shape as well as my son will DRY CLEAN those amazingly expensive sweaters!!

    Til next time:   Be Well, Be Safe, Be Happy, and get rich so you can ship the scrunched up coats and such OVERNIGHT!  Not really.  That would have cost more than the clothes all put together were worth! 

    Friday, November 14, 2014

    Coffee Jolts ......................by Diane Ogden

    It's Friday. I was happy to get home after a long week.  Had some hidden thoughts about doing nothing for two days until I noticed the kitty litter needed some serious refreshing in terms of a trip to the Pet Store for more Dr. Elsey's litter, which is the best I have ever experienced.  Not that I have really experienced using it of course, rather the time it lasts for my two felines.

    I then cleaned the kitchen for the weekend and noticed I needed to water my several plants.  That reminded me of the time someone told me to give my plants some coffee.  It will make them happy just like it does us.  I happened to have some real coffee left in the cupboard from last year so I made a full 12 oz. cup which I then poured  on one of my plants.  I walked back to the kitchen and made another 12 oz. cup and poured that on another plant.  Then another, and two trees, and finally a spider plant and a palm. 

    Suddenly the apartment smelled like hot dirt.  The smell of Hot Dirt does not smell very good. 

    It was then I remembered why I had that plastic tub of real coffee left in the cupboard.  I cant drink real coffee.  It makes me sort of crazy!  I then thought to myself, as I looked up into the sun room waiting for the trees and potted plants to start making noises or moving around like the wind was blowing when it really wasn't, that they might get weird and crazy somehow.  I mean that is what coffee does to me and my friend told me to give coffee to my plants because they would have the same reaction as I do.  Little did that friend know I could end up at the E.R.  after a cup of coffee.  Its called ANXIETY.   So far no plants have freaked out, wilted, or died.  In fact they look real real happy. 

    Wonder what would happen if I tried to make them happy with a Margarita!   
    Probably not 12 oz. though.  I cant even do that.   I do wonder if I overdosed them with the coffee thing.  My friend did say to pour my leftovers on the plants. She didn't mention making each one a pot. (or a large cup) 

    Not to worry, I wont be pouring Margarita's on my trees, or giving them coffee again in the near future (unless they grow a foot this month).  I might try pickle juice though.  They say that is amazing in many ways.  What I wont be doing is putting anymore chemicals on them or me.  They are a living thing like myself and my animals.  So I am doing some testing on my living plants.  If they die I may not drink coffee anymore ever.  I will change to Green Tea for my Tree's.

    So for now, Be Safe, Be Happy, Be Healthy, and get RICH, so can counter act the KOCK Brothers takeover of our country.  You know?  The old fogies who are fracking our earth, using Roundup on our crops trying to kill us so they can make billions!  Or maybe use your money to move to an island or Norway.  They say that is the best place to live and where you can live the longest.  I wonder why?
    Maybe no RoundUp there!  I betcha. 

    Nite!

    Thursday, November 13, 2014

    Open House..........................by Diane Ogden

    I have this really sweet High School friend, well she was not a High School friend, but since the invention of facebook we have re- connected and are now friends.  God that was not a necessary explanation or was it?

    So my friend is having an open house for her live in Father's 90th Birthday. (Bless her care taking heart!)
    Fact number two or three is she lives 1.5-2 hours north of where I live in a super nice log cabin home.  With food.
    That being said, I have been planning on surprising her with a visit to her open house.  Even considered inviting another of our H.S. friends along for the ride. 
    But then..... I googled how to get there without driving the INTERSTATE which causes me undo anxiety due to feelings of abandonment when I see too far ahead where the road "don't" end.   Yes I know the proper grammar is, doesn't end.  So I googled GPS to her home without Highways.  The time would be approximately two hours up, an hour sitting or standing around eating due to lack of knowing anyone, and two hours back. Not that I do not know how to mingle.  Also having to cross one long bridge over water which could ultimately kill me due to my total fear of dying in water.  I know I know....fear it and it will come.  So erase that please. 
    I have decided it would be and is more enjoyable calling her on occasion from a grocery store parking lot with news of this and that.  We both laugh much during these phone calls.  No bridges over water, no guilt on her end for not having time to sit / babysit me and whoever I convinced to take the trek with me.  I will say if I were retired and more laid back I would go, relax, eat a bit, stay longer, and get back home before dark considering I was the 1% whose cataract surgery messed up.  I  cant see to drive at night and would drive off the bridge and die in my most feared way.  Erase that .....now.  
    Am I kidding?  Maybe. 
    Have an amazing open house my friend!!  I will be thinking of you and yours while I bake cookies.
    Be Safe, Be Well, Be Happy and get rich so you can hire a driver who isn't afraid to cross bridges! (over water)

    Sunday, November 9, 2014

    ANOTHER WORLD.................by Diane Ogden


    It was late evening when I departed Missouri headed for even deeper southern parts of this country with its so called freedom of everything. Somehow lately that was becoming a trend of the past. Government seemed to be taking over in an undercover manner that reminded me of the MAFIA days in the sixties. Same deal, different year. No public gunshots and bloodshed at the bars of brotherly love in Chicago and New York. No this takeover of the masses was not as smooth as it was hidden behind congressional doors. I paid as little attention to it as I could considering my inability to stop it. I did wonder on occasion, should I store up some water jugs and cans of tuna just in case. In case of what? I was never sure of what. I heard tell of secret concentration camps for the poor and those who didn't agree with the new world and their antics. Conspiracy theorist? No I was never one of those. But hey, come on, I wasn't blind either. Most people with any sense knew change was on the horizon and it wasn't coming from the then black President. The country was being run by old fogies hiding in the underworld of what we used to call democracy.
    I had not traveled even midway toward my destination when my car broke down. I was in a small town in Oklahoma. I had all my papers in order for the border crossing into Mexico as well as I had purchased a beautiful villa on the coast, from a friend. That friend had made his way to Australia. One of the few less ruled countries in the world. Nevertheless, there I was in little
    "timbuck40" calling for a wrecker and feeling very alone on the side of the road in the middle of no where'sville. The wrecker arrived within a half hour. A pleasant surprise to see a tiny little woman climb down from the cab greeting me with the standard, "Howdie do." Why she looked to be the size of a twelve year old. I had to giggle to myself. After all the necessary vehicle security hook ups we climbed into the cab headed for Okmulgee. I know, it sounds like the name of an old army stew. Rather it means bubbling water. This from Wikipedia:
    Okmulgee, city, seat (1907) of Okmulgee county, east-central Oklahoma, U.S. It lies near the Deep Fork of the North Canadian River, south of Tulsa. Its name (meaning "bubbling water") comes from a Creek Indian town in Alabama. It was the capital of the Creek Nation from 1868 until Oklahoma achieved statehood in 1907. Settled by whites about 1889, Okmulgee boomed after the discovery of oil in 1904 and is now a commercial and industrial centre for oil and gas production and agriculture (pecans, cotton, corn [maize], cattle). The manufacture of oil-field equipment, electronic equipment, small aircraft, and glass is also important. Oklahoma State University at Okmulgee (1946) is one of the largest U.S. technical colleges. Okmulgee Lake Recreational Area is to the west. Inc. 1908. Pop. (2000) 13,022; (2010) 12,321.

    On our ride back to the city the woman told me all about herself. She had seven children. She owned the local tire store with an attached vehicle repair center. Her husband had run off a few years back and instead of wallowing in the self pity of it all, she started her own business. She then listed to me one by one each of her children's ages and duties. She had some dandy stories to tell me during our forty minute trek back. It was hard to get a word in edgewise, even so, there was much laughter in the cab of that shiny yellow tow truck that day. Upon arrival at the repair shop she offered me a loaner vehicle, at a price of course.


    It was wheat harvesting time in that area. I had taken a drive out and about the countryside while my car was being repaired. There really wasn't much to see in that part of the country. Not until I came to pass a field appearing to have been partially flooded. Flooded with something besides rainwater. It looked like milk. A huge field of mashed down wheat soaking in milk. Oddest thing I had ever seen. I slowed down to the point I was creeping along about ten mph. There was a curve in the road and as I rounded that bend there stood two white animals. They were actually two of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. I knew I shouldn't stop and get out but I had to. Some force other than anything I had ever known was pulling me toward those animals. The thick milky substance in the field, and he odd looking animals, should have been totally creeped me out and I should have driven away as fast as humanly possible, but I did not. As I walked toward them I again noticed something odd. Their eyes were shining like tiny stars. Was I dreaming? No. I reached out to the smaller one what appeared to be a cow. The other was a large dog. Both very similar in size. I know, weird right? Each time I touched one of the animals it felt like I was in another world. A peace came over me that I had never experienced on this earth. I began to feel frightened. I backed away and I drove on searching for more white covered fields and or animals but there were no more. That is when I saw a ranch house and pulled in the driveway. I was in need of sharing my findings. There were several vehicles parked around the house and outer buildings so I felt rather safe. I am not sure why because at that point I should have been calling the authorities. The next thought was why? What would I tell them? Maybe something like :

    "Hi, my name is, and I just passed a wheat field soaking in milk and two very peace filled white animals with sparkling stars for eyes." Ya right. Call the padded wagon people for sure.

    So what did I tell the people who lived in this ranch house? Same deal? I knocked at the front entrance. I stood there for what seemed too long when a man finally answered the door. I recited my name as though that would be all I would need to do and he would understand the entire story. Of course not. Funny what our minds do to us when we are nervous and wish to escape. I proceeded to ask him what the milky substance in the wheat field adjacent to his residence was. And I thought possibly he had misplaced a couple of animals. He looked at me strangely not saying a word. I pressed my lips thin and raised my eyebrows in an expression as to say, "Well?"

    He answered with, "Maam, I don't know what you are talking about."

    I carefully and slowly reiterated what I had seen in the fields regarding the white milk and the animals, at which time he hollered very loudly for his brother Chetley. Yes Chetley. Who names their kid Chetley? But then who tells a story like I just had told to Chetley's wiener brother! Yes that was either my humorous side regarding the wiener brother or fear. Maybe both as I am seeing something strange in the eyes of the brothers and it "ain't" stars. They are thinking there may be a crazy lady at their door, yet her story needed to be checked out. They invited me inside and introduced me to the rest of the family. Said they were going to go investigate my story and I was welcome to stay until their return. I accepted. Sometimes in life it would be helpful to be able to see ahead just a few hours! If I could have done that my decision to stay would have been a very different one.

    About thirty minutes had passed when Chetley and wiener hustled back into the ranch house with such intensity I felt twinges of anxiety rushing through my veins. They instructed the family to gather all necessary belongings along with family photos and load the vehicles.

    I said, "Wait, why, what did you find out there?"

    Chetley told me to stay in the living room and they would come and get me when the cars were loaded and it was time to leave. And then they systematically moved about the house and yard readying themselves for what appeared to be a long vacation. Inside I knew different. Something big was happening and I was smack dab in the middle of it. But what? I paced for a bit, sat for a bit, even turned on the television trying to disengage my brain and find that peace I had back near the "Milk Field."

    As the TV came on saying "SPECIAL BULLETIN FROM NBC NEWS." The cars pulled out of the driveway without me! And before I could run outside to join them, a helicopter was over the ranch house with a loud speaker saying anyone left inside was not to leave the area. The area was now under quarantine. I whirled around toward the TV and there was my loaner car and the ranch house in grand 52 inch view. Who would ever need a 52 inch TV anyway?

    Gathering my wits about me had not worked. I opened the front door only to see men in huge white suits covered from head to toe. Oxygen tanks in tow. Oh my dear God what is happening? The men told me I was under quarantine orders from the United States department of defense. Defense? I asked why please. They said they weren't able to give me any information at this time but that the quarantine was indefinite. They would be in contact with me if I needed anything in the meantime.

    Meantime? Indefinite? Are you fricking serious? I started running through the house out of shear fear and panic. Then to the kitchen to see what food was available for indefinite which to me meant the same as the word infinity when I used to try to figure that out as a child. I had my phone but the charger was in the car. Was I allowed to go to my car? Then the tanks arrived. Yes army tanks outside on the County Road such and such. It was obvious this woman, me, was going no where.

    The TV was now giving me more information than the authorities. It showed the field of thick milky substances and the two white peace-filled animals. Then the ranch house and my vehicle. I wanted to go to the front door and wave at the camera's but thought I had best not do that. I was a foreigner in these parts. I only said "howdie do" a couple times and that was just a mere attempt to fit in. Well I had found a way to never fit in, hadn't I?

    The nights darkness came swiftly. Something I hadn't thought about in all the ruckus of helicopters, news crews, police and fire trucks.... and then they all disappeared. NBC Bulletin said the foreign white substance could be deadly and the only human being that touched it was in quarantine inside the ranch house on County Road such and such. Why I was terrified. Not of death from the substance, but of human beings coming to get rid of the only person to have touched the goo. I knew the goo wasn't bad. It was white and peaceful. Nothing like I had ever felt or touched.

    Weariness had settled upon me. I fell into a deep sleep in the big old brown leather recliner. I left the television running as it helped the loneliness of the situation. Did the government think it was a disease? Who put it there? How did the two animals get there and why?

    Just then a beautiful man appeared before me. I believe I was dreaming. Or was I? He told me "they" were from Another World and not to be afraid. The milky substance was their creation given to us, the U.S. as an antidote to the latest killing virus Ebola. The government would never know where it came from or why. Only I had been allowed that information.

    I asked why me? The kind loving man told me because it was my time to have that special peace everlasting. I had been chosen because I was the closest human being to the area when it was sprayed. No one would have ever known if I hadn't told the rancher man. And by touching the animals I had received a dosage of anti viral medicine beyond the level any human could endure.... I would be leaving with the men in white and the two animals for everlasting life elsewhere. I had no fear. The peace I felt from the other world didn't exist anywhere I had ever lived or traveled here. I asked what about the people left here? Shouldn't we tell them about the healing from Ebola?

    He smiled and said, "No my dear, they wouldn't believe. Each of them will come to a time in their lives such as you have this day. Their time to go to Another World and have everlasting peace. Are you ready to go now?"

    And so we did, and it was forever peacefully beautiful.

    Amen.

    Sunday, October 19, 2014

    Liz-Sport in 1984.................by Diane Ogden


    I visited my Nana in or around 1984.  She took me shopping as she had since I was seven. (On various occasions until I moved away.)   This time I was around thirty seven and visiting her from out of town.  (I cannot recall my exact age but that is very close)   We went to Dillard's, which is comparable to our Boston Store, North of the Mason Dixon Line.  Yankee's that we are.  Me, I'm a half-breed.  Raised half my life below the Mason Dixon Line and half above it. 

    Back to Dillard's.  We had a lovely shopping excursion along with a fine lunch. 

    My Nana passed away about twelve years later.  I had moved back to Wisconsin in 1988 and never saw her again.  But I still have the sweater she bought me that shopping day back when. 

    The sweater is a Liz-Sport.  I am having it dry cleaned this month.  No need to frame it like some would the #4 Packer jersey.  It got a bit musty from the storage bin at my complex.  Not enough circulation.  I shall hand it down to a family member one of these days.  It is nice to have something tangible to remind me of what a fine woman she was.  She taught me what true class means. She was engaged to Gene Autry.  I know I shared that before.  But then I could have/should have slept with Buck Owens and sat on one of those swings on Hee Haw, but I did not.  God my Dad would have been so proud.  LOL.  I am laughing out loud too. 

                                                     Buelah (Pat) Morrison     Austin, Texas

    Sunday, August 3, 2014

    "My Sweet Willie".........a short story .................by Diane Ogden


    "Sweet Willie" 

    I was there.  I was there when the radio blared war in our kitchen. We were seated at the table about to say a blessing upon the thick, I think German, macaroni and cheese casserole Mom had prepared.  We, being my brother Jackson, and I, Julianna.
    When Father held up his notorious hand it always meant, SILENCE!  That is when we heard the voice of the President of the United States coming across the radio airways with the chill of an icicle on each word he spoke. 
    I kept interrupting saying, “Father, does that mean Willie, does it?  Will he have to go?” 

    Dad just gave me that old angry I mean it eyebrow crunch, hand up signal. I sat in silence listening to the terrifying words.  My mind racing in so many different directions I lost myself to the place of tears.  Mom was standing behind  Jackson, her baby, crying in like manner.  At first I wasn’t mentally aware of what was happening.  The radio, Fathers anger, Mom crying, Willie, where was Willie?  And to hell with the macaroni and cheese dinner.  I suddenly sprang from my chair running toward the phone.  I lifted the mouthpiece only to find the operator telling everyone they would have to wait their turns. Then a sound that mimicked busy busy busy.  Running or even biking to Willie’s would be faster than waiting for the darn operator.  Once my wits were back I realized those phones would not be available for a month now that war had been declared.  That is when I heard the loud whaling voice of my mother behind me.  “Julianna, wait.  Wait.”  I ignored her and with one hard push I hit the pavement running.  Running to Willie.

    Willie and I had been best friends all through grade school and into Jr. High School and High School. We had been through all the normal schoolyard games such as marbles, hoops, skipping, chasing's, hidings. Sometimes I would join the girls for hopscotch and jacks.  Willie would play ball and chase.  We even ate lunch together almost every day.  The other children made fun of us the first few years and then settled in knowing it was probably always going to be this way.  Willie and Julianna. 

    Now I am not just running.  I am running scared.  Running for my life.  For Willie.  At the 4th Street Exchange I saw him.  I saw Willie running just as hard and fast as I was.  He had to have heard the news about the same time we all did and as usual we had the same thoughts.  Finding each other.  I fell into his arms sobbing.  We both knew he would have to go fight a war we were too young to know much about.  We would soon realize he was a direct part of it and I was a direct extension of it and all the pain that comes with war.  We walked slowly back to my house arm in arm and the closer we got, it became clear the shadow standing at the front door was my mother waiting for me.  Her remarks were swift and harsh.  She found my interest in Willie overshadowing the fact my own brother would also be leaving.  And possibly our Father.  She was right.  I hadn’t thought beyond my Willie. 
    And then he was gone.  I would sing to my Sweet Willie for the next forty years until I would finally meet him in the great beyond.

     I'll be comin home to you Sweet Willie,
    I'm comin home to you..

    Please don't fear Sweet Willie,
    The Time is near,

    I'm coming home to you...
    For the War is old and forgotten by many...

     It took you from me too soon..
    So be patient dear and please do not fear...

    I'm comin home to you....

     We have a love that's forever and deep as the sea,
    With eagerness I await thee...

    Be it death or life, be it you or me...
    I'm comin home to you...

     Where the valley light meets the dusk of day,
    I'm comin home to you....

     I will never stop till the day is nay...
    Where I meet you on the other side...

    Be it floods or famine or a gunshot wound,
    I welcome the end in sight.

     For my love is like the ocean deep
    For it brings us always for keeps....

    I'll be comin home to you sweet Willie,

    I'm comin home to you...

     When the grass is green and the fields are yellow..
    I'll be comin home to you....

    I’ll be comin home to you… Sweet Willie

    (Photo from WWII The Huffington Post)  I wrote the above short story and the song.  I sing it often and have for many years.  I do believe I lived this story in my past.  And I do believe I will be going home to my Willie some day.  There is but a veil between reality and the typed words from my heart.

    Saturday, July 19, 2014

    Fixing all the errors.

    I have taken some time off my blog to work on fixing all the errors in my fun little book.  The Cardboard Box.
    And there were certainly a lot of them.   Sometimes I like to just sit down and write what comes into my head.  Later is the time to correct.  Although I dragged a few of you along with me this time. 
    I'll be back, hopefully with some of my old humorous blog posts. 

    Monday, June 23, 2014

    Chapters messed up...

    I know I have my chapters numbers off. 
    Decided not to make a Part II.  Just haven't fixed it yet.
    One more chapter to end Part I.......Working on it!

    Thursday, March 6, 2014

    REDONE: Part II Chapter Three....................property of Diane Ogden

    I insisted Billy drop me off at a little motel a couple miles down from the Club.  And Billy insisted he either come in or he would sleep in his truck outside my motel room door for he wouldn't be having me deserted twice in one night.  He concurred that in the morning he would take me to get Duke and then drive me back to Pamela's pad.  Even summer nights can get real chilly on the coastal side of Texas.  Having said that, Billy whoever he was slept in his truck.  After all half the night had already passed.  I did throw him a pillow and blanket from the second story balcony.  I felt a tad bit badly about not letting him into my room, but shucks, I didn't even know that man's last name.  I mean, he appeared to be a well spoken young man, but again, who ever really knows a stranger.  Not me!  Billy could have been an ax murderer and chopped me up into a million little pieces and threw my little pieces into the ocean with heavy rocks surrounding me in his self made for me body bag. 

    Sometimes my imagination took off like a Texas Jack Rabbit running from a lightning bolt. The wandering thoughts usually happened when I was bored, or really just about anytime now that I think about it.

    I was having trouble falling asleep knowing that Billy was outside sleeping in his truck.  Adding to that fact, I was worried that Pamela could be in trouble somehow somewhere.  Added to that, I was also hoping Duke was doing alright and not missing me or frightened. And to top all that off, I began imagining someone might break into my room and chop me up. That is when I fell into a deep exhausted sleep.  Next thing I heard was a pounding on my door so loud my dead great aunt was surely awoken from the dirt she was laid to rest in.  I leaped from the covers and carefully peeled back a corner of the insulated drapes so as to not let whoever was doing such a bang up deal outside my door, see me!  Surprise Surprise!  It was Billy whoever he was.  And behind him was the Texas sun bearing down brightly upon my crack in the curtains.  What time was it.  I shouted to Billy to stop with the banging alright already.  Jeez Louise.  I checked my watch and I was late to pick up Duke.  Those insulated motel curtains allowed me an extra couple hours sleep.  There was no time to shower, brush my teeth, or anything.  I threw my clothes on, grabbed my purse and out the door I flew, at which time Billy said someone had turned him in as a loiterer.  Turned out the owners called the police who came and told him to get up and get on his way.  That is when he came pounding on my door like a jackhammer doing serious business to a cement curb! 

    We arrived at the Allen's where Duke had spent the night.   I could hear him barking but I couldn't make out where the sounds were coming from.  Oh God I hope they didn't leave him in the basement alone.  Or maybe they put him in the garage, or tied to a tree, alone and outside all night.  Or, or..... and there I went again.   Extreme imagination off the charts Julianna.   I rang the doorbell all the while mentally preparing my so sorry for being late speech.   No answer.  I rang again.  No answer.
    Duke was barking!  I needed to get my dog and he needed me also.   Billy looked at me and I looked at Billy and then again.  He asked me what I felt I should do now.  I said I didn't have a dang clue and by the way what is your last name Billy Boy?  He informed me he hated the name Billy Boy and please don't refer to him as that ever again.  And then told me his last name was Connolly.  William Boyd Connolly.  I was impressed. Not only was he polite, he exercised chivalry.  He could dance, he was handsome, and he drove an out of sight truck.  I recall felling my next inquiry should have been as to what his job in life was.  Or maybe not.  I would be leaving very soon for other parts of the country so Billy Boy would be just another person I had met in my journey to Los Angeles.

    Bill and I decided to check around the back yard which entailed climbing one short gate that led through the carport and then a more serious shimmy up a very tall fence line.   For some reason Billy's chivalry went over and above fence lines.  He hollered back to me that Duke was there but then I knew that considering Dukes continuous barking.   That is when the guttural sounds from man and dog hit the airwaves of my consciousness to a stage of danger sounds.  I shouted, "What is going on?"  Just then Billy came flying over the top of that fence with the rear end of his nice looking western slacks torn and hanging about his hot bum.  Wow, I commented.  But wait, Duke wouldn't ever do anything like that I didn't think, but then again I wasn't totally sure.  Billy informed me there was another very large and unkind animal guarding Duke who was passively laying by the back door.  In other words that wasn't Duke barking after all.  Now what, I thought.  But no words would come out of my mouth.  I just wanted my dog, my pink Cadillac and my money.  Seemed to be a continuing issue with me lately.

    Billy found me a piece of paper to write the Allen's a note.  I left it in the mailbox as I figured they would not be entering their home through the front door. More likely the carport door behind the locked gate.  I was climbing into the Chevy when I noticed a car pull into the Allen's driveway, and behind that car were two Houston City Police cruisers.   I had about enough of the Johnny Law this past month.   I began searching for my brown paper bag considering I was gulping air.  That same danged air I gulped crossing the Mississippi and the same danged air I gulped through the last tornadic storm.  Billy asked me what in the world I was doing?   Just then the fuzz opened his drivers side door, yanked him out, exposed his hot bum and threw him on the ground.  I was next!!  I opened my passenger side door and screamed, "WAIT!"   That is when all at the same time I was thrown onto the ground, while Mr. Allen was also screaming, "WAIT! WAIT, I know her, I have her dog!"
    Somehow at that moment those pigs weren't into listening. 

    Turns out the neighbors called Mr. Allen at work, who in turn called the local Lawmen who in turn felt them needed to manhandle two young people.  My Lord those policemen each must have weighed near 300 pounds each.  At least one of the four knees between them had punctured my rear side.  Finally after some minutes of tussling and handcuffing Billy and I, the two hee-men pigs stopped long enough to listen.  Mr. Allen was apologizing up one side and down Billy's backside.  Yet after a few minutes of that nonsense, he got real serious and asked us why the hell we climbed his secure fence line.  I told him I had overslept at a motel because my friend deserted me over at the Fools Gold Night Club on Westheimer.  I didn't have your address with me so this kind young man drove me to my motel, slept outside in his truck, drove me here this morning to get Duke only to find no one home.  So we decided to climb the fence and get Duke and leave you a note.  But.....
    Mr. Allen said, "But you got a surprise, right?  I see by the looks of your friends britches my guard dog Nitro had introduced himself."  

    "Yes Sir." I said.

    The officers unlocked the cuffs on Billy and I at which time the pig that was in charge of my personal being extended his hand to shake.  I swear by the light of day here we go again.  Throw me down, beat me up, put your knee in my buttock, handcuff me too tightly, and then want to be my best friendly acquaintance.  Just brought back Daddy J Bar J Oil and Cattleman to the front and center of my minds eye.  This time I did shake Johnny Law's hand because it was the smart thing to do considering my recent run of luck.  One never knows when one might need the fuzz, even a very large fuzz man. 

    As the officers drove out of sight, Mr. Allen retrieved Duke for me.  And at that same moment I noticed Billy staring at me like I was, "Mirror mirror on the wall, whose the baddest of them all? Me!"  He said not one word.  Just stood there staring with his plaid boxers exposed behind the torn once hot western pants.  I started to say, "I'm so sorr......"  when Duke leaped up onto me licking and crying like an abandoned child at his first day of kindergarten!  I sat down on the grass and held Duke with love and adoration until he calmed down.  I assured him I would not leave him for a very long ever again.  Or at least until we had a more secure life. 

    Okay, Okay Billy said.  I get it now!   That is some terrific dog you got there Missy.  I agreed as Duke leaped into the truck, sat down and waited for us to follow. Next up we headed for Pamela's pad.  I had forgotten that was still to be dealt with.  Billy made a pit stop at his house for a quick shower and a change of clothing.  Duke made himself comfortable on the very large studded leather sofa while I admired the artwork and other various unique items everywhere the eyes looked.  Whoa Cowboy, what and where do you come from I thought.  Just then Billy who know looked more like a Bill came trotting down the stairs ready to roll.  And so we did without so much as a word from me regarding the near mansion we just drove away from.  I was afraid to ask for fear he might say he was an oil and cattle man.  I had been to that rodeo before and wasn't ready for another one like the last one, if ever....

    Tuesday, January 28, 2014

    Writing These Chapters for a Reason..............by Diane Ogden

    I have written two novels only to discover I am the Queen of passive voice sentences.  And the Queen of past and present tense confusion.  
    This said, please note I am writing this little or big story to PRACTICE past and present tense writing.
    Forget the Passive Voice......someone else can do that one for me.   I do wish I could remember Mrs. Covington's English Lit class.  Retention was always an issue for me.  So here I am writing repetitively every day so I can "get it" down pat.  Then go back and fix the novels.  One at a time.
    Thank you for any input at all.  Just be nice.  
    Diane O