Sunday Favorites -- Herbs Are Not Just For Cooking

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

This post appeared on my blog just over a year ago, but with herb harvest time in full swing, I thought now was a good time to repost it.

I think everyone has their favorite herb. The one they add to everything they cook. We all understand that a bit of herb here or there can make a dish really stand out.

But herbs are not just for cooking.

In my weekly exploration of herbs, I have touched on some medicinal uses and some magical uses for herbs. But there are so many things that go beyond even those uses.
Herbs, or herb oils are often used in making soaps and cosmetics, paints, fuel oil, and other manufacturing.

One would think, that with such useful plants growing right in our own garden, we would be using them for pert’near everything, yet so many of us have barely even touched the tip of the iceberg when it comes to using our herbs to benefit and enrich our lives.

So, I wanted to explore some uses for herbs that don’t involve cooking (per se) nor do they rely on folklore, magic or superstition.


Here are the directions for a day of head to toe herbal pampering:

First, treat yourself to a

Facial Sauna.
For cleansing and purifying one's complexion. this pleasant herbal steam penetrates deeply and cleanses every pore.

Simply boil three cups water and add 1 heaping tablespoon each of:
chamomile,
lavender,
fennel,
lemon balm,
sage,
rosemary.

Simmer for 15 minutes; turn off the heat. Pour into a metal bowl.
Pull back your hair away from your forehead and bend over the bowl, keeping your head at least 15 inches away so you don't scald your skin. Drape a thick towel over your head to confine the vapors. Inhale the herbal mist for 5 to 15 minutes, then splash cold water onto your face and neck to close the pores. Your skin will be soothed and your complexion will have a healthy, rosy glow.

Then, soak away sore feet with an

Herbal Foot Bath.
This steamy herb combination will stimulate your foot circulation, soothe your foot muscles, and soften the skin.
Combine 1/2 cup of each of :
chamomile,
comfrey,
lavender,
rosemary.
Infuse the herbs in a quart of warm water and pour into a foot basin partially filled with warm water. Wrap some of the herbs in cheesecloth to form a compress. Gently apply or massage this compress into any sore spot while soaking.

Next, hop into your bathtub for a soothing, cleansing

Herbal Soak.
You can prepare an herbal infusion on the stove or make up bath bags to have ready in a basket sitting beside your bathtub.

To make an infusion: pour boiling water over a handful each of
rosemary,
mint,
thyme,
lemon balm,
lavender flowers.
Let steep for about 20 minutes. Add to your bath water and soak for 5 to 15 minutes.

An herbal bath helps you in two ways: first, your skin absorbs the essential oils from the herbs through the hot water, and then the steam makes the volatile herb oils vaporize in the air and release their fragrances.
Some herbs stimulate your circulation, some soothe and calm you down, while others provide deep cleaning. It's the combination that provides the harmonizing effect that makes herbal baths so pleasurable.

Bath bags are easily made out of unbleached muslin, tied with twine. Using pinking shears, cut the muslin into 8-inch squares.

Mix together 1/2 cup each of dried
hibiscus flowers
chopped lemon balm,
mint,
chamomile,
lavender flowers,
rosemary leaves.

Place about 2 tablespoons in the center of each cloth square. Gather the muslin tightly around the herbs and tie with twine, first making a double knot and then a bow.
Several minutes before getting into your bath, swish one of the herbal bath bags round in the hot bath water. It'll scent the water and the room, soothing your skin as you soak.
Keep the bags in a pretty basket near your tub to have ready for the next time. They'll scent the bathroom at the same time.

Now the herbs have worked their magic on your body, treat yourself to an
herbal nightcap,


Tranquil Herbal Tea.
Mix together
2 ounces dried peppermint leaves (nature's digestive),
2 tablespoons dried rosemary leaves (nature's tranquilizer),
2 teaspoons dried sage leaves (nature's sleep producer).

Mix and store in a tightly closed glass jar. Add 1 heaping teaspoon of the herb mixture to a cup of boiling water. Let steep for 1 minute. Strain. Sweeten to taste with
Honey, splenda, stevia, or the sweetener of your choice, and sip slowly.
Enjoy a wonderful, restful sleep.

So, now I want to know.

Besides cooking, what do YOU use herbs for

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures. Read all about it here

Sunday Favorites, Navajo Tacos

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This story originally was written at Thanksgiving time, but it happened about this time of year. I was riding with Danny, another driver, who was giving me a ride to Texas to pick up a truck that a driver had abandoned there.

  

Today is Thanksgiving, and the mind naturally turns to food. I can't help but think of some of the different foods I have tried across the country, from Boudan in Louisiana, to Pasties in Northern Michigan.  From Portabello and Oyster stew in Delaware, to Sourdough bread in San Francisco.  From Chicago Dogs, to Georgia Peaches, to Texas Chili.  Alligator on a stick in Baton Rouge, Pecans in Texas, Chocolate in Hershey, Pennsylvania.

I was traveling through New Mexico one day, with a coworker, and I mentioned how much I like Navajo Tacos.  He gave me a funny look, that told me he had no idea what I was talking about, so I determined that I would find a place for him to try one.

We stopped at a little restaurant on the reservation, and went in and sat down.  Danny looked at the menu, and remarked that he didn't think they sold Navajo Tacos.  I was amazed.  How could a Navajo restaurant not sell Navajo Tacos? 

The Lady waiting on us was also the owner, and I mentioned to her what we had come in hoping to find.  She shook her head... "No, we don't sell those."

I explained that Danny had never tried them, and asked if she knew of a place that made them.

I'll never forget her reaction.  Her eyes lit up, and it was clear to see she was on a mission.  She made it perfectly clear that nobody made them as good as she could, and if that's what we wanted, then that's what we would get. 

She went back into the kitchen, and in less than 15 minutes, she reappeared, with two plates, laden with fry bread, topped with meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and chile sauce. The perfect Navajo Tacos.  I had eaten these before, so I knew what they tasted like, Danny had not, but we both agreed that these were the best Navajo Tacos that we had ever eaten.

When we finished, and told her how much we appreciated her extra effort, and how much we enjoyed our meal, we asked for our check.  She handed us a ticket, charging us for two Cokes and nothing else.  When I questioned her about it, she replied, "We don't sell those.  I wouldn't know what to charge."

We left a really big tip.

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures. Read all about it here

Sunday Favorites - The Line Jogs

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

You especially want to Visit Chari's blog this week, because it is her one year anniversary of Sunday Favorites, and she is having some great giveaways:




Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This one, titled simply: The Line Jogs occurred in the summer of 2001. Diann was not with me on this trip. I had my son Ryan, who was 12 years old at the time, riding with me for the summer.

   

At the Arizona / New Mexico border on I40 is a rest area, and  a scattering of shops and stores.  These are Native American owned, as this spot is actually on the Navajo Nation, what we often call the Navajo Indian Reservation. 

One of the places called Chief Yellowhorse Trading Post is run by a little old man, with a perpetual smile.  For lack of a better name to call him, I mentally refer to him as Chief Yellowhorse.  That's what I will call him in this account.

The Trading post sits about 200 yards East of the state line.  You can see the state line from the highway, this is the spot where the blacktop changes colors.  Where the big signs says ARIZONA on one side of the road, and NEW MEXICO on the other.  Its is pretty easy to tell where the state line is.

I stopped one day to visit Chief Yellowhorse.  Signs along the highway Scream "See The Cave Buffalo", "Indian Blankets", "Jewelry, Crafts, Souvenirs".  With that much Hype, I just had to stop and see what the fuss was all about.

Chief Yellowhorse met me at the door to his trading post.  He smiled and welcomed me, inviting me into his shop.  As I walked in the door, the first thing I noticed was a line, painted straight down the middle of the floor.  A red line, painted with about a 2 inch paintbrush.  On one side of the line was painted "Arizona" and on the other side "New Mexico".  I glanced back at the road, where the big state welcome signs stood.  I looked over at the service drive, where the green and white sign declares "State Line".  I looked back at the floor.  Yep, it clearly indicated that the state line ran through the middle of his store.  I scratched my head.  I thought long and hard about it.  Could it be possible?

Finally, I asked Chief Yellowhorse about the line on the floor.  "What is this line?" I asked. ( I have such a way with words.) 

 He shrugged,  "State line".

"How can that be the state line? The signs say the line is over there." I asked in confusion, simply looking for clarification.

Chief Yellowhorse delivered the classic response when he looked at the sign, looked at the floor, and said "The line makes a little jog right here."

I am happy to report I kept a straight face, the whole time I was looking at the cave buffalo.

And yet, why not?  Why can't the state line make a jog there.  The land in question was part of the Navajo Nation long before it was Arizona or New Mexico, so if the property owner says the line jogs, who am I to argue.

It's all just a matter of perspective.

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here

Sunday Favorites -- Spirit In The Sky

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This one was written after an adventure Diann and I had together. Those of you from Texas, and those who have visited there, will understand:

Spirit In The Sky

Montana calls itself "Big Sky Country" and it only takes one trip through Montana to understand why.  Imagine yourself driving under a bright blue inverted Tupperware bowl. Not the little cereal bowls, the big potato-salad-for-the-family-reunion bowl.  The Pop-enough-popcorn-for-a-double-feature-video-night-on-the-couch bowl.  You know the one I mean. 

Montana has a big sky all right.  A sky that stretches all the way from one edge of the horizon to the other. A sky that arches overhead in a vaulted ceiling of heaven.  An umbrella of atmosphere, holding the raindrops out, and the sunshine in.  A BIG SKY!

As big as the Montana sky is in the daytime, however, the Texas sky at night is bigger.  Texas night sky doesn't just reach to the edges of the horizon, it wraps around the bottom and comes back up the other side.  The Texas night time sky leaves no doubt that this world we live on is a tiny speck, in a vast and endless universe. The stars at night truly are big and bright, in the heart of Texas, and the rest of the state too!

And did I mention the darkness?  Texas Darkness makes pitch dark look like partly cloudy.  In the Northeast, (and I consider everything north and east of Saint Louis, Missouri to be Northeast), there is no such thing as dark.  When you drive down the road, as soon as the lights of one city disappear in your rearview mirror, the glow of the next appears in your windshield.  You never quite get away from the neon and fluorescence.  But in Texas?  In Texas, you can drive for days, for weeks, and never see a city.  Not a town, not even a farmhouse. 

So it was, that we drove through Texas, late at night, in the rain.  The clouds shut out even the stars, and the darkness became a beast, held at bay by two feeble headlamps. 

The rain had started innocently enough, as a gentle sprinkle, but had quickly evolved from a steady drizzle to a fierce downpour.  Windshield wipers slapped back and forth, moving water over the glass in a valiant, but futile attempt to keep it clear.  I leaned forward, peering through the rain, trying to see the road, looking for a place to stop for the night, or at least wait out the storm.

Suddenly, the night was transformed, instantly, by  a brilliant white light.  Every pebble on the roadside stood out in vivid relief, as the world glowed, and then, as suddenly as it had come, the light was gone and a great roar of thunder shook the very ground we drove on.  The thunderstorm went on for what seemed like hours.  Straining my eyes, to see through the inky blackness, only to be blinded by an overwhelming influx of lightning, and immediately returned to total darkness.

Finally, we found a place to park.  The parking lot of a What-a-Burger where we could sit and watch the storm, without the fear of driving off the road.

No fireworks display on the Fourth of July has ever lit up the sky like the lightning of a Texas nighttime thunderstorm.  No man-made pyrotechnics can compare with the splendor and beauty of those fingers of power, stretching from the very heavens to touch the earth.

If I ever had doubted the presence of a higher being, all doubt would have been washed away, as  I watched the sheer power and energy of that storm rage across the sky.

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here

7288

Sunday Favorites -- See The Gator

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This one speaks for itself. Have you ever seen the gator?

 

As you approach Florida, on I 95 you see start to see billboards miles before you get to the state line.  "See The 14'  Alligator"  they proudly proclaim in letters almost as high as the acclaimed alligator is long.

I have always been fascinated by alligators, and when I saw the signs, I knew this was going to be a "must stop" tourist attraction for me.

We saw more and more of these bright blue and orange banners as we got closer: "See The 14' Alligator, 45 miles ahead" then 25 miles, 15 miles, 5 miles, 2 miles. 
They wanted to make sure you didn't miss your chance to see that 'gator. 
I wanted to make sure too, so I kept my eyes peeled for the exit number that would take me to the 14' alligator.

Finally, we were there,  the 'gator exit. As we got off the freeway, we could see  huge fruit stands, stretching out for what looked like several city blocks. 
There were piles of oranges, grapefruit, tangerines, and limes.  There were mounds of coconuts and tables heaped with conch shells.

 Brilliant colors airbrushed on everything from sand dollars to T-shirts made sure we knew that we had arrived in Tourist Heaven.

Inside the shop we loaded up with all the tourist stuff: local candies, postcards, T-shirts, coffee mugs, hat pins, even coconuts carved like pirates. .

The Florida Bureau of Tourism probably posts advisories to all its member merchants to be on the lookout for people like us.  We might as well write "Geeky Tourist" across our foreheads in red ink.

But where was the alligator?  I looked up and down the sides of the building, looking for a pond.  Was there a special tank?  A shed where he lived?  Where would they keep a 14-foot alligator where people could see him, and yet still be able to feed him?

Finally, I asked someone.  "Where is the Alligator?"  With a smile, he directed me to the most distant and smallest building on the property.  It was nothing more than a cheesy looking store with seashell mobiles and wind chimes hanging from the eaves.  Holding my camera, I walked as fast as I could over to the 'gator building. 

I had waited a long time for this.  I had read the signs, and by golly, I was going to see the 'gator.

As soon as I walked in the front door I saw him.  There perched on a display table in the front corner of the store,  was the alligator, all 14 feet of him. Mouth agape in a frightening display of rows of needle sharp teeth.  With at least 1/8 inch of dust on him. Dead and stuffed.  Just like he had been for years I'm sure.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm sure that alligator was 14 feet long, just like the signs said.  And they never once said "Live Alligator".  Nevertheless, I felt just a little bit cheated.  They didn't lie to me. They delivered exactly what they had promised, yet I had allowed myself to believe that there would be much more.

How often in life do we allow ourselves to have great expectations, only to be disappointed when reality does not measure up to our imagination?

Now, when I find out the truth about something, and it wasn't quite all it was cracked up to be, when I experience the letdown that comes with disappointment, I don't let it get me down. 

After all, it's not the first time "I've Seen the 'Gator". 

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here

Sunday Favorites - Great American Road Trip

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This one seemed especially appropriate for this week, because it happened on our anniversary, which is coming up this week.

  

My wife and I were married on April 1( that's right, April Fools Day)  in Las Vegas Nevada, and by April 3 we had left Las Vegas on the Great American Road Trip.  A trip that would ultimately turn into a six week honeymoon that took us through 39 different states.  We had so much fun, that, in addition to our regular traveling, we have planned a sequel edition to the Great American Road Trip every year since then, to celebrate our anniversary.

One such Trip brought us on April 1, 2003 to Roswell New Mexico.  Not too far outside of Roswell, on a lonely desert highway, we came across a tiny gas station with an attached store. 

In today's day and age, the thought of a gas station and attached store might bring to mind gleaming countertops filled with hot dogs, condiments, fountain drinks, candy bars, and various other merchandise, lit by florescent lights all nestled under the glow of a neon marquis. Sparkling restrooms, lightly scented with cinnamon air freshener, and a smiling teenager at the cash register, waiting to ring up your purchases, and accept your payment.

Just go ahead and wipe all those thoughts out of your head right now.

From the gravel lot, to the single dilapidated gas pump.  From the one room house converted into a one room store, to the portable outhouse in the back, complete with padlock and handwritten criteria. ("Paying customers only--ask attendant for key").  From the dust covered souvenirs to the somewhat dubious looking display of who knows how long they have been there snacks, this was not by any stretch of the imagination your typical, modern, every day, big city, C-store.

We walked in the door, and were greeted by the owners, a man and woman about our age, who smiled at us, and then proceeded to follow us around the store. (this didn't take long, a single circuit around a single 12' X 12' room, with a single shelf all the way around the outer wall.) Every time we touched a piece of merchandise on the shelf, we got the entire sales pitch for that particular item.  We quickly learned to look without touching, and to communicate with furtive eye movements, so as not to alert the omnipresent proprietor of our interest in any of his wares. 

Finally, so that we could be classified as "paying customers" thereby making us eligible to ask the attendant for the key to the facilities, we picked out a small terra cotta Gila monster, paid our $5.99 and asked for the key.

While honoring the ladies first rule, I waited in the store, engaging in obligatory idle chitchat with the merchant and his wife. 

"We are so glad you stopped by,"  He told me.  We haven't had many visitors yet today.  It is our anniversary, and we had hoped to make enough in sales today to go into town for dinner."  What a coincidence I thought, today was our anniversary too.  We were driving on down the road, and almost certainly would celebrate with dinner in a restaurant somewhere many miles away.  Somewhere with running water and real flush toilets.

Maybe I was just feeling extra generous on account of our anniversary.  Maybe it was something in the air.  A magnetic residue left from the infamous alien encounter there in Roswell.  I don't know, but by the time we drove away, I had somehow managed to buy: a coffee mug, a souvenir newspaper, pencils, postcards, and anything else that I thought we would possibly be able to use, give away, or put in a scrapbook.  

I hope they had an enjoyable dinner that night.  I know I did. 

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here

Sunday Favorites -- How do I get there?

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This one is called:

How Do You Get There?
It was late April 1999, when I stopped at a gas station just outside Buttonwillow, California.

I was hopelessly lost, and decided to stop and ask for directions.  (Yeah, I know, guys aren't supposed to ask directions, but I did it anyway.  I hope they don't kick me out of the guy club.)

As I got out, I noticed a Sheriff's deputy parked by the gas pumps, cleaning his windshield.  I walked over, atlas in hand, and told him where I was trying to go.  He smiled, as if it didn't bother him that a guy was humiliating himself by admitting that he needed directions, and showed me on my map, where I was, and where I needed to go.  I jokingly told him that if I had known that he was cleaning windshields, I would have parked closer. He laughed and I went inside to get a Coke and take care of some personal business.

When I came out, there was the deputy, standing on my running board, cleaning my windshield.

How often do we look at cops as the bad guys?  The one who we have to look out for, and avoid, yet here he was, in full uniform, using a squeegee on my windshield.  There was no reason for him to do this. I certainly didn't expect it, and would never have given it another thought had he simply got in his car and driven away. Yet by this one simple act of kindness and generosity, he indelibly imprinted himself in my mind.  What a nice thing to do, I thought. 

He not only gave me driving directions, but with one simple act, he gave me an example to follow as well.

I hope that from time to time, in chance encounters with strangers, I can leave a positive impression like that cop left on me.  I hope that years from now, the stranger who passed me on the way will remember me and say.  "What a nice thing to do." 

~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~ ~{@ @}~

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here
I apologize in advance to any anonymous posters. Because of the large amount of SPAM I was getting, I had to block anonymous comments.
Sorry,

Troy

Sunday Favorites -- A Different Drummer

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

This story happened in the Spring of 1999.

 

A DIFFERENT DRUMMER
It was a warm Sunday afternoon and I was driving on Highway 6 over Soldier Summit, from Spanish Fork  to Green River, Utah.  The road was clean and clear, traffic was slow, and I had the local Country station cranked up loud on the radio.

Like I often do when I am driving  and the weather is nice I was drumming my hands on the steering wheel playing along with whichever group was twanging out a tune.

Just then, a pickup truck passed me.  Sitting in the back were two kids who looked like they could very well have been extras on either Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure or Wayne's World.  One of them looked back and saw me playing my steering wheel drums.  He nudged the other, and they both broke out in huge grins.  I should have been embarrassed, but I decided to keep on playing.  I probably was too caught up in the song anyway to mind at that point.

The kids grinned for a minute, then one held up his hands like he was holding a guitar, and started "playing" also.  The other joined in on his "air guitar" and so we drove down the highway for several minutes ------I on my drums, and they on what I presumed was a bass guitar and a lead guitar. 

Finally, we finished our song, and they drove away, still grinning big old silly grins.

That was it; A moment in time.  They probably forgot all about it, and never gave our "jam session" another thought, but I have thought  about it a lot over the years.

I have no idea what songs these two listened to, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't country.  I had my tune, running through my head, and they had their tune, running through theirs.  Two completely different worlds, yet for just a moment, we intersected.  We meshed.  In a bizarre and unexplainable way, for just that brief glimpse of time, we shared a common denominator.

We may have marched to two different drummers, but we were in harmony with one another.

Isn't that what it is all about?  We go through life, passing perfect strangers, many of whom have little or nothing in common with us. Yet the question is, how different are we really?

Aren't we all just in it for the song?

Don't forget to sign up for my giveaway, you can be entered up to 6 different times!


Read all about it and enter here.

Be sure and join me each Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in, where readers are invited to share trivia and show off their treasures.


Read all about it here
I apologize in advance to any anonymous posters. Because of the large amount of SPAM I was getting, I had to block anonymous comments.
Sorry,

Troy

Sunday Favorites Feb, 21 2010 - The Little White Church

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

A couple of weeks ago, my Sunday Favorite was from Nebraska too. I got feedback from a couple of Nebraskans, maybe one of you knows the story behind the little white church.

The Little White Church

Along Interstate 80 in Nebraska, right by the side of the freeway stands a little old church and schoolhouse. I have passed them many times over the years, and for one reason or another have never been able to stop to investigate.

I know they have a story to tell. I wonder, who prayed there? Who got married there? Whose funeral was held there? What lives were touched by the lesson taught in Sunday services? What stories were told to the children who went to school in that one-room schoolhouse? Did they have to get up every morning at 5:00 a.m. and walk to get there, barefoot in the snow?

I keep promising myself that someday, I will stop and investigate the history of these two buildings. Someday, I will know.

I wonder if, years from now, someone will drive past the empty remnants marking my time on earth and wonder about me? Have I left any footprints? Have I made a mark on the earth? Will my life and my passing be an insignificant moment in time, like a dust cloud on the prairie? Or will something I leave behind stand, like a solemn reminder, of the life that I lived, the good and the bad times that I had, and the things that I saw?

Make sure and stop by Chari's blog: Happy to Design, for more Sunday Favorites.

And be sure and join me on Tuesday for Tuesday Trivia Tie-in.



I apologize in advance to any anonymous posters. Because of the large amount of SPAM I was getting, I had to block anonymous comments.

Sorry,


Troy

Sunday Favorite Feb 14, 2010 - Bumper Cars Anyone?

It's Sunday and time for Sunday Favorites, where Chari, from Happy to Design allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels. In my Sunday Favorites posts, I am sharing some of those stories.

I know it's Valentines Day, and I should post a Valentines post, but I don't have any old Valentines posts.

So, first of all I want to wish everyone a:



Even if you don't "Do" Valentine's Day, please take a minute today, to say "I Love You" to the people you love.

With the fine weather we have had this week, I thought maybe a wintery post would be appropriate;

This one was written some time in the winter of 2002-2003.

Bumper Cars Anyone?


I've driven on all kinds of terrain, and in all kinds of weather. Up hills and down, across flat plains, and rolling hill. Through green farmlands, grey deserts, and white snow covered meadows.

I have nothing personal against the people of Illinois, but given the choice, if I never drive in Chicago again, it will be too soon.

I remember one night, driving through Chicago in a snowstorm. Chicago isn't called the Windy City because of a hamburger franchise. The wind was whipping snow across the road, ice was forming everywhere, and the roads were slicker than bacon fat on a hot griddle.

As I approached an on ramp, Somewhere on the I294 toll road, I saw a car coming on to the interstate. I eased off my speed a little, to give them room to merge safely, and as soon as space opened up in front of me, some yokel from the next lane to my left cut into that space. He reached the center of the lane about the same time as the oncoming car. They bumped once and slid apart. The car on the left glanced briefly off of the car in the next lane, and bounced back into the lane in front of me, where he hit the oncoming car again. At this point, traffic was only going about 25 miles per hour, because of the heavy snow, so this all played out in front of me in slow motion. The two cars jockeyed for position for a few moments, then they both settled into the lane, and resumed driving down the road. I know for a fact that there were at least 3 cars involved in this incident, and not one of them stopped.

Maybe it was just a bad day, but as far as I'm concerned, I'd rather go to Disneyland If I'm going to play Bumper Cars.

Make sure and stop by Chari's blog: Happy to Design, for more Sunday Favorites.

I apologize in advance to any anonymous posters. Because of the large amount of SPAM I was getting, I had to block anonymous comments.

Sorry,

Troy

Sunday Favorites Feb 7, 2010.

Chari at Happy to Design has a feature called Sunday Favorites. It allows participants to share an old blog post with readers, while still taking Sunday off, by reposting an old post.

Years ago, as an over the road truck driver, I collected a few thoughts and stories from my journeys and travels.

At one point, I put them into an AOL Journal, then when AOL discontinued journals, I moved them into a blogger file where they have sat dormant.

I thought maybe, on Sunday Favorites, I would share a few of them.

My first one, was written some time in early 1999. I don't have an exact date.

But here it is:

Where Do They Go?

It was a sunny, brisk February afternoon as I drove Eastbound on Interstate 80 through Nebraska.

For as far as the eye could see, in every direction, there was nothing but
rolling hills, grass, and utility poles. On my right, alongside the
shoulder of the freeway ran a barbed wire fence. Parallel to it,
about 15 feet further in was another fence. Between the two were two
ruts worn in the grass, obviously made by farm implements on their way
to do whatever it is farm implements do in the grassy fields of
Nebraska.

Suddenly, far off in the distance I saw them, eight black specks,
stretched out in a row between the two fences. As I got closer, they
got bigger, and I soon recognized them to be cattle.

They were rangy, a nondescript breed, mostly black, but with a few
white markings. They were walking at a brisk pace, all in a line down the
lane, in sort of a bovine game of "follow the leader".

I looked in the direction they were headed. There was nothing but more ruts as far as I could see. A glance in my rear view mirror did not reveal where or why they had started this journey. Yet they walked on, oblivious to the traffic rushing past, a mere 30 feet away.

I couldn't help but wonder as I passed them. Where are they going?
What is there at the end of the rutted lane that would motivate them all, not one,
but eight cows to all walk down the lane, not stopping to taste the
morsels of green grass, or to scratch their thick necks on fence posts,
but pursuing with some strange dedication their unseen goal?

I thought how often we walk down life's pathway, our goal so far out of
sight as to seem unreachable at times, yet never wavering from our
journey.

Do we, like the cows, simply plod along, chewing our cud, with no
notion of what lies ahead, just following the equally clueless
cud-chewer in front of us? Or are we motivated by an unseen goal
joining with others, as we all pursue the same final destination?

I wanted to ask the cows, "Where are you going? What do you hope to
find there?" But alas, as they were traveling at the speed of cows and I was
driving much faster, I was unable to do so. And so, as I watched them
disappear in my rear view mirror, I realized that I would forever
wonder....

Where Do The Cows Go?

Make sure and stop by Chari's blog: Happy to Design, for more Sunday Favorites.