THE FOOTNOTES

Had a tough time getting his dragon suit on him, so put on Moe instead

We did an assignment in our writing class which I would like you to ponder. The assignment was to write a three-line poem. It turned out to be an expression of what I consider valuable:

I hit the lottery,
Not for money, but for life
I won my children, my health and my wife!

This is Ri=uby, dozing off and Roscoe, getting ready to swim for a stick at the Vineyard.

This is Veda Moonfox and Teik Blue...we got these puppies from a KY shelter where they were scheduled to be (what I consider) murdered...They also have a brother, Denver Greystorm, and he lives with my husbands Aunt in MA. These pups are smiling because we were hiking at the Vineyard on vacation this past July/August.

So here are more than a few pictures of our little family unit...

This is myself and my husband Patrick hiking in the woods behind our house. Some of the woods are part of Beaver Brook State Park.

At certain times of the year, the sun going down in the west creates beautiful scenes
in our woodes. Reminds me of Monet's Haystacks as the light differs

Noonskitheelder, can be had by doing the following: Go Footnotes; click on the orange icon on the upper corner to go to Dashboard; under Reading List All Blog then Update, find noonskitheelder---click--takes you there---then explore the old blog. It's like a history book,

I have trouble getting at the old blog by using the usual methods

Try going there directly: http://noonski.blogspot.com Let me know if you can go there directly

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Megan has joined our blog as a contributor. We are happy that she has joined us and we look forward to her active participation

Hello everyone! So, I finally figured out how to get on this blog...I hope everyone is well and that we can get back in touch and stay in touch!!! I'll try to post some pictures and comments to catch everyone up!! Hope to see you all soon!

I don't care what anyone says...most people looked good in the 80s, even if they did have a mullet. At least the people I knew still had hair.

My friend Sharon turned 43 and had an 80s party at our favorite watering hole. The sad thing was that I still owned everything I needed for my outfit! Guess I ought to get out to shop more often. This is the same skirt I used to wear at Willington Pizza back in the 80s. Why is it still in my closet??!

HUNNA MAKES THE SOAP Sept. 15, 2009

“Bobby,get up. Aunt Hunna is expecting you to mow the lawn for her today. She said
she would make you some of that Ripe Tomato Marmelade__you love. , if you stayed for lunch. . And while you are at Hunna’s, find out how she makes that stuff. Get out of bed., now. “
“What’s the rush, it’s only 11:30, “ I grumbled, but I didn’t want to miss out on going to Hunna’s house. She was a great cook I was hoping for chocolate pudding, but I was flexible.
I jumped into my faded ,ragged worn out plaid knickers, the ones
with the buckles on the worn through knees, pulled on my knee length stockings, the ones that look like baseball socks because my toes and heels stuck out, got my old bike with no fender on the back, hoped we would get no rain because with no back fender, the tire would thrown water all over my back and lit out to the usual big hug and warm welcome I always got from Hunna..

I must have looked a little sweaty and unwashed, because Hunna said “I’m making some of that hard soap today and you look like you could use a bath.. You can help me make it. I’ll teach you how, and maybe you can take some home.
“First I want you to run over to the store and pick up some things I need to make the soap. I already have the five pounds of grease, but I still need a can of potash, some borax, and oil of citronella. I havc the other stuff, sugar, kerosene, and ammonia. Guess that’s all I need. Just tell Mike, the store man to charge it, so you won’t have to bring any money.” I never heard of putting all those things in soap, but I took her word for it, and rode over to the neighborhood store.

When I got back, Hunna was already melting the grease in a big pan. I had to go out in the barn to get a quarter of a cup of kerosene, hoping all the time Hunna knew what she was doing putting kerosene in the soap. I was afraid the kitchen stove would explode, or something, But I brought the kerosene into the house and awaited developments. Hunna dumped the whole can of potash into one quart of cold water along with the tablespoon of borax and let it dissolve.
Then she added the two tablespoons of ammonia, one tablespoon of sugar. One tablespoon of kerosene, and two tablespOons of oil of citronella to make the soap smell decent. She slowly poured the mixture into the melted grease stirring constantly until it was the consistency of honey. Finally, she poured
the mixture into a flat pan to cool before cutting.

It was then that I cut out. I skipped lunch. The Ripe Tomato Marmelade and its recipe would have to wait. I didn’t want the Hard Soap on my skin.
I went back another day to cut the grass when I didn’t look like I needed a bath.

OH PROMISE ME

“Here they come again” was our warning. We moved out of the projected path without difficulty.
“Who’s ahead?”
“I think it’s one of yours, but with all the jostling, pushing and tugging, the lead keeps changing.”

The runners came thundering up the hall from the front bedroom past the bathroom, almost to the ironing board then made a sharp left turn into the kitchen, past the stove where a Christmas turkey was cooking away, and emitting a heavenly aroma , a portent of Christmas dinner to come., and before you could utter a bad word, the group veered sharply left, into the dining room enroute to the living room where another sharp left took them through the front entry way, and back into the front bedroom, thus completing the entire circuit. All this time, one of the stragglers, on a tricycle was pedaling furiously trying to keep pace, but to no avail.

This indoor track meet turned out to be a matter of some discussion in post- Christmas family planning for future family get-togethers.

This was a formidable group of kids. Twelve of them, at that point, five of my wife’s sister, and seven of our own They were all quite young, close to each other in age, fun loving, and so glad to mingle with their cousins—and boy, did they!

We had a perfect plan “Let’s have Christmas together. This year at your house, and next year at ours. What could be better?” So we were implementing our plan this year for the first time.

Other things began to happen.. The Christmas tree was knocked over the first time quite early in the proceedings. “Isn’t that cute? The kids knocked down the Christmas tree. They will remember this for a lifetime, I’ll bet.” We righted the tree, swept up smashed ornaments, and festivities began anew.

Tree felling became less amusing after two or three more times. Progressively less cute, and the tree was thrown out in the backyard before dinner was served.
The tenure of that tree was probably the shortest of any Christmas tree in the history of the western world.

A group of 12 choir boys would be tough enough to control under such exciting condtions, to say nothing of what a mob of undisciplined such as ours proved to be.

In a solemn agreement after dinner, my wife and I, her sister and her husband made a pact which has been religiously honored from that day onward.:

“We won’t come to your house if you promise not to come to ours.”

The sun creates beautiful contrasts of light and dark. For example: