Come here prosperity

I am a versatile, loyal, reliable, productive, practical, cooperative and hard working employee.

I am ever mindful of how my actions affect the integrity of my employer, and so I strive to be ethical and professional in all my dealings with the public (customers). 

I am self motivated and have good time management skills, so I am goal oriented and can meet deadlines. 

I am an innovative and creative problem solver. I am also highly trainable. I am detail oriented, and have good oral and written communication skills.

I have a curious mind, and I enjoy the creative process, new projects and the mission to serve others which drives every facet of the service industry.

Then, the legal disclaimer... 

Anintroduction to the wild card side of the HjB. Ya know her....The Nevada born, to big for my own britches and more than little ginger. The one who is compelled to  even the odd score.

Disclaimer ..... I worship cowgirls. I can't  wAit to get dirty. 

I 'm slightly read, and never done with my rose colored glasses.

Also, my life is my continuing education; but I laugh my way down every row. At least I still survive, my personal adventure!

Now, ya might get caught with a smile; because at the tumbleweed feed "This is OUR Life," is our lease on life.

I am passionate about people and commerce, but not so much about the superficial grouping together of a mass in order to bring bulk goods and services to deliberately dulled souls....only because it's past time to evolve. 

I'm just saying: we used to cart our produce, and pigs, to market. 

D1: wildnevadan girl-woman is likely to slide off the tred-zone on occasion.

Or time after time.  That's my freedom and my poison.

And the super d, or double d.

DD: Ha. I have a sweet tooth for PRoSPeriTY.

Loves, 

HjB 

 

Why conspire? How does your garden grow?

"They" conspired to take my share, or somehow I had offered mine to sacrifice. At the end of the season there was no hoard. Only a dry, empty cellar.

So many times I came away from a let down and thought, "Damn, it didn't have to go down like that." I was never able to identify a root cause of this obvious unbalance. I thought it was just me. Or an unlucky streak, that persisted.

When i was more able to organize myself, I found myself 10 feet below ground, in a hole of debt and worry I had dug for myself. More, I was confused as to why I had dug myself such a hole. Again.

I can own the shovel and the hole, but I cannot quite take full responsibility for the how I found myself there. I know better than to be caught dead nodding in the direction of anybody else. But people with an agenda were available for advice, and tend to set me toward doom or kaboom.

It was almost lucky for some of them. I was all devote enough time but where the hell is it and could not concentrate on anything long enough to bear achievement. I could tell it was fast approaching, "go for broke." 

What a joke.

If it weren't for the money I would of never found myself asking myself, "Is the whole sand dune inside my nose? Can the wind really be this relentless?"

Apparently. 

I knew I was meant to learn the hard way. I was young when I noticed the trend. A habit,  that sends me from beginning to end like a spinning circle; And, that I could go on forever this way. Outlast the Energizer bunny.

But, This activity of the line wasn't lovingly tendered or well meant character building. Suffering is suffering. 

And I part of why I'm inspired to contribute my perspective, here, is Because I can sense it's time, to build a new perspective. 

I do not have time to sleep when I am dead. I want to utilize God's gift of free will before I actually meet him.

My life and use of each day is just as righteous as the  next guys'.

Why did I ever let the cruel beast of immature in?

Now my midlife-confession:  I was in the middle of my courtin' obsession. I got hit with the middle of a recession. Now, we ALL make concessions. Confessions.

I thought, if we ALL dig a hole to China it is not just a hole, it is a highway. What does that say?



 















I am too serious for someone who survived. I could still cry. It was a shame.

So sad to know too many who buy form with habbits, but cannot abolish them.

My reflection can show, I am blown away and about by the wind and whimsy more easily. Things do not seem as solid for me anymore.

I'm happier here, having found a foothold before the slip. But I will be forever peaked with an interest in how things are perceived. Im uncomfortable with how comfortable we are in our fake world with our fake ideas of ourselves and each other.

I get a shiver when I think about our loyalty to the fake ideas of a governement, for and by, we the people, who fake interest with the public interest. To who? And which what does it serve? 

I spent just enough time in line to identify with others who suffer. 

Who knows what could happen if we completely forget to observe Mother Nature and we recieve God by electronic device and thy virtual reality is thy devine? 

And here I worry about my kids and doubt every word in the "No-child-left-behind-the-bus-unless- nobody-is-watching-and-because-it-snowed--they-don't-have-shoes-to-walk-uphill-both-ways," book I must have found at the animal shelter. 

Yet I know I will stand before judgement by my adhindersnce to it.

I am too American to stand at the bottom of the hole for very long. 

Damn sure if I will be babysitting my hole when it is time to lay down in it.

More, I know that if I can change, then I might inspire another person to take the same challenge. And, then so can another, and another. I hope there are others who feel It is time to dismantle this pattern of individual state of being "without" responsibility.

I don't want to feed the pig anymore because it is blinded by and addicted to ideals which leave it unable to help the needy.

I cannot believe I tried to bend the natural laws of the Universie to my will. I see the cow path I wore down where I side step my own morals.

I hope I am not the only one ready to call my inner Fool out for a good thrashing after school today.

It hasn't been much fun to decide a new path for new morals.

My kids try to motivate me, with this phrase and and I tumbleweed wish it might inspire at least one of my fellow Americans, to climb out of the hole if it resembles mine.

"Hell-o. Can we get this show on the road?"

And they are right.

I don't have time to sleep when I'm dead. 

Can't we just get along and help each other? 

Hell-o! Would being helpful or thoughtful to each other cause a life altering state of being? a natural disaster? 

Ah hell,

 I- tumbleweed wish...

I tumbleweed wish ...

For your sake and mine.

I tumbleweed wish ... We could take a break from things and the "we the people that are FAKE."

Well?

To do nothing, does not attract me.

Broke

It is time to fight the right fight.

My Hon asked me, what the last post meant. I shrugged my shoulders. It meant that my emotions spawned by the disolusionment of one of my great loves made it next to impossible to express to the world, with logic.

In simple terms, the tumbleweed is stuck in a fence.

My love is my country. My anger, disapointment and fustration with the governement has caused me such inner turmoil, I can hardly see the beauty, anymore. My citizenary dealings with the government has left me so estranged, my contribution to the Gross Domestic product, my trudge and drudge, is totally disrupted. All I want to do is fight and get revenge. I am so wickedly pissed, I cannot logically explain!

So we are real clear, right now. My anger has nothing to do with Obama or Obama Care. My anger is at the system, which is supposed to help the citizens prosper, and does the opposite. 

It has everything to do with how the people of this country, the citizens, run things.

 And the mulch that gives feeds my seeds, i.e., the Wild Nevadans in training, and teaches them to become responsible product generators, is one pissed off red-head. 

Anybody who knows me, knows I've been off lately. I've been unstable and told everybody, even myself, exactly what I think about them. If they are still standing there when I am done, I let them know how I feel about my governement.

First of all, I am a rule girl. I like to know and follow them. That way I can truly enjoy my free time, and not worry about being in trouble or feel guilty for shirking my responsiblities. I feel like, I am a part of the collective whole, which is my state, my country, my world, or even the universe. 

I believe I exist because I am a part of and contributor to the whole. I strive to be a team player; maintain my own immediate enviornment so as to not be a suck on the larger environment. 

More, whenever I am able, I lend a hand to the bigger or another person's enviornment, so that collectively, we can all move forward.

The fact I do not want to participate, and tumbleweed wish I could retreat to the extreme rural recess of this land, and take my immediate environment "off grid," is a fairy tale. I will always be just hungry enough that I will maintain my travel lane.

But, alas, I have two real responsibilities in this life. Maintain myself within this enviornment, and contribute to the collective becuase the state of it directly impacts my survivial. 

To complain about the effort, is mute. 

Besides, I only suffer sometimes. I eat as may additives as I can afford, swallow every toxin I can get my hands on, and talk as much shit as the next guy on Facebook. 

And so this domestic product does its fair share of benefacting and decomposing. I occasionally wish I was more important than the next guy; But, we live pay check to pay check and downplay the hormones in our chicken. Just like you.

It is inside all of us to conquor and compete because we enjoy the reward; Who doesn't like to celebrate, and enjoy the fruit of our labor? It's a healthy human drive, and if God had not intended us to feel pleasure he would not have hard wired the human race to seek enjoyment. And, naturally, Without it there is little incentive to contribute or conquer, right? Without reward, in the natural world, we extinct.

But when we do government we play outside the natural boundaries of reality. It's patty cake. We pretend, promise. Pray it doesn't come due while we are in charge; and practice what we preach only while there are witnesses. 

When I say the government is broke I mean, it's BROKE. And the way we run things I expect eventually we will go broke.

 Why pay when you can cheat your neighbor and borrow off tomarrow?

o Tonopah

 



My dreams are shattered now and no one cares

So I'm goin' back to Tonopah - Dave Stamey















Past
Born and occasionally raised in Tonopah, Nev.

Present
The word "love" seems a strong term to use for this place, don't it o Tonopah?

Future
Intro (theme) song:
... I'm Gonna Be Somebody" Travis Tritt

O Tonopah.

My affair with you has shaped me into the person I am.

 

 

But, what of this reason I always land on black bounce back?

 

 

 

 

The love we give is the love we take.

Tonopah

 

Loves,

HjB

Noon

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.
The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." -Nelson Mandela

For over a month I have been consumed by action that betters my family's life, and my own. In any department that we can foster optimism, there has been progress. Bad habits are being shredded like the paid bills. The new habits are being nurtured. So, change feels good. It really does.

"You cannot in human experience, rush into the light.
You have to go through the twilight into the
broadening day before noon comes and the full sun
 is upon the landscape". -Woodrow Wilson
 

Hope is in the air, because we recognize there is something new on the horizon. For me, Blondie's Laundry Service is but a small piece of the triple layer fudge cake I have had my eye on, and might just sneak out of my "Auntie's" back door.

Some revelations are like a thunder storm which blast across the desert. Lately I try to padlock my emotion so I can fully process my passion and give it direction.

But, my time, subject to this locked down excitement, is full of suspense. Like I am waiting for my turn at an old fashioned shoot-em-up.

I know the intensity of this emotion is driven by this new horizon, and any fears are related to not knowing what will come of  my actions, or role I will play in it.

But, if I must attend this shoot-out, then I must win. They say when a cowgirl is down on her luck, she plays her heart, and so my plan is to do as the cowgirls I worship, do. As in love it, and love as hard as I can.

Before I lose you with mushy love talk, know I speak of the love that puts your feet in the stirrups and after your daily bacon, and not romantic love. I speak of the love we have for that "pile" of things which move our human heart to song and our feet to dance.

I know what moves me to dance. I created a persona, and the tumbleweed feed so I would have a way to nurture it. And it has been a good place for me to practice, with my weapon, and pretend I am as cowgirl-tough as any man. 

These days it has been easy to buckle these leather chaps around my hips. I am excited to put on my work boots and my leather gloves. I have checked to see my pistol is in condition and loaded. You might catch me practice a a few quick draws and then holster my weapon for later, but I know I am ready. And able.

 

Like the cowgirls I worship I pull my hat low so that when I walk into the light I will not be distracted by the reflective light. I set one foot on to this boardwalk, because I cannot go back. Then I plant the other boot right beside it, because I might have to fight for what is right.

The other day I was linking up to the "professional world" via Linked in. I did not know what to expect, so with an open mind, I began to build a summary of myself. While I explored this process I felt like I was being forced toward, a very small definition of what was my experience or ability. I could not seem to "get it right" no matter how much I edited. 

 

Naively, I did not realize these revisions were sent to all my "connections." I was trying to put my best foot on to the boardwalk but I just slipped on a banana peel. I am not sure how it looked to the other guy and was just about to say to hell with it, and update some feed to read: "I know what I know because I went to school and then worked my ass off for it."

 

I mean, how do you summarize almost two decades of jack-of-all-trades service experience (some of which actually does involve poo)? How do point out the Nevada Press Association awards and not bring up that they never gained acceptance by my peers? And what words should I use to describe the need inside me to find the road less traveled, explore every inch of wild Nevada and then liken those emotions to that of a wild mustang, who is after mares?
 

I found it difficult to tell those who are Linked In, that I have learned and laid down character since I was "hard at work," and found plenty to be scared of in this big beautiful world. Where do I point out that I learn the hard way, and the long way. That I have came to know that the ground is not flat, or even, and it no where near fair or forgiving.

I have survived birth. And death. And being screwed by a big bank and lost faith in government, and now I find bureaucracy stretches from here into eternity.

I say real gumption comes when you deny yourself a prescription to somebody else's point of view; or yourself a handout when you needy. I learned from these life experiences that I am not just a survivor, but a fighter.

 

And then there are the sins of my past. How do I show people the brazen sins of my youth were recognized in the aftermath; and that now I keep a fresh set of rules on board so that I am able to walk a more deliberate path.

But, what about the path? How do we go about expressing that the path I walk is never going to be the path you might expect... That, if I were an empty old whore house, I would be one with a fresh coat of red paint on the fence.

 

Dear future employer,

My intent is to take the scenic route; or the long way; or the road less traveled to my own conclusion. My abilities may not exceed, but will not be limited to the size of a box. I do not have time to define my direction because North, South, East or West are all as good a direction as any to travel. And direction is nothing when I have already decided to have one adventure after another until my body is thoroughly used up.

This way of thinking surely presents a problem. After sending shrapnel into cyberspace for a couple of days I had to ask myself, who am I after? And who is going to hire me? Well, for this wild Wednesday I found my solution. I cut and pasted "Creed," by Dean Alfange into the Linked In summary of myself, and was done with it.


Creed, by Dean Alfange, goes like this:
 I do not choose to be a common man.
It  is my right to be uncommon--if I can.
I seek opportunity--not security.
I do not wish to be a kept citizen, humbled and dulled by having the state look after me...

Then I gave myself a #2 certification as Queen of Poo, because I have been weighed and measured and found myself wanting (even on the holidays) a lot more out of my life. 

I figure the poo certs will get it across that I am willing to get down and get dirty to get where I am going. The place I want to be is as wild as Nevada and has everything to do with my living, loving and laughing my ass off. So, I guess Linked In made sure I was finally ready to part from the herd, and proclaim my intent to set sail on the sea of sagebrush and celebrate it here.
 

While there is much to be afraid for, I will not mind the hardships because I want, and will have, my triple layer fudge cake (my dream). I am not afraid to learn what I do not know and and take a stand using the information I already possess. I know I am different. And I know fear still has a thing or two to teach me. 

Furthermore, it is time for me to fight the cowgirl fight for what is right. It is time to utilize my Queen of Poo certs to FLUSH disappointment to the poop pond where the rest of the turds go.

 

Regret is not needed here. I was patient, diligent, and even deliberate. I stood still. I waited for morning to turn to noon so I could pull my cowgirl hat down and step onto the boardwalk. If it is a gunfight they want then I will oblige them. While I was checking my pistol I found the door to my dreams unlocked and within reach.

Now I have something to fight for. And a place to unleash the passion I had to put a padlock on before.

So what exactly is it I am after? Can the adventures of this blog afford me more than mere adventures? Eventually it will. It will take some planning, and a lot of hard work. But, I intend to make the tumbleweed feed my bacon.

So yea, I know where I am going. I am hell bent for Sunday and my triple layer fudge cake with two kinds of frosting!

It just looks like a tumbleweed dancing because I found the light of noon and the courage to fight for it, and I am inspired by all the love I have inside or has been shown to me.  

 

Are you as excited as I am? Well, to link up, or read "Creed," check out my Linked In profile. I hope it will bring lunchtime to your otherwise unfun Wednesday. Also, please share, share, share these blog posts because this wildnevadan girl wants to go somewhere! Thank you for reading.

Until next time.

Loves,

HjB

This Sounds like life to me dirty girl

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough; we must do." Goethe

 

In the new year I have been such a whirlwind of activity my friends are starting to stop just to "check on me." My Hon., and kids, are confused by my distracted, non-domestic (non-helpful) state. Also, with every untamed moment, I devour the words of wise and famous people who walked the line to their dream, before me, because it inspires me to fight another round.

I am vibrating like a chainsaw on idle, even while I sleep. It is exactly what this half raised WildNevadan girl-woman needed to get herself out of the fence to dance again.

I have found that when my spirits are down, it takes a calculated effort to bring myself back into balance. When I have a big or important goal in mind, I am the ponder the possibilities before I take any giant leaps of faith kind of girl.  Because from experience I know that the fall hurts like hell. Falling-- falling from grace, falling on your face, or falling short of success leads me to a place where I get less out of my life.

"Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life's cocming attractions." Albert Einstein.

Less out of life, is not good enough for me.

 

And because ideas go no where without action I decided to do. And, because I cannot get THERE, without  action, I had to get up out of that fence and dance. So, I'm here to let you know what I have been up to in such a whirl wind of activity... you know the back story.

There once was a Wild Wednesday, in which I remember I was trying to escape the dirty clothes pile that is like the song that never ends. It was, in fact the post to that brought forth Wild Wednesday. These Three Jeans and Old Biker Babes is "copied" from my old blog site and was much to do about getting out of the rut that is work and life with a little fun. My yucky work was always the laundry... 

 

Once upon a time there was a Wild Nevadan woman who hated her laundry. She would often fantasize about inventing contraptions that recycle clothing, or do all of the things in between washing and drying and folding and especially putting it away. Often she would dream she was at work at the local pharmacy, but instead of sorting pills in the glass box, she sorted laundry. She often writes on her blog about how she is haunted by the mound and believes it has babies while she is asleep at night.

A few months ago, the dream that I thought a nightmare, became an idea. I began to "do the math" on a laundry service. Crazy? Yes. Crazy-wild!

There was a lot of fantasizing in the beginning, like maybe this business could fund a freaking trip to the desert! The glass box is getting me nowhere! Or, maybe if I do enough laundry I can hire an employee and then bring my laundry to be done for free.

What a strange woman I am when I am without my desert wandering! I thought and thought on alternatives, but alas, somehow, this idea keeps with me, through summer and into fall. I was just at a total loss on what to call it.

I talked often with a good friend of mine, and one day he says, "Blondie's Laundry."

And I realized sometime later that night that I had been looking at the wrong page of my map book. The road I had thought I traveled to this point is but a memory. It was yesterday.  

If you haven't met Blondie before, you can meet her now. She was my Grammie. What a great lady. I have talked about her in this blog as many times as I have complained about my laundry. She never minded washing a few loads of laundry for me. She would turn my dirty rotten rags into fresh and tidy piles. It made me feel so good. So special. And part of a real, solid, I will do just about anything for family kind of place. And the world was less scary when I left her house because I was "presentable" again. She was a dirty girl's savior if ever there was one!

After U-hauling her washer and dryer out of her now empty house, and her washer and dryer became mine, I would often think about the times we sat on her bed and folded my sad looking lot of clothes, and she would politely bring up the rips and tears. She would mention that I was acting a little too rough for my gender.  

 

Being who I am I would argue with her. I was young. I was feisty. I would tell her, with huge pride in my heart, "Gram. I wasn't meant for sitting still. I was meant to work hard with my body. When I am done working I want to play just as hard. The best days are the ones when my clothes get gross. I guess I just like to get dirty. Maybe I am a boy."

 

She would say, "I know."

 

She never really minded that I like dirt under my feet, and finding beauty in what is weird. When I was young she probably thought it would pass. When I was in my 20s, and I burned pavement and dirt roads, sagebrush, and tires like they were Marlboro's, she probably worried a lot for me. But, she always supported my Wild Nevadan ways and was the first and most regular customer for my cards and pictures. I have learned from her that there is nothing parallel to having a relationship with somebody who recognizes who you are and finds good in those qualities, even if they do not align with their own beliefs or ideals.

 It is exactly the kind of business grandmothers should be in.  It is the type of behavior I emulate when I have mucked things up or found myself lost on the road to success.

 

One day I found myself in this hamster wheel. The one that is unfulfilled. The one that you can't even make yourself grateful for, now matter how many inspiring words you look up in a dictionary or quotes you can google. That's when you have to look at not only where you have been, and what you have learned, but what you want out of all this effort.

And I thought, "Did I just forget where I was going?"

Oh, no. better get busy!

And so I put on my work gloves. The ones my Hon. buys me. The ones he taught me how to wear and hang on for dear life with when there isn't anything but noose to hang onto, or the boat is about to capsize. And I jumped headfirst into a dream.

And my friends are stopping by to check on me because I finally managed to make laundry fun. And nobody can believe it is working, except me.

And now my wild Wednesday joke of  yesteryear, when and where nothing much changes around here in a week, and even the laundry pile looks the same, is now the biggest oxy-moron you ever met. But that's how naked stick bushes dance I guess.

So, here's the introduction to the latest and greatest thing to come from this wild mind of mine. Blondie's Laundry Service. We are Open 7 days a week, serving the Tonopah, NV area from my humble home, here on this mine dump. Service includes Free Pick up and Delivery. Please call or text us to schedule pick up. Our rates and current specials can be found on the Blondie's Laundry page, or by clicking this link. Blondie's Laundry Service.

It is going to be a whole hell of a lot more interesting for this blog than sourdough! And I am grateful again to have something to facilitate this most recent crash course in life; in how to turn laundry into a business; and pursuit of happiness. It has been more wild a ride than I can explain today. I hate to leave it out now, but soon I shall reflect on the fun and frighting things that happened this month in conjunction with the opening of this little business.

So far, it has been everything dreams are made of; every bit of rewarding, and scary, and exciting and exhausting as those words were ever meant, or how you wish to take them. Right now I must go, because there is much laundry and life to sort out.

Thanks for reading and sharing!
Loves,
HjB

I've got nothing...

My Momma taught me if you don't have anything nice to say, then shut your trap. When you bottle it up it is a type of torture, though. And, even though the tortured soul is the easiest to bear, from a writer's standpoint--It is still not the kind of stuff I like to spew.

So, when life is like a country song, (I've got nothing, because my dog died and the laundry pile is a stinkin' kind of country song) I just had to stay away. So almost one whole summer has gone by (with the mommy car still accumulating "wear and tear') and the blog and FB for the Wild Nevadan HjB has been quiet. So quiet one might think I was hung up in a fence.

I will tell you one thing. This wild Nevadan girl's heart is not quiet. I love things so hard sometimes. And be it a blessing to feel such powerful urges to roam and live and explore what makes me wild, it grapples with the realities of life. The ones in which cameras are broken and we are slaves to the hamster wheel.

Frankly, as hard as I am running we should not be in the situation that we are in. As in going nowhere, and sometimes even backward. It doesn't make me feel better that we are not alone in our struggle to survive. And it doesn't help that I think the world is every bit as scary as I have ever known it.

And the strongest survive...

So it has been the season to range. And I have been doing my best. The tumbleweed doesn't need much of an excuse to bounce up and over the sage. If there is but a gentle breeze....
And while I range, or in in between my shifts at the hamster wheel I try to survive my life. If that means I want to over water my flowers, because it relaxes me, then I do. That is what this blog is about, about how the things we love shape us into the people we are. To celebrate the things that gives the tumbleweed its lift.

Such as camping trips never go as planned. But, maybe you will be some body's hero. Later a big horn sheep might watch over your shenanigans for an hour, just because. And when the sun goes down that big old Nevada sky turns into a diamond mine.

Or, that the horse trough is just the right size for two little boys to take a dip on a hot summer day. Clothes or no clothes. Or, that tomato plants love the moo moo poo poo. Ha! Just because you live on a mine dump doesn't mean your yard has to look like hell. I grew carrots, peas, lettuce, onions, sage, basil and rosemary this year.

All of these things are the kind of like gladiators against my urge to write country songs. They are helpful reminders to Live, Love and Laugh my ass off, because life is short and being a grown human is overrated. "So when I ain't got nothing," I still have everything I need. How is that for a survival skill?

Loves,
HjB.

My Window: Five Things I Love About You

"...You are the window (in) which you must see the world."

 --George Bernard Shaw 

Cory 

1. That you love to read newspapers and pay attention to world news and politics

2. That you have been to every state at least twice and that you picked me; and that you were not scared to settle down, and make US your home.

3. That you like to work and you try hard, even when you are not good at something

4. When you are sweet and charming

5. Your generosity

Colton

1. The way you say Thank You

2. Your laugh

3. The way you like to build things with Lego's

4. Your singing, and the way you dance around to music

5. The way you look like your Daddy

Clayton

1. When you say I love you Mommy

2. Your smile

3. The way you like both tools and babies

4. Your stories: the way you tell me everything that happened, and then what is going to happen, even when I cannot understand what you are saying because you are talking so fast.

5. The way you look like me

Loves,
HjB

There once was an old ironing board

Last weekend I followed my Mom out to Big Smoky Valley and Kingston to go over what to do with furniture left at Grammie's house.

I'm an expert mover so my advice is highly sought after...

Upon going over the things I shall hoard off to my own domicile we came across an old ironing board.

My Mom looks at me, and with a giggle says, "You aren't going to take the ironing board are you."

Ha ha. Less accurate observations have been made.
She was spot on.

It was a mother daughter moment in which I felt, ahh this woman really knows me.

Here's to Moms. Especially mine.
And have a wild Wednesday!
Loves, HjB.

Hagar the Horrible. It's a Vikings' life.

I love it here. My job is good. My home is comfy, cozy, coffee by the fireplace kind of warm. There has not been a whole lot of time to enjoy it. I mentioned before that one side of my Americanized mutt family is of Italian decent. The other half of ancestry is heavily Scandinavian.

So, setting forth on the sea of sagebrush with a whole new life on the horizon was pretty damn exciting for the Viking inside me. When it comes to that kind of adventure, I stick my iron helmet on, and stick out my sword and make sail. No matter the outcome I am not scared. I am along for the ride. I always have been.

The only thing that trumps my natural inclination to go with the flow is my claim to Captain of this Pirate Ship. And to that claim, I am not a natural. I hang on to it--for dear life.

The Captain's responsibilities are great and the stress of this last bit of life, (ahem, adventure) on the rest of the family, is not lost on me. And there did come one of those lost in space moments when I realized I had to throw anchor on my own adventure, so to speak, and make focus. Ah, ha. Just because I am not scared does not mean the same for all of us in the boat.

Hell, I know in the long run I will be more free to enjoy the adventure, if I do the work first.  

True. There has been plenty of rewards in this work. It was irony when my almost3 year old son  found a Hagar the  Horrible comic book and would not loose sight of it for two days. I might not have noticed that before.

Still, all that work makes a person thirsty for fun. Today, that "viking blood" inside me was restless. It is like a tickle in the back of the throat. I am overdue for a sunny day with my camera and a dirt road. When I am trying to stay on the focus-wagon I try to drive away the tickle with whatever is handy. After I vacuumed for a few minutes I decided to just take the boys out for a little desert walk. It is but a short distance to get off the pavement from our house.

And little fresh air never hurt anyone. Right? So, camera in hand, we were on our way. We were not even out of the driveway before the complaining started.

After we traveled a football field's length away from the house and off the pavement the complaining escalated to crying. From one child or the other, and sometimes both. Suddenly the dog is deaf and is doing whatever he wants to. The cat is poking along behind us, terrified.

One wants to go this way. The other wants to go another.
They say "My feet are tired."
"Carry me."
"I want to go home."

It was not as satisfing as I had imagined it would be...

When we got home I dug out the last piece of candy from Halloween and broke it in half for them to share. I had thought it a great way to end the crying. Just so you know, an almost three year old Hagar whose legs hurt, does not appreciate the breaking of candy. And so the crying went on for some time. Even the iron viking helmet of mine could not block it out.

I did what I could do as Captain of this Pirate ship. I took two DayQuil capsules with a Monster Energy Drink as a back. I am pre-heating the oven so we can bake cupcakes after lunch. It is the weekend and I will "heel" to them, this time, so I can earn my turn. Ahem. Today the Captain knows she just has to be along for the ride.

So if it is not home, work or kids I am (possibly) not ready for more yet. I guess WildNevadaGirl has to keep my butt on the focus-wagon. You know, the focus-wagon: it carries priorities and is pulled by faith. Faith that a little sacrifice and determination will reap rewards... Well, I better get back to it. Perhaps I will take a picture for next time.
Loves,
HjB

Mizpah Memories

Mizpah by Julia A. Baker

And "God keep watch 'tween thee and me";
This is my prayer;
He looks thy way, He looketh mine,
And keeps us near.

I find it both ironic and iconic that my arrival coincides with the grand reopening of Our Matron the Mizpah.
It is pure unplanned romantic craziness.

One does not grow up in her shadow unaffected. By the time I became the green horn reporter at the Tonopah Times-Bonanza & Goldfield News, the outlook for her was a bit bleak. I embarked on a one woman crusade keep her memory aflame as best I could, while she sat vacant steeping in secrets and ghost stories. I will tell you in a moment why I do not regret it for a second that I would whisper her name whenever I could find an excuse. It is a faith-based calling.

Oh, Tonopah. I do not even think the locals would argue that most who drive by (and plenty who still live there) think the town is a hole. A town on top of the mountain that is, now, but a hole. Even with the Matron aboard it is would take an offering plate collection of like minds to change that perspective...I digress.

Then, there are the crazies who like old T-town and the Matron for her unhol-e-ness. My girl Andrea says it best when she refers to out of the 365 you get 120 of pure bliss. Old Tonopah is definitely not for the faint hearted. Home is home. And, even when I am mad at or away from old Tonopah, it is like Julia A. Baker says in the Mizpah poem, "Yet God keep watch 'tween thee and me; Both be His care; One arm round thee and one round me. Will keep us near...."

have only just now admitted to myself I will not attend the grand opening. It does not jive with the family schedule. I have appeased myself with thoughts of lunch dates or after work cocktails, in her arms...sigh... because it was finally meant to be. I may not be there to celebrate the occasion, but I will rejoice.

There are one million memories swirling through my mind like the dress I imagine the lady in red wore, as she swished down the hallway. Romantic memories. Insanely mundane and of no consequence memories. A belly full of laughs with your best girl ever because you both ran away from home for a night kind of memories...That night we traded keeping the home fire burning (tending to the frozen pipes) for two turns at bubble baths in the hotels' old claw footed bath tubs.  It was definitely among those 120 days of bliss albeit in the middle of the hole. Without my best girl ever by my side, the memory is so much more important.

A few months ago, when I first heard the high hopes of Our Matron's revival I was immediately pleased. A little smile of  good- for-her-congratulations was on my face. As far away as I felt, I could not help but want to wish that project well. When it is boom and bust, every single boom counts. It will not save a dying town, but it does give her a leg to which to brace herself as she trudges along. The revival of the Mizpah and Tonopah are not one in the same. Again the words to the Mizpah poem is in mind, "Should wealth and fame perchance be thine, And my lot lowly be, Or you be sad and sorrowful, And glory be for me; Yet God keep watch 'tween thee and me; Both be His care;One arm round thee and one round me; Will keep us near."

I have been in and out of Tonopah quite a bit in the weeks leading up to this grand re-opening and nothing could not spoil my excitement over it. My best Mizpah memory comes to mind in tandem with that inexperienced reporter gig I held way back when. On that day, Sandy Harmon graced me with a grand tour and at some point brought me to the roof.

It seemed a bit precarious at first, to be on top of her. After my equilibrium adjusted, and in the excitement of the moment, I gazed upon the town below in every direction. For a minute I saw what those four men saw when they celebrated the Matron's birth with fine wine and cigars over 100 years ago.

I saw what they saw. I saw potential for prosperity. And, in that moment it did not matter to me the doors and windows to the hotel, and the town, were shuttered.

Even my deepest, darkest hour of self invested angst I never once looked at Tonopah the way I did before that moment I spent roof-top. I would go so far as to say my perspective of the whole world changed that day. It really did. It gave me the kind of fuel that drives freight trains forward.

Faith is a powerful force. Those men had it behind them when they built her. Obviously the new owners have a bit behind them, or they would not dare. And this coincidence of my homecoming, and her grand re-opening seems such sweet destiny....pure unplanned romantic craziness. Such a memory brings the lesson full circle. A little reminder of faith in myself and things that are finally meant to be.

I do not know what will happen next but I think Julia A. Baker says it best when she wrote it.
Yet coming to the Mercy seat,
My soul will meet with thine.
And "God keep watch 'tween thee and me,"
I'll whisper there.
He blesseth thee, He blesseth me,
And we are near.

Thanks for reading, HjB.

To read the poem in its entirety you can visit this link: Mizpah by Julia A. Baker

Naked Stick Bush Dancing

As I write this it has been 13 days since my last blogy blog for the Dancing Tumbleweed. I have been dancing in the never nevers, far as a person can be from internet or cell phone service. I missed two wild Wednesdays, and trust me both were more wild than any I’ve had since I began celebrating them here. And, I still don’t have a plan as to how I will link up and actually post this, but I have to write now, while my household is at peace with what we have done.

 

If you want to see a naked stick bush dance, you should see me dancing now. In the shadow of Bunker hill at my grandparents place in Kingston, with a brand new life on our horizon, there is no fear in me. I am home. I am where I need to be. The rest of the clan can only thrive. And somehow, I just know it.

 

When I named the Dancing Tumblweed blog I remember saying I dance across this great state about as graceful as any naked stick bush could. You should see me dancing now. You should see the song in my heart and the light in my eyes. It is so obvious that even I am taken aback, when I study my own reflection.

 

So, what happened was this. I was on my way Tonopah for a good old fashioned range. Then, I spent a wonderful week with the boys, in and out of Tonopah, and across the Big Smoky Valley to Kingston; up to Groves lake, etc. It was as carefree a week I have had for as long as I can remember. It was wonderful and peaceful and I was crazy happy. Every call home to my man, he could hear that old Happy Heidi on the line. I even went as far to tell him, “I’m not so ready to come home just yet. I AM at home, here, and right now.”

 

The next thing I know, it is time to turn and burn and rent a Uhaul, and put out some resumes (in good 'ol T-town).

 

Less than one week later the whole dang family, and our stuff, and our critters (minus the chickens) have been relocated to my grandmother’s house at Kingston. Here we are brand new life: Yee-Haw! I call myself the wild Nevadan for reasons like these.

 

Uhauls are expensive and so is gasoline, but the naked stick bush has not been hung up in one single fence, so far! I take it as a sign of what is to come for us. Our future may be uncertain but I do not feel uncertain. And, as intense as it all was, it was still like I was dancing to that old camp song “Home means Nevada. Home means the hills, home means the sage and the pine…” Or, was the song, "She'll be coming around the mountain when she comes..."

 

I guess I was anxious to range and have found myself ranging as free as any cow, as a deer, as the jackrabbit who hops out his hole for breakfast, and sniffs the sage for what the day will bring. If the naked stick bush has ever been graceful it was just now as I pulled off this latest, and our greatest, move.

 

 It is not just adrenaline, it is happiness and peace. I am happy to be here. I am happy to be home. I am most happy to have a new adventure at hand, and a brand new life to piece together. If I was bored before, I am not anymore.There is something to be said about being around the people who I love the most, and who move me to my greatness.

 

So, here’s a welcome home to me, the dancing tumbleweed has arrived in the valley. AND, here is to knowing there are not tumbleweed wishes in my pocket today, or here, only the power of what must happen and what must be for me to keep my spirit free.

 

In closing, it will be 7-10 days before the technician contacts me and we make plans to have our internet service restored. For now, I am reporting live from a wi-fi connection at the Club House Saloon in Tonopah....no drinks for me today. It is strictly business this job hunt...So, hang in there my friends. I shall blog as wildly as blog thoughts happen as soon as I can.

Thanks for reading!

HjB

Aug. 15, 2011

Just Another Wild Wednesday

You know that Cindy song, "Just another manic Monday?" So far today, I have had, "just another wild Wednesday." My day, my typical; (atypical) Wednesday has the exact same beat. It is not a surprise. Sunday has blended all the way into Wednesday with my eyes open all wild like I am going to make a break for it.

 

I spent the morning on the chain. A team mate in the project that is yanking railroad ties ahem, fence posts, out of a giant suction of sogginess.

 

The very first link up I inserted my leg in the hole and I was suctioned to it like the stupid rail road tie. Now my Wednesday is  one leg wet.

 

In between the chain yanking I wildly made fly a hammer and made use of a crow bar to remove nails and stack boards. It was a wild whack fest. I will tell you right now, I am more handy with a shovel than a hammer.

 

If I take 10 swings at a nail I might hit it twice. I burnt a lot of calories before I finally resorted to my talent, which is bend them over...then, flip the board over so nobody could see, fall on or step on and require a tetanus shot. It was only a couple!

 

We came in for lunch hot and sweaty. I am sucking down half brewed sun tea, trying to catch a second wind when my man says to me, "You look kind of sexy all dirty."

 

"Well I am glad I can pull that off." I had sweat stains and hat head and my neck, which is naturally pink, is red. 

 

Good thing I pull off dirty. Since I spend a good portion of my time in such a state. No tiaras for me, not on any day of the week. 

 

Then, my karma reminds me thereafter that I do still reign as the Queen of Poo. (I will save the story for how I got my royal station for when it is over.)

 

After lunch I watched Lady Hawk make a few rounds and call to her almost grown babies, who must be in the grass around here somewhere.

 

They are between not knowing and knowing how to fly. I have not seen much of them since the chickens are not free.

 

The sight of her on the wind made my eyes open just a little bit wilder; my ranging bone is very itchy...

 

So, to save a little time and blur the lines a little I will tell you how my week came to be so wild eyed and whooly that my typical (or atypical) Wednesday was blurred that way since Sunday and the whole thing feels like a song.

 

Without my knowing how it was, the wild yellow roses in the area began to bloom. And, apparently, before I even had caught sight and smell of them in person, the affect was upon me.

 

Picture it:

 

It was the eve of their discovery, so it was Sunday, and the Lamoille County fair was F.U.N. Not kidding. The boys were cautiously envious of the giant jumpy slide and I knew there was no way by themselves. We played in the small jumpy house and we all watched scores of kids trade tickets for a slide ride.

I watched for some time and no adults took a turn, just kids.

 

Well, it came time to either poop or get off the pot and so I took the boys and the three tickets and we got in line. They were sooooooo excited. The worst that can happen is the lady says no, right?

 

We get past the ticket lady and about four inches up the jumpy slide ladder both kids have their breaks on. I mean totally froze up.

 

So, causing a traffic jam, I sort of leap frog them over each other, and while grabbing the ropes and climbing up, myself.

 

I don't look back and I can only imagine what kind of scene this is all causing.

 

I can only imagine if a crowd is getting larger in the spectators area.

I won't lie. There was just a little bit of adrenaline coursing through me by now. I am sweating and breathing hard from the exertion of forcing them upward and onward.

 

Just as we get to the top, one of the boys is kind of frightened by the thought of the slide ride, and lets out a huge,"I wanna goo home."

 

Both of them tried to head back toward the ladder, which was blocked by other kids by now.

 

So, I scooped them both in my arms, and with the, "I hope this does not go terribly wrong," thought in my head, I let it slide for the bottom!

 

After the shock wore off and we were back in the car on our way home I asked them, what was their favorite thing that day. Their answer: "The jumpy slide!"

 

I'm not kidding. They squealed. Three tickets and three minutes, and it set the wild tone for my wild week that is so far half way over.

 

This wild Wednesday would be just another typical (atypical) wild Wednesday, but for one thing was different.

 

The patch of wild yellow roses in the ranch yard has bloomed. Their fragrant smell is has made its way inside my window on a gentle summer breeze.

 

It has effectively done what half brewed sun tea cannot. It has given me my second wind. So I better get a move on, and that chicken out of the oven for dinner!

 

I love this life and I love my wild Wednesdays, be they typical (or atypical?) or soaked in a wild sunny scent. Thanks for sharing them with me. And, have a wild Wednesday, y'all.

HjB

June 29, 2011