Wine With Ice Cubes

Myrna was a sweet, slightly odd little lady.  She was brought here from California in the late 70's by her retired military husband.  He passed away, and she finished raising their two daughters.  By the time she was widowed, there was no one left in California and she loved it here, so she stayed.

She tended bar, she waited tables, she did whatever it took to supplement her husband's military pension.  Along the way she gained many, many friends.  I first got to know her when she was managing the local American Legion club and I waitressed at a small cafe she frequented.  We immediately clicked and had the best conversations.

Years went by-in 2002 she was diagnosed with colon cancer.  Miraculously, even though the cancer was bad, she went into remission and recovered.  She took up her routine again, by this time she was waitressing at a small restaurant by day, and helping out at a couple of bars at night.  Most evenings you could find her at Sir Scott's Oasis, sitting at the bar, sipping red wine with ice cubes in it, and helping out a bit here and there.  Her youngest daughter waitressed there and I think she was glad her mom was close by so she could keep an eye on her.

She loved to go to funerals.  She knew people from Three Forks to Livingston and thought nothing of driving 50-60 miles to attend the funeral of someone she had known.  She preferred to go by herself-she told me she wanted to be able to come and go as she wanted, not relying on her ride to dictate when and where.  At the restaurant she worked at during the day, she set herself up at the end of the counter with her coffee and newspapers.  She would sit and visit with whoever was seated next to her, periodically getting up to make milkshakes, clear tables, and pour coffee.  The funny part about her job there was that she had quit in 2000 but still showed up every day, helping out the waitresses totally without pay.  She rarely even accepted a tip, only when one of the waitresses would insist on it.  She just needed something to do.  When she felt her job was finished, she would gather up her papers, catalogs, and her fuzzy scarf and slip quietly out of the cafe.  We joked that she was just a little angel, slipping in and out as was needed.  She discovered those rocker-soled shoes, the ones that are supposed to slim your legs, and collected several pairs.  Pretty soon that was all she wore, tottering around town spreading her own quiet brand of warmth.

Around the first of November, she had a disagreement with the cafe owner and quit showing up.  I started losing track of her-sometimes I would see her green Honda parked in front of the local convenience store.  She would buy a coffee and sit at the Subway, visiting with anyone who happened by.  I joined her a few times, but then her trips there became rather infrequent.  Then I really lost track when I went to work again.  I kept looking for that Honda but to no avail. 

On Christmas Eve day, I was in the local grocery store.  I heard my name called and when I turned it was Myrna's younger daughter Michelle.  She told me her mom had had surgery two weeks before and had just gotten home from the hospital.  She said Myrna wanted to talk to me and gave me her phone number.  I went right home and called her.  Neither said the "C" word, neither talked about a prognosis, but in my heart I knew we were going to lose her.  She asked me not to visit quite yet-she got too tired and wanted to regain her strength.

Time rolled by-6 weeks came and went like lightening.  I kept thinking of her and looking for her car, hoping she had recovered enough to get out and about.  The grapevine said she was dying.  I decided that next week I was going to ignore her no-visit request and go see her.

Yesterday morning I opened the paper and there was her obituary.  She had died 5 days before and few of us knew.  Tears blinded me, and I sat there thinking about my loss-our loss.  A town's loss.  The loss of a gentle spirit who never asked for acclaim, never craved the spotlight.  An extremely private person.  She was just Myrna.  Myrna with her wine and her shoes and her fuzzy scarf-laughing at something somebody said.  Listening to all the stories, not judging-just listening.  She was mom to countless young people who didn't have loving parents, but they knew they could count on Myrna to listen.

There's a great big hole here in Manhattan, Montana now.  I know she loved her Jesus and she is with Him now, but doggone it-we weren't finished with her yet.

Get the coffee on, Myrna-I'll take the stool next to yours someday.

Happy Fisherman

One benefit of the cold weather is a nice thick layer of ice on the lakes.  Stan was able to go fishing three times this week, and pulled in quite a catch.  He went twice with a young man from church, and once with his best friend.  Saturday he and his friend were extremely late because they almost had their limits and were trying for just that one last fish.

He loves nothing better than to stand out on a frozen lake waiting for the poles to bounce.

What the........

Manhattan, Montana today:

 Mazatlan, Mexico, at the same time:

Just what gives?  I saw a physicist on the news yesterday who said the mild winters in the north, all the snow in the east, and the cold temps in Mexico are because of global warming.  Something about air currents meeting moisture and putting cold air where there usually isn't any and warm air where it's usually cold.  OK.

The problem for the poor people in the south is they don't have heaters, maybe not even windows or doors.  I have all that, just a cranky hot water heater that won't put out hot water when the boiler is busy heating the house.  (Our heat and hot water come from the same boiler)

Mexico Dreamin'

Very excited that it might get up to 30 F today, but for right now:

Hubs went ice fishing with a young man from church-hope they enjoy the day and catch lots of trout.  I'm not wild about trout, neither is Stan, but he cleans them, sticks them in the freezer, and when he has a lot, he brines and smokes them.  Then he gives them away.  Don't like them smoked, either!  I'm just waiting for Mahi Mahi and fresh shrimp.  In the meantime I'll eat a lot of good Montana beef.

My Shop

I've been knitting again!  I love making these hats, but they are sure hard on my old arthritic fingers!  Doesn't stop me from making them, though!

A Bit of Fun Knitting

If you haven't read Jenn's account of her mother-in-law's house fire, I recommend it-a heart rending story.  Jenn had seen my post about all my sock knitting and asked if I would make her MIL's Yorkie a new sweater since his was lost in the fire.  Dog sweaters are something I haven't attempted because Westies are hot little dogs, even after a close haircut.  I looked up a pattern, made the extra small size and sent it off to her.  I didn't feel that it was small enough-so far Jenn hasn't complained-so I tried it again, with pink veriegated yarn and smaller needles.  My thought was to make the small size and give it to my oldest son for their Pug, Daisy.  I think it's still a bit on the big size so I tried it on my Westie, Chloe.  She likes wearing it, but boy she would get hot.  I tried it on Merlin but he got really wound up and I had a heck of a time getting his legs through those little leg holes!

She really thinks she's hot stuff!  Like I said, I'd let her keep it but I'm afraid she'd get too hot.  Merlin was pouting at this point but he got over it when I tried to put the sweater on him.  I think I'll still try it on Daisy, that poor thing shivers all the time.

BTW-right now it's 0 Fahrenheit, with blowing snow.  I think I want to wear Chloe's sweater.  My trip to Mazatlan can't come soon enough to suit me!

And They Say Mexico Isn't Safe!

Two weeks ago, several people had their houses and cars broken into, including our son's car.  Then last night 75 homes were either robbed or the attempt was made.  I think ours was missed this time, but maybe we just haven't discovered what was missing yet.  Here is the article from our local news station.

It cracks me up, because people think we're crazy for going to Mexico, because "it's so dangerous!"  We live in a town of 1500 people and 75 houses were hit last night....  Not to mention the Highway Patrol officer who was gunned down just 10 miles from here about a month ago.  Now just where is the danger?