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I am one of those people who picks stuff up off the ground.  Pennies?  Sure!  But, I’m more interested in odd items that others would likely consider garbage.  On our recently traveled 2400 mile road trip, we had to stop a number of times (potty breaks are a definite must when traveling with four legged companions) and treasures were keenly discovered in a variety of elevations!  Colored glass fragments, bottle caps (rusty and not), a lock washer (thanks Russ!), black bullet cases, a chain link fence remnant (ya, really) etc, etc.  After seeing us return from hiking the nearby hills every morning with the dogs during our visit, the dear and delightful Doris bestowed unto me this particular cholla stick she had discovered on a camping trip about 15 years ago in Ajo, Arizona and reconfigured into a walking stick! I loved the shape of it as well as the fact that it is lightweight and flexible!  Desert living is a little foreign to me and the dreaded cholla plant is definitely

I’m not talking about the spoiled rotten kind on TV from New Jersey, Atlanta, New York, Alabama, Dallas, Las Vegas... or wherever they live.  I’ve never bothered to watch those programs.  Those housewives are spoiled, narcissistic women who do nothing but shop, argue, go to lunch and have their hair, boobs and nails done.  The housewives I’m cheering on are the ones who rarely exist anymore. The housewives I’m talking about are the ones some of us grew up with - the really amazing ones that we called Mom. She got married to her one and only love right out of high school.  During those first years, they discussed the possibility of children and he told her that he hadn’t grown up with Super Dad as a role model; his mom had worked as well and he wanted a different scenario for their children.  His hope was that she would stay at home and make sure the kids felt safe and taken care of.  She was happy and willing to take on that challenge. The housewife of lore was a woman who ma