Welcome

Welcome to Chey Fire

I hope that all is well for you in your world and that you enjoy your journey here. Thank you for coming and may you be richly blessed. This endeavor has begun as an assignment but because this is my first entry…. I will just let myself wander a bit as I let my hair down and share.

I have a passion for many things so it will be an eclectic mix I’m sure. If you have stumbled upon this place, congratulations! I hope you will come back and visit from time to time.

As I introduce a little of myself and slip out from under my safe and “public” mask, there are many memories and adventures that one can share when you are over half a century old! :o)

One passion that I have is my 3 little dogs which are Italian Greyhounds. They are the miniature breed of the sight hound group. Think of a greyhound and then shrink it to 13 inches tall and there you have it. An IG, short for Italian Greyhound. I have a link on here for an excellent site that will delight and inform you about the breed. The site is by a professional breeder….. Not a backyard puppy mill by the way. I have been there many times and know the owners. The dogs are all well loved and clean and will lick your face off while wagging their tails and wiggling all over.

I also have a passion for all things Native American. My grandmother was full blooded Seminole. She had a calmness and stability about her that just seemed to draw you in. I never heard her raise her voice or her hand at anyone. Her and grandpa were share croppers in the south and did not have indoor plumbing until right before she passed away. Going to grandmas was the greatest adventure ever.

Visiting grandma was better than going to Disney World! There were free roaming chickens, the ever arrogant and loud shrieking peacocks, and the hog pen you never wanted to be downwind of. There were tobacco fields and cotton fields were everywhere. None of the roads were paved and when it rained the roads turned bumpy and would make your teeth rattle driving over them. They were like the ripples on a ruffle potato chip and all the locals called them “washboard roads”.

There was always a deep well and the water was coldest when you drank it from an old tin ladle that grandma kept hanging on the back porch. All of us kids got our baths for church on Saturday in these big metal washtubs out in the backyard after the water had sat out in the sun and got warm during the day. You were so far out in the country that you really didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing you ‘naked’ except the occasional obnoxious free roaming cousin.

I loved most everything about grandmas, everything except the outhouse which terrified me. I was terrified that the spiders that always seemed to in there would get on me. I was scared I would fall into that huge black hole filled with a nasty odor that I swear I can smell even today when I think back on it. I was terrified that I would get snake bit going to the outhouse, while in the outhouse, or coming back from the outhouse! Then the fact that the outhouse was down from the house inside the pig pen where, you guessed it, there were free roaming hogs.

Now I don’t know if you have ever seen a hog up close, but these are B-I-G critters, several hundred pounds, not cute little piggy’s like Arnold on Green Acres or the 3 little pigs. They are huge, they are scary, and they stink. Other than the outhouse, grandma’s house was the coolest place ever to be a kid on vacation.

I would suppose that I need to bring this initial entry to a smooth conclusion.

Reflective statement

 There are 3 ways to cope in times of crisis:

leave the environment, change the environment, or change your attitude.