Christmas - 2013

Mom's sister and brother-in-law came for Christmas from a few states away. They both have health problems and don't get to make the trip over very much, so it's a treat to have them. The Grandparents aren't really able to travel, and my family won't leave them by themselves, so we don't get to make the trip over to see this uncle and aunt very much either.

Last night we had a relaxing little Christmas Eve 'party', eating goodies, watching a Christmas movie, and just enjoying all being together.

Christmas morning started nice and slow, and pretty much stayed that way all day. I rode from our house up to The Grandparents' on my bicycle, and the cold Christmas morning was just about perfect. The frost on the hood of my uncle and aunt's van glittered like magic in the morning sun - this photo does nothing as far as doing it justice.

This year, our family (Dad, Mom, Trissy, and me) agreed to not buy each other presents, but instead use the money we'd planned to spend, to help purchase gifts for impoverished and vulnerable people through Samaritans Purse's Gift Catalog. We were all so glad that we did it that way! As it was, we still gave gifts to The Grandparents and Mom's sister and brother-in-law, and they to us. But they were simple, small, and/or meaningful things, and the 'commercial' side of Christmas has happily been awarded an even-tinier-than-usual place in our celebrations of the season.
All in all, it was a very nice Christmas. Different, but nice.

 

Christmas lasts for days at our house. Especially if we have guests/family over. My uncle and aunt are planning to stay until New Year's morning, and school is out for two weeks. So just work at the restaurant a few days a week for me, and work with the surveying company a few days a week for Dad. Otherwise, we've been enjoying each other's company, working puzzles, reading, listening to Christmas stories, eating [too many] goodies, and generally trying to not waste our little 'vacation'.

Home-Made Chicken-And-Noodle Soup

A couple of times, Trissy and I have fixed this for our Sunday-night-after-church supper with our friends, and it has been such a hit that I decided to share it here. Besides, we do it different every time (because we 'borrow' suggestions from other recipes, and then can't remember exactly how we did it), and I wanted to write it down for myself! Hope y'all enjoy!

4 quarts chicken broth
1 1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1 teaspoon salt
1 stalk celery, cut into quarter-inch size pieces
1 can cream-of-chicken soup, and can of water
approximately 1 lb. cooked chicken
1 lb. egg noodles
2 cups water


Begin heating chicken broth. Add garlic powder, salt, and celery. Add can of cream-of-chicken soup, rinse can with water and add the can of water. When mixture is almost boiling, add chicken. Wait a minute or two and add noodles. Stir briefly to make sure noodles don't stick together. Add 2 cups of water. Bring back to a boil and boil 12 minutes on low heat. Turn down fire and continue to simmer for a few more minutes.

"5 Small Things Friday" No. 114

Go back and read this post for the story behind "Five Small Things Friday".

For this week, here is my list:

1. and 2. Sight and Hearing: This Christmas Video

3. Smell: Old Spice Aftershave

4. Taste: Turkey Sandwich

5. Touch: Orange

The stories behind the list:

1. and 2. Trissy was on YouTube for some reason the other day, and came across this version of "Angels We Have Heard On High". Our family has watched it probably a total of twenty times since, and we notice something new almost every time we watch it. The coordination, teamwork, talent, and creativity are almost brilliant, and the joy and Christmas spirit are undeniably contagious - if it doesn't leave you with a little spring in your step, there may be something wrong with you!

Note: It does have a sort of goofy and completely irrelevant ending. The part I'm bragging on is the beginning of the video 'til the end of the song. Just to clarify :)



3. One of the days I worked at the restaurant this week, an older man came and ordered food. That in itself was, of course, not out-of-the-ordinary at all. What made me notice was the fact that, even though I was not the one who took his order, I could smell his strong after-shave as a breeze blew in the window. I'm pretty sure I can even tell what brand it was - Old Spice. I know, because The Grandfather used to use Old Spice cologne and after-shave. When that scent blew through the open window, suddenly I was a little kid again, standing in the bathroom door, watching The Grandfather carefully scrape white foam off his face. He'd stop occasionally and teasingly offer me a dob of the stuff for my face. He'd rinse the razor meticulously, then go over his face again. He'd finish off the process with a dash of after-shave from the thick-glassed Old Spice bottle with the ship sailing across the front. Sometimes he'd use the electric razor. On those days, I'd hold my hand out, and he'd gently touch the humming little thing to the back of my hand so I could feel it vibrate. I always felt so important when he'd 'shave' my hand! Again, at the end, the heavy little bottle would come out, and I'd look at that simple yet beautiful image of the sailing ship while he smeared the nice-smelling liquid across his face.

4. Thursday Mom and Trissy and I made turkey sandwiches for lunch with the left-over turkey from Thanksgiving. Whole-wheat bread, sweet pickles, lettuce, mayo, and tiny pieces of white meat, heated in a cast-iron skillet on the stove. First sandwich I'd had in quite a while, and boy was that toasty thing good!

5. Tuesday in after-school, Joy and the two youngest of my 'Dr. Pepper kids' and I went outside and threw a football together for a while, then sat and talked. My Dr. Pepper boy went inside and got a little tangerine (or a small member of the orange family anyway) from his lunch box to snack on. I said something about how delicious oranges are, or how much I love them, or something. When her brother got back up to toss the football with one of the other boys, my little Dr. Pepper girl (the youngest of the three - she's probably about eleven) leaned in confidentially and told me, 'I'll bring you one Thursday.' Sweet dear thing!
Thursday came, and I hadn't thought any more about it. It's not that I didn't want it, or that I doubted her, it's just that I'd forgotten. But she hadn't! In the hubbub that accompanies school letting out, I heard a cheerfully urgent, 'Miss Kyrie!' from the big hall doorway. There she was, hefting her bookbag on one arm and holding the other behind her, her eyes sparkling merrily. She wove her way between people, across the foyer, to where I was standing, looking over her shoulder as if on some secret mission. She came level with me and mysteriously slipped a small round thing into my hands, her eyes shining and her lips forming that pretty little mischievous smirk of hers.
'Aww!' I exclaimed. 'You remembered!'
'Don't let [the Dr. Pepper boy] see it!' she whispered.
I obediently cupped it between my hands. 'Why not?' I asked, leaning in, copying her secretive manner.
'Cause he don't want to give 'em away!' Her shoulders shivered and her dimples deepened as she giggled confidingly. She slipped away into the milling crowd of students.
I looked down at the small round fruit. It was smooth and bright orange, a little bigger than a golf ball. It fit perfectly between my cupped hands. I enjoy oranges almost too much to describe, but the young friend's love that that little fruit represented, meant more to me than a truckload of oranges.
Later, as she and her sister and bother climbed into their mother's vehicle (their mom is a teacher at the academy, and they're usually some of the last to leave), she turned back to where I stood in the school's front door.
"I hope you enjoy your orange." she said, with a mixture of pride and shyness.
I grinned. "I will!"

"5 Small Things Friday" No. 113

Go back and read this post for the story behind "Five Small Things Friday".

For this week, here is my list:

1. Sight:

2. Hearing:

3. Smell:

4. Taste:

5. Touch: Holding My 'Little Buddy'

The stories behind the list:

1.

2.

3.

4.

5. Thanksgiving is always a big deal in our neck of the woods. All the family scattered over the Southern states, whose health and/or other commitments will allow them to travel, congregate at The Grandparents' for the big day. There is lots of cooking and baking - not necessarily because we need it, but because it's part of the fun and festive atmosphere!
This year was hardly different.
Uncle Alvin's oldest daugher and her family came over and made up a big part of the happy crowd. Her next-to-youngest son/child has appointed himself as my little buddy, and whenever they come over it's "Kyrie, come see this!", "Kyrie, could you pick me up?", "Kyrie, can we go over there?", "Kyrie, are you going to sit by me? Can I sit in your lap?", etc. and I absolutely LOVE it! Yesterday I had him in my arms a huge part of the day - sweetness!

Veteran's Day - 2013

Every year on Veteran's Day, a local bank and a local country restaurant put on a free breakfast for area veterans. Mom or The Grandmother have taken The Grandfather to it almost every year. This year, Trissy and I took him.

It was a very moving experience. I've grown up respecting my grandfathers for their military service. My Dad's father (who died before Dad and Mom even met) was in the Army during World War II, before he met and married my grandmother, Dad's mom. Her first husband was killed in action. Mom's dad (The Grandfather) was in the Army, fought in three major battles in Europe, saw 98 straight days of combat without a break, and received a shrapnel wound that earned him a Purple Heart. He'll claim he doesn't deserve the Purple Heart, to which the rest of us respond that he absolutely does!
I've grown up hearing his stories - how his feet were frozen from wearing his wet boots in the trenches, how crawling down the French hedgerows in the heat of battle, leaves and sticks fell down his collar as bullets cut them from the bushes above his head. How, as company runner, he saw one of his superiors shot because a sniper across the field caught the glint from the man's binocular lenses. How a German man who fought on the German side, now lives here in America, and is one of The Grandfather's good friends.
And many other stories. I've grown up hearing them, so vividly told that, a few years ago when our family visited one of the U.S.'s largest WWII museums, I had the feeling almost like I'd seen the photographs before, but in color, seen the replica hedgerows with my own eyes, but in real life, crawled through the mud myself, heard the planes overhead and the whistle of the falling bombs.

The Grandfather doesn't talk much about those days any more. I don't think it's because he doesn't want to, just maybe that he doesn't remember so much now. I'm so thankful that he did tell us grandkids those stories when he could remember.
We've grown up respecting that. But it means so much when others, complete strangers, respect him for it too.

Getting to take The Grandfather to the breakfast today was a big honor. The place was already crowded when we got there about twenty minutes early. We pulled up as close as possible to the wheelchair ramp, intending to help him out and then one of us to park the car. As I helped him into his wheelchair, a young man, probably about fifteen or sixteen, wearing dress slacks and a white shirt and tie, came up, shook The Grandfather's hand, thanked him for his service, and asked if we needed help getting inside.

Inside the front door, there was a small table with a vase of red, white, and blue carnations, and a guest book on it. A smiling woman stood behind it who gave us programs, shook The Grandfather's hand, asked where he served, and offered the guestbook for him to sign. There was a dry-erase board decorated in middle-school-girl style with the gracious message, "Welcome veterans! Thank you for serving!"

Beside it was an American flag and an approximately-four-foot-tall silver-colored statue of a brave-looking soldier boy, his arm in a permanent salute to the vetarans he represented.

Friendly people directed me through the maze of tables to a wheelchair-accessible spot at one. Trissy soon joined us after parking the car, bringing "Frank", and as soon as she was settled beside The Grandfather, I set off to get a few pictures.

There were busy teen-aged young men and women moving among the tables, serving coffee and orange juice as the veterans and their families sat waiting for the program (and breakfast!) to start. Something about the sight just did my heart good. There were probably twenty or more young people dressed in their 'Sunday best', the girls in nice dresses, the boys in dress pants, button-up shirts, and ties. Their faces were fresh, their hair nicely combed, many of them sporting a shiny set of braces when they smiled. They went around, sometimes timidly, sometimes confidently, but all politely, serving their coffee and orange juice.

Soon the program got underway. Many of the young people read tributes, poems, and speeches in honor of veterans and patriotism in general.

Someone turned the flag and soldier-boy statue to face the room. All those who were able rose to their feet, and a young man led us in the Pledge of Allegiance.

A group of four (three young women and a young man) moved to the middle of the room, and their high voices rose to sing the first verse of our national anthem - "The Star-Spangled Banner" - 'a capella'. There were tears in the eyes of one weathered-looking old vet as they finished. That made me cry!
(Pardon the out-of-focus state of the photo. I was trying to take the picture with my left hand, while keeping my right hand in the salute over my heart.)

Another young man stepped to the podium and prayed before the meal, ending, "In Jesus' name, Amen." Rights not exercised are soon lost. I was so thankful to hear him exercising that one.

He began to step away, then leaned back to the microphone and pronounced an emphatic,"Let. Us. Eat!" It was rather unexpected, due to the dignified way the program had been progressing, and provided a bit of humor - I think everyone was very much ready for breakfast by this time (perhaps even a little impatient, some of them), and his proclamation relieved the tension. A good-natured chuckle rippled across the room.

After everyone had gotten their food and the general hubbub of conversation had subsided somewhat as people began to eat, several more of the young men and women spoke. There were two or three groups, where they took turns reading a poem, tribute, or bit of historical fact relating to the establishing of Veteran's Day.
Three of them were the first place, second place, and third place winners in a patriotic writing contest. These three read the essays they'd entered.

The program drew to a close. An officer in a blue uniform stood at the back of the room and played 'Taps' on a silver trumpet. It was a very solemn few moments.

The young people began to come around, passing out soft-sided coolers/lunch boxes to each of the veterans - a gift from the local bank. As each veteran came in and signed the guest book, they'd also been given a little ticket with a number on it. Now, a woman stood at the front and read twenty-four numbers - the number of tables, and the number of centerpieces. The holder of each 'winning number' got to take home the centerpiece from their table. They were pretty too - red, white, and blue carnations, and a small American flag, arranged in a white and blue coffee mug.

The woman who seemed to be 'in charge' of directing the young people and their parts in the event, called them all up to the front of the room. They stood, self-consciously it seemed, in a wavy line as she said several veterans had expressed the desire for them to be recognized for their hard work and good conduct.
They'd waited on the tables, delivered their speeches, helped in the kitchen, and played other parts that were needed to make the event a success. I was so glad - I'd also been very impressed with their service and attitudes, and was thankful that some of the ones they'd been doing this for (the veterans) had spoken up and commended them. They received an enthusiastic round of applause.

The program was over. The room began to stir as people got up to take their leave. We gathered our things, said good-bye to the man who'd been sitting with us (a member of Victory Rd. and a friend of The Grandfather's - he'd met us as we got there, and sat at our table with us for breakfast), and began slowly moving our way through the crowded room. The Grandfather and I waited on the spacious old-fashioned front porch of the restaurant as Trissy went and got the car to pull it up close.
The Grandfather seemed to have really enjoyed himself. Lots of his acquaintances among the local men who were there had stopped to say hello. The country breakfast had been very tasty. The young people and restaurant staff had been courteous and helpful. And the program was enjoyable. Now, as we waited in the sunshine and cool air, he commented, "I wish Mama (The Grandmother) could have come."
He's always been such a social person. I was so glad Trissy and I had taken him.

Sometimes There's Just Beauty

Sometimes things are just beautiful. Today was like that. This afternoon during my after-school job at Victory Rd. Christian Academy, I sat outside in a chair while my four little after-school kids played on the playground. I was surrounded by a glorious autumn day. The air was warm in the late-afternoon sun, but there was a shiver in the shade. The kids' happy voices ebbed and flowed as they played a game of their own making, the sole rule of which basically seemed to be, 'gather as many pretty "weafs" as you can, as fast as you can, and whoever has the most at the end wins'.

It was the type of afternoon that gets the 'writing blood' flowing briskly - sleepy but stirring, beautiful but bitter-sweet somehow. The kind that makes you (or, me, at least) think about all the beauty Christ has put into life. Into my life. And makes me want to write about it.

When I think of "beauty", the ultimate in beauty is human beauty. People are so beautiful. Just last night, I was around some of the most beautiful people I've ever laid eyes on. Beauty of the heart, yes definitely (and most importantly), and yet also beauty of the physical. Hollywood's most 'attractive' people have nothing on some of the people I know personally. And the big thing is, they don't even know it.

I love how people look when they are concentrating on something important to them. The passion in their eyes - that intense almost light that shines out. I love their determination to get something. Not "get" as in "aquire", but "get" as in "understand", "master", or "succeed at".
I love how they smile when they are relaxed and comfortable and at ease.
Their easy grace when talking with friends or their laughter when sharing an inside joke that you'd just have to have been there to understand.
I love how they let go and just be themselves sometimes. Not in inappropriate ways, don't misunderstand! In ways that don't let cultural 'rules' keep them from doing what they feel like is right.
How the voices of people sound who have been through such difficulty and inner struggle that it was almost literally unbearable, but who the Lord gently led through. How they sound confident, not cocky and arrogant, but calm, unruffled, gentle, wise, and simply honest.

I sat in the chair, thinking these thoughts, or at least some that were very much like them. Thinking about 'my people'. I thought back over the week. A really great week, actually.
I wrote a little in my catch-all notebook, to transfer to my journal later.

Sometimes there are hard days. Sad days. Days where things happen that demand your attention and keep you focused on hurt and dark and cold and ugly. But those are not the only kind. There are beautiful days. Days like today. And yesterday. And if the Lord did not allow the ugly days sometimes, would we appreciate the beautiful ones that He sends us?

The late-afternoon sun shone on little kids gathering leaves.

Lessons From A Little Cat

For the last several days, Dad, Mom, Trissy, and I have been getting ready to have a bunch of the college gang from church over for a bonfire tonight. It's been going well, but we've been working on preparations for days now, and we're all getting pretty tired. And when you get tired, sometimes you get grumpy, and sometimes you do things you regret later.

Last Thursday night, one of our kittens (well, he's not really a kitten any more... more like a half-grown cat), Jack, was partly run over. He wasn't killed, thank the Lord (maybe it seems silly to thank the Lord for sparing a cat, but our animals are special to us, as far as animals go, and the Bible says He cares for the little creatures He has made). Jack was evidently laying next to one of our van's tires when Mom pulled it into the garage for the night. He's half deaf, and must not have heard the motor start up, and Mom forgot to blow the horn before she started. I was brushing my teeth when I heard her calling me, almost frantically, from the back door - Dad and Trissy were gone to help The Grandparents to bed. When I got out there, she said she'd forgotten to blow, and she felt a bump, and heard a cry. When she got out, she saw Jack stumble out of the garage and under the edge of the big pampas grass bushes growing by the patio outside. She was afraid to go look at him. We went out together, and there he was, laying under the over-hanging grass. He usually likes to lay there during the day anyway, and must have sought shelter there. Mom stood back as I went towards him, talking to him soothingly. He looked perfectly normal. But he just looked at me as I came toward him, like he was in a daze. He didn't purr like he usually does when he sees us. I picked him up carefully - I didn't know how bad he was hurt internally, but I didn't know how else to move him - and he pressed his face into the crook of my elbow. We took him into our mudroom and put him in a cardboard box with old towels in it Mom had washed to use as rags. Mom was almost in tears, and I felt about as bad for her as I did for him.
He wouldn't stay still in the box. He seemed confused and kept moving around trying to get comfortable, but he couldn't move his back legs - he just sort of pulled himself around with his front ones. The box was small, and he finally settled down a little bit. We kept stroking his furry head, and he'd nuzzle our hands, but he still didn't purr. And when he'd look at us, it was almost as if his eyes were innocently asking, "What's happening? I don't understand. Can you help me?" It sounds silly maybe, but it was sad - we knew he was hurt, but we didn't know how to help him, except try to keep him still and warm. And he was so brave - for a little cat.

Mom finally had to go to bed, but I wouldn't go until I'd heard him purr - that somehow seemed important. He's always purring and loves being held and petted; he's so, almost cheerful all the time. Cats in general just seem to be so stuck up.
I kept talking to him and petting his head for quite a while, and finally he purred just a little bit at me. When I left him, he seemed somewhat calmer, but Mom and I both got up during the night to check on him.

The next morning he seemed about the same, maybe a little stronger. We kept him in the box in the mudroom most of the day, then moved the box into the garage so that Murphy, our other little cat, could 'keep him company' and so that he could go outside if he wanted.
He gradually improved so that he could hobble a little bit on his back legs, but the step into the garage was a challenge for him, and he would hardly eat for several days. We fed him cat food soaked in milk, hoping that would be easier on his insides, because it seemed impossible that he wouldn't have internal injuries.

Now he seems almost back to normal - at least it's obvious he won't die from the incident. He's still pretty thin, and still sits kind of funny; instead of sitting on his back legs like cats or dogs usually do, he props himself up on his front legs, and his back half sort of lays stretched out on his side.

So when you're tired and grumpy, sometimes you do things you regret later.
Like snap at people who don't deserve it. We were all tired from the work of getting ready to have company, and I got snapped at, and I didn't deserve it. One of the hardest things for me to do is to take undeserved criticism with a gracious attitude. I'm working at, in return, simply keeping my mouth shut and not responding.
We needed ice, and I was asked to drive a couple of miles to the place and get some. Trissy was supposed to go with me to help me, but then maybe she wasn't, then maybe she was... I was tired and confused and irritated and just wanted to be by myself to 'cool off' anyway, so I just left. That is, I got into Tilly (my car) and started to pull out, then Trissy came out and got in anyway, and Mom told me to let her go with me. So I didn't have much choice.

You don't need to know all the unhappy details. Let's just say it wasn't a very pleasant trip to go get ice.
And personally, I returned in no better frame of mind than when we'd left.

I knew I needed to get over feeling sorry for myself, but I was hurt and angry and not sure immediately what the practical and honorable way to handle the situation was. I was hating myself, and very much not liking Trissy at the moment.
I went to the garage. Jack was laying on the rug in front of the mudroom door and looked up and 'meowed' at me as I walked up. Whether it was a greeting, or a complaint, I don't know, but it didn't really matter at the moment.
A sharp retort sprang to my tongue. I started to let out part of my bad temper on this little cat. He was just a cat, with no worries, who got to lay around all day, or do whatever he wanted, to his heart's content! What right did he have to complain and cry at me?!

But before I spoke, even as these accusatory words formed in my head, they accused me. What right did I have to complain compared to him?! He was just an animal, but still - I'd not been run over by a car and had my legs half-paralyzed. I'd not had so much trouble eating and drinking that I looked almost like skin and bones. I'd not had those things happen to me, and yet get up and get over it and keep going without crying about it.
I remembered his bewildered but patient look of trust that night, as he lay in the cardboard box. How he pressed his furry head into our hands as we tried to sooth him. How when he purred at us, we knew he was too brave to die.

Just a little cat, yet a creature God made. And one He certainly could use to teach another of His creatures - me - a humbling lesson.

Just A Day

I've been wanting to do a post where I document a day in my life - solely in pictures. Probably no words at all, just the images to tell the story. The idea seemed to promise both fun and challenge.
But... I've tried to do it twice this week, and neither day went very well. I got a few pictures I really like but, the experiment as a whole didn't 'work'. Either I missed things I wanted to include, or something was out-of-the-ordinary for the day (rain, the Grandparents needing to get up earlier than usual, canceled music practice on Tuesday, etc.), or I didn't have the focus right, or there was something else. I'd just wanted to include a typical day. I tried to do it Tuesday, and again yesterday, but it just didn't work out.
So... I'm just going to post a couple from yesterday that I like that I did get. Hopefully I can try again, right?

Thursday was a nice day though! The morning was gray and over-cast, but I still did my morning bike ride, and then went up to the Grandparents' to help them get up and get breakfast. Then it was off to work at the restaurant, and after that at Victory Rd. Christian Academy.
The restaurant is doing a special on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 3:00-7:00 where ice cream cones are fifty cents instead of $1.50, so as a treat, after I got off at the academy, Dad, Mom, Trissy, and the Grandparents met me there and I bought us all ice cream cones. The day started out warm, but by mid-afternoon, it was beginning to get cool, and we were actually wearing jackets as we sat out on the patio of the restaurant and ate our ice cream!
When we left, Trissy drove the Grandparents in their car back to their house, and I joined them there to help the Grandparents get out of the car, into the house, and settled in the living room where they spend their evenings. Dad and Mom went to our house, because a man was supposed to be bringing a part for Mom's vacuum cleaner. But after Trissy and I'd helped the Grandparents get into the house and settled watching "Sue Thomas, F.B.Eye", the Grandmother asked if we'd like to stay for a little while. So I went back out to my car and got my crocheting, and we sat in the living room and watched an episode of "Sue Thomas", one of "The Andy Griffith Show", and one of "The Waltons", until it was time to help them get ready for bed. It was so relaxing and enjoyable! Our whole family tries to go and eat supper with them and spend the evening on Friday nights, but it had been a long time since Trissy and I just went up for a visit. This time we didn't have to fix or clean up after supper, we had our crocheting or projects to sit and work on, and we spent a leisurely couple of hours just relaxing, enjoying each others' company, and watching a little bit of nice clean TV.
We helped them to bed, then headed up the lane to our house. Dad had ordered an ultraviolet light that makes some of the rocks in his collection glow, and it had come a day early, and the vacuum cleaner man brought Mom a new piece to replace the carpet-cleaning part of her vacuum cleaner that was broken. So Dad and Mom had to show us how their new 'toys' worked before we went to bed :) .
By the time I did get to bed, I was super tired, but it was a 'good' tired - the kind you feel after a long, full, good day.

Recent Happenings No. 7

Last Tuesday (Oct. 1), after running for our family (or part of it) for roughly 30 years, our refrigerator was replaced. This is a big deal. Maybe a little silly, but still a big deal. That thing ran for Mom for several years before she met and married Dad, and for them and Trissy and me until now. It's just now giving out. They built quality back then. It's like giving up an old friend :( .

Last Wednesday (Oct. 2) night, Uncle Alvin's oldest daughter and her family came down and brought us their chickens to 'babysit'. They are moving, and mom offered for us to keep the chickens until they are settled into the new house they're building. They have some pretty chickens, and they are so friendly too. I guess my cousin and her husband's eight kids have them pretty much used to anything :) .
When Trissy and I came in from church, my cousin's oldest daughter was calmly fixing peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches while the next-to-youngest little boy was sitting sleepy-eyed next to the counter. The adults were out in the night, trying to get a chicken coop and pen put up so they could deposit the chickens and get back to finish up a long list of things before my cousin's husband had to be at work in the morning. The kids were loving our country place (they currently live in the city, and are moving to the country), roaming the yard, playing with Murphy and Jack (our two cats), trying out our small basketball court, the older boys helping with the chickens. I know my cousin and her husband have taught and trained their kids well, but I was still so impressed to walk into the house (tired and, I admit ashamedly, rather cross and irritable) and find the oldest little girl calmly making everybody supper. And soon the baby was brought in for her to look after, so my cousin could help with the construction of the chicken pen. She deftly hoisted him to her back, and there he clung like a baby opposum, while she supported him with one hand and continued making sandwiches with the other. Her responsibility and calm just impressed me so much, and warmed my heart in a way I can't explain!

I snapped these pictures of a few of their chickens yesterday morning when I went out to feed them.

Wednesday (Oct. 9) afternoon we had Joy over for a little while. Wednesday is not the best day to have 'the girls', because they (at least Joy and Lela - Abigail and Piper are a little more flexible since they are home-schooled) have school 'til 3:00 and then we have church at 6:30, even if we cancel Piper's 5:00 piano lesson and Joy's and my 5:35-ish discipleship session. But Wednesday was the only day I had off work this week, and we've been wanting to have the girls come over for quite a while, so we worked hard, got the house clean, and invited them. Turns out, Joy ended up being the only one who was able to come (Trissy and I picked her up from school, then took her with us when we went to the church). Mrs. S's mother was to have surgery the next day and Abigail and Piper were going with her, and they had packing to do. So Joy came and we had a short, nice, afternoon. We made and ate corn dog muffins (only we put two 'dogs' in them, side by side, and called them "pig noses" instead!), and Mom played a game of Rummikub with us. Joy had never played but caught on quickly. We finished the game and the muffins right about time to leave for me to get to the church for Piper's piano lesson. It was a quick but very refreshing, enjoyable, and fun afternoon treat with a dear friend.

Thursday afternoon when I came in from a long day of work, Mom and Trissy had hot tea waiting for me in a china cup, and some of Mom's hoarded 'French Vanilla' creamer in a small matching pitcher (Trissy took the photo below, of her tea. She was working on some project in the sewing room).

Thursday night I stayed up late updating/preparing/working on the 365 photo blog I hope to start the first of 2014. I'm enjoying my new Nikon so much. I'm already taking lots of pictures, so set up a page for some of my favorites before the "365" challenge actually starts. The blog still has tweaking and work to be done (for instance, I'm not sure I'll keep that title... But I've got a couple more months to think about it.), but I feel very happy with the beginning results.

Biscuits and gravy last night for supper at The Grandparents'. The Grandmother's biscuits and gravy are still the best, and Friday evening is a special treat - the six of us together for a bonafide Southern home-cooked supper, and usually a movie or game or reading out loud afterwards until bed time. So thankful for these times together.

Today is, I am afraid, one of the last flip-flop days of summer. The weather is getting cooler and is so beautiful. Fall is, hands down, the most wonderful season. I'm lovin' it.
And yes, I do wear mis-matched flip-flops around the house.

I had a little free time today, and a burst of inspiration, and pulled out my things to make some more reversible flag pendants. The academy is going to be doing a "Fall Festival" fundraiser in the old part of town near the end of the month. They are renting booth spaces to craft and food sellers, and I'm thinking about renting half a booth with Niclole and her mom.

Yesterday as I left work at the restaurant, I stopped at the vacant lot next door where a family was having a yard sale. They've had about three during the time I've been working at the restaurant, and I always go over and see if they have any books. When I walked up this time, one of the ladies said with a smile, 'There's a box of books over there. They came from my husband's aunt though, and some of them look a little strange.' As I knelt and looked through them, one of the little girls (there was a whole passle of cute kids playing in the tall grass behind the lot - this one was probably about seven years old) bent down to me and asked, 'Do you want some lemonade?'
"Well, how much is it?" I asked.
She answered shyly, "Fifty cents."
'Fifty cents. Then yes, I'll take some lemonade!' I've always been charmed by the fact that there are still kids who do the old-fashioned lemonade stands, and I couldn't turn down this sweet little cutie. I chose two books - "Heidi", an old classic, and another old one that looked promising - and as I paid for them, she came back and handed me a sturdy plastic cup full of icey lemonade. And it was some of the best lemonade I think I've ever tasted!

{Note: I considered it quite providential that Jewel had just loaned me an old book called "Penrod: His Complete Story" which, so far (I just started it this morning), has proven to be quite well-written and very entertaining! The book I bought from the yard sale was not good, and left 'a bad taste in my mouth', so to speak, though I only skimmed it.}

Blueberry jelly :) . The end.