Leading up to Independence Day, I took a couple of weeks (on and off) and made myself a new outfit. I didn't want to wear the same ol' outfit from last year...and thus dreamed up this very large project...a 1780 (or thereabouts) riding habit that was more or less inspired by Lady Wolsey's (see my construction blog post here, if interested in the details). Anyway...we didn't do an expansive photo shoot, but here are some pictures of the new outfit, plus some of Independence Day!!
It was a long, hot, fun weekend. I am now tired and hopefully will manage to make this an interesting AAR. I am going to do this perhaps a little differently than usual.
Thursday: We arrived at the park around 4:30-ish, if I recall correctly, and as we began to unload, with some slight assistance from Josh, Luke and Abigail arrived with their tent fly and wall for us to borrow again (our tent is a leaker, so the fly actually served as an extra roof). The finished set up looked like this:
Our next door neighbors on our right were, by choice, Hawk and Jill...and they had a new set-up!! What do you think?
We hung out under their fly and got eaten alive by skeeters...but still had fun.
Friday: Being School Day we prepped for the kids to walk through. Once again, we weren't official presenters, but were open to questions. A little over half way through the day, I suddenly realized why people kept asking about candles....
We made some new friends, due in part to a baby's bottle needing to be warmed and we having a close at hand fire...
Josh "strutted" around in his new Captain's uniform... ;)
Abigail and Grace came over Friday evening for supper and to spend the night crammed into our tent with us. Before heading off to the Land of Nod, we ended up photo-spreeing...
Furthermore, Obadiah was called in to play "Taps". Now technically, "Taps" is to be played at 10 pm, but it was probably more like 7 or 8 pm...but it is a reenactment....
Saturday: The big day...the day when the whole K. family turned out for the fun...and Mom and Dad came up for the afternoon!! :)
From my vantage point, the battle was sub-spectacular...not bad, but nothing uber exciting. Luke got hit twice (in the same knee). He said later the first hit was because he forgot to put in his ear-plugs and he wanted to put them in. Ethan got hit in the leg too, and later "died" and Andrew and Obadiah got into the action as well.
After the battle, Obadiah played "Taps"...
Troop photos (plus a few of the girls cheering them on)...
Random shots from the day:
Throughout the course of the day, music was played. In fact, we had an official request from General Lee to surround his tent and play. There are no photos of that, since the camerawomen were playing. Luke's accordion fell apart on him, which was really sad.
The folks left sometime after the K's did and so Katherine and I sat around with Hawk and Jill for awhile, just relaxing and listening to the music from the ball (we didn't go for a number of reasons, one of which was my feet and legs were so tired), and wondering what was up "over yonder". Turns out a youngster had a 45 minute long nosebleed that led to a trip to the ER. He was apparently fine the next day because he was running around playing with other boys.
Sunday: A fairly peaceful day. Hot and humid. Hawk preached a good sermon out of John 4 (the Samaritan woman at the well), which just so happens to be where Pastor is preaching from at church.
There wasn't a huge amount of interaction with spectators on this day, but we talked to friends and watched the battle which took it's toll on the Confederates. After that we watched the medical demonstration led by Mr. G (who is friends with the K's, sings "Messiah"...and has defeated Lyme disease himself).
Something almost funny happened at this point. This lady I have been talking to at events on and off for the past two years came up behind me and re-introduced herself...and then asked a mutual friend/acquaintance, Lydia to introduce us girls to her four sons, as her daughter needed to use the ladies... It was a bit awkward, strolling with a girl in a Union artillery uniform into the Confederate artillery camp to meet the four boys. I remember all their names but one. (Philip, Nate, Curtiss...?) Anyway, I really kind of like Mrs. W. and she seems to like me. She asked how old I was and when I said, "26", her voice and body language seemed to say, "Oh...too old for my boys." :D
We began to break camp not long after the battle and headed to the K's for Sunday evening church. Various people were taking walks or having naps when we got there, so I ended up standing in the kitchen drinking several mugs of water and talking to Luke for fifteen to twenty minutes while Katherine (poor abandoned dear!) rested herself on the front porch, alone.
After church, some new friends of the K's arrived and we had popcorn and watermelon out doors.
We all spent the night because we were going to join them in/for the local Memorial Day ceremonies and parade. I know Abigail got photos, but we did not...and since I forgot to take my computer with me, I wasn't able to get any of her's. Therefore, no pictures.
Anyway, Katherine and I marched in our first ever parade. :) We were not too far from the head of it; the local High School band was in the lead, with something between them and Mr. S's (a WWII vet) 1939 Buick which we were behind, in the following order: Grace on a vintage bike, Luke and Abigail, then Katherine and I on either side of Obadiah. Behind us was Josiah on his unicycle. Isaac was supposed to drive his little red tractor, but it conked on him just before parade time. :( Poor thing, he was really disappointed (not that I blame him!) All of us, except Josiah were in 1940's dress (more or less), Luke decked out in his seaman's uniform. Andrew and Ethan did a fly-over in a Husky.
Before the parade though was a ceremony. Then after the parade was two ceremonies--one in each cemetery--on opposite sides of the main road. There was music and speeches and prayers which were Christian. Before the third ceremony, as people were mingling around, I accosted a WWII-vet and was allowed to plant a kiss on his cheek. I left red lipstick on his face, which he left there. The American Legion post was handing out plaques of recognition and he was one of the recipients. As it turns out, he was a sailor!! As he was coming up for his plaque, I heard Mrs. K saying something about the lipstick on his face and I leaned over and grinning said, "That's mine..." She laughed.
Returning to the house and while waiting for lunch, Josiah and I went out to look at his bees. In under five minutes, I had been stung twice. Once on the neck and once on the chin...so I about faced and headed in, with Josiah right behind me for ice and lavender oil. Next time, I'm taking my own bee helmet.
After lunch, during which I bit down on my somewhat swollen lip, we talked and played our various instruments and just had a down right enjoyable time. We were the last to leave...we left around 9 pm, tired and worn out, but with another bucket full of memories.
Yesterday was one of those days that seemed like two separate days.
The morning saw us nipping into town so Katherine could purchase her new "beater" violin. She already has two, but both are family hairlooms--one is an antique and belonged to our paternal great-grandfather; the other belonged to Granddaddy's cousin and is in need of some repair work. So, as you can see, wanting neither to get (further) damaged, she wanted a new one for reenacting. And...she got a pretty nice one that is essentially brand new:
When we came home, I fixed lunch before betaking myself out to mow. If you are guessing that something happened, you would be spot on.
I really planned on mowing more of the yard than got done, but that piece on the steering column that we replaced 2-3 years ago has failed again. I don't remember what the thing is called and I have yet to dig into the workings of the machine (may not even get to it this week), but I have a pretty good idea as to where to start. Still, I got the front/road done, and as that is the most important part, I'm not going to blow too hard.
I discovered, while mowing, that some silly Killdeer has decided to nest in the driveway!! Goofy bird. If the cats don't get her, we'll see if the eggs get a chance to hatch before someone accidentally drives over them. I would have attempted to divert the bird from nesting in our driveway if I had had any clue she was doing it, but I was too late...and she has three pretty eggs laid. (Seem rather large for a bird of that size.)
Well, along and along, I came in and decided that I wanted to go shooting, so Katherine and I gathered our gear and headed out to our own personal range.
We were both testing out some new (to us) guns. I've fired mine a couple of times before, but am not sure I really want to switch from my revolver to a semi-auto.
I shoot better with the revolver...it holds as much ammo (unless there is one in the chamber of the pistol)...and I am just a revolver lover.
As both of us are out of practice we had some technical issues to deal with, but we ended the session taking turns with my beefy .22 and shooting buffaloes at close range. She really actually won. Five shots, five buffaloes, the extra shot flipped an oil filter. Me, five shots, four and a half buffaloes (gave one a quarter turn), the sixth shot finished him off. Anyway, we had a lot of fun and I got my first real sunburn of the year.
By the time we had used up a small pile of ammo, it was time for me to think about making supper, so we moseyed in. I took one of those "how on earth did that happen??" falls while I was closing the back of the barn. Actually, I know it was just that the worn tread of my boot slid on the very smooth concrete, but one minute I was standing up, the next I was flat. Surprisingly, after an hour or so, I would hardly have known I had hit the deck. Lord saved me from anything serious (maybe it's really actually a good thing to be short! Not so far to fall!) I ended up laughing about it because I'm sure it looked funny--but no one was there to see it, so we'll just have to imagine how ridiculous I looked.
Life marches on...next thing on my list, finish yesterday's laundry. It ought to be dry by now...
Years ago, right after we retired from the Army, I boldly asked my Grandpa, "Can I have your old Army truck?"
The answer being yes, I became the proud owner of a 1942 Chevrolet. I have recently confirmed what my uncle once told us that it was an airfield fire-truck. Only the proper terminology is "airfield crash truck".
In the post-WWII era the truck was modified from having a proper fire-engine-ish back end to a boasting a large white-painted wooden box. This was my Grandpa's beekeeping truck. I don't know (I will have to ask Grandma) if he built the box on it himself or not. I do know he purchased it in 1959.
Restoration to WWII-service configuration is not going to happen right off for me. I have no clue how much it will/would cost, but I know far more than I currently have to spend.
Finally feeling that I may be well enough to be serious about this, I am hoping to start working on it this summer. I have already drawn up a list of things that need doing--starting with a battery and a brake job. Whether that is "just" bleeding them (something I have zero experience with) or something more major (I hope not!). I want to do the work myself, though I will doubtless be running to Daddy for help...even though I found and was able to print off a copy of the shop and repair manual.
Once I can safely get Bobbie Mae safely out of the barn--it's bath time. There are layers of barn dirt on the old girl that a) are not good for my health and b) cannot possibly be good for the paint (which is going to have to be re-done at some point too--another pocket-book bleeder).
Between pictures and research and help from a reenacting acquaintance (the gentleman in question is a practicable encyclopedia of WWII information!), I am completely convinced that she is indeed a 1942--only with a few 1943 features--like the dash. But, seeing, as I now know that a certain number sequence is the delivery date (December 4, 1942), that in all likelihood explains the next year model features.
I have GOALS of getting her RWWII ready for this year (clearly not 100% restored). In fact, Mr. Courter saw my FB post and personally contacted me to encourage me to bring her, no matter what she looks like! Talk about being somewhat flabbergasted...
I love this event...and the people are amazing!
Anyway, back to my truck...I have a number of questions. The two most pressing ones to my mind are:
#1: HOW do I find out where my truck served? I did some poking this afternoon and came up empty.
#2: What was the original paint job's color? Was it the red I can see underneath the OD green or was it indeed Olive Green like the majority of these (or so I read)? I'd LOVE it if it were red (I have seen one colorized photo from 1944 with a red truck--up in Alaska) since that is my favorite color and vintage Chevy red is the best--but if it she needs to be olive, olive she will be--eventually.
Oh...and very importantly, I have to learn how to drive her. I'm fairly confident after reading the manual on top of what I already know about the mechanics of a manual transmission that I can without too much trouble learn how to drive a stick--even a beast of a truck like this one.
Skimming the manual today after I printed it off, I ended up going to the internet for further descriptions of how internal combustion engines function and as of this evening, I understand better than I ever did before how vehicles go down the road. I still have a thousand things to learn, but each piece of info I tuck away helps. :)
Anyway...I'm excited. I won't say "stay tuned" because if I get started, you'll hear about it and if I don't you won't...and of course, this is an "as I can afford it" project.
The rest of the quote goes, "In search of El Dorado" (from the film "El Dorado")...but in this case it wasn't El Dorado I was after.
Anyway, to back up, yesterday saw the day I had scheduled for Gardening Day 1. The morning started with a quick three-stop run into our little town (post office, bank to deposit a couple of checks, and the gas station). Arriving home with my fuel, I unloaded it at the back of the barn, parked the car, and headed back to open the barn up wide.
Done with that, I hopped on the mower and mowed the top half of the garden area. I mowed fairly high so that the shorter dandelions would not be damaged too badly, except for where I was going to till.
I don't recall if this is only our second year of strip-tilling or the third. Either way, strip-tilling the top half of the garden was the task I had laid out for myself. Once done with the mowing, I greased the Bolens, hopped on and gave the thing a crank. Oh, it turned over, but it was clear it wasn't going to roar to life, even after being on the charger over night. Thankfully, this battery charger has this nice 50 amp jump feature (I've used it several times for various vehicles)...and when I got that set up, old Bolly rattled to life! (By the way, I gassed up first. It's not particularly fun, especially for me being so short, to put gas in the tank over that muffler when it's hot.)
Merrily on my way (and this was before lunch y'all!), I made the first pass. At the end of the row, following my usual routine when the field is planted (it got planted Saturday), I went to back up and do a multi-point turn around (the Bolens turns like a barge on the Mississippi...or an oil-tanker--whichever "meterpher" you prefer). Nothing.
Reverse was non-extant.
You have got to be kidding me!
Okay, you're not. Why do we always have something go wrong with our machinery?
I wasn't hugely upset and decided that I would just have to bounce over the newly planted corn to get Bolly turned around and back to the barn. I also decided that I wasn't going to bug my dad with the problem unless I really couldn't figure it out myself. So I headed in to do a little research. (The internet is a gold-mine if you know how to dig right.) Locating a manual for a roughly contemporary dated Bolens yard tractor, I poked about looking for something that might be of help. I was in and out a couple of times (had to take pictures with clean-hands!) and someplace in here was lunch. After lunch, I headed out with a page printed from a manual for reference...
Fender removal was simple (and I am ever so thankful for that little red Sears tool set we keep in the back of the Suburban. It comes in mighty handy).
I compared my set up to the somewhat striated photos on the manual page and went to work.
I don't really know how long I spent tinkering, but I quickly figured out how the machine was supposed to work.
When the drive pedal is pushed forward (with the toe), the forward jaw opens out (above photo) which, if my brain/knowledge is correct, engages a gear in what I think is probably called the gear box. When the drive pedal is pushed down (with the heel), it opens up the rear jaw (next picture), which reverses the gear (or some such thing). So, I may be a little sketchy on what exactly happens inside the box, but I did figure out that which side of the jaw opened corresponded with either forward or backward motion.
Furthermore, I was able to figure out, even without the help of the manual (though it confirmed my suspicions) that the thing (someplace in the manual, I thought it called it a clevis) in the next photo that is rather flat and kidney shaped was the culprit, more or less.
The foot brake (which must be completely depressed for the engine to even think about turning over) is also connected to it (there at the rear is the foot brake bar's connection). There is a bar with an little "L" shaped end (you can just see it) that moves within the "kidney" determining the direction of motion. The Kidney is capable of some movement--which is where the problem came in. It had, somehow, since the last use of the Bolens gotten shifted ever so slightly, thus prohibiting the rear jaw to open wide-enough to engage the gear. It was an easy fix once I figured out exactly what I needed to do. (I didn't even need tools. Just some slight elbow grease--though I got more grease on me that the amount of elbow grease I needed.)
Before I put the fender arrangement back on, I cranked the machine (I was very careful, Mom!! I have zero interest in getting caught in a spinning drive shaft!) and using my hand, played with the pedal and ran it back and forth. Satisfied, I turned the tractor off, put the fender contraption back on, reattached the seat, crawled on, cranked up...and proceeded to spend the next several hours happily traversing back and forth tilling up the dirt.
I will have to till some more since today we pretty much filled up the ground I broke yesterday. But I don't mind. I like running machinery. :)
And that was Day 1 and 2 of Gardening 2018....
This really is a tongue in cheek kind of post, but with, I guess, a dose of truth in it.
Mowing like a (backyard) beekeeper requires, first, that one divest themselves of any remnants of a "keeping up with the Jones" mentality. Your yard is that...a yard, a pasture, not a "lawn" to be manicured.
Which leads to the second point. You have to utterly disregard how the neighbors are going to perceive you. "Dandelions...just going amok! Haven't they heard of Round-up??" (By the way, you will be greeted with a shotgun if you try to spray my beloved yellow weed-flowers. Spray 'em in your own yard. Over here, I'm propagating them. Seriously. Bees love them...and dandelion honey has such a delicate, sweet flavor!) There is also a bit of a jungle around the front of the house. Well, I'm just waiting for the Star of David to bloom. Once they are done, I'll mow it.
Third, you will learn to dodge bees and clumps of flowers. This will result in wiggly, scriggly mow lines. If you want a checkerboard patterned lawn--don't become a beekeeper.
Similarly, you will just laugh when you see a low-flying plane and question whether the pilot thinks the idiot downstairs is mowing drunk.
Lastly, alternate which parts of the yard you do mow...because you really don't want the grass to eat your property.
How to mow like a beekeeper: Mow the grass...miss as many flowers as possible...and ignore what the neighbors might think.
Your crazy resident beekeeper,
In which I restring my classical guitar.
I bought these strings at least a year ago, if not a little longer ago than that. Cordelia (my Cordoba C-5 classical) needed re-stringing then. Well, Sweetwater's amazing promptness and customer service aside, I did not get around to it...I just putting it off and putting it off and putting it off.
Well, today, I finished excuses and changed my strings.
I always forget how sweet and happy it makes my instrument to have fresh new strings...until I put them on.
So, now my girl has a lovely voice again...she's no longer off-sounding, even in tune.
It is finally beginning to look like Spring is actually getting here. But of course, as soon as I say that, it's going to drop off cold again here this weekend. (Literally.)
Anyway, I took advantage of a beautiful sunny, low-60's temperature afternoon to begin the spring yard work. I started with the poor, mostly dead weigela out by the road.
Some of that might not survive still, but that was all that had any life left in it.
Once I got done trimming, I collected the trimmings and the windfall linden branches and zipped them up the hill in the go-buggy. After dumping that load, I collected another load of windfall maple wood.
Poking around here, there and yonder, I discovered that various mints are peeking out, the bleeding heart is coming up, and joy of joy--DANDELIONS!!
Right, so there were only about an even half-dozen that I saw, but still...bee forage is a comin'!
Katherine hied out to plant the cherry trees that Mr. Y, a WWII vet from church, had given us.
I took my shotgun out with me, on the off chance that a Starling would show his pointy little beak. Naturally, true to form, I saw nary a one during the entirety of my time out of doors, but I decided to give my little break-action a mini-photoshoot of her own:
I have bees buzzing in and out of both hives (Huzzah!) I made up some syrup and put it out since it will be warm enough (day and night) for the next few days to enable them to consume the stuff.
That's the outdoor report. Indoors, I am taking baby-steps towards conquering a few piles and messes that I have not been able to keep up with with my feet being broke out (speaking of which, they are look and feel the best they have since before they broke out in November).
I am still extracting the honey I took off the hive that died in January (I think it was).
I finally washed the honey bucket that had the Spring 2017 honey in it that I fed back to my little hive. It had been sitting on the table for weeks now. (Procrastination. And not feeling good. A combo that I really am trying to to address better.)
I still need to vacuum the floor here to finish my to-do list for the day...better go do that....
I got home from a quick trip into our little town after mailing a package and dropping into the School Corporation building to fill out the necessary paperwork to get our Farmer's Market cleared to use the School Corp. parking lot--our location for the last, oh, I don't know, decade maybe?
I took over the Market Master position last year...but the previous Market Master had already taken care of this legal aspect, so I was facing a new experience. I was slightly nervous about it for several reason, not least possibly being the fact that I've hardly been out of the house for months now as I continue to deal with a re-occurring foot infection that for two weeks out of three keeps me strictly shoe-less. So, boldly walking in on strangers and "adulting" caused some slight apprehension. Silly, I know...but the truth.
Anyway, I got home from said quick trip...and as I plunked my wallet down on my desk, I declared to Katherine (who was practicing her piano), "Well, I adulted and it was fairly painless."
She almost laughed and said, "It usually is."
And you know what? She is right. It usually is pretty painless to behave like I'm my age. To face a stranger over a business proposition with my head up and my shoulders back. I may not look beautiful or graceful, but honesty and a grin never hurt anybody.
I was talking to my mom this morning some about how each of us, even my parents, deal with "moving on" as we begin to function on a higher plane the more we beat our Lyme and Co. When I was diagnosed, I was 22. I am now 26. Those four years in between...large chunks of them are missing. I lived through them (obviously, I'm not dead) and I even did things like working a Farmer's Market every weekend June through September...and a reenactment here and there. But, so much of that time was lost. I aged, without necessarily my mind getting any older. (So don't mind me when I act a little too young. I just haven't caught up to myself yet. ;D) I lost social skills I once had...
Beyond that, there is an emotional "loss". Like I said to my mom, it's like there are emotions there, underneath the flatness, but you just can't quite reach them. (Other days, you sit and cry for no logical reasons.) And then the anxiety--which can cause undue and ridiculous (if you aren't the person living it) stress over even very simple things--perhaps having to get out and pump gas.
We have to relearn how to deal with emotions, good and bad. We have to relearn how to face stressful situations. We have to learn how to live again. Really live. Not just breathe, eat, and sleep.
Relearn how to read and absorb information. To read a sewing pattern. To play instruments and sing. To follow through with a task (oh what a biggie this one is!) To step outside our comfort zone.
To walk into a building of complete strangers, standing straight and tall, with a smile and no stuttering as we inform them why this funny looking girl with the black-leggings, denim skirt and red cabled sweater has just intruded into the peace of a beautiful lobby.
It's getting easier.
I only regret that the "G" I wrote on the paper was so wobbly. A capital "G" is the worst looking letter in my handwriting's vocabulary.
I finished reading of the sins forbidden in the third commandment today, as well as the remainder of the chapter.
Picking up then with abusing the Word, creatures or anything contained under the name of God in charms or sinful lusts and practices:
Using God’s name, or anything God has revealed, or anything by which He has revealed Himself, or anything He has created as a “good luck piece” or a “lucky charm,” in an attempt to control the present and future, to satisfy sinful desires, to accomplish things or to explain and justify sinful practices is particularly evil and obviously a transgression of the Third Commandment. (397)
Maliging God's Truth, Grace, and Ways:
The gospel preaching of Paul and Barnabas was having great success in Antioch....so the Jewish leaders openly tried to contradict the apostolic gospel, “and cast abusive aspersions on the two apostles, perhaps including the name of Jesus in their defamatory remarks.”211 They would revile the apostles as heretics and their gospel as heresy, “blaspheming Christ Himself as an impostor and a false Messiah.”212 Such maligning of God’s name, i.e., of His gospel, His Son, and His apostles as vehicles of God’s revelation, is a clear transgression of the Third Commandment.
Scorning God's Truth, Grace, and Ways:
In the Bible a “scoffer” or “the scornful” are those who are full of indifference, intolerance or hatred for the “name of God,” for revealed truth and revealed religion and anything connected with it. They think of God and treat Christianity with contempt, as they suppress the truth in unrighteousness (Rom. 1:18f). (407-408)
Reviling God's Truth, Grace, and Ways:
Hence, to malign Christians or their life-transforming gospel is to take the name of the Lord in vain. This hostility of the pagan to the Christian often results in a campaign of insult and slander against the Christian to discredit him, his Bible and his God. The reason for this hostility is given by Jesus in John 15:18–19: “If the world hates you, you know that it has hated Me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” (410)
Opposing God's Truth, Grace, and Ways:
To oppose the preaching of the revealed truth of God, to try to resist and defy the overtures and purposes of the gospel of God’s grace, and to stand in opposition to any of the ways of God with man, is to oppose God Himself. It is to oppose, resist, and defy the revelation of His name to man which is man’s salvation. Such opposition is to oppose the only name by which we must be saved (Acts 4:12). Hence, it is a transgression of the Third Commandment. (411)
Making a Profession of Religion in Hypocrisy or for Sinister Ends:
The Bible describes those who make such hypocritical professions of faith as “lovers of self…holding to a form of godliness although they have denied its power.” They live to please and satisfy the desires and goals of self, not of God. (417)
Being Ashamed of True Religion:
Being ashamed to confess Christ and His divinely-revealed religion as the only true Savior and only true religion, before a hostile and wicked culture is taking the Lord’s name in vain. It is rooted in unbelief and cowardice. It is so heinous in the sight of the Lord Himself that He will be “ashamed” of those who are ashamed of
Being a Shame to True Religion by Uncomfortable, Unwise, Unfruitful, and Offensive Walking, or Backsliding from it:
[By Uncomfortable Walking]
Finally, in concluding the chapter, what are the reasons for obeying the third commandment?
We are to obey the Third Commandment simply because God commands it. We are the creatures of the Creator, subjects of the Lord, and children of the Redeemer, and because of all those relations with God, we want to obey whatever He commands....We will not wait until God gives us reasons for His commandments. We don’t need reasons in order to obey. And because God is not accountable to us, He often commands but does not give us any reasons behind His commands, other than that He commanded it: “Why do you complain against Him that He does not
Chapter 26: Fini.
New post on The Bee Project! 04/26/18
The Middle Kid
I chose to title this blog "The Adventures of a Middle Kid" because that is exactly what I'll be detailing (mostly). I chose 'kid' over any other word, like 'girl' (I am the middle girl so it also would have worked) or 'child'
The anti-Christ will not overrun Christ’s church or kingdom.