The Before: Aka...Wednesday and Thursday's Adventure.
It actually all started last Friday when we headed off to the Farmer's Market and I cranked up the A/C--only to have nothing but hot air blown in our faces. A statement similar to this fell from my lips: "I will have to put Freon in this next week..."

Next week came and it got to be Wednesday--I ran into town to mail an Etsy package and stop in at NAPA for coolant. I tripped out gaily with my coolant and then didn't get around to attempting "the deed" til late afternoon as I was busy doing other things. 

Plain and simple, I couldn't get the Freon hose hooked up to the adapter-thingy (I have put coolant in a vehicle once or twice before in my life, just never in Annabelle). After a number of diagnostic phone calls with Daddy we determined that it was probably just a shortness/strength issue so he told me to take it over to NAPA in the morning and get them to help me. So that is what I did.

The kind-hearted men tried--two of them--and informed me that they thought the adapter must be the wrong size. Looking at a service-sticker under the hood, they suggested that I take Annabelle back out Eagles and see if they couldn't fix me up. Okay sure. So I called Daddy--he gave me the green light; called home to explain the extra length on my out-and-about and headed up the road a bit to Eagles.

Well--it was lunch hour--so I decided since I was getting hungry myself that I'd go on home rather than wait and get myself some lunch. I got back, Mr. Steve looked at things...and as it turns out, he ended up pulling Annabelle into a bay to run a UV light on her and see if he could locate where/if there was a leak before he even went about trying to put any Freon it. The end diagnosis was something along these lines--he couldn't see ANY Freon or oil in it at all. No apparent leaks. The condenser is kind of clogged up and he wants to clean it (suspects the leak may be there), but it was more than an afternoon job and we needed Annabelle the very next day. So...the consensus was: Go. Be hot. (Have a good time.) Bring her back in Monday morning for the job to be done. 

And that, y'all was the start of the Turkeyville Adventure.

I finished loading (minus last minute things like the cooler and pillows) that evening and the next day we got out--at least an hour later than I intended:

After a phone call to Miss K to determine a few things, I picked our route (the one that takes us through Miss K's home town) and we ended up having lunch with her at this nice little BBQ place she works at.

We made a brief stop at the K's house also in order to pick up the fly and side wall and poles they were so kind to lend us yet again and managed to get to Turkeyville and set up before dark.

Anyway, I slept kind of lousy that night--not just because there were mosquitoes joyfully nibbling upon me, but when I woke up after only a couple hours of sleep at someplace between 3 and 3:30 am...someone a few tents down was carrying on a lively conversation in a middle of the day tone. I didn't get back to sleep after that, not really. I think I dozed a little between 4:30 and 5...but not much. 

Due to how tired I was and how tired I am...my memories may be a little garbled, so bear with me....I have a feeling I'm going to be dropping stuff out of the narrative because I can't remember it at the time of this writing.

​Josh showed up for breakfast and before eating, he tried on his new pants...and I most definitely needed to hem them up!

I ended up cutting the excess off and simply flipping up the raw edge about an inch before stitching it down (though technically I really could have just cut it and left it--unfinished pants were not unusual and that wool isn't going to ravel). I even got to use a sad iron for the first time in my life! I pressed the hem of Josh's pants and also pressed the collar of Hawk's vest.

Speaking of Hawk--we were camped right next to Hawk and Jill. They had even saved the space for us, so that was great! :)

Josh mosied off after breakfast. As I was getting started on hemming his pants, he shows up again and asked us if we'd like to grab our instruments and come down to where a group where jamming. Well, you know us (I think!) and so we collected guitar and fiddle and headed down the line to meet the 9th Kentucky and enjoy a time of jamming before lunch. Really a nice bunch of guys...more on them later though. ;)

Saturday's battle was set in Missouri and the Confederates were supposed to be militia fighting the Yankees....I forget the town and the exact set-up, but that was the general drift. They did something in this battle I've never seen done before. They encouraged spectators to join them on the field. Not randomly of course  (nor armed), but they took their "volunteers" (mostly kids) and put them in formation and marched them onto the field under supervision. They were only allowed on for part of the battle. What follows is a collection of photos taken from Saturday's battle:

Those last bunch of fellows were actually camped behind us and are they ever good! They were quite lively on the battlefield, yelling and when the "Bushwacker" got hit, he twitched and writhed...if I were man, going onto the field, I would probably be like that...really make a good show out of it.

After the battle I don't remember exactly what went on...until all of a sudden I realized that the band was setting up for the dance and that we probably should start tidying ourselves up a little. (My watch was an entire hour slow...I set it wrong that morning entirely by accident.) 

Josh escorted us to the ball along with another of his friends, Lydia. She seems like a real nice girl--I talked to her some at Coldwater. Four wide we "wheeled left" then "wheeled right" on our way into the dance tent. 

While a little "small" (though certainly not the smallest reenactment ball I've ever been to--Fort Pierce in 2014 gets that honour) it was an enjoyable dance and I had plenty of partners--KT and I only danced with each other once! The band that has played the dances I have been to up here is really very good--though I still don't think anyone can beat 7 LB.S of Bacon as a dance band and Mr. Doug as caller... :) 

The gents from the 9th KY invited us to come back to the big-tent after a bit and jam with them some, so we collected our instruments and a candle holder and joined the fun. I don't know how long we played but it was over an hour for sure! I think this was probably one of the BEST jam sessions I have ever been party too. While these guys are really, really good, they were also easy to jam with because they were encouraging and kind. Put it this way, one wasn't left feeling stupid because they didn't know the song, or even the exact chords. My fingers got sore and I started using my guitar as a drum more than I was strumming or finger-picking, but it went on until nigh on midnight. I heard the next day that the 11th Miss (the ones camped behind us) had really enjoyed the music. I was glad because I had started to worry we were being a nuisance to those who might be trying to sleep. Though we were just "right there" from the big tent, a couple of them escorted us "home" after the jam and we said our good-nights.

I slept terrible. Not because I was wound up but because of those things go "buzz" in the night. Them skeeters were NASTY.  I felt like I was awake half the night knocking my head around slapping at those Insekten. I was trying to keep covered, but I felt like I was boiling (it was humid and not really all that cool). In the end, I may have managed to actually sleep for three hours. So I was a little flat the next day. 

I did get a kick of energy about half-way through my second cup of coffee and that, plus adrenaline, got me through the day. Church was at 10, so we showed up a little early and played a few tunes--then we would play again during the alter call. Josh joined us with his gorgeous 12-string. I would give you the basic outline of Hawk's sermon, but due to the state of my mind, I think I would butcher it. All in all--the Ten Commandments. These are the rule of life and we break them ALL when we break one (which we all do). Jesus is the way of salvation because He paid for our sins. (I will add that He also perfectly fulfilled the law and through in that lofty-sounding "double imputation" phrase.)  

Real shortly after the service, Jill and a smallish number of ladies gathered 'round to discuss the lack of women "doing it right" and how to graciously help and encourage them to make the extra effort to do so. Not sure anything conclusive was landed upon, but in my personal opinion, I think it really comes down to the mind-set of the person reenacting. If they don't care, nothing we can say will make them care and if they do care, they will be already be trying to make headway. 

Pres. Davis was there on hand to give a talk and while Katherine went to prepare lunch (it was her week to cook so she was landed the cooking duties for the weekend) Jill and I stayed. Apparently, Mr. Lincoln was supposed to be there as well, but the poor man fell and hurt both of his wrists the day before (I believe he even went to the hospital) so he wasn't there. So, Pres. Davis spoke of Mr. Lincoln. While I am definitely not a big Lincoln fan, I was able to appreciate the kindness and attempt at level dealing in the way Pres. Davis spoke. (Of course, in real life, these presenters are friends, so I'm sure that helps.)

The battle was quite early (1 o'clock) and so lunch was pushed off until after the battle since it wasn't done yet. Katherine stayed in camp and I went to watch the battle, camera in hand. So, this next collection of photos were taken by me (so...they loaded up kinda of random like...):

This battle was the battle of Corydon, Indiana--which I just so happened to hear of for the first time last Sunday!! The Union were supposed to be militia this time...and the Confederates really should have been cavalry as they were filling in for John Hunt Morgan's men. Corydon, Indiana was one of the few battles fought on Yankee Northern turf. I was really rather unsure who won this...

After this battle, both sides lined up to salute the crowd with their musket volley:

I wandered back to the tent at this point and after a fantabulous lunch, would begin breaking down camp in slo-mo fashion. I picked up speed after a bit because we were supposed to get to the K's by 6 so we could join in their "call-in" to their church's evening service and I didn't want to be late again. Josh helped us break down the tent and pack the truck, which I appreciate. 

As Josh and I were finishing the packing, Katherine took a couple of tent ropes over to Hawk so he could teach her how to splice. I showed up just as he was really getting underway--and even though I haven't done it yet, I think I can say that I too learned how to splice. Grandpa would be proud. :) (Kt is currently sitting in the other room splicing the tent ropes, by the way.)

We did make it to the K's with hardly a minute to spare...I tried very hard to pay attention though I was tired enough that I won't say that my attention was at it's peak. 

This last picture brings me back to the truck--and the end of the story I started this post with. There is a twist to this tale that you probably aren't expecting.

When I cranked Annabelle up in the driveway, I noticed she was a little sluggish, but didn't think anything really about it. We stopped a few miles away in town to get gasoline before going on--and Annabelle wouldn't crank. It was the battery. I could tell by the way the engine faded. I just about panicked. I told Katherine to call Abigail because I knew one of the boys or Mr. K would come and give us a jump. Well, Abigail didn't answer...and the house phone didn't answer...and God works miracles. 

I tried one more time and Annabelle roared to life. That my friends, is nothing short of the gracious mercy of God. 

I was on the phone with Mom at the time and she told me "Do NOT turn the truck off until you get home." I didn't.

To continue, I went to crank Annabelle this morning once I had most of the stuff unloaded, so that I could take the rest of it out and unload it directly into the barn...and she wouldn't crank. Each attempt got weaker. So I called Daddy. Battery or alternator he said...or both. After a few minutes, I followed the advice he gave me, put her in neutral and rolled down the slight driveway incline far enough to get the Red Car out of the garage and turned around. Thankful that I know the proper use of jumper cables, I got the two vehicles battery's hooked up and in a few minutes, Annabelle was purring. 

I didn't turn her off either until Mr. F at NAPA told me to...she needed a new battery as the old was six years old.

From there, I took her on out to Eagles. Far later than my "first thing in the morning" appointment. It was after 1 pm. 

The word on the A/C though, to conclude the tale is this: 
The R134 conversion of this make and model vehicle only lasts 1-2 years before the compressor tears up.  It is the wrong type of compressor for R134 to effectively lubricate and it gets all trashed after awhile and the internal gets all plugged up with metal shavings (from the compressor guts). So, while he could fix it for a hunk of money, we'd still have to do it again in 2 years (or so), etc. Daddy told him to put things back together and he will try to find one he can strip off another vehicle and retrofit to Annabelle. 

Well...I'm now sufficiently tired and it's dark so I think bed calls my name.

hey are related in the fact that both transpired in the same 24 hours. Other than that they are not related at all.

First was that I pin-curled my hair Saturday evening and slept on it. (Sorry, no pictures.) It worked well and was not as uncomfortable as I expected. While I'm not going to make this exactly a habit I do intended on doing it some more in the foreseeable future. I'm trying to perfect a hairstyle and I'm not quite sure how to go about it without multiple tries... :D (And it just *might* have to do with WWII reenacting to at least a degree... ;D)

Second: It's official. I have had my first ever public Lyme-related melt-down. 

It was at the end of the first service at church yesterday and I just turned into a puddle. I couldn't sing the last hymn because I was too busy fighting the tears which soon ended up coming down my face anyway!

Thankfully, after a couple minutes cry I was able to get through the rest of the day fairly sane. I did have tremors for the rest of the day, but oh well. The cup of coffee that Mama sent Daddy off to make me did help. Other than my family, I don't know how many people actually saw that Racheal was over there on the front row crying. My friend Hannah spotted me and after Mom went off, she came over to check on me and just the conversation was helpful. 

There was nothing to upset me. It was nobody's fault. I just had a emotional herx right there in front of everyone. And strangely enough I came out of it not even feeling embarrassed. I guess that maybe I have just come to accept my reactions and don't stress about looking like an idiot when I have a good, logical explanation of "It's just the fact that I upped killer dosage and am therefore herxing."  

Anyway...two unrelated firsts. ;)

Oh and where to begin??? What a glorious, joyful weekend!

I suppose, for the sake of coherence, I probably ought to start on Friday and the trip over to Illinois. It was, thankfully, uneventful and we did not arrive late, even though we got out a little later than we intended. One of the first things I noticed was that Providence Church did not have the usual castle wall facade up...things seemed to be a little more loosely organized in general this year, but it really didn't detract from the lectures and fellowship, so I am not complaining. :)

Unfortunately, we did not get very many pictures, so I haven't any pictures to show you of our dear S's. They were already in Illinois visiting family and came to RefDay for Friday and half of Saturday. They came on over here Saturday afternoon  and just left this morning, taking my elder sister with them...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was standing in a doorway talking with my 'brother' Andrew H. when I spotted the S's. I rather unceremoniously blurted, "Oh!" or something like that and left off in the middle of a sentence to dash the fifteen feet to where they were sitting. I'm afraid I was really quite rude and I must apologize for it.  

However, minutes later, I grabbed Andrew by the elbow and propelled him over to meet the S's...and then R and L...I think, were roped into the group to meet them. There was so much talk and laughter and joy that I cannot remember everything that happened...or what order it happened in.

Friday there were three lectures. Two by Phil Kyser and one by Douglas Bond. The topic of this years Reformation Day was the Huguenots--of whom I knew practically nothing. Dr. Kyser first spoke in a general overview sort of way about the theology and orthopraxy of the Huguenots. One could say that they were the "Christian Reconstructionists" of their day; with the same kinds of total-life view of the application of Scripture. (By the way, I do classify myself among the 'Reconstructionists'...there is of course, some variation within that categorization because of human nature.)

Dr. Kyser's second talk (after Mr. Bond's) landed right down my alley--the Huguenot just war theory. He referenced a book "Vindiciae Contra Tyrannus" (or something like that) by a Frenchman named Mornet (I believe; and it's probably not spelled correctly) that I put on my "must-read" list. I agreed...and I nodded...and I took notes...and I grinned...suffice to say, I thoroughly enjoyed that talk.

Douglas Bond's three talks (one on Friday, two on Saturday) were really rather like one, just split into three parts, in which he told stories about different persons and event that took place during the Reformation in France: he spoke of Calvin, Verit, the queen of Navarre, Renee of France, Gaspard Coliny, and others. (There is a bit of story that goes with that, but I'll get there in the chronology.) Anyway, Mr. Bond is an engaging speaking, though, rather like Bill Potter (also a story-teller) not someone I am able to take notes from--so I didn't; I just listened. 

Friday evening, the Josties did the concert. I enjoyed it more than I expected too. For some reason, I assumed that they did gospel music--and a lot of gospel is rather well...not my cup of tea (partly because of the theology of the words and partly because of the way people sing.) I was pleased to hear that they actually know how to sing. (Sound like a snob, don't I?) 

Saturday is always the most particularly exciting day...we girls got up and got decked out in our outfits:

We had a little time to spare, so we goofed around a little...the above mentioned attempt at opening the window was part of that. Turns out, I had actually locked it when I was trying to unlock it. (In other words, I did get it open eventually.) Katherine thought I looked so funny tugging on the window that she had to get some pictures...and they did come out funny, so I thought I'd share them for your amusement.

We got to the church a little early, so took a brief reconnaissance drive around to locate the school were the dance was going to be that evening. (I knew where it was, but we thought we'd familiarize ourselves with the route.)

Well, we got back, pulled into the parking lot, and parked next to a silver car with an NRA and AOPA sticker on it. We made a few remarks about it...(NRA's a good thing!) without knowing who it belonged too--turns out as we found out that afternoon, it belonged to none other than our adopted brothers R!! It was hilarious that we unintentionally parked right next to them!

So, we go into the building, not knowing the R's were there yet, trot up the steps and who do I see across the foyer but Caleb! In a matter of minutes, three sisters and three brothers were greeting each other and talking 90 miles an hour, across this little circle. The S's arrived and were dragged into the circle by yours truly. I don't know exactly whose idea it was to sit together, but we ended up in a single row like this: Andy, Caleb, Katherine, Racheal, Savannah, and Dan. The S's were in the row ahead of us since we all wouldn't fit in one row.

My fingers went nearly ceaselessly during the three talks that took place that morning (Rev. McDonald's impression this year was of Gaspard Coliny's elder brother--the name I forget) and I got the entire cuff of Andy's second kilt sock finished! Yay! (I finished the first sock Friday on the way over.) Toward evening, I had Andy try on the completed sock and it fit perfectly! He seemed to really like it...and it appeared to me that he didn't want to take it off! I am going to make him and Dan both a set of kilt flashes to go with their kilts/socks. (Dan got himself a kilt...I forgot to ask what tartan it was, but it looked rather like Graham to me and Graham is my primary tartan claim.) I have also been commissioned to knit Dan a pair of kilt hose. :) However, you're not here to read of the Socketeer's business prospects...

Let's see...we were to have a jam session between lunch and the Highland games (about an hour); so we gathered out in the cold wind and the slight sprinkle and waited....and waited...and waited while the poor over-taxed food vendors worked as fast as they could to feed the line of people. Both Dan and Caleb had already eaten by the time Savannah, Katherine, Andy, and I had gotten our food. (The H's would have already eaten, I guess, because their last name falls in the first half of the alphabet and we were assigned to eat according to last names.) Once we ate, we went in and jammed. As promised, Andy helped me on 'General Taylor' both during the jam session and later as we headed toward the Highland Games. (As of this afternoon, I'm doing terrible on it; but I do know what it is that I need to work on.) I still can't keep up with Andy's flying fingers, but I did a little better this year because I am in practice better than last year. I don't know exactly what it is, but my guitar's tone doesn't seem to blend overly well with his...even though I was in tune.

We actually did a few of songs that we girls are proficient at--including "Hallelujah, Praise Jehovah"--which our brothers informed us was much too fast. Ha! ;) It's not a dirge, you guys! ;D (It was actually rather humorous, the banter about that...) 

But we did 'Salley Gardens', one of my favorites (me finger-picking to boot!)...'Be Thou My Vision'...oh boy...I can't remember the rest, but it sure was fun. Strumming, bowing, percussion, whistles, voices...I look forward to the next jam session. :) (Maybe I ought to practice a little harder too!) 

We moved on to the Highland Games with little ol' me trying to match my  voice to Andy's and conquer General Taylor; by the time we got there, Andy told me he thought I had it...well, sorta, Andy...sorta. :)

Caleb did not win the cabor toss this year; I think he came in second (or third at the least)...and someplace along in there in the rock toss. I went and bugged Andrew about getting in on the 'funn' but he didn't because he had a shoulder bugging him. I agree, it's not a good idea to stress already bothersome joints/muscles. I stayed over there instead of wandering back to where Savannah and Katherine were because I could see better (the announcer) had stepped in front of us three and I got busy hollering for all my "brothers" (the H's, the R's, and the B's). I figured I might as well get into it and have fun. 

Christopher, Thomas, William, and Joshua B. were being noisy in a different fashion and I vainly tried to get them to slacken their "war chant". Andy told me to ignore them and they'd quit--but they wouldn't have. I know those guys...they are so much themselves (which sounds weird).  I heaved Christopher up at one point and he was squawking, "Put me down!" with a huge grin in his voice...and so I kept ahold of him until he asked sweetly if I would, "Put me down...please." What? PLEASE? From the Lion-hearted?? Yes, dear...

I grabbed William around the shoulders at one point too...I forget what it was about...but he really doesn't mind the affection. (Those boys know that I love 'em--because I've told them so.) Thomas doesn't stick around as long for hugs. :D I'm doing good with Joshua just to ruffle his hair--he's never been as receptive to it anyway (he likes Katherine best of us three girls).

Daniel B. did the cabor toss for the second time this year. He's such a scrawny looking young man, though tall enough, that the he doesn't look like he could handle it well, but he did pretty decently. Give him a couple more years and he may be giving the standing camps (Caleb and a feller named Matt [who plays a pretty mean piano, too!]) a run for their money. (Daniel doesn't talk to me much these days [he's 16 and too into football after church to want to stand around and exchange pleasantries with me], but we're still family, as his coming up Saturday evening to let us know his 'battle wounds' were not hurting anymore, showed. I'm pretty fond of that tall, skinny, blue-eyed kid.)

Let's see...there were all kinds of humorous little situations, from one guy taking a head-first dive into the dirt right after his rock went flying, to joking about the Canadian running around in shorts and shortsleeves while everyone else was dressed a little heavier; even the guys in kilts had on more clothing with long sleeves and all.

I did it...I really did. Whether or not I should be embarrassed about it is another question. I gave my last year's critique of Andy's sword play to him--and like a gentleman he listened to me...and even took it. I could see that he was defending himself a little tighter. In other words, he stayed in the fight a little longer! I mean, literally, there were a couple of times that I wanted to snatch a fallen boffer and chase some dude off from Andy last year. :D I do so enjoy a good bout of sword-play that it can be hard to "just watch" the boffer wars. The three R's fought shoulder to shoulder...and at one point, some guys in front of me encouraged themselves, "Let's get the Canadians!" and promptly descended upon the three of them. I was thinking: "But they're not Canadian!" Oh, well...odd.

Let's see...I don't want to bore my readership with flash-tidbits of moments that either amused me or had significance to me...but would be "blah" to you all...so I'll just sum up the Games in this way: I had much fun watching them, talking to Andrew and Andy, teasing the B kiddos, yelling in support of my friends, laughing, and looking "goofy" (according to KT) with my shawl tucked on top of my head. After a while, I got cold and along with that, both my 'Lymie' wrist and hip started to ache a little, so when Savannah, Caleb, Katherine, and Andrew headed in, I went with them.

Shortly after that, the other two R brothers came back from the wars. Andy with beat up hands (not good for a professional musician); he held his hands up to show me his swollen knuckles and his hands were still quivering. Dan had a goose-egg on his right wrist, though I didn't know that until we were dancing the Virginia Reel and he had to quit clapping because it was bothering him. (I stamped my foot so hard I make my knee hurt during that dance. :D)

The discussion of "where are we going to go eat supper" started in earnest. No one wanted to see me out of sorts from food (me most especially!) and so we settled on a Bob Evans some 10-15 minutes away. The R's led the way in their car and I moved to the backseat to allow Andrew the use of the front seat (afterall, his legs are twice as long as mine!) and thusly we went, "Won't Caleb drive a little faster? I'm hungry!!" :D Turns out, he was driving so slowly because he thought Savannah was an overly cautious driver. (I.e. a duffer--like me.) Anyway, so we got to Bob Evans and I laughed something about only Caleb and Andy be the normal looking people amongst the seven of us, for Dan was kilted and Andrew was decked out in early 1800's styled finery, not to mention the medieval/Reformation style outfits of the ladies of the party! I really didn't feel as awkward as I thought I was going to. Some lady in the restroom asked me if we were with 'the show' (apparently there was some sort of Broadway-esque show playing in Peoria)...

After we were seated, I cornered Dan to get some information concerning the voice over he is supposed to be doing for me and as soon as I said "Voice Over" he got this look on his face that really cracked me up. I swallowed his excuses (I have less excuse than he does for not being any further along than I am!) and proceeded to order my salmon. There was lively conversation and plenty of laughs over our supper. I'm afraid I looked askance at the blueberry pancakes that ended up in front of Dan...I could just imagine eating that and being so sick I couldn't walk straight. :D It was even more fun though to tell Andy "Eat!" every two minutes...he really only glared good-naturedly at me once. (We had a time limit because the ball started at 7:30.)

Well, we made it (and many thanks to Dan for picking up the tab for the entire table!) and were there and ready when the dancing started. Mrs. B called this year and I think did a pretty good job for her second full ball. I was pleased as punch when Christopher strolled up and proffered his hand to me. I don't recall the little stinker ever asking me to dance before...that was the Waves of Tory...so we had short me and even shorter Christopher--but we managed the arches without over much trouble. :)

As previously mentioned, I did the Virginia Reel with Dan, whose arm was hurting him. He kept clapping, then stopping, and then starting again. It's odd how somethings just "happen" even though you know it would be better if you quit doing whatever it is. (I've done that while playing spoons before; the blisters start coming and I just keep playing.) It's practically impossible not to clap during the Virginia Reel!!

The Virginia Reel and the Gay Gordon (or Carolina Promenade, depending on who you are talking to) are my favorite dances and both were done. I started that one (it's a mixer) with Andy...likewise the Pattycake Polka (and of course, I had to mention how 7 lb.s of Bacon does it...and he quipped something about 7 lb.s of bacon sound good. Goofy! ;P) 

I think nearly all the dances were ones I had done before...since I am learning the ECD terms and steps, I'm getting to a point where I can just pick up and go with a dance after a real quick walk through. Remembering the names and which is which is the hard part! I love to dance! 

It was roundly agreed amongst ourselves that we could have kept dancing much past 10...but since we had to be out of the building by a certain time, we had to quit. I was sooo wound up that night that I didn't conk out very fast and then I woke up early. 

We wiled away the time before it was time to go to church by packing and loading the car. Oh, and 'peep ob-ing'. ;) Looking out our window, we could see the parking lot of the neighboring hotel--even from that distance, I recognized members of the J family (whom I don't actually know, but I know who they are). Minutes before we left, I spotted two heads bobbing along...as soon as they appeared from behind a tree, I knew who they were. Of course, the guitar case really helped, but I knew it was Andy and Dan without it. :D

The sermon was edifying and interesting as Rev. McDonald spoke on verses 9-22 of II Timothy 4 (the end of the book). He was noting how this was, in a way, rather like Paul's last will and testament and how he was thinking about people, not possessions or position, as he neared the end of his life.

I find that communion is a bit on the awkward side at Providence, but I appreciate being able to take it all the same. And that church sings. Not just robustly, but in parts. You can hear the sopranos, the basses, the tenors, and probably the altos if you're really listening (we tend to get lost, I think, between the sopranos and tenors). It is just a joy to sing at Providence because it is so beautiful. 

The church kindly provided people lunch on Sunday afternoon. I went downstairs with my sisters and Andy, but, because I offered to take Bibles and jackets upstairs, I ended up going through the line with Caleb and Dan (rather than cutting back in, I just joined the end of the line). Dan filled up a tray again this year, but not as much as last year...and once again, he ate practically all of it. :D I was full after a single plateful.

During lunch (like last year) Savannah and Andy talked non-stop. Caleb interjected into whichever conversation he wanted to, and Dan and I probably spent more time talking about guns than anything else. :D Katherine was quiet for the most part and just ate while listening intently to Savannah and Andy; until R came over and slipped in between KT and I...there was some joking about me having enough room...which I assured her I had enough room and we'd know that I didn't when I fell off the end of the bench and hit my head on the brick wall beside me. ;)

Before we left, we spent roughly another hour doing a hymn-sing in the sanctuary. Seth, someone I know who they are because of filmmaking, accompanied us on the piano. We concluded with "God Be With You Til We Meet Again" (which I did not know)...and it was so beautiful, I was beginning to choke up!

Then, seriously right before we left, we had a little photoshoot where Katherine got to use the timer on her camera. Here's the results:

It's really funny...because if you are scrolling through the pictures, we look like we're all swaying if you flip between them. :D (Obviously, we did not stand in age order, or height order or in any usual sense of photographic orderliness. We just lined up like siblings and waited for Katherine to dash back to the group.)

And just one final picture...Andy, waiting for his brothers to return so they could start home:

It was a grand weekend...and I look forward to seeing all the friends mentioned in this post "the next time" whenever that rolls around!

God Bless Y'all! It's a joy knowing you!

Mornin' Y'all!

It's been a couple of days since I posted, but I thought I'd have a little fun with this verse this morning.

Alright, so maybe "fun" was the wrong word to use, but I actually started chuckling when I read this earlier (I believe just about the same time I drained my coffee cup).

The reason I laughed was because of this: A young man (or maybe not so young, depending on circumstances) is given or inherits wealth (of whatever sort) from his father. HOWEVER, Dad does not provide him with what could arguably be one of the most important 'things' he will ever have--a wife.

Guys: This means you have to go find a wife! Yes, God will provide--but you have to also actually go looking (who knows...she may sit in front of you at church each week); but anyway, I do not quite understand my own sense of humor sometimes. 

Conversely, girls: We shouldn't just sit on our hands either...while we may not go out "husband-hunting" in the same fashion that our brothers may go "wife-hunting", we should be trying to learn how to be that "prudent wife" so mentioned in this proverb.

Just a note, this goes both ways, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all do not think that the other party in your future marriage is going to be always wise, properly loving, etc. We are all sinners saved by grace...you and your spouse are going to have to grow together, in some sense of the word--more for some people than others to be sure.  Some of us will probably actually have more "growing-up" to do that we foolishly think we will come that day.

But enough of this repetitious "lecture"--I have an email I have to go write and then some more mind-frying research to take care of.

Have a loverly day folkies!

We took Granddaddy took church with us today. While I think it would be good if we did so every week, Daddy said he thought Granddaddy probably wouldn't be inclined to go again--the distance and the length of the service being factors. There is only so much you can "make" a person do and keep the peace...so I guess we'll just see how that works out.

I don't know if Granddaddy has ever been to a Presbyterian service before in his life (but I kind of don't think so), but I found some sort of humor in the fact that of all days we had a Baptism (paedo) today. Granddaddy's an old Southern Baptist. :)

After church, I was standing around talking to one of my most special little friends when one of "my" boys dashed by. I grabbed Christopher round the waist and moments later both of us were on the floor. I don't think I said "Ouch!" though Christopher did (and that plucky seven-year-old doesn't say that easily). We both landed on our knees (him underneath). I'm still not sure if I tripped because I stepped on my own skirt, or because Christopher had his feet tangled in it or his forward motion was simply too strong for me to "whoa" back on him with those shoes I had on. I realized (after we got home) that I didn't even have the grace to be embarressed about the whole thing. I grunted as my knee cap smacked into the floor and one of the elders who was standing there, talking to another man, said, "That didn't sound good!" I laughed it off, let Christopher go (he and I go way back on "You can't catch me!" so I like to grab him when he's not looking), and went back to talking to Isabelle.

Anyway, I landed with most of my weight on my left knee. It's now sore and I have a bit of a knot under my knee cap where it swelled up. However, it feels a whole lot better than it did just a couple of hours ago. Guess it serves me right for not behaving like a lady... ;P

Do you celebrate Christmas? Or not? It doesn't matter to me if you are of the "no-Christmas" category or not. I most definitely do not think it is a subject to break fellowship over.

My mother forwarded this book/pamphlet that Phillip Kayser wrote on why he celebrates Christmas. Whether or not you agree with his premise or not, I thought some of you might enjoy reading it. It's roughly 40-some pages long, in an easy to read style. I found it highly fascinating and at this point cannot disagree with his arguments...it might be an interesting subject to dig further into (some day).
 
But in case you do not want to take the time to read it, I will attempt to give you a rough idea of what he says. He believes Christ was born on, wait for it...Decemeber 25. Astounding, isn't it? :) He uses both the Bible and extra-biblical evidences to draw that conclusion. They are too numerous to list here, but one of the most striking to me was the parallels (if he is correct) with the building/dedication of the original tabernacle (the one Moses erected) and the birth/dedication of Jesus Christ (*bounces up and down* remember the Hebrews 9 correlation betwixt tabernacle and Christ??) Combine Mr. Kayser's theory with Mr. Larson's theory on the Star of Bethleham (you will find that they disagree on birth date and year) and I think one has something of a very, very awe-inspring glimpse at the incalculable wonder of our God and Savior.

You are perfectly free to disagree with me, for really, I, as Mr. Kayser does, see this as a liberty of conscious issue.

Still, for all that, I shall wish each and everyone of my beloved brethern a MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! Please receive it in the joy it is given...Christ was born into our world, lived our righteousnesss, and died our death, rising again on the third day, bringing hope and salvation to His people!!

True, Katherine and I haven't had any adventures that near on the extremes that Madeline had to deal with in Madeline Takes Command (I cannot remember the author's name), but we have had a few this past week.

Wednesday morning, shortly before I started on lunch, the internet went down. It was more than just those momentary "outs" that have seemed rather regular of late. It went down completely. I ended up calling the support line and went through the whole thing fairly well--until I was getting off the phone. It was then that I goofed and in such an embarressing (but hilarious) fashion. Before I said "Good-bye" to the lady I was speaking to, I said, "I love you!" Before you gasp too hard, let me explain that there are just a very, very few people I speak to on the phone with any regularity and it is perfectly natural and acceptable for me to say "Love you!" before hanging up. In other words, it's just habit. It really was  funny. Katherine was like: "Did you really just say that???" Um, yes....

Next day (yesterday), the tech-guy came out and got us all hooked up with internet--we "upgraded" so to speak, and now the internet is faster! Everybody will like that. :)

I processed carrots this week. I started on Monday and got a little over two gallon bags filled. I didn't get to the rest on Tuesday (we went to town), but I did get around to it Wednesday afternoon and got the rest of the carrots peeled and cut. I processed them yesterday while the technician was here.

I went to the Post Office today--twice. I needed stamps and to send a stack of music books to a friend (you know who you are). Well, I had looked on USPS website and determined there that using two flat rate boxes of a particular size that I could get them shipped (Mom had told me to get the flat rate boxes), but it appears that the local Post Office didn't have those particular sizes. Anyway, the kindly employee got a box that they all fit in--but it really was too big and the edges would have gotten munched very throughly by the time it reached it's destination...so I screwed up my face and thought and told the guy that I had a box at home that they would fit in and that I would be back. So, I came home and packed the box (they fit perfectly in the box I had in mind) and took it back to the Post Office.

I decided to fuel my car on the way home. That went fine and dandy until it came time to pull out of the gas station. I didn't jump a couple of times when I probably could have (that time of day is not the best for going to the gas station on that particular road) and the guy in the Ford whatever-it-was behind me got impatient and started beeping his horn at me. Anyway, I didn't do anything stupid in my irriation like jump out in front of the Mack trucks coming down Main Street. I just simply cannot stand it when people beep their horns at me. I do not like traffic--even light traffic. (I'm a country kid and I'm used to little used back-roads; besides which, I really have done a large portion of my driving in an '93 pick-up truck so I tend to drive everything like that. Careful of not getting myself out there in the way. I tend to forget the red car has a really peppy engine.)

This evening, we had a load of wood delievered. Mr. M from church, with his two eldest sons (I'd guess they are someplace along the lines of 10 and 8), showed up with a truck bed full of wood--most of it split, but some of it needing to be split still. Mr. M told me that this was a celebrity tree--it came from Payton Manning's yard! (For those of you who don't know, Payton Manning was the Indianapolis Colt's quarterback up until about a year, year and a half ago. I think the team's playing has gone sharpely downhill since he left, but don't tell Grandpa I said that! He's a staunch Colt's fan. :D) I thought Mr. M was pulling my leg...but it appears he wasn't; I couldn't hear the greatest over the splitter, but apparently the man the wood came from had a sister or something like that who used to work for Payton Manning (probably greens-keeper or something along those lines) and that's how he ended up with access to this particular "celebrity" tree. Interesting little tidbits one picks up.

Anyway, we cranked up the splitter and went ahead and split the stuff that needed splitting. I ran the machine and Mr. M did the lifting; Katherine stacked the split stuff and the eldest M boy hauled/rolled the stuff to his dad.

I just heard, "When's dinner? I'm hungry!" so I reckon I'd been meander myself out to the kitchen and start slicing onions and such like. See ya around, folkies!

Just in case you were unaware of it, my brain does frequently brush with topics that are more substantial than the normal seemingly frivilous subjects that I love to enthrall my readers with. (Um...that is, if I enthrall my readers?)

The one that's been pinging around in the back of my mind for several days in the obscure shadows under my hair was, unsurprisingly (I suppose), prompted by a brief-ish exchange, in a longer conversation I had last Friday. For anonymity's sake, I'll refrain from mentioning by name the brother I was chatting with... :)

Anyways, last year, said young gentleman and I were both involved in multiple on-line conversations concerning politics and the Christian's civic duty. The point of this post is not to delve into the various, assorted views that got expounded on and argued over during those conversations, but to address something I said rather flippently last Friday.

The difference in political views cropped up (I believe I brought it up; probably as an example of how Christians can fellowship even when not extactly in-step with one another--at least I hope that's why I brought it up, because I sure wasn't trying to throw anything into his face). I then said rather laughingly, "We just won't talk about that!!"

And I got to thinking...is that really the right way to go about it? Sure, we've had these discussions before and we basically know where the other stands on the issue, but to just cut off the topic (jokingly or not)--is that right?

I'm not really sure.

I have certain personal reasons for not really wanting to wade knee-deep into particular topics, some of which being: 1) I hate tension and strife (particularly between family and friends), 2) I have a fierce loyality that causes my temper to flare if I perceive myself as being challenged or threatened, and 3) I hate being bested in a debate and looking like an idiot (even if only to myself).

So...it's really that second one that screams against me getting into such discussions. I must say the calmness and respect with which certain members of the "politics talks" of last fall treated me and my different thoughts really convicted me on my own snappish response to any challenge. However, I digress...

Should one steer clear of these kinds of conversations (knowing one has certain pitfalls) or should one not run from the conversations, but go in with an extra-guarded tongue (and frevent prayers for strength in controlling that firecracker temper that will bubble up, like it or not)? I guess the question really is: does one knowingly place themselves in a conversation which may cause a sinful response? (I am not blaming anyone or anything for causing my sin--that comes out of my own heart, but certain things do prompt it more quickly than others.) One often learns a lot in conversations that challenge them (least in my case) and in the end one has a deeper, more throrough knowledge of the other side(s) of an issue.

I do not want to lose my temper or lose my friends because I've behaved abominally--but neither do I want to ignore issues of great importance to me, simply because I might lose the ol' temper. (One nice thing about internet debates is that you can put the subject aside and come back to it in a way that you cannot with a one-on-one in-person conversation. However for all that, I would still rather discuss things face-to-face.)

So, when I laughed, "We just won't talk about that!" I think there are a couple of possibilites: 1) I was being a coward, 2) I was being spiritually and intellectually lazy, or 3) I was just shooting off with the mouth...because I really wouldn't mind having that conversation (or parts of it) with certain persons (in person) again. Or maybe it was a combination of the above.

Anyway, what are your thoughts on "getting into conversations that may cause you to get upset/lose your temper"? Really...I'm curious. I have my own ideas on this, but I'm not sure I can articulate them, so I'll clam up for the moment. :)

I haven't done a nonesense post in awhile...so I thought I'd just share some favorite moments from post-service fellowship last Sunday.

For starters, it's rather nice to be surrounded by very special kids that know you and love you. I love being surrounded by precious little (and occasionally not so little) children. It's nice to know that I can still pick some of them up (Olivia for one...she's a hefty 7), that the B twins don't mind that I play in their hair (even though they are all of 12), and that Sarah and Isabelle are as sweet as ever.

Anyway, there are really two stories in particular that I wanted to share. Mrs. B is doing dance instruction classes after church for the upcoming "Scottish Ball" (I'm still not sure why it's called that--it's not Scottish dancing, but rather American Civil War/Folk with a few ECD dances). Well, anyway during the waltz instruction time, I caught Christopher. He's a little short stocky stinker whom I absolutely love. By now I had finally grasped the basic box step for the waltz. I asked him if he knew how to waltz and no, he didn't...so I taught him! (Or tried to teach him.) I'm sure we looked rather amusing--little blonde boy with big girl bent double waltzing quite choppily around and around, laughing, yet very concentrated on our feet. Since Christopher's arms are too short to reach my waist, he had a grip on my sleeve which I had rolled up to my elbow. Like I said, I just love Christopher!

Later, I scooped up Benjamin (Christopher's little brother--looks just like him) and exhibited the behavoir that makes me alright with a large majority of little squirts. I took him into the halls, balanced on my hip, and started half running, half-skipping down and back up again until I was so out of breath that I had to quit. I was "playing horse"--sound effects (from my large square heels) and all. Benjamin really got into it there for a bit, swinging his free arm and swatting me (not very hard, if he had, I'd have made him quit) across the front of my shoulders. After that we played "you can't catch me", combined "Mommy!! Daddy!!" (that's part of the game, you know--'yell' for mum or dad--not because the young'un really wants me to leave him alone, but to add an extra layer of complication into the "chase").

I also learned a new dance called the "Postie's Jig"...

For some reason, Friday the 13th's have a bad name...I've been on the verge of being crabby a couple of times today, but not enough to earn the 13th it's bad name.

Today was pretty busy...not counting the time we sat in the health department waiting room for Savannah to get a TB test (dr.'s orders) and me to get my tetinus shot. I was just going to get a plain ol' tetinus shot, but they were out of that so I went ahead and got the one with the whooping cough and dyptheria vaccinations included. Either way, it was still more expensive than Savannah's test. The nurse reminded me of Aunt Laurie...she kind of sounded like her and kind of looked like her (same dimples!) It's always rather interesting when a complete stranger reminds you of a relative.

I got my shot before Savannah got her blood drawn. The last time I had shots I was around 7 or 8 (I think Katherine and I got shots when we moved to Fort Polk--but I don't remember if it was before or after we got there). The nurse told me to relax as she swabbed my arm a couple of inches down from my shoulder. She said, "You have hard muscles!" and I chuckled a little bit when I said, "That arm is probably harder..." "Are you left handed?" "No, but that arm is stronger." (At least I think it is...my left hand is definitely stronger because of the guitar--which I have not been playing very consistantly lately.)

Among the other things I did today was pick out my clothes and shoes and belts (can't forget those!) and make a list of things. I also dashed off to our place to grab our camping blankets and a few other things. I tried to work up a good list of things I should not forget. I gathered some of my film stuff and organized some papers...and I finally got the latest two pairs of socks listed on the Rebel Gray Socketeer website!

My plan of action for tomorrow (if I can keep myself from getting engrossed in the Saturday westerns--I'm going to try real hard...) is to do my usual stuff (i.e. bathroom, vaccum) as well as some non-usual stuff--like trapping the cows in preperation for working them Monday. I'll go ahead and saddle Snip in the morning and let him stand under the tree until mid-afternoon (the cows seem to pretty much go into the trap area of their own accord anyway). I won't mow because it will still be too wet.

The count-down to D-day has started and Lord willing, they'll be busy day's. :) You've already heard my plan for tomorrow; Sunday we join the church; Monday we work cows and there will also be a couple of doctor appointments; Tuesday is packing day; and Wednesday--we hit the road!! (You won't hear from me again after that until probably the following Tuesday or Wednesday--and expect reenactment pictures!!)