I have way too many photos selected for this post...so I will have to see if I can pare down on them! 

This past Saturday, my long-anticipated truck restoration project had it's birth. A couple of real good friends made the trek from their home to ours to help this "mechanic-in-training" officially begin the project. Probably can't give you a real good "play-by-play" since this are a little mixed together in my head. I think once you see the pictures it will be clear that it was rather chilly! I will add that it was also raining nearly all day long...so it was a bit damp in the back of the barn.

Anyway, they arrived before lunch, and Katherine wisely suggested that those of us who were going to work on the truck not begin and get grubby before lunch...so we did a scouting job and then had lunch.

After lunch, we headed back to the barn...where Luke and I promptly addressed ourselves to the fuel tank while Andrew prodded around in the engine (I guess...I was a little preoccupied) and later hooked up a battery...before we all ended up underneath the truck...then working on the fuel line from the tank to the engine. By the time we got around to me sitting in the engine (it is actually an asset to be short sometimes!) the girls had gone in, so any pictures from that came off the guy's phones.

However, before I get into this any further...we made two interesting (and to me) surprising discoveries! First, the fuel tank is not the original. The original was a 30-gallon (according to the manual) and the schismatics Luke pulled up on his phone showed that it would have sat within the chassis, not bracketed to the outside of the chassis like this 40-gallon tank!

Second, the engine is not the original '42/'43 Chevrolet...but a circa '55-'58 Jasper. (And yes, I still need to look that up and see what more info I can find.) It is thanks to Andrew's research that we know that. Anyway...it sure made things makes sense as to why the manual didn't seem to be matching with what we were looking at!

Anyway, back to the fuel tank removal and clean up:

It was about here that Katherine and Abigail went in...but here are a few random shot s from the day: 

After getting the fuel tank back on, the guys cleared the fuel line from tank to sediment bowl...then Luke cleaned the sediment bowl and the fuel pump...

Unattaching the fuel line from the other side of the fuel pump, it was decided that because the copper pipe was twisted so bad up by the carburetor to just cut it off and put the old connector back on further down the pipe. That was an interesting operation to watch...

That old copper tubing got bent...and rebent...and bent again as Luke tried to eke out enough length to get it re-connected to both the fuel pump and the carburetor...which at last it made it...and between the all of us, we got it hooked up.

Then we tried starting her...and the battery charger whined...but nothing doing. 

Still, it was a decent days work--I think--and we all enjoyed it. There was plenty of laughter at any rate! 

Looking forward to the next time which will probably involve brakes....

P.S. Photo credits go to Katherine, Abigail, Luke, and Andrew

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.

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....

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.

I got distracted this afternoon when I went to the barn and cranked Annabelle, the green Ford, and the "Navy Ambulance Van". I got distracted for sure poking around my truck. Not my GMC pick-up in Florida...but my 1942 Chevrolet Army Truck.

I poked around, got in, sat behind the wheel, turned the key--which did absolutely nothing--mainly because I later realized she's not hooked up to a battery at all. I crawled up on the fender and peered into the engine, calling out to myself the various parts of the engine I know and am at least vaguely aware of how they function. There is some wiring that needs replacing for sure. 

Then, while waiting for the other vehicles to run a little longer, I went and I sat in a green plastic chair and just looked at the old girl.

That's when it hit me. I knew she needed a name (most of our vehicles are named, you know) and it came to me all of sudden and felt right.

Bobbie Mae.

Bobbie--because she was Grandpa's before she was mine and his name was Robert. He went by Bobby as a boy.

Mae--because I thought "Bobbie Mae" sounded like a nice 1940-ish name. Maybe something a feller would have nicknamed his ride--be it a truck or a plane. (I also had a great-grandmother on my dad's side with that name as her second name.)

Anyway, Bobbie Mae needs work--a lot of it. Like several thousand dollars worth, I reckon. Still...someday, I want to restore her to her former glory. And so...I day dreamed. 

I hardly think I'll be able to get started on her this spring like I half-seriously dreamed last fall...but it sure would be nice. I need to do reading, parts research, historical research...and learn how to drive a manual. :D 

Too many projects--and not a one of them galloping along with any speed. You'd think my projects were all astride an ancient nag...eh well. We'll have to see if a good night's sleep puts any pep back into that nag... ;)

Off to bed shortly,

Most of what I did yesterday (time wise) was in one way or another connected to an engine. 

I started out the day (pre-breakfast, post-coffee and "dirt" [detoxer]) butchering another chicken. I finished the job this morning with butchering the very last one and slipping "Blackie" in with the Golden Comets. Now I can clean the old coop (though I seriously doubt I have the energy to do it today) and move the newer birds in. Once I do that, I will need to clean the OTHER coop and THEN I can get my meat birds! 

We have been eating the old birds which I have been killing off on at a one a day rate for a little over a week now and they are rather tough. Could be worse though flavor-wise. Due to the single-chicken at a time routine I have been following, I have just been skinning them out rather than taking the time to heat water and then pluck them. I'm getting pretty familiar with the best way to skin out a chicken...

Shortly after breakfast yesterday, Mama and I took Grandpa to a doctor's appointment. The heart doctor is Cuban. He walked into the room and started speaking and I thought, "Cuban. He sounds exactly like Desi Arnaz [aka Ricky Ricardo from I Love Lucy if you didn't know that... ;]."

Grandpa is doing pretty good, so he doesn't need to go back for another six months according to Dr. A. He did put him back onto one medicine that he had taken him off of, but not all three. It should help the swelling in his feet as well as lower his blood pressure just a bit. (A desired effect.)

We stopped in at a garden/hardware store on the way home and picked up some more green bean seed, a pretty plant (I forget the name), and some parsnip seed. I like parsnips, even if Grandpa doesn't. :)

When we got home we ate lunch...then I went out and check on my bees. Katherine took some pictures...

From there I went into a "diagnostic" on the car. The passenger floor board has been getting wet, so Mama talked to Daddy about it (he's in Dixie right now) and he told her something and when she relayed it to me, I got a little mixed up about what had been said...so I'm particularly glad that after perusing the book I gave him a call. (Oh, by the way, the issue is assumed to be connected to the A/C unit.) I learned the difference (more or less) between the A/C compressor and the A/C evaporator--which I never did actually lay eyes on, but anyway...

Tying up my hair like Rosie the Riveter, I started out by lifting the hood and peering into the depths of the engine while reading in the book. Then I called Daddy and changed tactics. I crawled into the front floor board on my back (which I didn't know I was capable of doing) and unscrewed this and that and developed a general idea of where what I thought I was after was located. Daddy had said that perhaps I could get to the drain from the inside. No go. I did manage to help clean up some of the water from the carpet though. The back of my shirt got quite damp.

Daddy had also said that if I couldn't get to it from the inside to put the car up on the ramps. So, I went a-searching for them, thinking I knew exactly where they were--which I did...more or less. They were within the same vicinity, but just so happened to have the little VW Rabbit on them. Hmph. That isn't going to work. So I crawled back into the floor board to replace the screws and called Daddy in that position. He suggested something that made me say, "That would be interesting..." and I heard Aunt Terry (who is also down in Dixie at the moment) laugh. I had already tried crawling under the car, but as it is closer to the ground than my bed (which I cannot get under), I nixed that idea in a second.

The next part of the day is that which Savannah quite enjoyed telling on me about. I walked into to the house and declared, "I have a request (Savannah would put the accent on the "re" which would probably be accurate)...I need you to drive the car over me."

Before you start gasping in horror, let me explain that I wasn't asking her to actually run over me, but to drive the car into the garage, over the well pit--with ME down in it. Who knew that a well, in the garage, would double for a grease monkey pit? Maybe it wasn't such an...interesting...idea after all. 

So anyway, I crawled down in there (with two ladders--one to get in and the step ladder to actually stand on down there--though I actually stood on both of them for the most part) and felt a little nervous as Savannah drove over me. (As Daddy had kidded, "You can pretend to be a GI in the foxhole while a tank drives over you." Not really a funny idea, particularly when I recall that two young soldiers actually did get run over and killed by a tank during training back when we were stationed at Fort Polk. I guess if your foxhole is deep enough and you were hunkered down a tank could drive over the top of you safely.)

I flashed my light up into the engine compartment identifying this, that, and the other...and trying not to bump my head on the tranny. Not spotting the evaporator (which according to Daddy looks something like a small radiator), I asked Savannah to go get my computer and look up the location of the A/C evaporator in this particular make and model of vehicle. She did, and sliding my computer where I could see it, showed me a diagram she had found. After peering at the diagram for a bit and looking over my head a little more, I determined that I couldn't actually see the evaporator, but those "tube thingys" with a rubber elbow protruding under them was what I was looking for. I had Savannah hold my flashlight (she had to lay on her back and stick her arm under the car, over the pit) while I went to work. The elbow itself popped off fairly easily and then I took the coat hanger I had been supplied with and snaked the drain. I cannot say whether or not I actually unblocked it (assuming it was blocked) because it was dry as a bone in there as the A/C hadn't been run for several days (aka, the last time it was out). Daddy had told me that I might get a snoot full of water if I unblocked it, but my logic (which could be faulty) thinks that any water that might have been in it wasn't any more because it was a) in the carpet and b) the vehicle hadn't been run (except to back it out and into the garage) for several days, giving ample time to both drain and evaporate. 

Savannah backed the car out and I emerged from the well pit, hands blacked from the axle and engine components. All in all, despite the attempt at a crick in my neck, I rather enjoyed the escapade and felt ridiculous that I should have experienced any apprehension concerning the car being driven over me. One sister was driving and the other guiding...nothing to fear there. :)

I went in, washed up--to a degree--took my final "killer" for the day, grabbed an apple out of the fridge for later (I ended up eating two in the next few hours), put my sandals back on, and strode off to the barn. There I inserted my ear plugs and greased up the mower. Soon she roared to life and I took off to mow the front yard and the road. I left the back mostly un-mowed because, after all, I am feeding bees and that clover that is beautifully dotting the landscape (and feeding nitrogen into the soil) is part of their food. (I actually startled Mama later in the day because I was up at the top of the rise, down on my elbows and knees watching a bee working a clover blossom and she didn't know I was there; so when she walked up the row in the garden to see me in the tall grass, I gave her a start. I have a bad habit of that...)

Yesterday was one of those full, dirty days in which I am particularly thankful for hot running water at the close of the day. 

Right, so the whole day wasn't full of mishaps, but there was potential mishaps and actual mishaps today.

First, I spent the morning (and right after lunch), back working on The Cow Cavalry. Jordan sent me the very last voice over clip Saturday (I think it was...maybe it was Friday evening) and I "knew" when I got up this morning that I was going to work on it today. I spent awhile feeling frustrated and complaining to various sympathetic members of the family about the quality of the audio. I was even talking about starting completely over with the unedited audio clips--not that I really wanted to do that...

Finally, after getting Jordan's clip dropped in and the AE made for it and in place, I started working through from the very beginning again. Roughly 15 minutes in, I wasn't feeling nearly as frustrated. Turns out, it really doesn't sound as bad as I remembered--except for half a dozen clips. I will work on those again; probably starting tomorrow. I think it would make sense since my head got re-established into the project again today.

In addition to that, I began (during renders and letting the computer catch up with itself) to design how I am going to put the Cow Cav rosters up on the the website. I also got sidetracked chasing down a fellow my great-grandfather used to play poker with...history is too much fun sometimes!!

After I washed the lunch dishes, I headed out to see if I could help Mama any--even though I really didn't feel like working very hard. After planting a few peppers, I came in to get the next med on the schedule and bring her out a grapefruit. I also switched hats since I had decided that I was going to mow the yard.

Well, I had gotten roughly half of it done when I had to dip my head to keep my cowboy hat from flying off the back of my head (ribbons tied under buns don't help that much when the wind is from the front) and I turned at the same instant...and hit this old telephone poll in the junk pile with the deck. AND...I bent the cowling in and the blade got hung up in it. It took me another few feet to realize that something was wrong. 

I turned the PTO off and put the machine in neutral, throttling down. I crawled off the machine and reached under. Nope...no go. I couldn't turn the blade on that one side. I didn't realize until I had the thing up on the ramps that the blade was actually poking through the cowling. Daddy saw me stop and crawl around on my knees, so he came and looked it over. He fixed the bent cowling and I gamely went off--first to fill up my gas tank...and then before I switched the PTO back on, Mama asked me to get her another jug of water...so it was probably around 5-10 minutes later that I started mowing again. Almost immediately I quit. That side was still not mowing. Yes, sirree...I broke the pulley!! Seriously. This is only the second time I have mowed this year and this is already the second time I have broken the mower!! 

I helped Daddy take the pulley off and he sent me into the house with it...and while I was going, I heard him laugh. :) He said he wasn't laughing at me...but I guess I deserved it even if he was.

So you see, I really did have a Monday mishap...

Even though I was staving off the remnants of my cold (I was pretty miserable on Sunday), I thoroughly enjoyed the conference!

Our trip over on Sunday was uneventful...for which we were glad. 

(Click on the pictures to see them larger.)

                                                                              The Travelers

I had a fever by the time we got there (actually a 99.3--so a real fever), so I was allowed to be lazy about unloading Annabelle. I went to bed fairly early.

Monday morning...(excuse me while I refer to my blue spiral bound that effects to by my journal [yes, you may gasp with surprise, I actually do keep a journal now...even if it does end up with substantial holes in it, I haven't given up this time around])...ah yes...Monday morning, I went downstairs an whole hour early, due to a misprint on the email I had gotten concerning my impersonating. Anyway, I eventually ended up offering to help the lovely ladies setting up the registration table and while I felt more in the way than anything, they did accept the offer. Thus was the slightly awkward beginning to a fantastic three days.

When the time rolled around for myself to actually start my impersonating business, I took up my station (I *ahem* rather put my stakes in right there by that sign). I forget all the people I talked to over the course of next two days as they tried to guess who I was portraying (the impersonators where the clues in a treasure hunt): Mrs. General Stuart. I mean Flora Cooke Stuart, wife of James Ewell Brown Stuart. :) Since nobody knew who Flora was (she didn't do anything spectacular), the means of guessing my identity was really guessing JEB Stuart's identity. I got quite a lot of practice referring to "my husband"--rather an odd sensation to an unmarried woman. :D

Anyway, a few instances stand out to me: the tenacious determination of a blue-eyed boy of about 10 and his reticent little brother (about 6) who had no idea really even who JEB Stuart was (I was really impressed by this kid), the three little girls who would end up being my playmates for the latter half of Tuesday, the young man who won the 18+ age bracket of the treasure hunt, the pretty lady that reminded me of a lady at church, the sparkling blue eyes and dimples of a fellow impersonator (so I'm a sucker for dimples), the rapidity of the two brothers who tied for the win in their age bracket (they made me laugh), the family with all the pretty little girls in their matching dresses and their three brothers. The youngest was missing both his top front teeth and completely charmed me. :D

Well...that seems like more than a few, but you get the idea. I talked to a variety of people and enjoyed it all for the most part. I only fell out of character a couple of times, which I thought was pretty impressive since it was my first time impersonating like this. (Um...did that sound like a brag?) 

Between impersonating, I attended sessions like any other normal conference goer. Monday's sessions:
The Cause of the War Between the States (Dr. Morecraft): The long and short of this one was the theological background; the differences between North and South. Roughly, the South still maintained an orthodox Protestantism whereas the North had accepted "Enlightenment" theology and had become Unitarian. 

The Pirate Lafitte (Bill Potter): Lafitte was a pirate, despite his helping Andrew Jackson win the Battle of New Orleans. :D Anyway, Mr. Potter discussed pirates in general a bit and drew the distinction between an pirate and a privateer. Of course, he actually told Lafitte's history! (One of the Summer's sons was impersonating Lafitte...his costume was quite dapper...and he had a great pair of boots. So did his brother... :D [Boot-philia, I think we might call this].)

You Ain't Just Whistling Dixie (Mrs. Morecraft): I didn't take any notes...but I laughed all the way through it as Mrs. Morecraft drew Southern words and phrases out and laid them before her appreciative audience. Dr. Morecraft informed Daddy and myself later that he was watching me (I was in the very back of the room and he was sitting in his wheelchair near the doors) as much as he was watching Mrs. Morecraft. Apparently, I amused him. :D It's really quite a compliment. 

The Industrial Revolution and the Family (Wesley Strackbein): I must have been either hungry or not feeling well, because my notes (and memory) on this particular talk are rather sketchy. However, this (edited) little scribble probably sums things up fairly well: The industrial revolution destroyed the family economy unit; children were up until this point an asset, not a liability--this was switched with industrialization. Technology must be our tool rather than our master.

The Fascinating History of American Music (Geoff Botkin): I immediately thought of one of my brothers when Mr. Botkin began this one. :) Anyway, I did not take any notes for whatever reason...but did find the session interesting, despite my current inability to regurgitate any of it.

Tuesday's sessions:
The War of 1812 and the Battle of New Orleans (Bill Potter): I do so enjoy Mr. Potter's talks, even if I have a time of it taking notes from him. At any rate, he opened the issue with a discussion on whether or not the War of 1812 was even a just war. I confess I had never thought about the question before. The consensus was that it was a little iffy as to legitimacy; I would have to do a little more research on my own before I would state conclusively either way. (An interesting factoid here...during this war, New England threatened session...just thought you might like to be reminded of that fact. ;]) And...my notes are rather sparse...

Old Hickory (Wesley Stackbein): Of course, me, myself, and I had to go to the session on a fiery red-headed hero of mine! As Mr. Stackbein reiterated a couple of times, Andrew Jackson was by no means a perfect man, but he definitely had traits to emulate. I won't give you his history here though...

Economics, Law, and Liberty (Dr. Raymond): The more I listen to Dr. Raymond, the more I understand why Savannah has such respect for him. This was the first of several of his sessions that I attended. He is such a...vivacious...blunt speaker. Anyway, this talk was essentially on tithing...and the implications of it, etc.

The Social Engineers and What they Designed (Geoff Botkin): At this point I had "lost" my notebook (in the form of handing it to Katherine to take back to the room because I was unable to handle it and keep up with the little girls). Therefore, I obviously did not take notes. 

I missed a session on Tuesday because first I was talking to "Captain Jack" and tying knots...and then because I was talking to a 12-year-old laddie...and then because the little girls descended upon me. I am still not exactly why they took to me the way they did, but I guess my internal "kid-magnet" must have activated. I didn't mind it at all, that's for sure!

Wednesday's sessions: 
Robert Lewis Dabney, a Giant Among Men (Dr. Morecraft): A short history of Dabney.

Principles of Christ's Lordship in the Founding of America (Dr. Raymond): Oh, bother. I simply do not know how to condense this one! He covered too much history! (And ground.) Let's see if this passes: Dr. Raymond demonstrated that these United States were founded on Christian God's Law, not "natural law".

The Geo-Political Ramifications of the Incarnation (Dr. Raymond): My notes on this one were really, really sketchy. Hardly enough to jog my memory. Let's see...God's Kingship should be a fact to us...total comprehensive rule over all nations, laws, people, etc. 

Woodrow Wilson: A Sacred Fool? (Bill Potter): I chose this session over the other two because I really didn't know that much about Wilson, except that he was a progressive and was president during WWI...and that he was from Virginia. Now, I know a little more about him and more about his politics. He really was what we would call a "liberal" and became such by turning his back on the staunch southern Presbyterian upbringing he had had. I thought this little sidenote was interesting: the 19th Amendment granted women suffrage...and the majority of women were actually opposed to the idea. Oh...and the 16th Amendment (Income Tax); it never was ratified!

The Challenge of the Reformation in Modern America (Geoff Botkin): The final session of the conference, Mr. Botkin exhorted the attendees with a list of "mandates" (these may not be quite right, I didn't always get them written down fast enough): 1) Be prepared to walk alone for a season; 2) Providence leads us to hope; 3) Remember what is at stake; 4) Re-learn everything if you  must; 5) Defend, assert, and model what the church should  be; 6) Disciple Christ's men by inspiring them to courage; 7) Stand firm, but do not be formulatic and rigid; 8) Maintain a pioneer spirit; and 9) Be gentle and magnanimous.

However, to drop back in time a little...
We didn't get any pictures Monday...and Tuesday the photos Savannah took of me in my "day clothes" were so bad (somebody forgot to remind me to lift my chin! ;P) that I decided not to post any of them. I do have enough vanity you know. But there were some nice pictures of my sisters, so I'll let you look at those instead!

Tuesday evening was fun! There was the big "reveal" of who was who of impersonators, a costume contest (which I'll go ahead and tell you that I did not win ;]), dancing, and the announcement of the treasure hunt winners. 

There wasn't really much dancing, because all the other stuff took up time, but it was still fun. The last dance I did with a toddler on my back. :) I really do enjoy incorporating small children into the dances. The look of joy in their eyes far, far outweighs any "inconvenience" their ignorance causes. 

Anyway, I'm sure y'all want to see my awful hair-do. Mama saw the pictures and she gasped in horror. Literally. I'm not kidding you.

I was so impressed that I got "the look" that I left it up and wore it that way in public. The things we will do for our 'art form'.... What was really "funny" about it is that I am the one that cannot stand hair over my ears. I think the only reason I handled it was because the hair is actually poofed off over the ears and doesn't sit tight against them.

Anyway...here are the girls:

I had issues with my skirt...originally, the skirt opening was in the back, but when Savannah stitched the bodice to the skirt to keep them together and spare me the embarrassment of my corset strings doing a jig down the back of my gown, she had to turn it around (for obvious reasons). the pleating is heavier in the that portion of the skirt, so it hangs down differently and therefore I kept stepping on my skirt. Before I wear it again something has to be done. 

The next day, I returned to my preferred hair style. (And yes, I did wear my Secession Cockade all day long.)

I did my shopping that final day, purchasing several books, though certainly not as many as last year. 

Thursday morning, Daddy and I sat with Dr. Morecraft while he ate his breakfast, along with Mr. Botkin. It seems to me, on the one hand, rather odd and awesome to be sitting and talking to these well-known men...but then on the other, sitting and watching them eat breakfast reminds me that they, like myself, are just regular human-beings. Sure, they may be older and wiser than myself, but they are also just like me, persons created in the image of God, fallen in Adam and redeemed by Christ Jesus.

We pulled out and headed into southern Illinois to pick up our sink...

After collecting the sink, since we were going through the area, we contacted brother Andrew and met up for a coffee (his pretty sister was unavailable or she would have joined us to!) Unfortunately, we plumb forgot to get any pictures!! 

Thankfully, we got home with no issues...
~~~
I might as well briefly tell you that I mowed today...and that I managed to bend the blades even worse than ever by hitting a stump. However, in the process I learned that I can indeed take the blades off and straighten them--to a degree. If I had worked at it a little longer, the really badly bent blade could have gotten straightened out better. Oh well...

I ate enough dirt today, what with me mowing and the farmers plowing...and the wind blowing. :P 

A'right. Good-night, y'all!

Before I went to bed last night, I had decided that today I was going to mow the grass, weather permitting.

Well, I got going early (something about waking up at 6:30 to a chorus of "Hey! Hey! HEY!" wafting up the stairwell) and after eating a delicious breakfast I bounded out to the barn (I'm having a really good energy streak right now). The back door opens easier from inside, so that's why I went into through the front instead of going around to the back. It still took me a couple of good hard tries before the door opened, but I got it and started doing the pre-mow check on the lawn mower. The oil was low, but I had forgotten the right kind of oil to use, so I sprinted into the house to ask Daddy. He told me (10W-30) and I dashed back out to the barn and selected the correct oil from the wall locker by the motor home. Next I had to fill up the gas tank...grease the thing...and now we're ready. (Actually, I think I greased it first.)

Well, I started mowing. I thought the blades sounded horrid, so after doing behind the barn, I brought it up to the house and told Daddy, he came out and listened to it and said it was fine. I hopped back on and continued mowing. I got the barn yard done and had just finished one strip of the road (I never mow the same way twice here) when the engine started losing power, then surging back, then losing power again. The engine seized up and died right there on me. So...back into the house I go for the third time. Daddy was already getting up to come out; from where he was sitting he could see out the window and he had seen the stop and the smoke everywhere. 

We went out, he looked, he said, "It seized up...let's go get the go-buggy and drag it away from here." We had to go get some small chains off the trailer behind the barn...and then, I had to sit on the lawn mower and steer (backwards!) while Daddy drug the things around to the old garage. Now that was a crazy ride for me. I don't have that backwards steering thing down very well at all (from what I noticed, it seemed like it was rather the same principle as backing a trailer and I can't do that decently to save my life. I can back just fine, but not with a trailer attached!) 

While Daddy started taking down the engine, I strolled back to the barn, readied the string trimmer (essentially, a cross between a push mower and a weed-whacker), and got to work taking down weeds around places that you can't get with a riding lawn mower. I had gotten almost all the way through the "orchard" when it was time for lunch...

After lunch, I went back to work. I had to replace the strings someplace along there in the next hour thanks to some twiggy stuff I cleared out around the quince and whatever that other thing is out front by the driveway. I'm mightily afraid that I killed a poor wee birdie chick. I'd guess it was a robin...and it had probably fallen out of the it's nest and was under the pine out front and I just got it when I went under the overhanging branches. :( I don't like doing that sort of thing.

I saw a couple of garter/garden snakes, but thankfully, I didn't get too close to them with those whirling red strings. 

I killed the engine once because I tipped the trimmer back too far and the oil flooded...something (I forget what Daddy called it; he actually came out when he heard it die--I was right behind the house). Anyway, it cranked back up and away I went again (after letting the machine cool for a couple minutes). 

I got done, put the trimmer back in the barn, and as I was going in, noticed that I had forgotten to do around the barn and the junk pile. Oh well, I wasn't going to go finish that for two reasons: 1) I had a bandanna full of eggs (I watered the chickens when I noticed they were all out and gathered the eggs at the same time), and 2) I was on the verge of being overheated and dehydrated. I am trying to learn how to be a little more responsible when it comes to overheating myself (a tendency I've always had).

If I don't hear otherwise, I'm going down to the place of one of the ladies in our church this evening--to get acquainted with her set up and animals. I hope to be able to go down once a week or so and do a little work (like stable cleaning) for her and in return get to ride one of her horses. I believe she said the only one that takes a Western saddle (English is a whole 'nother animal) is named Rose. She also told me Rose follows direct reining only...which is alright. I do know how to direct rein, though it isn't second nature to me like neck-reining. Sooo....I get to relearn that. ;D

In conclusion: it feels so good to work and be hot and sweaty again! (That latter sounds rather gross, but I mean it.) I'm glad my stamina seems to be holding out...

My Scottish ancestory on my Grandpa's side is apparently where the mischevious streak that some of the family possesses comes from. It's a little more intellegent than mine...I think I have more of my father's side of the family's humor (a little more ornery and less mischevious...there is a difference).

But to continue...Grandpa was telling me a story about two of his uncles (my g-g-uncles) this afternoon while brainstorming about what might be the problem with the mower. (Hopefully I can remember what differentials are in future...)

Anyway, Uncle Frank was taking down the engine of his Essex (year and model I have no idea). He, like a good mechanic, knew every part and placed them all in a pan to keep them together and not lose them. (Unlike yours truly who was just putting nuts, bolts, washers, and pins, up on the ramps.)

Uncle Phfleger (pronounced 'flig-er'; ain't it a great name!) strolls by and mischeviously tosses a few extra parts into Uncle Frank's hardware pan, just to throw a hitch in his brother's get along.

Well, when Uncle Frank got the engine put back together, he had a few extra pieces of hardware! From Grandpa's description, I get the impression that Uncle Frank was a little bugged when he came up with the extra parts...and I could just see the amused chuckling Uncle Phfleger was probably doing as he watched.

I didn't do this story justice, but that is mainly because you all cannot see Grandpa's twinkling blue eyes as he tells the tale. I'd never heard this one before, so I thought I'd share it--because it is funny and probably something Fank and Phfleger laughed about after the fact.