Savannah and I have now moved over to Granddaddy's and the rest of the family has started on the long road north. The house over here is something of a mess still. I got around to getting my room straightened out today. This morning I got the computers set up. It took *forever* to get the WiFi going, but it was simply because I did have some code put in. I finally figured out that I needed it and once I typed it in--viola! Anyway, it sure would have been less grumpy if I'd known I needed it sooner :)

I'm still not sure where I'm going to set up my classical guitar 'station'. I put my Alvarez next to Granddad's electric, but the Cordoba is still boxed :(  It'll take another couple of days to get everything figured out. I will attempt to get back to normal blogging soon.

Friday I learned how to grease the Kuboda yard tractor and also how to run it. I mowed the grass at our place Friday evening. By the time I was done, both me and my nice white hat were more a gray color than our true color. Mom and Katherine raked up the grass over the septic field and fed it to the cows--who by the way often show up when they hear the mower because they know what is coming.

I'm hungry again. I have been hungry too much lately. I have been trying NOT to eat too much at meals. but if I don't I'm hungry in an hour (or less). What shall I do? (Go find a snack!)

I had something interesting to say, but it fled...oh well.


Immediately after worship, the girls and I started getting the camera's set up while some of the men adjusted the pulpit and the lecturns. Savannah and I set the white balance on all three cameras. From the back of the room, I hollered up at Pastor to please stand where he was going to during the service so I could get him framed right. He was most happy to oblige. (He was almost giddy all day--I think he enjoys weddings ;] )

The groom, K. was grinning from ear to ear during the entire service. M. the bride was a tad tearful a time or two, but she made it :) Everything was going fine until the cake. M. decided on the spur of the moment to shove the cake in K.'s face. As soon as she had done so, she turned and fled from the room, she felt that bad about it. At first, I thought K. was not going to return in kind...he moved the cake slowly toward her, then stopped. When he started again, he'd made up his mind and very deliberately smeared it all over her nose. Personally, I think cake smashing is disrespectful and I will not engage in such shennigans at my wedding. Daddy has always told us girls that if the groom does it to us, to punch him in the gut as hard as we can. I will. (Of course, as he also has said, this subject will be discussed before hand and forbidden.)

With that said however, K.'s deliberate movement and M.'s hesitant look of 'OH NO! I've got it coming!" was one of those moments of perverse humor. I was willing him not to do it (because that would have been the right thing to do), but at the same time it was funny because of how he did it. Forgive me...

Shooting the wedding ceremony went fine. Afterwards I took off with a camera and shot people eating, talking, laughing...the cake being cut, the above reported shennigans...K. and M. opening a gift and K.'s 'toast'.

I have to get to work now...


On Monday, I will have a tale to tell--how videoing (sounds wrong, but 'filmming' isn't really accurate) a wedding went. A couple in our church is getting married tomorrow and I volunteered to shoot it. Savannah will be on Camera A, I'll be on Camera B, and Katherine will be on Camera C. (By the way, we are using the church's cameras. I only have one...which for this purpose we'll call, Camera D--as it might also be used tomorrow.)

I do not understand why our dear Doctor marries people on Sunday. To me, it's the Lord's Day. Your wedding day is kind of 'your day', if you know what I mean, so combining the two is strange to me. I will not get married on a Sunday as I don't see it as quite appropriate, but anyway...

I fairly well have the shots I want mapped out (with Savannah's help). I'm going to take my gear with me  (camera, Zoom, AC adapter, flash drive [for bringing home the footage--I hope it will all fit--if not I'll have Mr. Bill burn me a disk or something...], external mic for my camera etc.), so I have to make sure all that is staged and ready to load (along with the food for tomorrow). 

I look forward to editing the footage more than I do the actual shooting of it. I also have another small project in the quay...I took a few videos on Katherine's Birthday which I want to put together.

In addition to planning out this stuff and talking to Mr. Bill on the phone, I have spent some time poking around for free music scores. I have a couple of songs picked out that I think would be good for my documentary. Really just old folk songs, particularly those of Irish and Scottish orgin are good. Particularly for this part of the country, because a lot of the settlers down here were from North and South Carolina originally--and those are a bunch of Scotch-Irish (ever wonder why the South Carolinians were firebrands during the War of N. Agression?) See, the hot-headedness is in my blood!


It rained today and it rained yesterday!!! Hooray! We reall, really, really needed it. Hopefully, we will get some more :)

No, I don't keep a diary...this here blog is the closest you're going to get out of me! I've tried, you know, but it never seemed to be interesting. Probably because I didn't have an audience...(I should blush here or something, but I won't.) Don't worry, I won't spill my innermost heart onto these pages...that's reserved for only certain people (only one of whom gets it on paper.)

However, I do want to talk about a diary. A young fella's diary. No, I don't know him. I can't, you see. Thomas Ellis lived over a 100 years ago, being a young man about my own age during the War Between the States. Anyway, I have read quotes out of his diary throughout my Cow Cav research and when I found out where the diary was...well, that's the really exciting part.

Yesterday, I contacted the curator of the University of Florida library (that being where the diary is kept). In a very short amount of time (much shorter than I expected!), he sent me an e-mail requesting my mailing address. Happily, I obliged with his request and was further thrilled by the information that a typescript copy would be mailed this morning! I hope to get it tomorrow. (UF is only in Gainsville...)

I forgot to mention (although you have probably already guessed) that T.B. Ellis was a member of the Cow Cavalry. He was one of the pickets during the Brooksville Raid and it is mainly for that that I wanted to read his diary-- for the eye-witness account of the incident. Quotes are likely to be forth coming and end up in the documentary.

Thrills! Research is fun! (Until you get overloaded.) It is also addictive. I probably will continue to file stuff away in my mental "Cow Cavalry" folder even after the documentary is completed! I'm like that.


Not too bad, but I was defintely starting to feel it by the time I got off Snip. I'm going to guess that it took between 15-30 minutes to get the bit in his mouth again today. Of course, it didn't help that he really thought he was going to get fed. Daddy had bought two bales of hay and two sacks of feed this morning and Snip was watching me while I unlaoded them. So he was really excited, only to find that his human had other plans in mind--like poking that blasted piece of steel between his teeth again. Poor Snippy. :)

Anyhow, he behaved fairly well most of the time. (I just realized I forgot to take my hat off when I came in...probably because I thought I was going back out.) We did some walking, trotting, loping, and galloping (not too much of that). I think that he might has slid a couple of times--very short slides, but still. (Unfortunately, I can't look at his back feet during this procedure, so I really have no way of knowing. But it kind of felt that way.) 


P.S. You will notice on the side bar a 'banner' that says "Save the Nuba". This is a branch off of the Persecution Project Foundation requesting people to sign a petition headed for Washington for the US to push for a 'No-Fly' zone over Sudan. This would entail that North Sudan could not (legally) fly over South Sudan to bomb them. I signed it...why don't you? Many of the refugees are our brethern!
I'm using the same title as I did over on my Director's Blog works.

Basically, I have been sittin with my nose to my laptop, reading my narration (draft 3 still) and adding above each paragraph visual cues. Such as: {image of Capt. Hendry on horse--don't leave it static}. This captions the paragraph where you first are introduced to Hendry and the esteem that Col. Munnerlyn held him in. I can use that one picture for the entire paragraph so long as I don't leave it static!

Beside that, the director has also been making a list of b-roll shot's she would like to get (some of them a little less important than others--of course) and she has been compiling a list of possible foley effects. (I think I'm going to have fun with that one!) Along side all this, she (hmm, sounds like I've been reading Capt. Boggess' autobiography. He seldom refers to himself as 'I'; it's generally 'Capt.Boggess' or 'he/him' :) ) has been scribling down stuff like "15 or 50 thousand head?" and "Where was said Navy Officer from?" Now, those cryptic remarks may not mean much to you, but to me they speak volumes! (Well, not really volumes, but I know to what I refer :) )

I have now learned how to hold a urinal properly. Never thought it would come to this, but hey, when dealing with old men, you just have to get over it. No squeemishness allowed! As long as it don't bother him, it don't bother me. 

Grandpa has been really sleepy. He has also been eating alright. Not extravegantly, but eating sufficently. I don't think he's had a bowel movement (at least, not a real one) since he's been home, but then again, he hasn't eaten that much. The worst thing is that he lost a great deal of his eyesight in the hosptial--not enough nutrients.

Of course, Grandma has been in the house and the two of them go at it like usual. Blah, it can get bothersome. I still quite don't understand why, when they have been married for 68 years, that she hasn't figured out that when he's sleepy don't argue with him because he gets nasty (so do I for that matter) and says hurtful things he (most of the time) doesn't really mean.
There ought to be a new book review real soon...


Daddy brought Grandpa home; they arrived just after lunch as I was doing my final wipedown of the kitchen cabinets. Grandpa wanted to sit outside for a while, but now I think that he is just in the garage with the door down trying to take a nap :) (It rather looks/feels like it is going to rain and I hope it does.)

While Mum and the sisters went to get veggies from the vegetable stand around the curve, Daddy and I moved my bed out to the front room (actually, I really don't know what to call that room--it's almost more of an entry way than anything.) Daddy went to the barn and cut some serious slats for the bedstead. The old ones were kind of weak. The dust under my bed was horrendous and I really ought to be ashamed of myself for letting it get that bad. (I'll admit that dusting and really deep cleaning are two things I do not get around to often enough.)

Daddy brought the cot in along with a couple of memory foams that the girls usually use in the RV and we got that set up in my room. So, now both Grandpa and I are set for the night!

A few minutes Grandpa is sitting in the living room in his wheelchair with his feet propped up in Mama's recliner. He is extremely sleepy and I hope he drops off here in a minute.

Shortly after they got home (by that I mean--after I drank my coffee) I stretched his legs some and made him do a few exercises. Then I did a brief shoulder session. He's a little sore as he hasn't done anything in over a week.

I do not know if Daddy still intends to attempt heading north on Monday or not. Since I don't know, I'm not packing. If it ends up that he wants to go, all I really have to do is get a couple sets of clothes (I have clothing up there), shoes, my hairbrush and hair clips (actually more important than my brush; I could get by without brushing my hair, but I have to keep my hair out of my face!), shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, soap... Savannah and Mom would probably make sure we had food so I wouldn't have to take care of that; except after we were on the road. Then I would try to take on that duty (I say 'try' because Grandma can be rather possessive about stuff like that.)

Maybe I'd better go see if Mama has anything I can do...


(Sorry, that's the first title that popped into my head...)

Life is like that sometimes, you know. The point being this: Grandpa is going to be allowed to come home today, we are going to put him in my room, we have to really get started with the two-fold moving process, and keep sane all at once :)

Point #1: Grandpa is coming home! As far as can be determined the bowel obstruction has gone away. We want to get him to the rehab in Indiana as soon as possible.

Point #2: We are going to put him in my room between now and the time we pull out. 'We' probably ought to be clarified as 'some of us'.

Point #3: Whether the whole counter-carpetbagger group heads North at the same time, or Daddy takes the Grandparents, me and Katherine up first is still undetermined at this point, I think. However, either way, getting Savannah and I moved over to Granddaddy's must take place shortly; while at the same time getting the books, clothes, shoes, jars, food, tools, instruments packed and loaded for the northward route (which BTW is not prounced 'roo-t', but 'r-ow-t' *heehee*).

Point #4: Whatever the final plan, it's going to be busy and stressful over the next couple weeks...keep us in your prayers please!


My friends, I am pleased to introduce yet another new page. To the far right at the top of the page, you will see a header "A Gray Kepi". This is the story that I wrote (or more truthfully, began to write) while I was sick. I hope you will enjoy it!

I will be posting it in snipets and tidbits, so stay tuned. I have no idea yet how often I'll get it updated. At first I thought maybe once a would that work? Or should it be twice a week? I will take input on the topic.


First, the progress!
    Grandpa actually got out of bed today and sat in a chair! If that's not enough, he also ate two boiled eggs for breakfast...(I have no idea what else he's had today--there have been no phone calls.) Now, we still don't know if the blockage is gone, but I do know that they removed the vacuum tube from his stomach (it went through his nose.) What I also know is that his stomach was soft yesterday as opposed to the more resistant feel that it had on Sunday. Apparently the food did not make him nauseous, which is good :)

The Dilapidation: A True Story written by Nate Rekrap*

It really all started last winter, when Miss R. was given a green horse to train. I found this extremely amusing as the little woman had been on a four-legged animal only enough times to count on her fingers. However, to shorten the lengthy tale, I shall obligingly cut to the chase.

Recently Matt, the wonderful professional horse trainer who has done Miss R. more good than anyone in her journey through horse training, showed our heroine how to get her horse to lower his head. (The reason Master Snip needs to bow his head is simply a matter of getting the bit into his stubborn mouth.)

When she arrived at the place to ride her horse, Miss R. immediately set to work getting the bit into Snip's mouth. (Forgive me, I forgot to mention the friendly bay steed came galloping down to meet her--I believe he thought it was supper-time...)

The technique: "First off, you have to put one hand on top of his head (in this case the left) and then grab ahold of his nose with the other one. With the left hand, put some pressure on his head. Pushing does better for me than digging into him with my nails. Once he gives, relax. Horses learn best through a reward system and releasing pressure is a reward. Next, once you get his head low enough, kinda rub him and then attempt to slide the head-stall up (I carry it on my right arm at all times). This may take a couple of trys. Eventually, I manage to get the head-stall held in my left hand and the bit directly under his mouth. This is the fun part...I give the bridle a tug with the left hand and try to guide the bit into his mouth and hold his head to me all at the same time--he'll throw his head--a bad habit. The bit will get in his mouth after awhile, just keep at it." 

Ah, yes. Anyway, often she ends up walking in circles with him. It can be quite amusing. Please forgive me yet again, dear reader. I still have not gotten to the subject of this little essay--the dilapidation.

Like I was saying, after getting him bridled, Miss R. saddled him up and meanwhile was also running water into the cattle troughs. Then came the moment of mounting. Due to the girls short stature, she often hops on one foot for a minute or two while securing her proper foot (the left) in the stirrup. Well, today, after getting her foot in she started to heave herself up. She paused with a confused look on her face. "That was weird," she remarked, "my pants feel funny." When she looked up again she declared, "Rats! I ripped my favorite pair of riding pants!" And ripped they were indeed...the left leg had ripped right across the back several inches up from the knee. "Too much stress on 'em I guess."

With that, she continued her ascent and had a throughly enjoyable ride--or so I would say from an observers position.  And that, dear friends is a woeful tale of dilapidation. I think that Miss R. took her predicament in stride with humor. That's one thing I have noticed about this particular friend over the years, she can normally find something funny to laugh about.

Alas, for the pants!


*For the uninitated, Nate is a VERY old friend of mine:)
In reality, Nate is actually a creation of my 8 or 9 year old I said, a very old friend. He's popped up over the last 11 or 12 years in various places, but most recently he has become a journalist. Nate used to ride his trusty four legged steed (a stool!) chasing bad guys who had abducted his beloved sisters, Isabella and Francine (Savannah and Katherine). His weapon was a small rifle (actually a put-put stick Daddy had made me out of cedar). Naturally, he always prevailed over the enemy :) And that is a brief, non-comprehensive history of my 'twin'.


P.S. If you want to know what Nate looks like, he looks just like me only with short crazy hair (afterall, he has as many cowlicks as I do!) Also his jaw is a bit squarer and he's a little bit taller and thinner :)