What? I haven't posted since Monday?? Gracious. Please forgive me...

Tuesday we went to visit cousin Butch. That was fun and Granddaddy even said he'd do it again sometime! That was kind of unexpected because it's a good long haul to Butch's.

This afternoon, I watched an old 1944 movie called "The White Cliffs of Dover" (I wasn't feeling so great). I don't think you could exactly classify it as a war movie or really a romance. It was a Drama more than anything about a woman who loses her husband in WWI and her son in WWII. It was fairly good and it made me cry. I had a feeling the young man was going to die--but what really made me cry was the final sentiment (it was reapeated I think three times, but not unnaturally so), "We must never break faith with our dead again." THAT is what made me weep. For, almost 70 years later, that is what we (our nations--both English and American), have done. We have broken faith with those dead, dying to keep us from the grips of communistic, socialist, facist governments. We have fallen prey to the very clutches they DIED to keep us out of. Why? Well, part of the blame can be laid on them (that pains me to say that--I hate saying anything bad about my beloved WWII vets!), but it goes even further back--to their parents who let things slip. The acedemia also is greatly to blame and I don't know who's fault it is that no one noticed or took it seriously.

I finished the movie and had a little cry...not just over the sadness of the tale (it actually ended on a hopeful note even as the boy dies) but over the state of our land and how it must grieve those veterans still alive who are truely aware of what is going on now. Sometimes I wonder if I'm too strongly patriotic. Anything and everything that messes with my country infuriates and/or saddens me.

Anyway, now that I got that out of my system... :) Have a lovely evening!

Happy Thanksgiving, ya'll!!

For Savannah and I, this Thanksgiving is probably going to be one of the most different one's we've ever had. Sure, we're going to have turkey (it's done now that we've already eaten lunch :D), and we even managed to scrounge up costumes (though certainly not 100% Pilgrim accurate), but it is still different. Savannah is doing laundry and we both did some random house-straightening this morning. Granddaddy as usual is sitting in front of the televsion and as it is 1:00, his four hours of Westerns has started. Thankfully, the volume is still down where I turned it last night while watching Remington Steele. (The last couple of nights, Granddaddy has gone to bed thirty-minutes in--so perhaps Operation Steele isn't working as well as I'd like...)

I'd like to share with you the recipe for what we had for lunch (meat-wise): turkey gizzard something-or-rether...I didn't think I liked gizzards very well, but this stuff is awesome!

I guess most people do a blog post about what they are thankful for on Thanksgiving...but since I'm not necessarily a follower...I decided not to do that. You would get bored reading everything I'm grateful for. Instead, I'm going to point out, to myself, as much as anyone else, the fact that we so often take the good things God has given us for granted. I know I do. I eat my food after a quick prayer. How often is my word of thanks said out of rote habit? Far too often. Do I ever think to thank God that my closet is busting with clothing? Maybe once in a great while. What about my health? I'm a fairly healthy, robust young woman. How often do I fall on my knees and glorify God for that fact? More often than I thank Him for my clothing, but not often enough. The list of things that I take for granted could go on and on...it's as long as the list of the things I'm grateful for--because the two lists are identical!

So on this day of Thanksgiving, let us thank God for our good gifts...let us try to remember that we gave ourselves absolutely nothing of what we have.  God gave it all to us. He is sovereign...and for that fact alone, let us rejoice and be thankful.

Soli Deo Gloria! Amen.

I was standing there at the counter this morning, both hands full of collard green stems. Out of the blue, there was a very loud knocking at the door. I nearly jumped out of my skin! (Honestly, it must have been five to ten minutes before my heart rate went back to normal.)

I stepped backwards to peer out of the kitchen and through the laundry room/mud room into the garage. Standing there, with a smile on his face, was Butch! At first glance I thought it was Granddaddy, but I knew it couldn't be because he was in the bathroom. Besides, he wouldn't knock. :D

With my hands still full of greens stems, I hurried to the door and let cousin Butch in. He was kind of surprised to see me (and Savannah) here because he thought we were at another reenactment this weekend (that's NEXT weekend). Granddaddy knew Butch was coming (and in fact had told him to wear blue today--so they were color-coordinated!!), but he had forgotten to tell us.

Anyway, while the other three folks talked, I finished making lunch. It was pretty good even if I do say so myself. Greens, cooked in a skillet with bacon and onion, carrots and broccoli, and chicken. (The chicken was left over from last night.) Normally, Butch takes everyone out to lunch, but I guess since I was already making food, he decided to bypass that route. :)

After lunch we went shooting. Granddaddy hauled his old .45 out and fired a couple rounds. (We were shooting towards the mulberry tree since it's next to impossible to shoot the 'normal' place because Snip comes and stands down range!) I emptied the cyclinder of my .38 a couple times; likewise with the .22. Butch let me shoot his .44 revolver. I only fired it twice because the grip was so big that I couldn't hold it well and when it kicked back it bashed my palm uncomfortably. (I had a strong hold on it too!) Of course, I did my best shooting with my .22 rifle. We didn't shoot overly long, but enough to dirty the guns. I have to clean them yet.

Once Butch left I used up another 20 gallons of spray on the weeds in the pasture. I could have gotten another couple hours of work in, but when I came back up to the house to get more spray, I also popped in for a snack. I sat down and lost any energy I had. So I decided I would quit for the day.

I think I'm supposed to make supper tonight too...Savannah is busy with making ball dresses. Her's is gray and mine is blue. I think she is going to be absolutely gorgeous!

This thought has been wandering through my mind for several days now....but it is rather interesting how, at least in these United States, that there seems to be two levels of coming to adulthood.

At 18, one is old enough to join the military and die for their country. At 18, one is old enough to get their unrestricted drivers licence. At 18, one is old enough to vote. However, they have to wait until they are 21 before they can legally own a weapon, concel carry, and drink hard licquor.

If one is old enough to carry a weapon on the battlefield, why should he be restricted from conceal carry in a public place? If you're going to put an 18 year old in the driver seat and tell them to go do whatever, shouldn't they be responsible enough to drink licquor? Obviously not, because when they turn 21, what do they do? Kill themselves by doing 21 shots. Never fear, I won't be indugling in that foolishnes.

It all comes down to a mentality that has been propogated in our culture. During our "teenage" years, we young folks are supposed to sow our wild oats, be irresponsible, sleep all the time, be lazy, and get by with some serious lapses in good judgement--simply because we are "teenagers". I always hated the word.

Then, BAM! We turn 21 and are suddenly supposed to be respectible, responsible adults. OH, REALLY?? Someone please explain to me why--if up to this point--we have been allowed to be selfish, irresponsible goldbricks--why anyone should expect us suddenly be smart, hard working, self-motivated, usefull members of society?

I'm very thankful that my parents disavowed "adolecence" and "teenager" excuses and pointed me toward the Word. That they taught me to think and to act in a responsible fashion, in order to prepare me to be a responsible young woman. More than anything, I am grateful for their dedication in teaching me the truths of Scripture, for disciplining me when I needed it, and doing their part to mold me into a Christian woman. I still have a lot to learn, I still need to listen to my parents, but I feel that they have, by God's grace, got me pointed in the right direction.

So, here, on my birthday--on which I reach that second 'coming of age' milestone--I want to thank God and my parents for the life I have and the blessing I have been showered with. I look forward to future years--work, play, music, laughter, love--with the same joys and fears as I had yesterday.

Thank-you that I even have a birthday...

Unfortunately, none of the above happen to be dishwashers :D

The day really started at about 8:30. I was running my mouth to Savannah about the upcoming SCV cross dedication (I had a flash of inspriation which turns out was unnecessary) when the telephone rang. I heard Granddaddy say, "I don't know, Lee." I poked my head around the corner and met Granddaddy's eyes. He smiled and kind of held the phone out toward me. "Does she want to talk to me?" Yup. Okay...so...yes....I'm planning on mowing today...okay, yeah....I think Daddy was going to call about those mowers (in the local 'shopper' ad)...did she really say that?? Yes, she did...she told me not to mow until the grass dried up some! Huh...since when do that side of the family care whether the grass is dry or not? Anyway, I told Savannah that tidbit and we had a laugh over it.

I went to go get breakfast and I looked out the window to see two white cows in the yard! I let out some exclaimation about 'stinkers'...spun around and dashed to the dryer, yanked the laundry out (I needed some socks!), grabbed the first matching set of socks I found, shoved them on my feet, followed quickly by my boots. Then I had to get my pant legs over the top of them. I shot out the door and around to corner, only to find out that while I was sock, boot, and jean wrastling, those ol' cows had high-tailed it out of there! They just knew I was on my way out to shout at them and wave my arms like a regular windmill...I could still see them making a break for the rest of the herd out in the east pasture. I had to laugh...it was soo funny!

I got started mowing somewhere around 10:00 and finished about 1:00. I did the yard and the driveway. I did a better job on it than last time...I wasn't hurrying to make it to a chiropractor appointment this time :) In addition to that I did something Daddy would be proud of me for--I listened to the engine and belt and was able to determine when it had to much load on it. I moved very, very slowly up and down the south side of the driveway so I didn't overload the engine...this resulted in a much better mowing job to boot. (And happily, the number of spiders and webs were greatly dimished since last time. *Laughing grin*)

After lunch and some wasted time on the internet--not overmuch--I got started on the dishes. That didn't take any longer than usual. Once I finished that I set up the food processer and grabbed the cabbages out of the box on the floor and made a lot of noise making kraut. Granddaddy got up at one point, "to see what you were doin'." It was at this point I bumped a bananna and commented on how squishy it was. He decided to check it out; then we both decided that it was too soft to eat and that I ought to make some 'nanner bread out of it.

I got the cabbage all shreaded and then got Savannah to 'doctor' it. She does it by eye...which doesn't exactly help me figure out the salt and whey amount...but hey, I don't suppose that's any different than me eye-balling the amount of honey I put in my breads :D I mixed the stuff up with my hands--in the long run a whole lot less messy (at least for me; I can spill anything with a spoon).

I started washing up and the sink backed up. Savannah and I got that running freely again. By the way, about the time I started in on the cabbage, the sky let loose and it poured rain. It continued to rain for several hours. Once I finished cleaning up my cabbage mess, I made the bananna bread. More mess :) I took the slop out--by now it wasn't raining--and finished cleaning up the kitchen. Then I went to practice my guitar. Savannah came and we played some stuff together for bit, then I fed the critters. Nellie Gray (the gray kitten) likes to follow me around. Then was supper. Then yet another batch of dishes...and finally I packed the kraut into jars. Yehaw...was that a mess! I had to clean the kitchen up yet again. And now...I can be done for the day :)

So, Night ya'll! (Even though I'm not going to bed yet ;D)

P.S. Can you believe it? I'm actually listening to opera (which I don't usually like) on WCPE and enjoying it! Maybe because it's just background noise. Somehow I think it's Spanish--but it could be Italian--probably is at that.

...isn't all fun. I do so enjoy it most of the time, but once in a while there are unplesant duties...like putting a cow down.

I rotated the cows this morning. As I came up to the gate I noticed that the old cancerous cow was laying there under the first tree inside the north side. She just cocked an ear at me and slowly glanced over her shoulder. Normally she gets up when the truck comes around. All the other cows filed past her into the south pasture. She tried to get up several times, but never quite made it up.

Once all the cows where by, I drove in and stopped next to her. I thought she looked kind of sad as she looked at me. I walked closer to her and the notion that she probably was finished solidified itself into a conviction. It was clear to me from the way the grass was flatted out that she had been trying to get up earlier and only managed to scoot herself around in a circle. Her back was bleeding (I have no idea why), she was breathing heavy, and she was listless.

I got back in the truck and came to the house--I had to get Savannah, because I couldn't shoot the cow with one hand--even with a pistol or revolver. We called Daddy and he gave us the instructions on how to properly (i.e. the quickest and thereby the kindest way) put the bullet in her.

I cranked up the tractor and Savannah took the truck. One well-placed shot and the poor old cow was out of her misery. We hooked the body to the tractor and drug it to the 'graveyard'...there was no way I was going to leave that poor animal's carcass out by the road.

I almost cried...I liked that poor sick critter...she always seemed to be a nice cow (some of them aren't!) So...that's when ranching isn't fun. Could I have pulled the trigger myself? Yes...but then I probably would have cried.

Today was my second appointment at the chiropractor's...and the first time I got 'cracked'. I had a 10:30 appointment so we kind of had to run out the door, but we got there on time. Dr. K showed us my x-rays and now I know that half-a-dozen of my vertebrea are twisted to the left. (I just about said the 'west' for some reason.) Anyway, Dr. K gave me my first adjustment--complete with a neck-cracking. That felt kind of weird. Savannah said she couldn't hear it, but it sure sounded loud to me! :)

We were going to go to the Goodwill before lunch, but driving by they were closed--probably because of this storm that has been totally hyped for the last week. Instead, we just went to lunch at our usual place whenever we go to P.C. I had grouper, as usual, and ended up feeling kind of strange--the green beans had something on them, I'm positive. I hate eating out...even if I like the food I almost always come away with a strange feeling...

Then came the real adventure...the car wouldn't start. In other words the ignition switch was not responding. After several phone calls to different people, Savannah called a tow-truck and in the process found out that there is a Saturn place just around the corner and the owner could probably replace our ignition switch 'right now'. The tow-truck showed up and soon had our poor car up on the bed. Our driver was real friendly (I guess you have to be if you're a tow-truck driver and get strange people in your cab with you on a daily basis) and soon established that we were sisters...he found out that no, I'm not the older one :D It was hilarious really--he said that Savannah had a more 'secretrial' appearence (secretaries are 'more fun') and I had a 'teacherly' appearence (teachers are more welcoming). Then he added something like, "I'd better stop before I dig myself into a hole."

He deposited us at the Saturn place and then, of course, the car cranked up immediately--several times. Anyway, we went ahead and got the switch replaced and he even replaced our back-up light that was out. (I don't think he charged for that...)

From there we went to the health food store so Savannah could get some more suppliments. Then we came home. Then we played some music...I have no idea how many times we played 'The Girl I Left Behind Me' (one of my all-time favorites), but we were working on my main trouble spot. Now I have it figured out, I just need to spend some more time on the jump  half-way through. That is still clunky. We also sang a little and I sounded awful by the time we were done :) I won't tell you what we did next--or you really might think we are CRAZY. (Okay, okay! We took a 'boom-box' outside and danced around in the wet-grass! Exercise you know....)

Then dinner...then dishes...then "The Rifleman"...then blogging....and I can't go any further...I don't know what's next ;D

My intention today was to try to finish the weed mowing in the pasture...I might have to if the 'Tales' part of this post hadn't happened. So, the morning went all right. I did realize (I heard it) that part of the bush-hog attatched to the rear wheel had busted, but I went ahead and finished the morning out. I didn't think it was too much of a problem (but we'll come back to that later) at the time.

Anyway, after lunch I headed back out to mow. Granddaddy reminded me to check the fluids...which I did--minus the fuel. So I'm puttsing along and I was almost to the gate when the tractor up and died on me (again...remember, this happened in part 2 of the story). First thing I did was check the wire that was the problem previously. That was fine, so I crawled down and decided to open the fuel cap. After opening it, I peered into the depths of the dark hole...not even the tinest reflection flickered back at me. Great..."I'm out of diesel!"

I strode back to the house, popped in to get my wallet and keys and tell everyone I was going to town. Granddaddy asked me as I walked by (before I had a chance to open my mouth), "Are you out of fuel?" See, he does pay attention to what goes on around him!

I got 10 gallons of diesel (only have two 5-gallon cans) returned home, put them in the tractor, drove the truck to the house and was coming in to drop off my keys and wallet when Granddaddy--on his way out--asked me if I had tried to start the thing. No, I hadn't. Good...because it has to be 'drained' first if you run completely dry. So we bounced back out there in the pick-up (me munching on dried apricots again). He took care of the 'draining' process (I think 'bleeding' would be a better term) while I watched. Then I cranked the engine and it roared to life.

I went through the gate and started to engage the PTO and the engine died on me. I don't know why. Anyway, I tried again (Granddaddy was standing behind it--at a safe distance) and it worked that time. Almost immediately, he signaled me to turn the mower off again, so I did, climbed down and went to find out why. He pointed out the broken part and told me the blade was hitting it (so it had been...I thought it was probably just the broken part banging, but I guess not) and that 'we' needed to weld it before I used it anymore. Okay, so I returned the tractor to the barn.

Since Granddaddy didn't seem to enthusiastic about attempting any welding (he knows how, but he doubts how well he can do it anymore and I don't know how to weld at all!) I asked him if he'd like to me to call Daddy and see if he knew anyone who might do it for us. He said yes (basically), so I called Daddy. I explained the situation (and sort of got into trouble for running the tractor dry--I'll be more vigilant in the future about the state of the fuel) and he told me to check how much a new bush-hog costs next time I go to town (which will probably be tomorrow--the cows are out of mineral again; they certainly go through it faster during the summer...)

SO...after that I decided I might as well ride Snip. It only took about 15 minutes to 'bit him'. I didn't get flustered at all with him today. What an ornery critter he is! He puts his ears back and throws his head up and sometimes he gets wacked on the nose simply because I can't help it--in other words, he wacks himself on the nose using my hand (or forearm as the case may be). Rascal... Then, like normal, as soon as the bit is in, he relaxes and usually pokes his nose into the grass...so I have to jerk his head up :D Goof-ball.

I did all the gate closing/opening after galloping for a bit. The cows had already rotated themselves through. By the way, I think that the black calf is a bull...(that was my initial impression anyway...) While riding in the back pasture I noticed a couple buzzards in the trap and also got a whiff of something dead. I rode on into the trap and over to where the buzzards had been and sure enough--just like I expected--there was a dead calf. It had been red...that's all I can tell you about it. So whether it was still-born or abandoned I don't know.

I rode a little deeper into the woods on the property Granddaddy leases...it seems like everytime I ride back there I go a little farther in. I almost always get the sensation that I ought to be carrying a firearm with me--something bigger than a .22. I got the willies early on because I almost put my head in a spider-web containing one of those banana spiders of some sort. If you can't guess, I'm none to fond of said spiders.

Now, like the sensible child that I am, I am hungry...like usual. I'll see if I can't start rounding up supper (maybe...) Savannah is outside walking and I don't know if she had anything planned--but somehow I think we're having left-overs again. Doesn't bother me, I like left-0vers (especially if I liked them the first time around :D)

My ears are still closed up and I'm kind of stuffy...but I think I'm pretty much over my cold.

I spent the majority of my down time tapping on the keyboard of my 'antique' laptop...I like the keys on that thing. That's right--I'm working on another story. This time it is in script form and it's a Western. A rather large cast--the main characters belonging to two families--the James' (7 people) and the Burke's (also 7 people).  Naturally, with that many characters some of them are less prominant than others, but they all have their own personalities. There is danger, fun, adventure, and even some intrigue...

Oh yeah, I forgot that at the very beginning of my cold, I finished typing up what is provisionally titled Zeke's Gun...It's a Western, too--of sorts. It starts in 1941! The story was prompted by Uncle Pat's old rusty revolver that we found in a box in the garage.

Butch showed up and we went out to lunch...The place was packed! All the locals eat there--you can tell :) When we came home, we plinked for a while...UNTIL that is, Snip decided he was going to come over and see what we were doing--the result? Take a look...

It was hilarious the way he went to where a bullet had kicked up dirt and lipped around. I think he thought some feed had landed there! That was before he came and stared at us over the fence.

Have I mentioned at some point that he broke his halter? Well, he did. I'm going to get him another one soon enough.

I tried shooting that thing too, but I didn't do so great...I don't like scopes near as well as I do iron sights.

Aim small, miss small...

I have a cold, but I feel better than I did yesterday...even though I cried some this morning.

We got word that a dear little girly we knew died last night. Her poor papa tripped on her and landed on top of her at chruch on Sunday. Her skull fractured and she was in a coma from then on. Her dear daddy wrote the following:

"She  was only 2 years 8 months old, but I could only pray to have the faith of my little girl. She fought the fight against sin in her life and loved the Lord very much. It was an honor to be with her at the end, and to be able to sing Psalm 45:8-17 with her as she passed away. I am proud to say that although I couldn't walk her down the isle in an earthly wedding, I was able to sing to
her  as she met with the great heavenly bridegroom, the savior of her soul, and perfecter of her faith. No more tears, no more sorrow, no more struggle with her  sin. She is with Jesus now...."

I wonder if I would be that strong and brave. Please pray for her mama and papa in this time of distress. Her mother is 6 months pregnant with their second child.

Now she is safe in her Father's arms...while her mother and father will miss her, they rejoice she is with the Lord.

Let us say with them, Blessed be the Name of the Lord!

P.S. I just wish I could go give Kristi a bear hug....but there are too many states in between us!