Concerts

There once was a time when I actually went to a concert now and then. That was years ago when I didn't mind being in a crowd for a couple of hours. I'm not ruling out the possibility that I will attend another concert, but I doubt seriously I will be going to another one that sells out the Frank Erwin Center. I'm more inclined to the small venues now.

Be that as it may, I bought a CD the other day at Half-Price Books that reminded me of a particular concert in my past, which got me to thinking about other concerts in my past. So here we go down memory lane once again.

The first major concert I ever attended was the first official Willie Nelson Picnic at Dripping Springs, an event I wrote about before in a blog post dated July 4, 2005, if you want to look it up in the archives. That was quite an introduction to world of concerts, involving an unruly crowd with everything from basic country music fans to stoned out undesirables.

The next two concerts were at the old Palmer Auditorium on Town Lake. That was back when you could take a tape recorder with you and for years I had multiple tapes from a concert featuring Kris Kristofferson, Rita Coolidge, Billy Swan and surprise guest Willie Nelson. That was a fun evening despite the bad acoustics. My mother and I were sitting about a dozen rows from the front and I can remember a steady stream of fans making their way up close to the stage to take photos and pass a glass of liquid refreshment to the performers. No way would that happen in this day and age.

Tom T. Hall also performed at the Palmer Auditorium and again my mother and I were sitting up fairly close to the stage. Tom T. was at his most popular at the time and he gave a really great performance and I happily snapped most of a roll of film with my old Instamatic. I still have those photos that show Tom T. as an indistinct speck on the stage. Amazing how far we've come in the matters of photography since then. I was happy with those photos at the time. Zoom lens? What's that?

We never went to another musical performance at the auditorium, because about that time the Frank Erwin Center came into existence. (Speaking of the old auditorium, that was where Elvis gave his Austin concert. That's one I missed attending because I did not come to appreciate Elvis until later.)

When Linda Ronstadt came to Austin, I was accompanied by both Mother and David. She performed in the round and I can remember being up and behind her and I think one of us remarked that if she kept wiggling her butt like that she was going to come right through that red dress before the night was out. She was at the height of her popularity then and the place was pretty much full. The difference between going to a concert at the Drum and going to a concert at Palmer Auditorium was like night and day.

Along about the same time we went to the Drum to see Kenny Rogers and if memory serves, Dottie West was there for a couple of duets. I could be wrong about that. My outstanding memory of that concert was Kenny's growing frustration with the incompetent lighting techs. They just could not seem to get the spotlight situated on the right people at the right time. I can remember Kenny whistling and arcing his hand toward where the spotlight was supposed to be.

When Billy Joel came to town, my mother was willing to try a rock concert because she liked his records I played frequently. That concert was a lot different from the other two because now we were in a heavy contingent of rock fans. Illicit marijuana cigarettes were being passed up and down the row in front of us and we probably came out of there smelling like pot heads. The crowd didn't have that comfortable down-home flavor that country/rock crossover concerts had and we were a little ill-at-ease that night.

I saw Peter, Paul and Mary at the Drum. They performed on the half-arena stage and the crowd was definitely a mellow one. No unease there, just pure enjoyment.

I made the trip to the Drum twice to see John Denver. I can remember the first time he came to Austin was during his "Thank God I'm a Country Boy" era in the mid-70s and sang to a sold-out crowd of which I was not a member. When he came back to Austin in 1989, I attended with Mother and a friend from work. His popularity had waned, but his voice was better than ever and the performance was outstanding. I came to enjoy his music even better as he aged and when he came to Austin in late September of 1997, I went to see him again. I can remember how wonderful his voice was at that concert. I don't think I had ever heard him sing more beautifully. It was about two weeks after that concert that he died in an air crash. I was never able to bring myself to wear the T-shirt I bought at that concert and it still sits in the closet in pristine condition, along with the concert program and magazines that paid him tribute after his death. It was a long time afterwards before I could bring myself to listen to his CDs without feeling pain. I am so glad that I took the opportunity to attend that last concert.

I've been to several Mary Chapin-Carpenter concerts in various venues. She always delivers an enjoyable concert and attracts more of the old country fan base. By far the most enjoyable was in the Bass Performing Arts Center after the release of Come On, Come On. There are no bad seats at the PAC and they put on a heckuva show. I also saw her at the Drum and had to tolerate a loud-mouthed drunk that sat in front of us and who only settled down when one of my companions "accidentally" dumped a cold drink down his back. Instant semi-sobriety. And the concert was entertaining, too.

Finally, I attended two Carlos Nakai concerts in Austin. One at the Hogg Auditorium and one at One World Theater. Both were small, intimate affairs that filled your senses with his Native Indian flute.

The ultimate concert for me, however, was along about 1967 or 1968 when we made a trip to Nashville and attended the Grand Ole Op'ry at the original Ryman Auditorium. What concert can compare to an evening spent listening to one great country artist after another. I think it was that night that caused me to flip my radio dial from rock and roll to country, where it has stayed for most of my life.

I can't really think of anyone today who would entice me to a concert. Maybe I'm getting old and maybe I'm getting smart. And maybe I would change my mind if Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder should happen through Austin.

LSW

The Way to My Heart

Who knew I could get all tingly at the sight of a backhoe pulling up to the front of the house? They arrived this morning to do the sewer connection and a good part of the work is done. Unfortunately they are waiting on a particular piece of equipment to finish boring under the street before it can be finalized, but worse case scenario is that they will finish up on Monday. Best case, they will finish up tomorrow.

No more laundromat after this week. I'm all aflutter.

LSW

On the Nose

I got in the habit of reading my horoscope years ago, more for a laugh than anything. However, once in awhile it hits things squarely and today was one of them.

"Your job seems to be to make people uncomfortable. That's not an easy task, but it's an important one."

Yep. That's little ole non-conformist me. I'm the one that points out the obvious holes in another's theory when everybody else is being a yes-person. I'm the one who makes others feel guilty for being arrogant and bigoted. And I'm the one who is nice to the geeky types when they are being quietly heckled by the in crowd.

Makes me a bit of an outcast, but I think I like it better this way.

LSW

Cat Scratch Fever

So I went to bed last night with a throbbing shoulder from the wasp sting, managed to get comfortable with my book Maisie Dobbs and found a new episode of John Edward's Cross Country to watch and it wasn't long before I drifted off to sleep. I roused long enough to shut the tv off and drop my book on the floor beside the bed before I faded out for the night.

This morning I sat down for a few minutes to read another chapter in my book and discovered that a cat who shall remain unnamed but her initials are Scout had at some point during the night chewed and scratched holes in the edge of the book, leaving her mark for about the first chapter or so. She's fortunate that this was a book bought second hand and not one of the new ones I had purchased last week.

This morning she has been helping me go through stacks of photos and I use the term with the most sarcastic sense possible. I keep scooping her out of the way before my family photos become shredded landfill.

There are days when I seriously consider carting both of the heathen cats off to WalMart and putting them up for adoption. I wouldn't, but one can dream.

LSW

Ow!

Late this evening I was the victim of a kamikazi wasp. Either he didn't like the shirt I had on or my perfume or maybe he was just generally po'd. I was just standing there, minding my own business when I felt a thump on my back and then a sensation of being hit with a hot poker. And he was hanging on, working up some more sting. I managed to knock him off, but he was going after me again and again. I beat a hasty retreat, tossed David a can of wasp killer and he doused the little sucker.

The bad news is that even after being hit several times with the poison, that little devil was still buzzing around and still dive-bombing me whenever I showed my face. I think he's still out there, poised for attack.

I really have no idea what I did to warrant such hatred. But I guarantee you that a state of war has been declared on Briar Forest.

LSW

Just a Cotton-Pickin' Minute

I'm still watching the cotton crop with the fascination of someone who has never been aware of the process before. When the defoliant was applied and all the leaves started dying, I at first thought it was an ugly sight. But now that the dead leaves have pretty much dropped and nothing is left but white puffs of cotton, it's rather pretty.


The harvesting equipment is lumbering down the country roads this week and where there is cotton in the morning, there is usually bare field with white dust in the afternoon. Today I spotted a cotton gin, so I drove down for a closer look. When I stepped out for the picture, the air was a hazy white from all the cotton dust that was flying around.

Soft little white balls of fluff. I could not resist pulling some off a branch to experience the texture. Even full of cotton seed, there's a pleasing softness.

I am reminded of a place where I bought a T-shirt online. SOS From Texas is a place you can get shirts made from organically grown Texas cotton. As Martha would say, "it's a good thing".

LSW

Passing Comments

The wee ones have made it through their first week of diet and I am seeing some signs that tell me we are on the right path. Their energy level is up for one thing. And I think I am seeing the faintest sign of a waist indention on Mojo. I know it made a tremendous difference in my energy level to stop packing along what essentially was a 2-year-old on my back. Mojo isn't entirely convinced, but Mommy is standing firm.

In other news, I discovered yet another new author. Jacqueline Winspear I discovered by accident due to a discounted audiobook. Her series character Maisie Dobbs is a young woman who served as a nurse during World War I and carries along the burden of what she saw on the battlefields in France. The setting is 1930 and she has set up a private investigation service in London. Her main strength is her ability to read people. Her ongoing struggles with the past are especially poignant, since the reader knows it is only a few years before World War II commences. I am hooked again when I already had piles of unread books towering over me. Yesterday I made a dash to the bookstore to acquire the remaining three books in the series. Thankfully there are only the four out at this point. I usually discover authors when they are releasing their twentieth in a series.

My ongoing septic issues will continue for another 8-10 weeks before the sewer hookup is accomplished and I can leave that particular worry behind me forever. But that also means I will be frequenting the local laundromat for several more weeks. I cannot express the joy that brings.

LSW

A Good Day

Most of you reading this probably know this has not been a good week. In the midst of loss and sadness, I had a commitment to attend a reunion today of a distantly related group of folks. When I got up this morning, I can't say I was looking forward to it. But these kinds of invitations don't come along that often and I decided to make myself go on and meet with fellow Mobley researchers. I am so glad I did.

Walking into a group of strangers, even though related by blood, can be a daunting thing. I've been invited to reunions before where I was stared at like a bug on the end of a pin. Today I was greeted by several folks who I had met before and did not realize were connected to this branch of the family. I was greeted by people who had known my grandparents and that was all the credentials I needed for acceptance. I was welcomed by people who didn't have a clue who I was but were happy to have me show up anyway.

We researchers camped at a table and pored over each other's notebooks and ooh'ed and aah'ed over photos we had not seen before. The food was great. The auction was fun (I picked up a local history book and a piece of McDade pottery). Afterwards one of the researching cousins gave me a personal escort to a cemetery that I've been searching for for two years. Turns out it was right under my nose, but you sort of have to know where it is to see it.

I had a great time and it was just the thing I needed to offset the previous week. I've been invited to come again next year and I plan to be there.

LSW

Mommy's in the Dog House

The wee ones are not happy with their mommy tonight. Today was annual checkups. They each ended up with 3 needle sticks - rabies, a dental vaccine, and blood test for heartworms. They each got major nail trims. They each had their temperature taken. And they each had their little bodies pressed and poked and in general felt they had been violated.

To add insult to injury, Mommy and the doctor discussed putting them on a diet to each lose 2 pounds.

Oh, we were unhappy little puppy dogs.

Then, just as we got back home, Mommy took off with Uncle David and Aunt Karen and spent most of the afternoon away, when they both felt I should have piled into the chair with them and let them nap off their horrible morning.

I didn't realize how badly I had offended them until we were all back together in the house several hours later. Mojo demanded to get in my lap and then started giving me the evil looks out of the side of his eye and growling under his breath. I had failed him miserably and he was making it as plain as day that he was going to have to have major apologies to make up for it.

They finally agreed to let me extend lavish apologies and then they sacked out where they could watch me and took extended naps. When they woke up, I offered to take them for a walk and went to lift them down from the comfy nap chair. Ohmigod. They wimpered every time I touched them. They hobbled to the door. When I suggested we go to the neighbors' green, lush grass for our outing, they told me we were going down the gravel road because I owed them. Big time. They limped down the yard to the gravel road, stopping every so often to look at me balefully.

Master manipulators. And they know they have me right where they want me. Feeling guilty as all get out. I think I'm going to be sleeping in the dog house while they snuggle into my cushy pillows tonight.

Thank heavens we only do this once a year.

LSW

Dixie Land

Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton.

Oh, wait. I am.

LSW

This is the Way We Wash the Clothes

Today I spent 2 hours in a laundromat. It's been a long spell since I have done such a thing. The last time I was forced to cart laundry to and from a laundromat was when the washing machine broke down back when I still lived with Mother. (Yeah, I know that sounds funny, but now she lives with me.)

This doesn't count laundry done at campgrounds. I actually have fond memories of laundry time at the KOA in Ouray, Colorado. They always had a great pinball machine in the laundry room that ate more of my quarters than the washers and dryers.

Your non-campground laundromat is usually not much fun. And times have not changed that much. Today's trip was courtesy of a septic system that is ailing, which is a whole 'nother story. At least laundry done on a weekday is a less crowded proposition than laundry done on a weekend.

However, regardless of when you go to a laundromat you can always count on a few things that never change.

1) There will always be a squalling kid in the room. If that squalling kid leaves, another one comes in to take his place.

2) There will always be a toddler that stands in the door blocking traffic to and from your car.

3) There will always be an aging hippie sort who is doing a month's worth of laundry and very interested in any unattached female that arrives. Sometimes that's a good thing and sometimes not.

4) There will always be a college age kid who is washing EVERYTHING HE OWNS in one big washer.

5) There will always be a family that exudes poverty, dragging along 2-3 little bitty kids. I always feel like shoving a $20 bill into their basket when they aren't looking.

6) There will always be the professional laundromat habitue. I assume these are women who have been hired to do laundry. They have an air about them that says "these clothes aren't mine, but I know what I'm doing and you had better not get in my way".

7) There will always be floors dirty enough that if you drop something when you clear out the dryer, you question whether you should start another load, toss it, or operate by the 3-second rule of contamination.

Then there's me. Eight loads of laundry running simultaneously, two of them large loads in the double capacity machines. I was definitely the oddball in a place where odd is normal.

LSW

Before There Was Harry Potter

There was A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. One of the top 10 books of my childhood. If you never discovered the magic of this book, you would do well to do so post haste.

The news this morning brought the message that Madeleine L'Engle died this past Thursday at the age of 88.

She brought the joy of imagination to many a child with her Wrinkle in Time series. I, for one, shall mourn her.

LSW

Genetics

When I was a kid, I was told on several occasions that I had the "Mobley mouth", in essence because of my plump lower lip:

I decided to go through my family photos and pay particular attention to the lips of the women. What I found was that it probably is true that I got my mouth from the Mobley line. Most of the women in my lineage are thin-lipped. These two, however, seem to share my mouth.

The first is my great-grandmother Cora Mobley Hodge. The second is her sister Sallie. Their mother does not have the plump lips, which I guess means we didn't get it from the Morgan branch. I could not find any of the Mobley men with this characteristic. Wish I had some photos of Uncle Mac's daughters to see if this physical trait went down that branch as well.

Just makes you wonder about how these things get passed down the line.

LSW

Light At the End of the Tunnel

This morning was the first morning in six days that I woke without pain. I'm not completely out of the woods just yet, because there is a faint throbbing in my shoulder, but the associated headache that has plagued me is for the moment absent.

It's amazing how the absence of pain can alter your outlook. I just may live through this.

The recuperative period has involved a lot of extra sleep, which I'm sure helped in the overall improvement. I, who do not nap if I can help it, spent a great chunk of Sunday and Monday in bed resting. The last few nights I have gone to bed at an ungodly 8:30 pm and slept straight through until the alarm at 5:30 am.

Now my fear is that I will do something stupid and undo all the good.

LSW

Updates

She's back! Charlotte disappeared for a few days, but turned up a little farther down the sidewalk where she has been building lovely orb webs again. Today when I got home, the web was covered in tiny rain drops that were hard to photograph (mainly because my lens kept fogging over), but I think this gives an indication of the superior workmanship.

The report on my back is cautiously optimistic. The doctor worked me in early this morning and made my back and neck snap and crackle several times. At this point, it's not so bad so long as I don't sit down. Something about the sitting position really aggravates this new problem. It's an improvement, so I'm hoping that things will be getting better.

I had a call late last week telling me that Xana's footprint was ready. I had no idea that the vet clinic had taken an imprint before her cremation. Turns out this is a surprise thing they do as a memorial present. I was delighted to get it. And while I was there picking it up, I discovered that the small animal portion of the hospital will be moving next month up the highway a little ways into brand new facilities. They've already hired a fourth doctor (another young woman, which will please the kids). I feel like I have personally paid for one of the 6 new exam rooms, so I have a certain proprietary interest. They are good folks and I'm glad to see them moving up. Hopefully their prices won't move up as well.

I continue to find new treasures in the fresh supply of photos. Here's one, circa 1956, taken of a very cute little girl outside of Aunt Fay's house.

LSW

Getting Nowhere in a Painful Hurry

About a week ago I threw something out in my back. It's a different something than the chiropractor was already treating me for, this one up high in my shoulders. The pain in my back is one thing, but it is generating shooting pains into my head that are leaving me holding my head in my hands and groaning on an irregular basis. The chiropractor got the first round put into its place with a well-placed pop in my back and a twist in my neck. But it's back, and on a holiday weekend.

I had plans to get some things done this weekend. Even took Friday off to extend it into 4 days. But yesterday whatever it is slipped out of place again and I can't sit, stand, or lie down comfortably. I've tried aspirin, Tylenol, Advil and some leftover pain medicine from a past dental procedure. Nothing is helping.

So I'm napping and trying to keep activity to a minimum. When I do get up to prepare a meal or put on a load of washing, it takes about 10 minutes before the pain grabs me again. I'm pinning my sights on Tuesday morning when I plan to throw myself on the mercy of the chiropractor and hope I can get in for an unscheduled adjustment.

The dogs are beside themselves. They are used to their gran being in pain, but having Mommy moaning and groaning and taking to her bed has them in a state of nervous apprehension. I've received innumerable puppy kisses as they attempt to make it all better. When I lie down to nap, I have two cuddly little bodies curled against me.

So much for holiday plans. Sometimes your body tells you it's time to take a sabbatical. I shall be out of commission until further notice.

LSW

Tales of the Family Archivist

The folks who manufacture archival supplies know they have you. We've all heard the horrors of using the wrong materials to store your family papers. We've all seen what happens when photos are placed in non-acid free albums. So the responsible family archivist diligently goes somewhere to purchase archival storage boxes.

That's where I headed this morning. To purchase a stack of archival quality storage boxes. The little ones (book sized) were priced at $14.99 each. I needed a dozen or so. I said "phooey" and wandered over to the aisle where they carry materials to house collections of sports cards and other sports collectibles. There I bought two packages of 25 archival envelopes in the 8x10-inch size, one package of 25 in the 5x7-inch size and one package of 25 in the 4x6-inch size. All for about the price of one of the boxes. It's not the best choice, but it will have to do. There's a limit to the financial sacrifices I will make in the name of family history. (Sure there is. I would hate to think what the total amount I've spent in the name of genealogy has grown to. But $14.99 for a 11 x 9 inch box is too much for even me to swallow.)

Being thrifty in this manner allowed me the flexibility to justify purchasing a large art portfolio with acid free sleeves that will allow me to store all of the portrait sized photos I inherited in last week's raid at my cousin's house. I had no idea how I was going to preserve them and I think this will be just the thing. My dilemma regarding the box of jumbled family photos was solved with the purchase of two acid free photo albums that will let me keep them grouped together as I got them, plus make them viewable by family members in some kind of coherent order and have them stay that way.

I've learned a few things over the years. If I had known then what I know now, I would never have disassembled my mother's photo albums, removing the photos to put with my family notebooks. True, the albums were falling apart, but I've learned it's more important to keep things in their original home to maintain the true historical record. So the three photo albums I just acquired will remain intact and scans will go into my notebooks rather than original photos.

I'm still discovering what wealth I've acquired. My grandmother gave me the funeral registers for both her mother and my grandfather. I now have the funeral register for my grandfather's mother. These are invaluable. In studying names of those who attended the funerals, I've uncovered many a married name for girl cousins.

You know, I always wanted to be a librarian. An archivist would have been a wonderful alternate career. Even though I may have missed my professional calling, I'm getting a second chance with the opportunity to maintain the family history.

LSW

Mojo the Brave

Poor little Mojo. He may be hopping around crossing his legs before long from the inability to get outside and do his bidness.

The frog is terrorizing him. Just as he leaped off the little step this morning, the frog moved under him and Mojo about turned inside out.

Then, he went far down the sidewalk to get to a place of safety and encountered a huge centipede of some variety.

Mommy had to carry him back into the house, he was so paralyzed.

This followed yesterday's unfortunate incident with the grass burr that has made him wary of getting out in the grass.

My brave watch dog.

LSW

Kids

More photographic treasures that have surfaced.

Little boy sleeping is, I believe, my uncle H.G. Jr., aka Son, aka Grady, aka Unkie. Poor man has been labeled Unkie all his life thanks to the firstborn niece (me) who could not say the word "uncle" properly. I'm really sorry about that. I think I was the one who also coined PawPaw and MawMaw to address my grandparents. I was bad news when it came to creating nicknames. The grandkids who came along years and years later probably never knew where those names came from.

A row of cousins, about 1942 or so. The boy at far left is probably Bobby Kunkel. Proceeding up the line is Jo Branton, and Hodge kids Nettie, the aforementioned Unkie, and Bettye Kathryn. This photo was taken on the "Brundige place" outside Elgin.

I will have to do a comparison one day soon to show how much alike all we Hodge girls are. I looked just like my mother at the same age and she looked like her mother. Again, who needs DNA studies? We couldn't deny our relationship if our lives depended upon it.

LSW

Today's Genealogy Gem

Once upon a time, probably early 1907, a young couple and their infant daughter sat for a family photo. They look like any normal young family, but by late 1908 it was all over.

The ordeal the young woman experienced to give birth to the daughter was one she did not want to repeat. The story goes that she declared there would be no more children. Mother Nature had other ideas and in the spring of 1908 she became pregnant with their son. The young wife was not happy and before the year was out the husband had departed. He joined the Navy and died less than 6 months afterward from a bowel obstruction.

He never saw his son. My grandfather was born in February 1909 in McDade, Texas. His father died a month later in California.

Until this past Saturday I had only one photo for Elmo Elisha Hodge. I never knew there was a photo in existence of him with his wife and daughter.

Faded memories.

LSW

The Weird Side of Genealogy

Okay, I'm not going to try to explain these two pictures. Apparently the clan was having more fun than a barrel of monkeys that day.

The first photo is my grandfather Hodge in the barrel. I can't tell if his mother is preparing to go fishing or threatening him with some implement of corporeal punishment. The second is of his sister, my Aunt Fay of the previous post, inside the barrel and holding an unknown child on the lip of it. All I can say is they had weird ideas of photo composition.

Speaking of weird - I have added 3 more extremely weird heirlooms to my stash. Promise you won't think I'm as weird for latching onto them as my Aunt Fay was for having them in her cedar chest in the first place. But first, let me describe some of the other weird items in my possession.

The least weird of the bunch would be a locket that contains a lock of my great-grandmother Frankum's hair. Having the lock of hair doesn't sound so odd until I tell you that I paid in excess of $125 for the privilege of owning it. There was some heavy bidding opposition at the annual family reunion auction and I was prepared to go even higher.

Tucked away is a glass bottle containing toothbrushes that were used by my great-grandfather Hodge. Also in my possession is the glass bottle he would have used for his tooth powder.

My great-great-grandmother Mobley was hard of hearing in her old age. I know that because I have the old lady's ear trumpet. Another artifact that belonged to her is a big, slightly bent spoon that she used as a backscratcher.

And now, the drumroll please. I now am the owner of the weirdest of the weird family heirlooms.

1) My great-grandmother Hodge's gallstones, and
2) My great-aunt Fay's kidney stone, and
3) My great uncle Tryon's collection of pepper seeds.

I don't know why they kept them. But they are all mine now. Hodge cousins, eat your hearts out.

LSW

Bits and Pieces of the Past

I've come into possession of a boxful of papers and photos that belonged to my late Aunt Fay. She was my grandfather's only sibling and the older of the two. Her mother was the caregiver for their grandmother. As a result, an impressive amount of photos for both my Hodge and Mobley lines ended up in her possession. When Aunt Fay died, her daughter took possession. Yesterday I was granted custody and today I have been taking inventory.

Only another genealogist can understand just what it means to suddenly have photos to go with the names in your charts. One new photo can give me a glow that lasts a couple of days. The small mountain of photos I have acquired has me in almost a state of shock. It will take weeks for me to get these all sorted out and scanned, let alone shared with my fellow researchers.

Along with the photos came an assortment of papers and objects that belonged to Aunt Fay and her husband. I opened one box and found a collection of newspaper clippings. Not just the odd obituary that I would quickly snatch and put into the to be scanned pile, but articles and poems that meant enough to my Aunt Fay to clip and save. As I sifted through these little bits of paper, I began to feel like I was invading her privacy. They were only poems and devotional pieces and little how-tos out of Ann Landers or the local question and answer column. But, taken as a whole, they were giving me a clear picture of what kinds of things my Aunt Fay had been interested in in her later years. Articles on aging were plentiful. How to deal with disease was one topic and I wondered if she clipped that after visiting my grandfather, who was battling emphysema.

It got me to thinking. I, too, clip out bits and pieces that mean something to me and most of them are tucked into a blank journal that sits on my bookshelf. The tone of those clippings changes over the years. Obituaries for people with whom I worked once upon a time. Poems. Quotations. The odd photograph. One day, hopefully a long time away, someone will come along after me and pick up that journal and discover the collection of random bits of my past.

Maybe they won't realize that I'm in that little book and will carelessly toss it into the trash. And maybe it will be some genealogist who will respect what that odd assortment really means. Maybe they will sort out the obituaries and photographs like I have done and then wonder what to do with the remainder. Maybe they will appoint themselves the custodian of my past like I have done for my Aunt Fay. Her random bits have found a home with me for now.

Tonight she seems a little closer to me.

LSW

Hay Fever and High Cotton

Is it just me or is the sight of a field full of freshly baled hay rather artistic? There's a spot in the road where I come around the corner and there's nothing but round hay bales to be seen. I love it. Later on down the way there's a place where they are making square bales and they are just as pretty to the eye. Something about the blue sky above, the green mown hay and the dusty brown of the bales. Right purty.

In between the fields of hay are the fields of rapidly maturing cotton. In the past I've never been up close and personal with cotton and usually haven't even noticed it until the defoliant has been applied and there is nothing but sticks and white clumps to be seen just before they harvest. But this year I've watched the cotton plants grow and there is real beauty there. I'm sure to someone who ever had to pick cotton by hand, like my parents and grandparents, that beauty is not what they see but rather the hours of toil ahead. But the lush green, sprinkled with the clumps of white is a lovely sight. Especially since I know that these days the work is done by machine.

This morning finds us wondering just where Charlotte has gone. She has not been at her post for a couple of days and I fear that some predator has cut her days short. Or maybe she got tired of me bending down to check on her and moved along.

And Mojo discovered this morning that a frog is living in the Asiatic Jasmine. He's been jumpy ever since, listening hard for the sounds of movement in the vines. He's not real sure that thing belongs there and he comes to me for assurance that it isn't a dog-getter.

Meanwhile, I have succumbed to the addiction that is Diner Dash. It's been a long time since I've become ensnared by a computer game and this one has reeled me in. I played the freebies online until I had mastered the limited versions and yesterday went and bought the real thing. I've been happily dishing up the grub in all my free moments. I've got many levels yet to conquer, but I'm already thinking about putting Diner Dash 2 and Diner Dash 3 on my Christmas wish list.

Summertime.

LSW

Church Camp

I was listening to a CD of gospel music by the Forester Sisters this morning on the way to work and suddenly flashed back many summers ago to the several years when we would spend a week at the Highland Lakes Baptist Encampment. Two of those occasions stand out in my mind and one made me laugh while I drove along, so I decided to drag you along down memory lane once again.

The first year we went to church camp there were only 7 of us in our group. Daddy and one of the teenaged boys and 5 of us girls. For some peculiar reason our little group of girls was not combined into a dormitory with other church groups (I think we were late comers and there was no room at the inn, so to speak). Instead, we lucked into having our own dormitory for the week. Five of us in a room that was meant to house 30-40. We had a blast and sometimes I wonder that we survived without injury.

Off to camp

For instance, a couple of the girls hit upon the idea of running around the room jumping from top bunk to top bunk. How they managed to get through this exercise without one of them bashing their brains out on the concrete floor, I'll never know. This was my first experience with living with older girls and it was an education. From observing someone shaving their legs with an electric razor, something I had never seen happen before, to observing their casual nakedness in the shower room when I was a painfully shy 12- or 13-year old to listening to their frank talk about boys - well, it was eye-opening. The five of us became a strange kind of family that week and I will always remember those girls fondly. Marsha, Penny, Kathy, Linda and me.

Our little bunch with the camp missionary

We had a lot of fun together that summer and while we attended several more times, we never quite had the same feelings for the place that we did that first year.

There was, however, one year that stands out. I believe it was Penny's sister Susan who figures prominently in the story.

At the evening services there would be some kind of entertainment and one night was to be skit or talent night. The group of us that year wanted very much to take part, but none of us had an idea one what we could do. That year one of my father's preacher buddies was in attendance and he came up with a little skit for us. The details are very dim in my memory, but in essence it was a mother who was introducing to the preacher (my dad) her herd of children, each of whom had a name that ended in "fly". I'm assuming there was housefly, dragonfly, horsefly, butterfly, etc. (Maybe Linda will remember more of this and can refresh my memory.) Anyway, the youngest was to pronounce her name "letterfly" and throw a glass of water in my father's face.

We rehearsed and had our parts down pat. I was one of the middle children and I believe Linda was playing the mother. Susan was anticipating her moment and I'm sure a little unsure about splashing Daddy with the water. When her time came, she proclaimed her name as "LET HIM HAVE IT" and doused him. Of course the point of the whole thing was completely lost to the audience, except for the preacher buddy who nearly split a gut laughing.

We had good times at that camp. Despite the numerous classes and morning and evening revival style services. We also had swimming, boating, handsome life guards, and Kickapoo Joy Juice at the concession stand. And we had the experience of living with sisters for a week. It made all the hard benches, scorpions and heat minor annoyances for the privilege of fellowship.

LSW

Way Cool Day

Sometimes I hit things just right. Today was one of those days. Earlier this week we caught up at work, which is a rare occurrence. I decided I would treat myself to a day off and then came the quandary of how I would spend that day. I am definitely not in shopping mode, so that was out. No way was I going to spend the day researching, since I'm still fighting battle fatigue on the genealogy front. I wanted a change of scenery, so staying at home and doing anything was out.

So I decided it was time to go see a movie. Sit in the dark and lose myself for two hours. Great idea, I thought, but just what would I see? The new Harry Potter movie, I decided. And that is when I became brilliant. I would go to the Bob Bullock IMAX theater and see it in 3D. I've never had the chance to see a 3D movie before and this was the perfect opportunity. Also, the IMAX theater at the Bob Bullock Museum is clean, well managed and there isn't a bad seat in the house.

As it turns out, only the last 1/3 of the movie is in 3D, but that is the part of the movie with the most action. Before the movie began, they ran a short clip to let us get used to our 3D glasses and that clip was better than the 3D portion of the movie when you get right down to it. We were in water with fish swimming all around us and a big ole alligator swam right up to you and opened its mouth. Cool effect. You really had the feeling that the fish were swimming right into you. The movie had some cool effects, too, with shattering glass and falling shelves and dueling wands. I thoroughly enjoyed the whole thing.

I had about 90 minutes to wander around the museum before the movie started, so I decided to explore the 3rd floor. On my last visit there I had only managed to really explore the first two floors and had had to trot through the third at the end of the day. I also finally got to see the film shown inside the reproduction of the Alamo that had been too crowded to get into on my previous visit. I have to say that the Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum is a treasure in our own backyard. No matter what exhibit I choose to study, I find things that tie into my family research. I'm a proud 5th generation native born Texan and the whole history of Texas is in my blood. At the end of the feature in the Alamo, I wanted to stand up and give a rebel yell.

After the IMAX experience, I ate a very adequate lunch in their cafe and then spent time browsing the gift shop. If you want a Texas souvenir, this is the place to go. Music, books, t-shirts, Christmas ornaments, toys, and at the moment Harry Potter merchandise can all be had there. I managed to hold myself to one t-shirt and 4 Texas State Capitol ornaments (I'm trying to build a complete set).

When it came time to go, I decided to take a small detour to 6th Street and see if I could find something for supper at Whole Foods. Their location on 6th and Lamar is not your normal Whole Foods. I had a good time wandering around and so did a bunch of other folks. I like Whole Foods, but it does get crowded. One of the things I regret about the office moving to Round Rock is the inability to make a dash to Whole Foods or Central Market or a dozen other unique Austin spots during my lunch hour.

One of the things I don't miss is the eternal road construction on 6th Street, but my day had gone too well for that to really bother me. I got home, got thoroughly puppy kissed, changed into my jammies, and am content after a good day abroad and the knowledge that I have only to throw some things into the oven for a quick warm up for supper.

Peace.

LSW

Don't Mess With My Stuff

I saw something this past weekend in the grocery store that triggered a faint, distant memory of a time when revenge was exacted without my even trying.

They have reissued a product that consists of "flavored" straws. The straws have a flavor core of chocolate or strawberry or banana and the idea is to use them with a glass of milk and have the milk flavored as it flows upward through the straw. The same product existed way back in time, like the early sixties. I can remember that I was fond of the chocolate straws.

There was a day when I had a box of chocolate straws and for some reason I acquired a handful of colorful plastic toothpicks that I thought were kind of neat. Needing a place to carry the toothpicks (I don't think we were at home at the time), I put them inside the box of straws.

My youngest uncle decided later that day to purloin one of my chocolate straws without, I might add, seeking my permission to do so. As chance would have it, he picked a straw that had caught one of the toothpicks inside it. As he slurped his first swig of milk, he ended up with a toothpick in his mouth.

Yes, in retrospect I'm glad he did not choke or swallow the thing. He was highly indignant that I had created such a dangerous situation. For my part I felt very little remorse. I knew the toothpicks were in there and they were my straws. He was the one in the wrong as far as my little 8- or 9-year-old self was concerned.

It's always been my belief that justice will prevail. Sometimes sooner and sometimes later. But you steal my stuff, you will pay in the end.

LSW

Bluegrass Rant

After a week of listening my way through the latest Harry Potter book, partly because I wanted the opportunity to catch the details I missed on my marathon reading session and partly because I love the audio versions performed by Jim Dale, I needed a break and decided to spend a couple of days listening to music before I tackle the next audio book.

Bluegrass music always gives me a boost - it's just so happy and peppy for the most part that you find yourself tapping your foot and bouncing on your butt and exceeding the speed limit, even if you started out with your mood in the cellar. Anything by Ricky Skaggs and Kentucky Thunder is guaranteed to put you in danger of a speeding ticket and that's usually my first pick, but this morning I decided on an oldie but goodie - The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band's original Will the Circle Be Unbroken.

Cue the mood swing. I love the songs and the music, but I have come to the conclusion that any piece of country or bluegrass music would be immeasurably improved with the decision to omit the harmonica. This album is full of wonderful performances by legendary musicians, but my enjoyment of those performances is usually tempered by my devout wish that the harmonica would SHUT UP.

I'll grant you that it is pretty remarkable that anybody can actually make a tune come out of one of the things, but then why would anybody bother to try in the first place? It's not pretty what comes out. It seldom adds one single, solitary improvement. The only place it seems to fit is in old prison movies.

I apologize to all the harmonica players of the world, but please, please throw the things in the nearest dust bin or indulge your whim to play them when by yourself in a sound-proofed room.

That's it. Off my soap box for now.

LSW

Burn Out Recovery

Since the trip to Salt Lake City back in April, I have been suffering from a generalized burn out and a specific genealogy research burn out. The months leading up to the trip had been a mad whirlwind of updating my computer files and that added to the 4 days of intense library digging drove me to the point of exhaustion. When I got back to Texas, I consciously decided on a 2-month moratorium on research in an attempt to cure myself. It has extended into a 3-1/2 month period in which not much has taken place to build on my knowledge of family history. I've accumulated a pile of paper, both from the Salt Lake trip and from the contributions of Internet co-researchers, and while it is pleasing to have the new records available, it has added to my discomfort to know that I'm falling further and further behind.

So last weekend I started sorting the stack and filing the easier items to place in the correct notebooks and adding notes to my computer files. The stack did not decrease much, but there was a modicum of satisfaction in taking a few baby steps back into the genealogy arena. I'm being careful not to push myself too hard so I don't have a burnout relapse.

This week I also made contact with a new Internet cousin in the Mobley line who has reminded me that one needs to go back and recheck Internet sources that have not been visited in a long time. He was the one that found an obituary I have long been looking for in a place I've searched before but many years ago.

For many years we Mobley researchers have speculated where Lucretia Dunkin Mobley was buried and thanks to this obituary we finally have our answer. Great-great-great Grandfather Reason Mobley's obituary mentions that he is to be buried next to his first wife. His marker had already been located and documented, but Lucretia either never had a marker or it has been lost over time. It is satisfying to finally know that our speculations that she too was buried at Macedonia Baptist Cemetery were correct. I hope to be able to visit her gravesite on a planned trip for next spring to parts of the Deep South.

This fresh find has given me a booster shot of genealogy enthusiasm and I think I'm ready to get back into the saddle, so to speak. I have more ancestors to find!

LSW

Give Me a Dog's Life

I had an unexpected day working at home and it made the wee ones very happy to have Mom sitting at her desk where they could keep an eye on her. I swear they know my schedule better than I do and it gives them great joy to have a sudden extra Mom day. They napped hard most of the day, sprawled on the big red chair. During a rare break in their nap, I snapped a couple of pictures. Coco doesn't like having the camera pointed at her, which is a shame since she's so photogenic. (Doesn't this look like your typical Glamour Shots pose?)



Mojo, on the other hand, doesn't mind posing as long as Mom wants him to. (That's a chew toy beside him, in case you might think he has another injured leg.)



At least three times during the day we went out and romped in the side yard. Coco goes stone deaf when she doesn't want to hear what I'm saying and our latest conflict has to do with a certain dead frog. She found him under a tree a couple of days ago and rolled around on him until she was full of eau de composted froggie. I made it a point to remove the carcass with a shovel early the next morning, pitching it far into the briar patch behind the house. She was very put out with me when she discovered it missing and went around the yard with her nose up until she caught the scent. Ever since then I have been trying to keep her from burrowing into the briar patch to retrieve him.


This girl can hear me say the words "want a bite?" when I'm whispering in the kitchen and she's upstairs in the farthest corner of the house. But she can't hear me when I'm standing over her yelling at her to leave the dead frog alone.


I have no idea what the neighbors think. But I know I have a couple of happy dogs tonight.




LSW

Charlotte Update

Found out why Charlotte was so busy this morning. She was making the fancy white design in her web. She was at rest this afternoon, so I managed to get a clearer picture. Since my earlier post, I have discovered this is an argiope spider, also known as an orb weaver and also known as a writing spider due to the designs they make in their web as you can see in this photo.

The designs provide stability to the web and even though it reduces their "catch" percentage, it also reduces the tendency of birds to fly into the web.

Pretty, isn't she?

LSW

Charlotte at Work

As much antipathy as I have for most things crawly, I have never been afraid of spiders. I rather enjoy watching them. And even though their webs make my house look a little less than tidy, I don't have the heart to destroy what is essentially a work of art.

While I'm not scared of them, I do respect them. I have no idea what kind of spider has taken up residence in the front Asiatic Jasmine bed, so I'm keeping my distance just in case. She was a busy little thing this morning and it was hard to get a photo in focus. She's got quite a web built and she has her little sacs of future meals sprinkled about. I appreciate any being who works as hard as she does.

Ah, to have a job that gives such satisfaction. We should all be so lucky.

LSW

Follow the Yellow Thread

Cousin Robert pointed out that I probably should not advertise my purty yellow cat, lest a cat burglar sneak in and spirit him off. Someone with yellow cat fever, like his mom maybe.

Weird how genetics work, isn't it? There's a strong pull toward yellow tomcats that pops up here and there in the Hodge line. My grandfather had it bad. At least one aunt and one uncle has it bad. My mother got hit with the fever and passed it along to both her kids. What is it about yellow tomcats?

Mother had a yellow cat when she was young, named Buff. She still remembers him as the greatest cat of her youth and would probably call it a draw between him and Zonker for the best cat of her life. Buff would meet her bus everyday at the end of the road and ride back to the house on her books. He was undeniably her cat.

Buff

We have had several yellow tomcats over the course of my life and Zonker holds the position of top cat for me so far. Boo may make it up to his equal if he hangs around long enough, but nobody could top Zonker for all around good cat karma.

That Zonker. He lived 18 years and he was one of the rare cats who loved everybody in the family equally. Even got along with all the dogs. He moved from bed to bed in a regular cycle, sleeping with each of us for several nights before moving on to the next, spreading his attention around so no one got their feelings hurt.

Zonker would wait in the front yard in the evenings until everyone made it in. David and I both would have late nights in those days and Zonker would wait patiently until whoever was still out made it back in and then go in with the latecomer for what was left of the night.

Zonker

Zonker was named for the character in Doonesbury, but he made the name his own and I rarely remember that little bit of trivia. When he arrived, a gift from one of my mother's students, we thought for a day or two we had made a hideous mistake. He was a ball of yellow fluff with a big voice and he had spent some time surviving in the midst of horses. He was a bundle of nerves and told us of his fears and worries at the top of his lungs. But he settled down, recognized he had found his true home, and adopted all of us with all of his big heart. It was a mighty sad day for us when old age finally caught up with him.

The house would not feel right if there weren't a yellow tomcat in residence. When I heard Boo was available for adoption, I said yes without hesitation, even though I had sworn I was not taking in any more cats for awhile. You just don't say no to the chance to bring a yellow tomcat into your life.

I wonder how far back this proclivity for yellow tomcats goes? I'm betting the cat in this picture of my grandfather Hodge is a yellow tom.

Horace Hodge with unknown cat

What do you bet?

Who needs DNA to prove heritage? I have yellow cat fever. I'm definitely a Hodge.

LSW

More Fun Than the Law Allows

There is a line in an old Kristofferson song that goes something like "I've enjoyed about as much of this as I can stand". That's the sentiment that comes to mind after the last couple of weeks.

So, tonight we betook of that lovely entertainment facility called the ER at Smithville Hospital. Mother developed two sores on her foot in a matter of 24 hours that concerned me. While she is not a diabetic like her mother was, I can't help recalling what kind of serious issues my grandmother had with open sores on her feet that would not heal. I put in a call to the nurse at the doctor's office and received the advice to get her to the ER and have them evaluated.

Since we are connoisseurs of the SRH ER, I went prepared for a long evening. I had a book, a crossword puzzle collection, several catalogs and a magazine or two in my bag. Even so, I wasn't sure I had enough. I made sure I had some dollars bills for the vending machines. I packed a bag and took it along in the event that Mother was admitted. I carried along her medicine bottles and a pile of insurance papers. I am a professional ER habitue and I don't mess around.

This time was one of the rare times that we happened in when there were no car wrecks, heart attacks, or screaming children ahead of us. We waltzed right in to the evaluation room, were in an ER bay within 20 minutes and were discharged in less than 2-1/2 hours. The sores were not of critical concern and were cleaned and dressed. A tetanus shot was administered to be on the safe side. Antibiotics were prescribed. We were on our way back home in record time.

It could have been worse. Not that any time spent there is fun. What next?

LSW

I Have Been Remiss

The weekend was not such a good one, so it was not until today when I looked at my calendar that I realized I forgot to acknowledge the 1 year birthday of the heathen cats on Saturday. When I announced my intention this afternoon of getting a photo of them for the occasion, I was met with resistance.

Scout said I bored her.

Boo said "catch me if you can".

It took me about 8 shots to get one that was halfway passable of Scout.

Boo finally agreed to let me document his regalness.

Their favorite hangout is the garage, as you can see. Scout is the indispensible helper cat, making every trip up and down the stairs with me as I do the laundry or housecleaning. Boo is my lap baby and would love to spend his days sitting in my lap and licking my arm. I can only take about 5 minutes of that rough tongue before he gets summarily ejected, but in a few minutes he will be back, purring his little heart out.

No home should be without a cat or two. Life would be dull without them.

LSW

Bleah, part 2

More &$#!(@ rain.

This morning I was required to make a dash to Austin to get a prescription filled that nobody in Bastrop could seem to handle this month. This particular prescription is a pain in the butt because nobody keeps on hand the strength that Mother takes and I have to jump through hoops to get it filled before she exhausts her previous month's supply. HEB blew it this month and failed to get the order placed correctly, so off I had to go to Austin on a dark and dreary day to the one pharmacy I can count on to always have the needed pills on hand. It used to be a convenient alternative when I worked in Austin. Now that I'm in Round Rock, these months when HEB fumbles the ball are a major source of stress in my life.

On the way back to Bastrop the rain started and it hasn't stopped all day.

As if my day hadn't started off in the basement, this is the day I had made an appointment for Mother to get a haircut. She's been nagging me non-stop for two weeks to take her and I wasn't about to reschedule because I so wanted her to clam up on the subject. Besides which both of us had new glasses to pick up and Texan Eye Care is next door to our hairdresser. So at 3:30 we loaded her up and took off. Our first stop went relatively well, even though Mother kept trying to fall asleep in her chair while they were fitting her new glasses. Then, just as we arrived in the beauty shop, the clouds opened up and it rained for the next hour in a manner that would make a hurricane proud.

There seemed to be no end of the rain in sight, so we elected to get drenched and go on home. If you've never loaded a handicapped person into a vehicle in the pouring rain and then had to load their wheelchair before you can get out of the rain yourself - well, you just haven't lived. Then you get to do it in reverse when you get home. More fun than a barrelful of monkeys. And the whole time I was also worrying about my little dog at home who is terrified of thunder. We got home, completely soaked to the skin, and then came the ordeal of getting Mother back into bed, the puppy dog soothed and myself into dry clothes. Who needs an exercise program? I am completely exhausted.

Ok, I've always said I will not complain about rain because I know what July and August will be like. But enough, already. This is the first year ever I have not had to watch my yard burn to a crisp and that's good. But I'm beginning to develop mildew behind my ears and that's bad. And the weather forecast is continued rain.

I think it's time for a great big drink and to bed.

LSW

Bleah!

One lunch hour shot to blazes.

Decided I would make a dash to Wendy's and get a salad and coke to go with my homemade lasagna (made with low-carb noodles). Easy task anywhere but Round Rock.

This town's traffic flow was designed by someone who was either dropping acid or had a massive head injury. If you think Houston or Dallas or Austin is bad, traffic-wise, you ain't seen nothing until you try to negotiate the access roads in Round Rock. There's too many people trying to navigate through very small traffic pipes. Think trying to push thick gravy through a tiny straw.

All the lights on all the access roads are red for impossibly long times and green for as long as it takes to blink your eyes. At Hester's Crossing, the situation has been made that much worse due to it being the last free exit you can take to Loop 1 before the toll road.

That being said, I've learned a few coping mechanisms to get to where I'm going and back without too much stress. Unfortunately I had never tried to get to Wendy's before and even though I followed the signs, I ended up missing the correct driveway and instead ended up going into an exit only driveway that belonged to the neighboring hotel, snaking my way around through the hotel parking lot and attempting to exit at a point where there was a dead end that was causing all the traffic to have to drive around a loop and head back out, and then there was one of those impossibly long traffic lights and when I finally got where I could turn left into Wendy's parking lot, the traffic was so backed up I gave it up as a lost cause and headed back toward the office.

All of this took me 20 minutes longer than it should have. I decided I would stop in at McDonald's for a quick drink and fruit snack substitute, and that took another 10 minutes. (There is no quick in this town.)

FINALLY I got back to the office, heated up my lasagna and settled down to eat. And gagged when I took the first swallow from my Diet Coke. It was sweet tea. I HATE sweet tea. I drink tea the way God intended us to - plain, with the possible exception of lemon or lime. I ended up dumping the lot into the sink and refilling my glass with a bottled Diet Coke.

Whole lunch hour shot to hell. I blame the clown that designed Round Rock's non-existent traffic flow.

LSW

Tired But in the Know

764 pages between 10:00 a.m. yesterday and 11:00 p.m. last night.

For once, the steady rain all day yesterday provided the perfect setting for the day's activity. Mojo slept in the chair beside me, fussing a little when he would bump into that heavy book. In fact, most everyone in the house besides me was sleeping the duration of the day. I read. And read.

No spoilers from me, but I will say that the book kept me engrossed and I'm 90% happy with the way the series ended.

LSW

Testimonial

Amazon rocks. Despite my turning down their offer to get my book here on release day, it showed up in my mailbox today anyway. Is it any wonder these folks are getting most of my book business these days?

As a postscript to yesterday, a great Harry Potter website can be found here. And if you want to drive yourself nuts, try J. K. Rowling's official site.

LSW

Pottermania

Regrets, I have a few. Actually I have a bunch, but we won't go there today.

If I lived in Austin and if I weren't tied to the house with steel bands, I would take myself down to BookPeople tonight for the midnight Harry Potter party. I always loved a good masquerade party and I adore bookstores and since this will be the last of the release parties it would be fun to indulge. However, I don't live in Austin and I am tied to the house, so I guess we will have our own little party at home. Let's see, now, which character shall I be?

For myself, I think I will take the part of Professor McGonagall. Second in command at Hogwarts. Efficient, no-nonsense teacher but with a sense of humor and a secret fondness for Harry. Hogwarts would not function well without her.

Mother I think I will cast in the part of Arabella Figg, Harry's squib neighbor when he is living with the Dursleys. In the background, keeping an eye on things.

Coco will play Ginny Weasley, the little redhead who is a whiz-bang at Quidditch, requiring speed and coordination.

Mojo I see in the role of Dobby the house-elf who adores Harry and would do anything for him. Unless it's right after he wakes up in the morning when he acts more like Kreacher, who goes around muttering and complaining and threatening to do dire things.

Scout will play Luna Lovegood, a likeable and loyal witch who is floating through life a little off plumb.

Boo reminds me a little of Nagini the snake. Loyal to his master, slithering around the house, and deadly with that ever-present, tasting tongue.

Gainsborough and Bob can be pixies.

Wish I had the book to read tomorrow, but I refused to cough up the extra shipping costs for guaranteed delivery from Amazon. So we will just have our little party in anticipation. I'm just hoping to avoid all spoilers until I can experience the book for myself.

Accio, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

LSW

How Do You Cure Stupid?

Some folks seem to have a death wish. I saw two guys yesterday who are living on borrowed time.

When little brother got his motorcycle, I wasn't particularly happy about it. Seems to me that if you ride a motorcycle, it's not if you will have an accident but when. However, he is a careful driver, wears his protective gear, and doesn't do stupid things when he's riding it. I still worry, especially about the other drivers on the road, but I feel like he's doing everything possible to avoid catastrophe.

Not the two guys I saw yesterday on Highway 79, heading out of Round Rock toward Hutto on a couple of smallish, whiny bikes. They did have on helmets - but that was it for protection. They were otherwise in T-shirts and shorts. I pulled up behind them at a red light and had a bird's-eye view of their take off. They had not gone but a few feet when the idiot on the right stood up in the stirrups, gunned his motor and popped a wheelie for several yards down the highway. When he finally landed, he was driving highway speeds, looking back over his shoulder and grinning at the idiot on his left. They both continued to weave back and forth, shouting to each other and paying little attention to where they were headed. No. 1 nitwit felt compelled to pop yet another wheelie.

My first thought was to hope that they didn't kill themselves until after I had passed them, because I really didn't have time to stick around and give a witness report to the cops. Thankfully they turned off after a couple of miles and I breathed a sigh of relief as I went on my way.

Mark my words, one or both of them will land in the hospital or a coffin if they don't grow some smarts in one hell of a hurry. If they end up dead, it's their own dumb fault. I only feel sorry for the poor folks who are around to see it when it happens.

LSW

Friends

Always nice to have a best friend you can use as a pillow.

LSW

I'm Just a Big Kid

I keep running into things that I wish I had had when I was a kid. I so loved make-believe back then and I could imagine myself being other people and having adventures with the folks I read about. Hence my fascination with Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden who gave me hours of rich fantasy life as I solved mysteries with them.

When I was a kid, we moved from parsonage to parsonage every 2-3 years until we landed in Smiley, where we lived in the same house for an unheard of 9 years. There was one more parsonage after that and then we finally settled in a house that actually belonged to us. Mother lived in that house for a little over 20 years, but I was never really attached to it. I think my early years conditioned me not to get attached to places. Things, yes, since they made the journeys with us, but not places.

That, I think, is one reason for my love of dollhouses. They are little pieces of fantasy houses, stores, rooms, etc., that I would love to have been able to possess in full-sized life, but have not had the opportunity to acquire. I can satisfy my longing for a log cabin, a knitting store, a Victorian bedroom or a country kitchen by fashioning it in miniature. I have control over my mini environments and if I move next week, my fantasies move with me.

I have no idea where I'm going with this. Oh, yeah, I'm a big kid at heart.

When we were in Salt Lake City in April I bought a book called The Enchanted Doll's House. It tells the story of two dolls, Lucinda and Albert, who live in a Victorian dollhouse and fall in love. You turn a page to find a pop-up, 3-dimensional dollhouse with elaborate detail. You turn another page and there is the next chapter of the love story, with envelopes, sliding panels and hidden pockets that all contain pieces of the unfolding dollhouse drama. You turn another page and find a different pop-up dollhouse that adds more to the story. It's a fascinating piece of work and I thoroughly enjoyed it. I would have been completely enthralled if I had gotten that book when I was 9-years-old.

About a month ago I learned there was a follow-up to the book called The Enchanted Doll's House Wedding, wherein Albert proposes to Lucinda and you visit pop-up department stores and churches and receive your personal invitation to attend the wedding. It's more of the same kind of fun. (The above link shows only pre-order available, but I snagged an early copy through The Mystery Guild.

This past week I discovered a similar kind of book available called The Lost Files of Nancy Drew, and it didn't take much to talk myself into ordering it. It is another delight, with envelopes, parchments, and hidden clues. It took me twice through the book to discover all the hidden compartments. My inner 9-year-old loved this book.

Maybe my emotional growth is stunted, but I had a blast with these three books. Sometimes one just has to indulge a return to childhood. For a few minutes, anyway.

LSW

Blind Leading the Blind

Yesterday was an experience. Mother and I had eye exams in tandem. First she got her vision test. Then the doctor (we have a new one since our long-time doctor recently retired) started the inner eye exam and glaucoma test. Mother's Parkinson's turned it into a 3 person activity, with me steadying her head. Then she put the drops in Mother's eyes to start dilation and while that was in progress, I got my vision test. Then we swapped chairs twice more, alternating the various stages of the exam.

When finally we had both been thoroughly examined and I had been given samples of drops for both of us and enough instructions for each of us that I have no faith at all in my being able to remember who is supposed to use which drops or which procedures, we proceeded out to select our new glasses frames. We were in big, deep do.

The exams had gone fairly well, all things considered, but we were both exhausted at that point with all the unusual amount of up and down and chair shifting. We were also blind as bats from the dilation. Thankfully the doctor used the so-called mild version on me, but that didn't make things much better. I was directed to get frames "just like what I have", which was an impossible task considering the last time Mother got new frames was back during the Clinton years. I threatened to get her some Buddy Holly specs, but she didn't find that very funny. I finally came up with some frames that suited her. And about that time the place was closing for the lunch hour.

The primary technician and I have been friends for many years and many pairs of glasses. We always argue about which frames I can have with my extra thick lenses. This time he saw his advantage. He knew I was tired, blind and feeling guilty about keeping them away from lunch. So he started grabbing frames off the wall and ordering me to try them on. From his choices I made my selection. All I have to say is if I look like hell next week when I put those new glasses on, it's not my fault. It's his. If I look better than I've ever looked - well, don't tell me. I would hate to have to admit to him that he's been right all these years.

Thank heavens that's over with.

LSW

Coco Learns a Lesson

Coco is not a happy camper tonight. As has become our custom, we headed out to the side yard for a play session after supper. It started out well, but we had barely begun when she indulged herself in chasing flying things. She loves to chase butterflies and moths, but today she went after what I think was a red wasp. I saw a flash of flickering red, Coco jumped and began rubbing her face in the grass and then scratching her nose.

Poor baby has a red knot on her upper lip and flinches whenever I try to check on it. I tried dabbing on a little bit of meat tenderizer paste, but of course she promptly licked it off. She settled for sitting in Mom's lap and getting lots of sympathetic cuddling.

I guess everyone has to learn that some things you just don't stick your nose into.

LSW

A Tale of Two Purses

Today found me back in the waiting room at the Ford dealership. Yesterday, about half-way back home from the office, my "Service Engine Soon" light came on and I don't mess around with those kinds of warnings. I've had transmission problems in the past and I was very afraid that I might be headed that direction. So my first errand of the day was to find out how bad the news was going to be.

I always go to the waiting room equipped to entertain myself, as I've mentioned before. I wasn't really in the mood for the portable DVD player, so I spent the first hour finishing my Nancy Drew history. Then I debated what to do next.

For some unfathomable reason, I had pitched a knitting kit into my carry bag that has been accumulating dust for about two or three years. I had special ordered this kit and then been overwhelmed by the first instruction, promptly put it back for "later" and there it has sat all this time. Today was the day I finally felt up to the challenge.

First, let us digress a bit. Many years ago, about 10-12 I would estimate, there was a shop out at the Alum Creek Antique Center that was run by a little old lady who specialized in vintage linens and clothing. I loved that store and would hit it about once a month. She carried a few antique purses and one day I fell in love with one of them. It was a knitted, beaded bag in a deep blue color, lined with silk, and way, way out of my budget. I drooled. I lusted. I accepted that I could not afford to indulge myself.

That lovely purse was apparently out of everyone's price range, because it hung there tempting me for months. Then one day I got word that the lady was preparing to close her shop and was having a sale. Since I figured I was probably the last one to get the word, I prepared myself for the possibility that the purse would be gone or not included in the sale. I hastened to the store at the first opportunity to check. To my amazement, it was still there and marked down to half the original price. I snatched it up so fast that I created a breeze in the store.

The kit I ordered was for making a pair of earrings in the shape of tiny, knitted, beaded bags. The picture reminded me so of the antique purse that I decided I would order the kit and make a miniature version to put in one of my dollhouses. But the instructions made me panic. Today I decided I would figure the thing out or give up knitting.

Turns out that beaded knitting isn't such a big deal after all. During my second and third hours in the Ford waiting room, I created my miniature purse. The most difficult thing about the project was that my aging eyes make working with miniature yarn and needles a real problem. I would have to take off my glasses to be able to see the stitches, put on my glasses to read the next line of instructions, take off my glasses, etc., etc. But I persevered and now I have the antique purse and its mini counterpart.

I had a lot of fun and, since it was intended for earrings, I still have enough thread and beads for a second one.

The time in the waiting room passed quickly and the best part was the news that the faulty valve that had caused my "Service Engine Soon" light to come on was covered by my extended warranty. I just had to cough up the deductible.

I was in serious danger yesterday of blowing a gasket at the office. I rather think that someone up there pulled some strings to force me to have a calm, enjoyable and creative couple of hours. I feel much better now.

LSW

Nancy Revisited

I've been reading a book on the history of the Nancy Drew mystery series. It has dredged up memories from a long, long time ago. I'm not sure when I read my first Nancy Drew book, but I seem to remember that it was when we lived in Victoria. So I would have been 9 years old and in the third grade. I have dim memories of visiting the public library in Victoria and for some reason when I think of that library I also think of Nancy Drew. I can also recall that the summer before our move to Smiley I was in possession of a teen-aged fashion doll and a Ken doll and had renamed them Nancy Drew and Ned Nickerson, which means I must have read a good number of them by then.

I know for sure that I was reading them avidly in Smiley. The tiny Smiley library had a surprisingly well-stocked children's section and I'm betting they had every Nancy Drew book then available in both the original blue covers with the orange silhouette of Nancy on the cover and in the "newer" blue tweed editions. I probably checked out every one of them more than once.

In the 1960s, the books were reissued with picture covers and the familiar yellow spines. The first Nancy Drew I personally owned was The Mystery of the Brass Bound Trunk, given to me for a birthday present. One Christmas I added three of the yellow bindings to my personal library - The Secret of the Wooden Lady, The Moonstone Castle Mystery, and The Clue of the Whistling Bagpipes. That last one involved genealogy, as I recall, and I've always had a fondness for moonstones that can be traced directly back to Moonstone Castle. Though I wanted to own more of the series, money was tight in those days and I was quickly outgrowing them. So my collection sat at 4 volumes for many years.

At some point, and I have no memory of the occasion, I picked up about a dozen volumes at either a flea market or antique store for $2 per book. An impulse buy that got packed away in a box. But I had the satisfaction of knowing they were there. I still didn't own a copy of my very favorite Nancy Drew, The Secret in the Old Attic. That was remedied years later when I located a copy on EBAY. It's the only one of the bunch that sits on my active bookcase today.

I never forgot my love of Nancy Drew and there's a lot of folks out there like me. Over the years I've purchased various books written about the Nancy Drew phenomenon. It's one of those that I'm enjoying this week. The story of Edward Stratemeyer and his daughter Harriett, who together created and breathed life into not only Nancy Drew, but the Bobbsey Twins, the Happy Hollisters, the Dana Girls, the Hardy Boys, and many other series, is a fascinating one. Nancy Drew was the star of the syndicate, but the others made piles and piles of money for the family, too.

I'm one of the old-timers who thinks the series ended at book #56, but a more modern Nancy emerged at that point, and new books continue to be published. To me, Nancy Drew will always be the titian-haired sleuth who drove around River Heights in her little blue roadster. How I wished I could be her.

The EBAY collectible market is strong for all things relating to Nancy Drew and there are numerous websites devoted to analyzing her appeal and documenting the stories. One of the best can be found here.

Today's generation has Harry Potter. Ours had Nancy Drew.

LSW

P.S. My next favorite youth series was Trixie Belden. We'll remember her another day.

Behaving Myself

My 4th of July was relatively calm. Grocery shopping was the height of excitement today. After that, I indulged myself in trying out a new (to me) Mexican restaurant in town, since La Cabana was closed.

That accomplished, I spent the afternoon applying stucco to my dollhouse in progress. It's coming along nicely and I hope that by summer's end I will have a mini-Mexican restaurant to add to my street of shops. Nominations are open for a name, which should be unique and not too cute.

About mid-afternoon, the dogs and I took a ramble in the woods and enjoyed the burbling little creek that we have after heavy rain storms. I couldn't talk the dogs into wading in the creek and Mojo was appalled when I briefly stepped across to the other side and he couldn't figure out how he was going to get to me. This evening we are piddling around and they are keeping close for protection from the irregular pops of fireworks.

A nice, quiet day is a nice change of pace once in awhile.

(By the way, the travellers are in Iceland at the moment on the last leg of their trip. They head home on Saturday.)

LSW

Getting a Clue

Just what I needed - another detective series to get hooked on. I keep coming across audiobooks at Half Price that are by authors Mother has long read faithfully and trying them out because they are a bargain. Then discovering that they are pretty darned good. Now I'm enjoying J. A. Jance, who writes two different series and both of them are very enjoyable.

I'm so behind on reading that it's not funny. There are several authors I buy as soon as they release a new book and for some of them I am 2-3 books behind. Which is sometimes a good thing, because once I read one and re-whet my appetite for that author, I have several books on hand to enjoy. Just this weekend I finished a reading marathon of the latest 3 books in the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency series. I've now embarked on catching up with the Miss Julia series, which will last for 3 books. Then there's the Stephanie Plum series where I'm 2 books behind, the China Bayles series where I'm about 5 books behind, the Maggody series where I'm 2 books behind, the Dearest Dorothy series where I'm 5 books behind, the Cedar Cove series where I'm 3 books behind, the Amelia Peabody series where I'm about halfway through a series of 18 or so and those are just the ones I can think of without going over to the book shelf and reminding myself of what all is waiting for me. I haven't yet gone into Mother's book stash to find out how many J. A. Jance books are in the wings.

It's been like this all my life. I was thinking today about my reading habits as a youngster. I was a big fan of the Nancy Drew mysteries, the Trixie Belden mysteries, the Dana Girls mysteries, and the Sue Barton nursing series. I read my share of Cherry Ames, Donna Parker, the Bobbsey Twins, and even a Hardy Boys or two. As I got older I read all the Sherlock Holmes stories, all the Nero Wolfe mysteries, all the Lord Peter Wimsey books, and a fair number of the books of P. D. James.

I also read the culinary mysteries of Diane Mott Davidson, the non-Stephanie Plum novels of Janet Evanovich (especially when I need a good laugh), the genealogy mysteries by Rett Macpherson, and the Cat Who mysteries of Lilian Jackson Braun. Nothing like a good mystery to take your mind off reality.

I have quite a choice available, with a little bit of every genre to please whatever mood I swing to next. But one thing I know. Come July 21st, I'll be joining the line of folks eager to find out how the Harry Potter series comes to a close. At least that's one series that I'll be able to put behind me. Which actually makes me a little sad.

LSW