Knitting Report

It takes me awhile, but I do get some of my knitting projects completed now and again. This past week I completed a prayer shawl that I started sometime last year. I wanted a project on hand that didn't have a very complicated pattern so that I would have something I could take along on road trips or anywhere else I might be confined for awhile without internet access. I had not made much progress on it and when I picked it up a couple of weeks ago, I was only 1-1/2 skeins into a 5 skein project.

It was what I decided to take with me to the hospice center where I sat with my mother during her last illness. I would knit and chatter to her and knit and watch tv and knit and sit in the quiet stillness. Over the course of a week I had the shawl about 3/4 completed. There is nothing like knitting a nice long stretch of uncomplicated pattern to keep your nerves calm and your spirit peaceful under stress.

I didn't touch the shawl for a couple of weeks, but I decided this past week it should be completed without delay, partly as a memorial for my mother. Everytime I wear this shawl, I will associate it with her.


It's a little bit hard to see here, but the pattern is a wide 5x5 stitch rib, which creates a textured stripe effect. The pattern came from a book of prayer shawl patterns. If you have not heard of the prayer shawl ministry, there are scores of knitters out there who knit shawls that are blessed by ministers and priests and then distributed to people in physical or spiritual pain. It is a lovely idea and many terminal patients or grieving relatives have been given a prayer shawl to provide comfort during trying times. I didn't expect that I would be knitting my own prayer shawl during a very trying time.


It occurred to me while I was setting up to photograph the shawl that I never posted a photo of the second Noro silk scarf that I knitted last year. It is an incredibly easy pattern and the yarn does all the work. The first scarf was in earth tones. I decided the second scarf would be as far away from the first palette as possible, so I chose yarn with an abundance of purple and blue. I love these scarves and I love the rhythm of the pattern. I may just have to start another one.

Next up, I am looking for a pretty scarf pattern for my newly acquired silk yarn. I am currently paging through patterns and looking for inspiration.

I see this calling for a lace pattern and knitted lace is never easy. This one may take me awhile. And I won't be taking it with me on road trips.

Did I tell you the story about the last intricate pattern I started and made the big mistake of taking with me to work on while a co-worker drove us to a meeting in Dallas? I had started an afghan with a lovely tree of life pattern and had worked enough of the pattern to feel like I could risk working on it while riding along in the back seat. Everything was going great until just before we hit Dallas and my circular needle unexpectedly broke. The 5 inches of completed afghan (thank God it wasn't any more than that) quickly laddered and I am not experienced enough to be able to recover that kind of disaster. Straight knitting I might have been able to recover, but this pattern was a very involved cable this way, cable that way pattern and there was no way. Someday I have to go back and restart that project, but not yet.

My hobbies have a way of taking turns. Sometime I feel like genealogy, sometimes I feel like working in miniatures and sometimes I feel like knitting. Lately it is knitting that is speaking to my soul.

But, I was up in the dollhouse room earlier this week and I found my fingers getting itchy to start a new roombox. I think it won't be long now before the dollhouse muse comes back into my life.

Until then, k1, p1, ssk, psso....

LSW

Playing Dress Up

Last Sunday afternoon I had the opportunity for a little bit of dress up. When I was a kid, playing dress up was one of my favorite activities and there is still a wee bit of the kid in me. I still love to dress in costume on those rare occasions it is permissible - Halloween, theme parties and the like.

Growing up, I would prowl the furthest recesses of my mother's closet to put together my costumes for play acting. She had a lot of full skirts that worked well for "evening" wear or a queen's regalia. I can remember one dress in particular, a pale green dress of what was probably rayon, and it made me feel elegant to wear it. Most of the time I played alone, but during the brief year we lived in Victoria, the kids in my neighborhood would periodically put together little stage shows in someone's back yard. Out would come the costumes and we staged our own little variety show with skits, songs and comedy acts.

When I was invited to attend the annual Confederate Heroes Day at the historic Bastrop Opera House, I knew there would be ladies present dressed in hoop skirts and bonnets. Time was too short to do a proper job of assembling a costume, but I quickly put together an acceptable imitation of a Civil War era outfit. The local thrift store provided a tiered, red skirt. A sales rack at Beall's provided a blouse with ruffled collar and cuffs. I had jewelry that would fit in, a small evening bag for a purse, and best of all a shawl I had crocheted years ago and in colors that complemented the skirt. I did a passable job of fitting into the background for the day.

I have fallen in love with the Opera House. When Lana and I were scouting Bastrop for a location for the upcoming event, one of the folks at the Visitors Center suggested it as a suitable site. We checked it out and she decided it was exactly what she was looking for. I had known there were theatrical productions staged there on a regular basis, but I had never attended one. Since then, the two of us have gone to two of their productions and I certainly intend to see more.

On this day, however, the old building welcomed a group of historians and genealogists who came to honor the sacrifices made by their ancestors in service to the South during the Civil War. The memorial event was hosted by the local chapter of the United Daughters of the Confederacy.

Members of the Sons of Confederate Veterans posted the colors (flags), a true daughter of a Confederate Veteran gave the invocation and benedictory prayers (she's a spry 90-something), a history of the Opera House was given by the current director of the facility, a local historian sketched the lives of two prominent local Confederate soldiers, Civil War era music was provided, and a tribute poem was read by a member of the Children of the Confederacy. It was an afternoon full of history and was especially moving to those of us who have studied our ancestry and know which of our family lines suffered losses of life and property during the hostilities.

All attendees were given the opportunity to recognize ancestors who fought for the Confederacy. Many of us noted that we had many we could name. When it came my turn, I chose to recognize the ancestor who fought from Bastrop County. Great-great grandfather Gabriel Moore Lentz served with the "Bastrop County Rawhides" in Co. D, 12th Texas Cavalry. He was lucky. He came back and lived out his life in Bastrop County.

There were many of my ancestral relatives who did not fare so well.

Great-great grandfather Joseph Sheppard Mobley and his brother Hezekiah Madison Mobley served the Confederacy out of Georgia. The two of them survived the war, but three of their brothers - Stephen, Andrew and William - perished. Joseph and Hezekiah left their Georgia home and moved to Texas.

Joseph's wife Mary Caroline Morgan lost her first husband, George Washington Sewell, in the Battle of Atlanta. Mary's and George's only child, a daughter, died in infancy and I have often wondered if her birth might have been premature and brought on by the stress Mary suffered. Mary Caroline lost not only a husband and daughter, but also two brothers - James and Richard Morgan.

Great-great-grandfather Albert McAfee is said to have served as a teamster with the Pointe Coupee Artillery out of Louisiana. I know Albert lost his father in the early days of the war. Jacob McAfee served the Union Army out of Livingston County, Missouri, and died of measles.

Great-great-great-grandfather George Washington Huddleston served both sides. He first enlisted with the Confederacy in Arkansas, was ultimately captured and confined as a prisoner of war. He opted then to join the Union Army, but I don't think his heart was in it. He ended up being court martialed for insubordination.

Great-great-great-grandfather William Frankum and his son William served the Confederacy out of Tennessee. Both survived the war, but the family stories say that they both died shortly afterward from wounds received.

There are those who look askance at present day recognition of our Confederate Heroes, but I think one has to look past the continual harping about the battle flag and the obvious slavery issues. We can't relate to how it felt to live in Georgia and have your home threatened, not to mention suffering Sherman's fiery march to the sea. We do watch our young men go off to war, but we can't relate to being defenseless women at home dealing with hordes of soldiers over-running your farm and taking anything they felt like taking. We may know the pain of losing a family member to battle, but how many of us have lost multiple brothers, cousins, friends, a husband, an uncle, a father - and some lost all of these - within a few months. It must have been hell on earth. I can't imagine what strength it took to live through such horrendous loss.

I honor the memory of every one of those courageous people who lived through the nightmare of the Civil War and found a way to keep going. They were all heroes.

Setting up before the event

My friends, Gary and Lana Henley

Me, with Lana, sitting on a Victorian settee in the Opera House lobby

LSW

Transitions

I feel a little bit like I'm floating in the ozone these days, like a kite that has slipped loose from the little boy on the ground who is watching it sail away.

Most of you that read this blog know by now that my mother passed away in the first week of 2010. It was sudden, but not unexpected. She had been ill for a very long time and the last year had brought a steady decline that had forced us to relocate her to a nursing center. She required more care than we were able to provide at home.

Adjustments were required all around. I was only recently getting used to the idea that I could impulsively stop somewhere on the way home from work and that it was no longer necessary to schedule a sitter when a special event came along. Before the move, my lunch hours were the spots in my schedule where I ran errands and made brief shopping trips and took care of my personal needs. After the move, I could run errands after my work day was over, so lunch hours became the time I would drop by the nursing home to sit with Mother while she ate.

Now we have passed into another period of adjustment. There is the shock of loss, the sense of having lost your reference point, the whiplash of exhaustion following a period of stress. And there are the little odd things that suddenly pull you up short.

Like this afternoon when I made a brief stop at a crafts store that was next door to the Petsmart where I stopped to pick up a fresh supply of dog treats. I found myself strolling down the aisle where they stock artificial flower arrangements and thinking that the red geraniums would be a bright touch at Mother's bedside. A mental shake as I realized that I would not be changing out the bedside flowers any longer. Five minutes later I was reaching into the bin of soft sleep socks and pulling back my hand when I realized I no longer needed to replace her worn out socks.

A similar mental jolt occurred over the weekend when I stopped at Beall's to look for a blouse to wear at an event on Sunday (more on that in a later post). I had automatically drifted around to the loungewear to check for cotton gowns. It had become a habit to keep an eye out for cotton gowns and for bright patio dresses that Mother might enjoy wearing. When I stood at the rack, I realized there was no longer a reason for me to be there. It felt weird.

So begins a time of transition as I recalibrate my life. When I stepped outside the office this afternoon and looked up at the sky, I felt an immediate emotional response to the rolls of fluffy clouds that stretched to the horizon.

Drifting...

LSW

Brrrrr

The annual week of intense cold has hit Central Texas. It has not been much above freezing for two days and due to get even colder over the next couple of days.

We are staying in and trying to keep warm. Everywhere I look there is a dog or cat snoozing in a nest of blankets.

Coco
(Geez, Mom, go away!)

Boo

Scout

Dixie

Mojo

I think they may have the right idea. Think I'll go look for a blankie of my own.

LSW

Surprises

A certain little Coco dog did a double take while out on her walkie today. She stopped to sniff what she thought was a leaf on the street and it moved. It turned out to be a leaf-colored moth. She was a bit nonplussed.

Mojo said that's what she gets for sticking her nose into everything. He thinks she's a regular busybody. She thinks he's a stick in the mud and no fun at all.

They both agree that it's too cold to be walking barefoot outside.

LSW

A Sigh of Relief

As I get older, I get more liable to dismiss trivial details from my mind and sometimes I can't remember where I set the coffee cup I had in my hand just a minute ago. My mind is filled with lots more important details - for instance the ongoing rumination about where in the heck my ancestor Henry Hodge might have married his third and last wife. Where I set my coffee cup is immaterial - until I look down and it's not in my hand and I have no memory of where it might be. I know I just had it...where have I been lately?

Because my work demands that I be able to answer quickly and precisely what I've done with such and such project, I've developed little tricks to protect this occasional unpredictable memory hiccup. I have schooled myself to do the exact same process, file the exact same way in the exact same place, put materials back in the exact place they always reside. That way when I have a sudden fracture of memory about what I did yesterday, I can answer with confidence what happened. I always do that particular thing that particular way. 99% of the time it works just fine.

But then there is that 1%.

I have been buried in a mountain of paper for the last dozen years. Not only do I have an enormous amount of paper of my own to ride herd on (and this doesn't even include the piles and piles of paper I have amassed in my genealogical endeavors which is threatening to topple over and smother me), I have been the administrator of my mother's financial and medical records for this period. To be honest, anyone who looked at my filing system would think I have a bad organization problem, but I generally know where to find what I need when I need it. That's because I have that policy to always follow my established routines.

So earlier this week when I went to the place I always keep her insurance cards and they weren't there - well, to put it bluntly, I flipped out. I checked the alternate places I keep them when I'm traveling and I leave them behind in case they are needed while I'm gone. They weren't there. I began to systematically tear the house apart looking for them.

Since I've been involved in the massive declutter project as described in the previous post, things are topsy turvy around here to say the least. I came to the conclusion that I had absent-mindedly tossed them into a box of "to be filed". I dragged out all the boxes that had paperwork in them and that had been temporarily relocated to await a new permanent home. Not there.

I nearly ripped the lining out of my briefcase, thinking they might have slipped through a gap. Not there. My purse got the first thorough cleaning in months with the hope that I might have tucked them in an odd pocket. Not there.

I knew they had to be in the house somewhere. This morning I started over from the top, re-checking all the logical places they might be. Then I proceeded to the illogical places where I sometimes stick something when I'm in a hurry, intending to return and deal with the item properly when I get back home. Then I proceeded to the completely inane places they might be. No luck.

And then I had one of those faint glimmers of memory suddenly come alive in the back of my mind. I remembered that I had taken a recent trip, after all the decluttering had started, and my usual place to put important documents while traveling was no longer where it was supposed to be when I had departed. I had decided to tuck the little pouch containing her insurance cards into a spot in my genealogy filing cabinet, intending to retrieve them as soon as I returned and before I forgot what I had done.

And then I forgot.

There was a huge sigh of relief when I opened that file drawer and found the little pouch nestling cozily against my DAR file.

I am just going to have to start paying attention. Has anybody seen my coffee cup?

LSW

Welcome 2010

I did not see the New Year in last night. I was exhausted and at 8:30 decided it was time to get myself to bed and let the New Year arrive without my help. Me and my little furry kids piled into bed, set the television to NCIS reruns that I had seen a dozen times and would not engage my brain, set the auto shut off on the television and we were asleep within minutes. Nobody moved for about 9 hours, which is remarkable. No cat spats, no doggy runs for a milk bone to sleep with, no bathroom trips. Just sleep.

Not a bad way to start the year. I don't sleep well any more, which seems to be a normal thing for folks my age, if the folks I work with are any gauge. I've learned to enjoy those rare nights where I reacquaint myself with a good night's sleep.

So, here we are in the new year. Year 2009 was full of both good and bad. What I may remember it best for, however, is as the Year of Clutter. I have been in the process of de-cluttering house and garage and storage shed for what seems like the entire year and the process is still in progress. It was a year spent in sifting and shifting and sorting and piling and tossing and trying to retrain myself to bring nothing in unless something went out. I wasn't entirely successful with that last part, but I'm getting better.

Year 2009 saw the dramatic arrival of Dixie to the household. I haven't yet decided if that is in the plus or minus column, but there is no denying that she has had a big effect on our lives. She is a ball of energy, but she is also a ball of purring love when the mood strikes her. She's given us a lot of laughs, which was something we needed to get us through the drudgery of digging through closets and boxes. She's developing into a beautiful cat and she has recently taken to tucking herself in next to me after I get to sleep, creating a pleasant warmth at my back. I guess I will admit that Dixie coming on board has been a good thing.

On the down side, it seemed to be a year of continuing exhaustion. It seemed like there was always work to be done, errands to be run, a growing to-do list and very little time left for recreation. My genealogy endeavors were, for the most part, shifted to the back burner and my dollhouse work and knitting were taken off the stove altogether. Thanks to audio books and a long commute, I still got a lot of "reading" done, but the stack of unread magazines and books has grown to a discouraging height, creating another pile of clutter that isn't going anywhere until I can devote some time to sitting in a chair and enjoying them properly rather than losing track of the story to the constant refrain running in my mind of things that aren't getting done because I'm sitting and reading.

In lieu of the mental focus necessary to make genealogy breakthroughs, I opted to look into using the material I already had to join the Daughters of the American Revolution and was successful into becoming a member in October. I began to concentrate in building up my personal research library and have acquired some long sought local histories. I made the acquaintance of several local historians and returned to attending the meetings of local historical groups.

While nothing was done to create new dollhouses or vignettes, I did attend the May miniatures show in Dallas, enjoying the work of others and acquiring a few pieces to enhance my already completed dollhouses.

While my sole achievement in knitting was to complete a scarf begun the previous year, I did locate my stash of luxury yarns during the decluttering and figured out a way to put them on display and I continued to keep up with the exploits of The Yarn Harlot via her blog, at least enjoying the craft vicariously through her.

While my to-do list of home repairs and upgrades continues to grow at a frightening rate, I did get the garage door and garage door opener replaced, the plumbing repairs done and the storage shed pretty much purged of unnecessary junk. I've dropped several loads at the thrift store and managed not to bring in any more furniture or junk from other folks' houses. I've even begun to find corners to put items that have been in storage since THE MOVE.

I met some far-flung cousins through the Internet. I joined Facebook and have come to love and appreciate in a new way my not-so-far-flung cousins that I had previously not had much contact with outside of holiday gatherings. I also discovered Facebook's time-wasting games, which is the down side, but I'm working on cutting my addiction there. I'm making progress. Really.

Another victim of my lack of mental focus has been my blogs. I have three resolutions as I begin this new year. One is to get back on my maintenance diet and shed the 10 pounds I've acquired in recent months from stress eating. The second is to get back to my organization project for the family history notebooks (all scribbled notes and sticky notes to be entered on the computer and all loose papers to be inserted in their proper place - secondarily to get back to transcribing all the new material that has been collecting on the corner of the desk).

The last resolution is to get back to the blogs. Woolgathering was started so that I could look back and remember what had happened in the previous year. Building Blocks was started so that I could have a separate venue for sharing family history and stories. Both have been sadly neglected, having fallen victim to my lack of mental focus that resulted from all the time that was spent hauling stuff out of the backs of closets.

That is going to change. I'm going to get back to the chronicles of my life and the lives of my ancestors. Starting today.

Here's to 2010! Happy New Year!

LSW

Whirligig

Dixie has had some new experiences this weekend. The first was when Mom lit a log in the fireplace yesterday. I had been concerned that she would burn a paw investigating, but she seemed to know better. She sat entranced, watching the flame, and then realized that it was giving off warmth. She curled up on the hearth and took a long nap for as long as the fire held out.

Sunday morning brought another new entertainment. Mom had purchased some yarn last weekend and needed to wind it into balls. Out came a weird contraption, the umbrella swift, that holds a skein of yarn so that it is possible to wind a ball without too many snarls along the way. She watched in fascination while 4 skeins were hung and 4 balls were wound.

She could not understand why Mom wouldn't let her have one of the balls of yarn to play with. So what if it was pricey baby alpaca? It would have been so much fun to unravel throughout the house. Isn't kitty entertainment of paramount importance in the scheme of things?

It was with some disgust that she watched the 4 balls of yarn disappear into Mom's knitting bag. I may have to lock the knitting bag in a closet when I go out for groceries in a little while.

LSW

An Afternoon of R and R

Today was a day to play. I've not felt much like playing lately. I've been tired, suffering from allergies and a bit on edge. I have not been inclined to go into Austin or San Marcos for Christmas shopping, primarily because I don't feel up to dealing with crowds and traffic. I was beginning to get a little stir crazy.

I had initially intended to go to a book signing in downtown Bastrop on Wednesday night, but the wet, cold weather had persuaded me to keep inside that night and instead attend the second book signing to be held in McDade this afternoon.

I figured as long as I was headed to McDade, I would start off in Elgin. The Elgin Antique Mall always has a month long sale between Thanksgiving and Christmas that I make a point to attend every year. I timed my arrival in Elgin for lunch time and ate a great plate of enchilades verdes at La Morelia, which is handily next door to the Antique Mall. Pleasantly full, I then spent the next 90 minutes leisurely prowling through one of my favorite places. I managed to talk myself out of the piece of furniture I had spotted a couple of weeks ago, but picked up a rare book of Mary Hardin-Baylor related material for a ridiculously low price and a vintage children's book of dog stories.

Speaking of dogs, as I entered the Antique Mall, a lady seated at the front of the store was holding a precious 7 week old rat terrier puppy. I don't think there is anything in the world that is cuter than a rat terrier puppy. It took all the control I had not to grab her and run.

I headed out for McDade, hoping to get an early spot in line for the book signing, and I drove up at exactly 3PM, when the event was to start. The book is a new history of the volatile history of McDade called Silent Night, Deadly Night and deals primarily with the infamous Christmas hangings of 1883. I have communicated with the author via email for a couple of years now (we Bastrop historians have a way of finding each other) and had met her when she gave a presentation to the Bastrop County Historical Society a couple of months ago. We had a brief opportunity to visit before she got involved with the steady stream of locals who were arriving to purchase the book. It was a nice crowd that assembled and I actually knew a few of the attendees, including a distant Mobley cousin who always greets me with a big hug when we run into each other.

I took the opportunity to take a few pictures as I left, including the water tower that is a fixture in an old photo of my Mobley great-great grandparents circa 1910.

Joseph & Mary Caroline Mobley
with the McDade water tower in the background

I had succeeded in getting in and out of the book signing quickly, so I decided I would follow up on a bit of information I had picked up last weekend at the Harvest Art fest. In conversation with one of the vendors, I had learned there was a new yarn shop in Paige and I was aching to check it out. So there being no time like the present, I headed on toward Paige.

I was astounded to discover that Yarnorama is no ordinary yarn shop but rather one of the special ones. I entered the store to find a half-dozen women busy with spinning wheels and in animated conversation. Just past them was a fabulous array of yarn, books, tools and knitted shawls, scarves and sweaters. The money I saved at the Antique Mall got spent in a hurry. I was invited to join their regular spinning sessions and as soon as I get my spinning wheel back in working order, I may just take them up on the invitation. This is the kind of yarn shop I always wanted to have myself. I even got to pet the angora rabbit that was supervising the place.

I really enjoyed my afternoon of wandering around Bastrop County. I got to eat my favorite food, spend time prowling an antique store, visit with some old friends and some new friends, take some pictures, explore a new yarn store with a great atmosphere, pet a puppy nose and scratch some rabbit ears and all on a beautiful, crisp Texas day.

Who needs Christmas shopping at a mall?

LSW

Boo Goes For a Ride

For the length of the time that Boo and Scout have lived with me, there has been a cat condo/tower in the corner of the living room, reaching up to within a foot or two of the ceiling. When they were kittens, they would zoom up to the top and down to the floor in a blur of motion but now that they are grown it generally serves one purpose. I keep their dry food in one of the cubicles that is high enough to be out of reach of dog moochers.

The bottom of the tower had gotten into an unsightly mess, partly from food jibbles and partly due to a certain little boy dog I could mention who passes by every so often and expresses his opinion of cats against one of the legs. I decided a few weeks ago that I would dismantle the thing and figure out some other place to put their feeding station.

When I gave it a good look this past weekend, I came to the conclusion that there was still some life in it, but I wanted it in a less conspicuous place. So I cleaned it up with the vacuum cleaner and some carpet shampoo and decided to move it into a corner in the bedroom.

Scout and Dixie were a little disturbed at the whole process and went to the far reaches of the house until it was over, but not Boo. While I worked on the thing, he sat in the uppermost tray studying me. When it came time to move it, I suggested he get down. He blinked at me and continued to sit.

Ok, buster, I said, suit yourself. The thing is a clumsy assortment of poles and platforms and the only way I could move it was to grab a couple of corners and begin to awkwardly bounce it along the floor. I figured Boo would bolt, but I was wrong.

As I proceeded to bounce the thing across the living room floor and then down the hall, he continued to sit in the top tray, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. The little squirt was enjoying the ride and it had the added excitement of putting him close to light fixtures and pictures on the wall that he normally couldn't examine.

Down the hall we went and then we came to the door into the bedroom. The top tray had about 2 inches of clearance and the assorted platforms had to be moved one at a time, first this way and then that way, as I proceeded to wiggle the whole thing into the bedroom. There was no room for a 12-pound cat at the top, but he refused to move. He just flattened himself into the tray and hung on. I swear I heard some cat giggling as I struggled to get all the odd angles through that door.

We finally made it and he was still in the top tray and observing with interest the approaching ceiling fan. He toyed briefly with the idea of jumping up on top of the blades, but fortunately decided against it. We bounced on into the new location.

I think Boo has decided this is where the cat tower should have been all along. He had virtually ignored it for months, except at meal times. Now I keep looking over in the corner of the bedroom and find him back up in that topmost tray, blinking at me across the room and looking like he thinks he is the potentate surveying his kingdom.

I'm so glad to have a purpose in life. If nothing else, I entertain cats.

LSW

The Secret Life of a Little Dog

Until the last week or so, I thought that Coco spent most of her free time napping or monitoring the folks who take their walks past the house. I never dreamed she was surfing the Internet.

It turns out that Miss Coco has joined Facebook and is making friends right and left. She is playing Farm Town, Farmville, Country Life, Cafe World and Yoville. She is uploading photos. My little girl has become computer proficient.

Well, the truth of the matter is that I was having trouble acquiring enough neighbors to level up in those Facebook games. I knew it was no good asking little brother to establish a presence in the games (the boy just doesn't have that gamer's gene), so I set out to wheedle and cajole Miss Coco into signing up for Facebook. I promised her she would not have to spend any more time online than it would take to accept me as a neighbor here and there. Once a day she could sign in, send me the gifts I wanted, and sign out. Nothing to it.

I should have known better. I knew Facebook was addictive. She started slowly, dabbling with the games after she would send me the daily free gift. It only took a couple of days before I began to catch her sneaking off to the bedroom to use my laptop. The email address I had set up for her began receiving friend requests. She began to pad her profile to make herself sound more interesting to potential friends.

I think I may have created a monster. She's beginning to growl about our bandwidth. She cuts our walks short with the terse comment, "I have to get back and harvest my crops." I snuck a look at her News Feed and found that she is getting posts from Pit Bull rescue groups and offers for coupons to dog spas.

And worst of all? I think her friends list is going to get bigger than mine.

LSW

Home Visit

The wayfaring Wilcoxen kids touched base with home this past weekend. As preacher kids, we bounced around quite a bit as children, but we landed in Smiley in 1964 and stayed for 9 years, the longest stretch our father spent as a pastor in any one place. It was a marvelous little place to grow up in--everybody knew everybody else and watched out for each other. I remember the summers best. Long stretches of lazy days to read, go over to the church to practice the piano, walk down to the small public library that had the best collection of Nancy Drew books I ever ran across, or stop in at the little drug store for a large limeade on a hot afternoon. It was small town living at its best and I will be forever grateful it was my fortune to live there as I plodded my way from 4th grade to High School graduation.

David with Coco, Cindy with Mojo on the steps of the First Baptist Church

As I was working at home one day this week, I listened for a few minutes to "The View" as Whoopi Goldberg ruminated post-birthday on what it was like to grow up in the 1960s. (I normally do not watch/listen to "The View". One of these days I swear I'm going to throw something heavy at Elizabeth Hasselbeck. A more perfectly annoying woman I have never known.) Whoopi is only a year younger than me and as I listened to her describe the days of her childhood, I immediately pictured my own in Smiley.

I can't remember a lot of what she said, but there was a part in there about how a kid could disappear at 9am, reappear at supper time, and nobody knew where you were for the entire day and there was no way to get hold of you until you showed up and it was perfectly ok. Back then you were free to explore and go find kids to play with and the main thing was to stay out of your mother's hair. You knew what you were allowed to do, you knew what you were not supposed to do, you knew if you strayed off the allowed path you were going to get punished (and every eye in the community was on you so there was no avoiding the day of judgment - your parents were going to know exactly when and where you fell from grace before you even made it home), you learned to make friends without benefit of social networking groups (what on earth was life like without the Internet?), and you were vibrant with health because you were outside in the fresh air playing instead of inside slumped in a chair staring at electronic displays.

That was growing up in Smiley. I never ever walked anywhere without at least two people stopping to offer a ride to wherever it was I was headed. I never feared walking home from school even in the dark; every house along the way was a place of refuge if needed. So long as I told my mother where I was headed and when I expected to be back and was careful to extract permission if it was going to be necessary to cross "The Highway" that ran through town, I was free to wander the town on foot or bicycle or sometimes roller skates.

I spent many hours sitting in a swing in the front yard, watching the traffic go by the house, waving at most of the cars because I knew just about everyone who drove by. While I sat there, I would sing to myself or read the latest books obtained from the library, and the days were lazy and peaceful. I wish I could grab just a few minutes of that carefree feeling now.

The occasional visit to Smiley reminds me of those great summers growing up. The tree where I spent time sitting in the perfect seat formed by its branches, hidden from view, is gone now. But the long sidewalks around the church, where I biked and roller skated are still there. The drug store closed long ago, but the little grocery just down the street is still there. The library moved from main street to a little house across from the parsonage. I would have been in hog heaven if that had happened while we still lived there. Mrs. Culpepper's house down on the corner is still standing, but the big old dilapidated house that sat kitty-cornered to it across "The Highway" was finally razed and replaced by a bank some years ago. Things change in the little town, but underneath it's still home.

We were in Smiley last Sunday to check on Daddy's grave. We planted some ground cover and some irises and hopefully when we check on it next spring, they will have flourished. It made sense to us to bury him in Smiley. Smiley is home. We will keep coming back and in my mind's eye it will be a lazy, peaceful summer again.

David, Karen & supervisor Mojo work on weeding and planting

LSW

Recovery Ward

Just a brief pause in normal proceedings to catch up on the sick ward. While I was in Houston, Mojo and Coco had dental procedures and Dixie had her spaying and declawing done. All are home and well at this point, but it has not been all roses.

It took a good 48 hours to get the effects of the anesthesia out of Coco's system. She slept for the better part of the first day home, getting up to eat and to make quick trips outside, and then returning to her base camp on the chaise to sleep some more. In addition to her dental, she had a little growth removed from her ear and for the moment Mommy is forbidden to mess with her ear. I have to check its progress from a distance. (If you have ever had an acne cyst removed, it was somewhat akin to that - just a little pocket that collected goo.) Her teeth are beautiful, although she lost two molars that had come loose, and her ear is beginning to settle down now.

Mojo had a dental as well. I always worry about him when I leave him somewhere because he suffers from the odd epileptic seizure when he is under stress. He made it through his boarding, his dental and recovery just fine, with extra caution having been taken with his anesthesia to reduce the possibility of triggering a seizure. Once he was home, however, he was anxious and would not let me out of his sight. He seemed to be doing okay until I was getting ready to go to work on a morning last week when it was raining (both he and Coco are terrified of thunder), and the extra stress produced the seizure I had been half-expecting all along. Now he has settled down somewhat, but is still a bit nervous, especially about going outside and getting too far from the house and safety.

Dixie came home with post-anesthetic inebriation that was almost comical. She fell over and ran into walls and gazed at you with dilated eyes. She was definitely on some medicated trip, but she did not seem to be suffering any pain and she came home with two more days of pain meds that kept her sleeping. However, over the weekend she developed a worrisome cough. I ended up taking her back to the vet on Monday morning where they came to the conclusion that she had developed a throat infection from the intubation during surgery. More antibiotics and anti-inflammatory drugs were administered and now she is back to her old self. Scout is running for her life and Boo is regularly boxing Dixie's ears. It is one of those cases where you are glad to see your rotten little kid getting back to normal. A sick Dixie is a sad sight.

There are times when I am thankful I do not have to put my 5 kids through college or buy them the latest fashion fad or worry about them driving or doing drugs. However, I'm here to tell you that having 3 sets of medical procedures performed in one week, plus a revisit for the cough, plus the boarding fees gets expensive.

Shoot, my nerves got so bad during this recovery period that I even ran out of amaretto and had to go get another bottle. It's a good thing we were staying with a cousin while in Houston and didn't have plane fares and hotel rooms to pay for. My travel budget for the year has gone flat, thanks to the travel expenses of the dogs and cat.

LSW

A Week on the Road, Part Last

As a final note for part 4 of the vacation travelogue, here is a hint of a miniatures scene to come:

As you can tell, there was no way I could leave this little display cabinet behind. It wants to be an Egyptian vignette.

Our last day of vacation dawned with beautiful weather. We ended our visit with Maxine with a leisurely breakfast at IHOP and a careful job of packing the car for the return trip. It was quickly apparent that we would need to stop off at home for an unloading before we went on to bail Mojo, Coco and Dixie out of the hospital. We decided to drive up through the countryside and hit I-10 well out of Houston.

Right. We were talking 90 to nothing on the way out of Friendswood and about twenty minutes later realized we had forgotten about the need to turn right and head toward Alvin. We realized that when we saw the sign welcoming us to League City, which is in the exact opposite direction of the way we had intended to travel. There was no choice but to hop on I-45 to take us to the Sam Houston Tollway and then to I-10 in downtown Houston. How better to end a vacation in Houston but to drive on all the feared freeways?

Fortunately the good weather and our having waited until after the main rush hour to depart led to an uneventual trip through the freeway puzzle and we were topping the hill outside of Smithville shortly after noon. As we neared Smithville, I remembered a store there that I thought Lana would enjoy, so we veered off to downtown and we spent a nice hour browsing Feather Your Nest. Of course, we added to our pile of goodies in the back seat.

By this time we were hungry and tired of travel, so we made a brief stop at home to drop off luggage and our pile of purchases and then headed to Elgin to rescue the animals. We ate some good Mexican food at La Morelia and then had a joyous reunion with the wee ones, all of whom were still just a bit drunk from their procedures the day before.

When we got home, everyone was just a little bit miffed with Mommy so they clustered around Lana and gave me baleful looks. Dixie was still somewhat sedated with pain meds and was literally bumping into walls. Coco and Mojo spent most of the remainder of the day catching up on their sleep. Boo and Scout had been exceptionally good during their stay at home alone (only one roll of toilet tissue was shredded).

We had one final vacation event that night. In our tour of Bastrop on Monday, we had been invited to come to a performance of the play that was currently playing at the Opera House. We decided that we needed to experience the ambience of the theater before committing to it as the location for the UDC's January event, so we joined a moderately sized, enthusiastic audience for that evening's performance of "Murder by Poe".

We thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The mystery stories of Edgar Allen Poe served as the backdrop to the play, which each story being re-enacted for the audience within the framework of an over-arcing storyline involving a mysterious woman in white who was seeking refuge in a sinister house in the woods. The performance was by turns comic and tragic and each tale brought surprises springing from closets and balconies and even one from below the stage. I won't say more except to recommend that you see the play if you have the opportunity. The ending was another surprising twist that brought all of the elements together in a conclusion that I did not see coming. I will be looking forward with anticipation of future productions.

Thus ended our fall 2009 vacation. We found that we could see just as much, eat just as well, buy just as much, and have just as many unexpected detours along the way as when we fly half-way across the country. Can't wait for the next excursion in spring 2010.

For now, it's back to work!

LSW

A Week on the Road, Part Four

Overnight a weather system came on shore from the Gulf and brought with it rain and wind and a tornado watch. We cancelled our planned breakfast out in favor of staying inside until the weather had settled down. We were to meet Lana's sister for lunch in Alvin and we were relieved when the rain and wind died down mid-morning in plenty of time for us to make our appointment.

It is hard for the casual visitor to know when Friendswood stops and Alvin starts. It was only a 15 minute drive to our meeting spot and did not involve a freeway, which was a relief considering the weather. It was cool and misty, but eventually the rain tapered off and we had a pleasant day of sight-seeing in Alvin.

What you may ask is there to see in Alvin? Well, lots as it turns out. After meeting up with Janie at Buddy's Old Time Services, a car repair shop she owns with her husband, we set out to locate a couple of parcels of property that my ancestor Dr. Henry Hodge had owned around the turn of the century. (We have to have a requisite amount of genealogy per day on our trips.) I had determined the addresses of the two tracts, so we set out to find them. It turned out that both were on the main street that runs through Alvin.

It is too bad that my Hodge ancestors did not hang onto some of the property they acquired. Dr. Henry owned acreage in Lee County, town lots in Lockhart, acreage in Brazoria County, and town lots in Roby. In Alvin, he owned both sides of an alley that currently runs alongside a bank:


and two lots where there is presently a Mexican Restaurant:

In wondering what might have resided at these locations when Dr. Henry owned the property, Janie took us to the museum where we were able to look at an old plat of the town and confirm that we had located the correct lots, but there were no old photos available of the properties in question. Later in the day we met a gentleman at City Hall who did not have photos either, but he was able to tell us a little about what was going on in the town at that point in history. I don't think it had quite sunk in for me until we talked to him that Alvin would have suffered damages from the great 1900 hurricane that devastated nearby Galveston. Only 17 structures remained standing in the town after the storm, so whatever had sat on the property when Dr. Henry bought it, it was most probably not in existence at the time the family sold it after his death in 1904.

That concluded our genealogical portion of the day. The rest of the day was just fun. The three of us girls went to the Alvin Antique Center and Marketplace. We started our visit with lunch in the Milk Pail, a wonderful little tea room at the rear of the store. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was wonderful if you love antiques, fine china and tea party elegance. After filling up on their tasty chicken salad, tomato basil soup and bread pudding with rum sauce (I had lemon zest cake instead of bread pudding because I can never resist a lemon cake), we spent the next few hours browsing the large antique mall.

Needless to say, we added more to our back seat. Lana made a great find of a half-dozen vintage hats, some vintage doilies and a greyhound figurine. I found more books.

Not long ago I ran across a complete set of the Golden Books Children's Encycopedia, a set I had owned as a child and could remember reading to tatters. I had purchased that set and given it a place of honor in my living room. I had not known until now that there was a companion 6 volume set of atlases. I found the complete set of atlases in Alvin and now they have been added to my collection.

I also found a display cabinet for a future miniature scene and it was this small cabinet that was the real problem to tote home. It was a 2-foot high glass pyramid with one interior shelf that I intend to use for an Egyptian scene. Of course they did not have a box that would fit it, so it was wrapped carefully in tissue and I held it in my lap all the way back to my car, where we carefully packed it with blankets in the back passenger floor space.

Lana's hats were individually wrapped in white plastic bags and we carefully placed those in a single layer in the luggage compartment. (When we packed to come home, they were carefully positioned across the top of our luggage to prevent their being crushed.)

Despite the temptation, I did not purchase the oak side chair that I thought was such a good buy. It wasn't because I have will power but because I could not figure out how it would fit in the car to come home.

...to be continued one more time...

LSW

A Week on the Road, Part Three

We arrived in Friendswood safely, with only a moderate case of jangled nerves. The freeways in Houston aren't really any worse than those of Austin or Dallas, but the drivers are considerably more aggressive. They whip in and out of lanes at maximum speed with inches of clearance and they are not at all hesitant to let you know when you have committed the unforgiveable sin of being a courteous, careful driver. God forbid you leave a safe distance between you and the car in front of you. That is an invitation to have someone attempt crossing 4 lanes at one swoop.

Looking at the map, we had estimated it would take a half hour to make our journey and were a little disbelieving when the dollhouse store proprietor had told us it would take more like an hour and a half. Always listen to the locals, because that was exactly how long it took us to negotiate I-45 a distance of twenty miles.

We arrived at Cousin Maxine's and were welcomed literally with open arms. Cousin Maxine and I are 4th cousins in a shared Mobley line (Reason Mobley is great-great-great-grandfather to us both). She is a genealogist par excellance and retired about ten years ago from the top post of Houston's Clayton Library, a major genealogical research center in the United States (probably 3rd behind Salt Lake City's Family History Library and Fort Wayne's Allen County Library). She knows every nook and cranny and resource they have to offer and had volunteered to be our personal guide for a day at her library.

Cousin Maxine's house is also a fairly impressive research center. One bedroom of her house is lined with bookshelves that hold her collection of reference books. Another bedroom holds her computer and is also lined with bookshelves that hold the notebooks containing her years and years of family research. There are multiple file cabinets and I did not even look inside the closets. Bottom line, if you are researching Mobleys and Lewises, she's your go-to gal. Someday I hope to have a home research library just like hers. It's a great way to spend your retirement years. Just walk down the hall in the morning and you are in business.

Thankfully Maxine knew a way to get to the library that did not involve I-45, so we arrived about five minutes after they opened and with unjangled nerves. We were delighted to discover that they were in the midst of their annual book sale. Books that had been donated that duplicated books they already had were being offered for sale at ridiculously low prices. I bought 10 or 12 books - mostly thick books that take up a lot of room. Lana bought another half-dozen. The back seat was beginning to fill up.

We had the forethought to bring along a picnic lunch to eat in their snack room, so we never had to move from our sunny (mostly, but in late afternoon rain clouds moved in) table next to the Georgia bookshelves. I spent some time exploring their microfilm collection and was able to eliminate yet two other Texas counties where my missing marriage record might be lurking. We happily worked until 4:30, when we pooped out and headed for home. We ate supper on the way, so by the time we arrived home we were resuscitated enough to head to the back bedrooms and continue our research in Maxine's library.

It was very gratifying at the end of our research day when Maxine pronounced that we were very able researchers. She has worked with the best and we felt that was high praise indeed. We spent some time each evening of our visit batting around ideas for breaking through our brick walls and getting her objective opinion on some questionable records we had found. We thoroughly enjoyed our day in the company of such a knowledgeable researcher.

The next day took us in a different direction, to be covered in the next post.

In a slight detour from topic, it has been interesting today to observe Miss Dixie's recovery from surgery. She has not seemed to feel bad, but she wants to be close to Mommy and she doesn't want to share Mommy with the other kids. She hovers nearby when I am on the computer, keeping an eye on me.

Both Boo and Scout have been spending time in my lap today, happy to have life back to normal. I was amused at one point when Dixie stood it as long as she could from her vantage point on the desk, reached over and bit Scout's back hard to get her to leave. The next interloper was Mojo, who Dixie didn't dare bite. She took a different approach, reaching out to touch him with her paw until he got irritated enough to move down to the dog bed under the desk. At that point, Dixie decided she might ought to claim Mommy's lap for herself and she oozed down into position, where she took a nice long nap.

"I've been sick."

...next installment, locating Dr. Henry's property in Alvin.

LSW

A Week on the Road, Part Two

Day two found us up early. Big Red was packed to the rafters with everything but the kitchen sink. Leaving on a trip requires preparations similar to those required for a military invasion. On this occasion I decided to risk leaving Boo and Scout at home, but Dixie, Mojo and Coco were spending the week with the vet. Dixie was scheduled for her spaying and the two dogs were having dentals while I was off gallivanting in the wilds of Houston.

So the back seat was full of pet carriers that were full of dogs and cat, their bags of food, their toys and leashes, our cooler of drinks and bag of snacks, camera bags, etc., while the rear compartment was full of suitcases, briefcases, totes full of family notebooks, makeup bags, a sleeping bag and pillow (I was to be sleeping on a cushy couch). We were full to capacity, a fact that would become problematic at a later point in my story. A mere 17 miles later and we checked the dogs and cat into their rooms at the vet and our vacation was officially begun.

For the first stop at a point of interest, I introduced Lana to an important site of Texas Baptist history. My alma mater Mary Hardin-Baylor College and that other Baptist college in Waco had their beginnings in 1845 in Independence, Texas. (Independence also claims the distinction of "Birthplace of Texas".) The girls' college sat on one hill and the boys' college sat across the valley on another hill. Baylor Female College eventually moved to Belton and became Mary Hardin-Baylor while the boys' college moved to Waco and became Baylor University. All that remains of the original buildings is a set of columns that belonged to the girls dormitory. We alumni of Mary Hardin-Baylor feel the need to return to this touchstone from time to time.

Old Baylor ruins at Independence, Texas

The last time I had my picture taken in the archway of the columns was in the early 1980s. To those of us steeped in the traditions of Mary Hardin-Baylor, to stand in the archway is to feel like you have come home.

Just down the road is Washington-on-the-Brazos, where the Texas Declaration of Independence from Mexico was signed in 1836. There is a very nice Visitors Center there and we stopped for a brief visit.

The next item on our agenda was to stop at the Grimes County courthouse to check their indexes for possible records of my peripatetic ancestor, Dr. Henry Hodge. The Grimes county seat is in Anderson, a tiny little town that grabbed that distinction before neighboring Navasota overtook it in growth. We were surprised at the lovely courthouse that sits on an island in the center of a traffic crossroads.

Grimes County Courthouse in Anderson, Texas

My hopes to find a missing marriage record here were dashed, but even proving theories wrong is time well spent in the pursuit of ancestors. We quickly checked their deed records as well. This is apparently one of the rare places that ole Hank lived where he did not buy and sell any property.

So we were soon on our way again, this time to visit Dollhouses Unlimited in Spring. Oddly enough, Lana and I are not only fellow genealogists, we are also fellow miniaturists and we try to visit any dollhouse store that is in close proximity while on our research trips. We spent a little over an hour prowling through a store that was new to us. We naturally each acquired a pile of little things for our miniature projects.

So far, so good. We had only added a few small bags to the car, which thanks to our having dropped the pet carriers and pet food off earlier, fit easily into the back seat. It was time to head to the home of Cousin Maxine in Friendswood, where we would be staying for three nights.

Friendswood is directly south of Spring, with Houston lying between the two. There was no way to get there without entering the bowl of freeway spaghetti, so we took a deep breath and dived in. We were about 20 miles from Friendswood as the crow flies. About 90 minutes away as the Houstonian drives. And it was rush hour.

...to be continued

LSW

A Week on the Road, Part One

The semi-annual traveling road show that is Cindy's and Lana's continuing excellent adventure series took place this past week. We decided to do our traveling within the State of Texas this year and on this trip we headed off to the Houston area.

I don't look forward to driving in Houston, but the fact is that one of the nation's best genealogical research libraries is located there and we periodically venture into the rat's nest of freeways in order to partake of the wonderful resources to be found there. More on that later.

Before we left Bastrop, we spent a day scouting for a location that the United Daughters of the Confederacy could use for their January celebration of Confederate Heroes Day. We started with the museum maintained by the Bastrop County Historical Society, thinking that might be the solution. We had a nice visit with the curator and in the course of the conversation, I asked her about a photo I had heard was to be found there of Matthew Dunkin, an ancestor on the Mobley side of the family. She was at a loss until she thought of a book in their collection and when she brought it out for us to examine, I was surprised to see that it was a relatively new book on the history of McDade that I had missed getting a copy of when it came out last summer. Again, more on that later.

We were concerned that the museum might not be large enough to handle the gathering in January, so we proceded up the street to check out the meeting room at the old First National Bank building. We enjoyed a nice conversation with the volunteer who was staffing the Visitors Center that day and with a lady who heads the Main Street project. The interior of the Visitiors Center houses the original bank counters, brass teller's cages and vaults of the old bank, as well as photos of historic Bastrop along the walls. It was rather like briefly stepping back into the 1880s and I could picture my ancestors stopping in to withdraw money from their accounts.

During our visit, we got a nice lead on a possible meeting place and our next stop was the historic Bastrop Opera House. We met the gentleman who manages the operations there and got a personal tour of the facilities. The Opera House is a lovely old building that dates back to the 1890s and live theater productions are staged there on a regular basis. During the course of our conversation, we were invited to come back on Friday night to see their latest production, "Murder by Poe". As you may be expecting at this point, more on that later. The Opera House turned out to be an ideal location for the January event.

Happy that we had hit on a solution for the UDC's needs, we spent some time touring Bastrop and I began to try and make contact with the local author of the McDade book, hoping to be able to obtain a copy to add to my local history collection. Late in the afternoon, I reached her and made arrangements to drive out that evening to her home in McDade to pick up the book.

I'm always surprised to find out how many people in the area know me or know of me through my website. Audrey knew immediately who I was and of my family's connection to the history of McDade pottery. At one point she casually mentioned that my great-grandmother Hodge's house is still standing. That was news to me, since Mother had been under the impression that it had long since been torn down. She was born in that house and we had tried some years before to locate it, and failing to do so had come to the conclusion that it no longer existed. Audrey gave me directions and I was able to go by and get photos before dark.

The house that once belonged to Cora Mobley Hodge.

A photo taken probably in the 1920s on the porch of that house.
(Second from left is Cora Hodge, seated is Mary Caroline Mobley.)

...to be continued

LSW

Being a Social Butterfly

The welcome relief of some cooler temperatures has brought with it the desire to get out and do things again after a summer of hiding inside to avoid heatstroke. This week has been rich with opportunities to socialize.

On Thursday night I attended the quarterly meeting of the Bastrop County Historical Society. This time we met in the older portion of the county courthouse, in the second floor courtroom, for a presentation on the outlaw activity in and around McDade during the mid to late 1800s. I had not been to one of their meetings in quite some time and it was nice to be back. The speaker was someone with whom I had been exchanging emails for several months and had not yet met. Lisa is a native and current resident of Ontario, Canada, but has adopted McDade as a second home. A dozen years ago she read a book about the infamous 1883 Christmas murders which inspired a passion to research that era in McDade's history. She has spent an enormous amount of time digging in the archives at the courthouse, unraveling the facts of who was involved and what really happened.

The program was well attended and it became quickly evident that a lot of us local historians have personal reasons to be interested in this particular subject. (My Mobley line has a connection to a man who was murdered by the McDade vigilantes.) It was a very enjoyable evening and it was nice to finally meet my email pen-pal.

This morning, I headed to the Oak Hill Cemetery in the Camp Swift area of McDade for the dedication of a memorial marker honoring the Confederate service of great-great-granduncle Hezekiah Madison Mobley. A chapter of the Sons of Confederate Veterans group out of Kerrville was involved in the dedication and brought a half-dozen or so of their members in full Confederate dress, along with their guns and cannons.

These cannons and guns were fired at various intervals during the ceremonies and never failed to make me jump.

Just before the ceremonies began, we had an unexpected additional entertainment. The National Guard was apparently running some maneuvers over at Camp Swift. Large troop helicopters would fly over and then drop out a group of para-jumpers. About three large clusters of parachutes floated through the sky just before we started. It was an impressive display.

The dedication ceremonies included participation by great, great-great, and great-great-great grandchildren of Hezekiah and Sarah (Jones) Mobley. One of his great-great grandsons, Scott Dunbar, a member of the SCV group in attendance, gave a detailed biography of Hezekiah and an overview of the battles he would have experienced. Of the five sons of Reason and Lucretia Mobley, Hezekiah and his brother Joseph (my great-great grandfather) survived the war. Their three brothers perished in battle.

At the close of his talk, two great-grandchildren unveiled the new monument that has been added to Hezekiah's gravesite.

The ceremonies ended with the tolling of a bell and the playing of "Taps". In addition to the participation of the Sons of Confederate Veterans, two ladies from the Order of the Confederate Rose placed roses on the graves of both Hezekiah and Sarah. Hearing Hezekiah's story and experiencing these tributes to his military service was most moving and it was a privilege to be present and a part of the occasion.

This event brought another opportunity to meet some fellow researchers I had known only via connections on the Internet. I enjoyed a brief conversation with two Dunkin researchers and we patted each other on the back for our respective genealogical websites. (Hezekiah's mother was Lucretia Dunkin, sister of Matthew Dunkin who began the McDade pottery.) I also had the pleasure of visiting again with two Mobley cousins who have helped me in the cause of my research in that line.

The morning alone would have made for a great day, but I wasn't done just yet. From there I went on to the annual Cattlemen for Cancer Research fundraiser in Hills Prairie where I got to visit with kinfolks on the Hodge side of the family (the Pattons and the Pekars) and eat some barbecue. Finally, about 3 o'clock, I ran out of steam and headed home.

Nothing suits me better than a chance to pursue my interest in history and a chance to mingle with family. This has definitely been a good week and next week I'm scheduled to visit another cousin who is as big or bigger a genealogy nut than I am.

It's nice to get back into action.

LSW

Twelve Years Ago

I was working on the horrible closet cleaning project again last weekend and uncovered a box that I had almost forgotten was in there. I had sealed that box back in 1997 and it has sat in the dim corner of the storage closet ever since. It was pushed to the back of my memory, but as soon as I saw it, I knew immediately what it contained.

Twelve years ago today I attended a concert at the Performing Arts Center in Austin with a good friend of mine. It was the second time we had gone together to see this particular performer and we had debated whether we would go. He was no longer wildly popular as he had been in his prime, back in the '70s. The first time he had come to Austin he had sold out the Erwin Center. I didn't get to attend that concert. It was several years later that she and Mother and I had gone to see him at the Erwin Center and at that point the concert was staged using only half of the massive arena.

I thoroughly enjoyed that first opportunity to hear him in person, but the night was not an unqualified success. He had been a little irritable that night. The performance was great, but there were some disgruntled remarks made (justly so) about the state of Austin's downtown district and he seemed a little put out that we weren't familiar with and readily singing along with the songs from his latest album. I enjoyed the experience, but it had left a tiny bit of sour taste in my mouth and I thought carefully whether I really wanted to go see him again when the opportunity arose in 1997.

We conferred and decided that this might be the last time he came to Austin and we still loved his music and that yes, we would go. We took some ribbing from our friends when we bought the tickets, because it was no longer in vogue to be his fan. We headed to the concert that night, and discovered there were a lot of us loyal fans left in the area.

He was in a fantastic mood that night at the PAC. The acoustics of that auditorium are fantastic and his voice was probably better than it had ever been, strong and pure and never faltering on the high notes. He joked, he told stories, he sang every familiar favorite and a few new songs that we had not yet heard. He played the heck out of his guitar. We left on a musical high. We were so happy that we had attended that concert and had the opportunity to hear him in such a wonderful performance.

It was exactly one week later that we heard the tragic news of his death. The appearance in Austin had been the next to last concert of his life. He had been in California, piloting a new plane he had just acquired. Something went wrong and John Denver died when the plane crashed.

It is always something of a shock to hear of the sudden death of a celebrity, but it is even more of a shock when you just saw that person in vibrant health. I was devastated, but also thankful that I had had the opportunity to see him again and to hear him again. I was grateful that the concert had been such a positive experience, with John singing better than ever.

A funny thing happened at this point. Naturally his music got a lot of airplay for a week or so following his death, but I couldn't bear to listen to it. It was a very long time before I could bring myself to listen to the John Denver albums I owned. I took advantage of the opportunity to buy the CDs that were quickly reissued after his death, but they sat in the cabinet unheard. I had not yet worn the T-shirt I had bought at his concert and I never did wear it. I gathered the T-shirt, the ticket stub, the news articles and the People magazine tribute, placed them in a plastic bag and packed them away.

A few months earlier had seen the sudden death of another celebrity. Princess Diana had been tragically killed at the end of August. I had accumulated a number of magazine tributes, the special CD issued by Elton John and the newspaper announcing her death. These, too, I had placed in a large plastic bag.

I stopped by The Container Store one day and bought a pristine white box. Into that I had put all the Princess Diana material and all the John Denver material, sealed the box and placed it in the back of the closet. There it sat until I ran across it this week.

After twelve years, I can listen to his music again. I can even sing along now without getting choked up. But there are songs that he sang that night that I still can't listen to without feeling a twinge of pain. We had such a great sense of happiness and such a wonderful sense of comaraderie that night when he performed Dreamland Express, he singing the verses and the audience singing the chorus. Whenever I think of that concert, I think of that song. I discovered this past week that someone who attended that night has posted audio clips from the concert on YouTube. The quality is lousy, but as soon as I clicked on the link to hear Dreamland Express, I was transported there. A brief moment in time with a group of people who were in full enjoyment of an artist's work.

It was a privilege to be there and I will be forever thankful that I made the decision to go. I will always picture John Denver the way he was that night - relaxed, happy, and giving a flawless performance for his fans.

LSW

A Day in the Life of a Mean Widdle Kid

I know there are some of you out there who remember Red Skelton's Mean Widdle Kid. "If I dood it, I get in trouble....I dood it!"

This has become Dixie's philosophy of life.

Dixie's day begins at 5am - if she has been sequestered in the bathroom for fighting with Scout at midnight, she begins meowing to remind Mom that she was unjustly accused and incarcerated. If she has spent the night freely roaming the house, she pounces on Mom's nose to let her know that the alarm will be going off in a few minutes.

5:15 am, 5:30 am, 5:45 am and 6:00 am - she picks herself up from where Mom has flung her off the bed and marches out of the room in a huff, muttering under her breath.

6:05 am - she walks Mom to the pantry to show her where the cat food is kept. This is not just a walk, but her opportunity to help Mom wake up by creating an obstacle course, weaving into and out of Mom's path as as the aged parent blearily stumbles to the kitchen.

6:30 am - she launches her first attack of the morning on Boo or Scout, whichever one happens to be visiting the litter box. Nothing like freaking out a housemate by springing on them while their attention is otherwise occupied. She has assisted in greatly improving Boo's standing broad jump since she arrived.

6:35 am - she uses the litter box herself and complains about the way that Boo or Scout flung litter all over the room when they departed in haste.

7:00 am - she helps Mom with the ironing of the day's outfit by grabbing the iron cord and biting Mom's toes.

7:01 am - she nimbly dodges Mom's swat at her little hiney.

7:05 am thru approximately 10:30 am - she hounds Scout, chasing and biting and running upstairs and downstairs

10:30 am - nap time, which may last 5 minutes or may last 5 hours. Naps are interspersed with trips to the litter box and assaults on Boo and Scout. Unless Mom is working at home, in which case, she repeatedly lands on the desk and is repeatedly ejected, lands on the work table and watches tv for awhile, and then starts again with landing on the desk and flying through the air away from the desk - until

approx 5:00 pm - Mom gets home from work and it's time to see how many times she can get the poor woman to say "Stop it!" before

7:00 pm - supper time, when it is time to remind Mom repeatedly that it is supper time in a loud and strident voice until Mom gives up and opens a new package of expensive cat food, after being shown again where we keep it, with the weaving in and out of her path, and then sniffing the food and declaring that she's not hungry just yet and will eat later.

8:00 pm until about 10:00 pm - nap time until Mom begins to shut down the house and prepare for bed and trying to time it just right so that at

10:30 pm - when Mom finally gets into bed and settles down with her crossword for the evening, Dixie begins to prowl around the room, getting into the trash, chewing on important papers, jumping up on the bed so that Mojo will chase her off, and finally settling down like she intends to sleep for awhile.

11:00 pm - when Mom turns off the light, gets up and picks a fight with Scout, the object being to see how long it will take Mom to give up and get out of bed and catch one of them.

11:15 pm - settles down in the bathroom to sleep.

It's not easy being a Mean Widdle Kid.

LSW

Pluses and Minuses

To anyone who has wondered at my absence, I'm okay. Mostly.

I'm enjoying the shift in temperature from HOT OVEN to WARMING OVEN, and the accompanying rain we've recently received. That's on the plus side of the slate. With the slight cooling effect, I've begun sleeping again. That's really a major mark on the plus side.

Still on the plus side, a couple of weeks ago I located the antique oak bedstead that I've searched for over the last year or so. I was on one of my noon-time rambles through the Antique Mall in Round Rock and there it sat, giving me a come-hither look and then when I got close to it seducing me with its beveled panels and curved oak side rails. Little brother was on vacation in the hinterlands of Big Bend at the time, so I cajoled a willing co-worker into transporting the bedstead to my office to await such time as little brother and his pickup would be available to haul it home for me.

It is still sitting in my office at work, thanks to the spotty rains that are continuing. I'm not complaining. If that's what it takes to get some rain in the area, I can live with a piece of antique furniture propped against the wall in my office for awhile. I get looks from the folks that pass by wondering why I have a bed in my office, but I live to confuse others and that makes it another mark on the plus side. (However, I am hoping for a break in the clouds at some point. I would really like to see this little beauty take its place with my other oak antique bedroom pieces.)

Another positive is the latest audiobook I've been listening to for several days now. In a weak moment, I purchased some classics to listen to "some day" and I decided it was time to get my money's worth from at least one of them. So I started La Morte d'Arthur and, while entertaining, decided it just took too much attention that I didn't have at the moment, so I shifted to Great Expectations by Charles Dickens. I really did not have great expectations that I would enjoy the book; I expected dry, stilted prose and a boring story. I surprisingly was caught up in Pip's story from the first and have just begun the 11th out of 14 discs and thoroughly enjoying the experience. I may just have to try Oliver Twist and David Copperfield.

Not everything has been hunky dory, however. First there are the terrible cat wars that are in full swing at home. Dixie, Boo and Scout have come to an understanding amongst themselves and I believe it is to drive Mom completely insane. Midnight is the witching hour and my little witch's familiars can convince you the house is coming down around your ears as they chase each other upstairs and downstairs, literally bouncing off walls and spitting and hissing in a most unpleasant manner until Mom gets up and snags Dixie and pitches her into the bathroom to spend the remainder of the night. The cats and dogs are learning a lot of new words as Mom does some pretty eloquent hissing of her own when she dives for a cat and falls over the bench at the end of the bed.

Then there is the return of the dreaded eye issue. I suffer from the recurring malady of chalazions and they are back. Simply put, the condition is the same as styes, but internal rather than external. It leads to puffy lumps in the eyelids that hurt, put pressure on your eyes that messes with your vision, and generally refuse to go away peacefully. Over the course of the last week, they have developed in both eyes and my mood has soured in direct proportion to their progress. I am dealing with antibiotics, eyedrops that apparently contain unicorn tears they are so expensive, and will see the eye surgeon later in the week to evalute the necessity of her intervention. Big black marks on the negative side, but then again it could be so much worse that I'm trying to be stoic.

So that's the report from the home front. I have hopes that the more pleasant weather will lead to more frequent bouts of writing. I have hopes that a trip to the vet for a certain little cat will sweeten her disposition (only 4 weeks to go). I have hopes that the rain will break long enough to get the bed out of my office and home where it belongs. I have hopes that Pip's story will have a happy ending, but I'm bracing myself on that one. I have hopes that the antibiotics are zipping through my bloodstream and battling the chalazion intruders. I have hope. And lots of amaretto, if that fails.

LSW

Conspiracy Theory

I'm beginning to think the cats are out to gaslight me. Scout and Dixie spend a lot of time battling throughout the house - Dixie chasing Scout and Scout hissing and yowling loud enough to wake the dead. On the occasions when they don't respond to my own yowling of "Stop that, I've had enough of that, quit it, NOW!" Dixie ends up shut in the utility room or bathroom for awhile to give Scout a chance to locate a good hiding place.

But then a few days ago I noticed that there were times when they would sit quietly in the same proximity. I even caught them lying placidly next to the water station, nose to nose, in some kind of silent communication. As soon as they saw me watching, they began slapping and hissing.

Scout & Dixie discussing how to drive Mom crazy

"What?"

So I am trying to be sneaky, too, and spy on my little heathen cats to see if they are really getting along and just acting up when I'm around. I suspect they are bored and have started a game to see just how fast they can get me out of my chair and chasing after them.

I wasn't born yesterday. I've been playing cat games for 50 plus years. They've only been at it for 4 years (Boo and Scout) and 4 months (Dixie). We'll just see who wins.

LSW