Spring Vacation 2010, Day 3

The madness that is the annual Round Top Antiques Fair is in progress. Two good gal pals and I decided to use my house as base camp and spend a couple of days in the pursuit of the perfect antique we didn't know we needed until we saw it.

We had a great time.

On the first day it was just Lana and myself on the road. She had never been on the Round Top Antiques junket and had no idea what she was in for. The Round Top Antiques Fair must be experienced to be believed. From the original fair that took place in four venues in and around Round Top, it has grown and grown until it is hard to find a vacant place on the side of the road between Carmine on the north and Warrenton on the south. Pasture after pasture is filled to capacity with tents holding vendors from all over the United States. Several permanent barnlike structures are spotted along the road and hold another vast number of vendors who rent booth spaces. Some of the neighboring towns developed their own antiques shows in the dance halls and VFW halls of their communities.

And it happens twice a year.

My favorite time to go is in April, when the bluebonnets have just begun to hit their stride. If the weather is perfect, as it was the two days we attended this year, it doesn't get any better. (However, I have gone to the fair in driving rain and near-hurricane force winds and the crowds are just as big.) In the beginning the fair started on Wednesday and ran through Saturday. Nowadays some of the vendors are in place and selling as much as a week before. We old-timers know to go early on, because by Friday and Saturday the traffic is so horrendous and the crowds so thick that a platoon of police officers is necessary to direct traffic for pretty much the entire 10-15 mile stretch.

I didn't have anything in particular to look for this year, which is always a bad sign. Those are the years that I find something special. One year it was my oak desk. (In fact, I have purchased 3 oak desks over the years.) One year it was a pair of nightstands. One year it was a darling little footstool. One year it was a sewing stand.

Since I couldn't think of anything in the furniture line I needed, I suggested we go in Big Red the first day. I didn't know that before the day was out we would have the answer to the question, "can a full-sized piece of furniture be transported in a Prius?" The answer is "yes".

We spent five hours in the Cole's Antique Barn that first day. It was a good place to start. We were having a great time poking our way through the place and I had just about talked myself into the purchase of a beautiful little oak rocking chair when I glanced across the aisle and saw it winking at me.

For years I have been looking for an oak vanity that would fit in with my other oak bedroom furniture and had about given up hope that the right piece was out there to be found. But there it was and I fell in love on the spot.

You see, as soon as I saw it, I recognized it was a close cousin of the dresser I have lived with and loved for about 20 years.

I was pretty much convinced it was going home with me before I ever crossed the aisle to take a closer look. The owner knew I was hooked, but he still quoted me a discount that cinched the deal. It wasn't until I had committed to buy the sweet little piece that I found out I was also getting a nice oak chair to go with it.

Thanks to the fact that we were able to remove the mirror and that I could fold down the back seat, it turned out that it could all be fitted into the Prius with about an inch to spare. I am delighted to add the little vanity to the family.

Unfortunately the vanity was not the only thing I found that I just had to have.

For some months I have had my eye on a set of history books in the Round Rock Antique Mall and have managed to repeatedly talk myself out of spending the money. One of the last vendors we visited at Cole's had the same set for sale. And I do mean the same set. When I picked up the book to take a look at the price, I recognized a blemish that told me I was looking at the very same books that had been tempting me in Round Rock. The big difference was that I had never been face to face with the man who rents the space in the mall. He was manning the booth himself at Cole's and he recognized that he had a live one on his hands. We kidded back and forth and he agreed to make a substantial cut in the price he had been asking. I seized the opportunity and now I own the longed for books.

My last indulgence for the day was a set of Tootsie Toy dollhouse furniture. I was having a really good shopping day, while Lana was doing a lot of looking and finding very little to tempt her.

But, things change.

LSW

Spring Vacation 2010, Day 2

Day 2 brought house cleaning and napping to our happy home. The dogs and cats are delighted to have Mom home and not glued to the computer. All the shades and drapes get opened when Mom is home, sun is shining through and creating warm pools on the carpet and all is well in their world.

We have a new fixture in the bedroom we have dubbed Cat Mountain. I am still shifting my belongings around and a good portion of the books have been packed in boxes awaiting the decision on whether I will add standalone bookcases or built ins. I'm trying not to make snap judgments as I pursue this project, so the boxes have been stacked against the wall for some time. I was getting a little tired of looking at them, so I came up with the idea of draping them with a sheet and blanket.

Cat Mountain is located directly next to the cat tower in the corner of the bedroom and the cats immediately adopted the new perch. A well used (by Boo) cushion was relocated to the top of Cat Mountain and Scout has decided that was a fine addition. A small table has been temporarily relocated on the opposite end of Cat Mountain, creating yet another level. There is nothing these cats like better than to be able to traverse a whole wall without having to touch their dainty feet to the floor.

They have barely left Cat Mountain since it came to life two days ago.

Scout grabs a quick bath while Boo and Dixie take naps.

I'm not sure this is any better than the original stack of boxes, but at least the cats are temporarily distracted and leaving me alone.

LSW

Spring Vacation 2010, Day 1

Today's goal was to obtain a marriage record from Caldwell County. I had a poor photocopy of the record that I had obtained from microfilm at the Family History Library in Salt Lake City years ago, but it was blurry and indistinct. I figured it was the best I could hope for, but last week I happened across the information that original marriage records were available through the Caldwell County Genealogical and Historical Society in Luling. I crossed my fingers for something better than I had and scheduled a trip to Luling for Day 1 of vacation.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that the library had expanded the space dedicated to the Historical Society holdings to almost double what they had when I had last visited. I was lucky to happen in when a particularly knowledgeable and helpful volunteer was on duty and we chatted about genealogy in general and Caldwell County families in particular. We had common family connections, although no common bloodlines. I remarked how surprised I was that they had original records there and she told me that when the County Clerk's office had run out of room, they had offered custody of the old records to the society. In short order I had 5 crystal clear marriage records to replace the blurry copies in my files. One of them I needed to complete the proofs for my application for membership in the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, so I was quite pleased.

So long as I was writing a check, I decided to pick up the two volume set of Caldwell County history books as one of my birthday presents to myself. I enjoyed discussing various research avenues with the volunteer and then ran into another patron who was working on a DRT application who gave me some additional information about the application process.

Two big books of history and 5 marriage records - color me content.

One of the tips the volunteer had given me concerned indexes in the District Clerk's office that might solve a hole in my records, so I decided to go home by way of Lockhart. Fifteen minutes scanning indexes in the clerk's office did not solve the missing divorce record, but getting that index checked was worth the trip. By that time I was getting caved-in hungry, so I drove out to the Kreuz Market and indulged in a little bit of barbecue, Lockhart style.

Satisfied with the results of my day's errand, I headed home. Did I forget to mention that the entire round trip drive was studded with fields of brilliant bluebonnets, paintbrushes and phlox? It was mahvelous.

LSW

Now Where Were We?

For two weeks it seemed like my brain shut completely down. I'm mostly blaming allergies for that. With elm pollen and oak pollen and pine pollen floating heavily around me, I became something of a zombie moving slowly and dreamily through life. I hate taking medicine, so I put off doing anything about it with the idea that I could beat the mess with mind over matter. Forget that I have 5 decades behind me to prove that doesn't work. Every year I try to tough it out again. I finally caved and started taking some antihistimine and slowly began to come back to life.

Just in time, too, because I had a date with a group of cousins on my Mobley side of the family that were due to arrive in town for the great cemetery tour. Several years ago I had the pleasure of meeting Cousin Pat and her late husband Al and taking them around to visit the family graves in the area. She was headed back to Texas to meet up with a group of her nieces and nephews who were coming in from all parts of the country for the occasion. She got in touch and asked if I would escort them around and I gladly signed on.

It was quite a day. Our initial group of 10 relatives visited the museum and a couple of the cemeteries on our list, then ate at Maxine's on Main Street. After lunch, the non-genealogists and the younger members of the group split off in favor of shopping and Pat, John, Mimi and I continued on the Mobley history tour. In all we hit 9 cemeteries in 5 hours, explored some back roads where the Mobleys and Wunneburgers owned property in the early 1900s and made a stop in McDade to see the house where our joint great-great-grandparents lived in their last years. Along the way we talked Mobley family history, shared family stories, looked at a lot of photos and in general enjoyed getting to know each other.

Pat and nephew John at our last stop in Red Rock

On the last leg of our tour, I had the great fun of having cousin Pat to myself as we drove from Bastrop to Red Rock. She answered all of my questions without hesitation and I thoroughly enjoyed our visit.

Pat and me at the end of the day

Barely had the great Mobley history tour ended when it was time to get busy with the final preparations for Mother's memorial service. It was held last Sunday at the old refectory building in Bastrop State Park and it turned out to be a perfect setting and a day of perfect weather. We were joined by many old friends, family members and a few surprise guests from Mother's early years. In all, it turned out to be a beautiful service. I think she would have been pleased.

Mother's urn was made by her daughter-in-law, Karen

With the memorial service behind us and the antihistimines finally taking effect, it was time to rest. I had wisely scheduled my usual week of Spring vacation to follow closely behind the memorial service and the first day was yesterday.

Little brother decided yesterday was a good day for a meandering motorcycle ride, and he started off with a stop at our house to help me correct a small problem with my computer so I could continue with my current project of making application for membership in the Daughters of the Republic of Texas. That accomplished, we decided to check out the Green Chai Cafe and both of us were very pleased with their fare. After lunch I talked him into going with me to one of the cemeteries I had visited last week with the intention of liberating a few crowded iris bulbs and giving them a new home at my house.

The cemetery just happened to be across from a green pasture full of budding oak trees and sleek cattle. We spent a few extra minutes trying to coax them toward us for photo ops. Most were unimpressed with the idea and continued on with the business of munching the sweet grass.


But one of the babies was curious enough to let me get close enough to get a few pictures. He just couldn't figure out what in the Sam Hill I was doing.

It was the perfect start to a week that should prove to be restful and entertaining. We had a nice drive out Highway 21 which is lined with pine trees and just beginning to develop patches of Texas spring wildflowers. We got to visit with some beautiful cattle and I brought home a dozen or so iris bulbs that were transplanted in my yard before the day was out.

Tomorrow the kids and I are headed to the vet for a quick checkup and then to Luling to retrieve a record I need for my application. I can't wait to see their reaction when we pull into Luling. I don't think they have ever been exposed to the smell of oil. We may just have to stop and get some barbecue for lunch while we are there.

Later this week two friends are spending a couple of nights with me and we have some activities planned that should provide some entertaining stories for another day. This is a week of some much needed R&R. Ready, set, go!

LSW

High Tech Kitties

Since we have just gone through a urinary infection with Boo cat (he's feeling very much better, thank you), I got the idea of checking out Pet Smart for the current options in cat fountains. Cats prefer fresh, moving water over the boring bowl of water on the floor and will sometimes drink more water if they have a fountain. The vet had warned me that Boo needed to drink more water if I could figure out a way to get him to do so. It would keep things moving, so to speak, and help reduce the build up of crystals in his urinary tract.

I had tried a cheap cat fountain some years back and, while the cats did like it very much, it did not hold up well to the attentions of my heathens of that period. I decided to take my one remaining gift card from Christmas and apply it toward the best cat fountain I could find. That turned out to be the Drinkwell Platinum. I hauled it out of the box this morning and, with intense scrutiny and supervision by the 3 fur balls, got it up and running.

It was met with curious suspicion...

"Me try it? Why don't you try it?"

"Well, it smells like water..."


"And it feels like water...."

"Cool."

In about 15 minutes, all three were drinking from the spout and enjoying their private water source. We'll see how long it takes them to destroy it.

LSW

Piece by Piece

My mother started it. She took a liking to Royal Doulton's Old Country Roses china pattern many years ago and would pick up a piece here and a piece there as we would ramble through antique and junk stores. It was a luxury then - pricey and hard to find.

Then the pattern became more readily available in the United States. David and Karen located a 4-place setting set one year at a garage sale and gave it to Mother for Christmas. Then a Royal Doulton outlet opened up at the outlet mall in San Marcos. I began adding to the set every year at Christmas. It became our set of china. I built up another 2 place settings, added serving pieces and some decorative pieces.

A couple of years ago I caved in and bought a set of the complementary flatware. Then I got the idea of completing a set of glasses from the depression glass period, the first of which we acquired from my grandmother Hodge. I scoured antique stores until I had 8 of the deep red, swirled glasses that look so nice with the china.

Ever since, I have been trying to find the matching pitcher. The odd one would come up on EBAY every so often, but I hesitated to risk having one shipped across the country. I decided I would just keep an eye out in the local area antique malls and hope that one would someday surface.

Today when I met Lana in Elgin for an afternoon of browsing the antique mall there, I told her about the red pitcher I was seeking. I had just visited the Elgin mall the week before, so I knew there was not one to be found there. I had just commented that I would find a picture and forward it to her so she could be on the lookout, too, when I rounded the corner and found myself face to face with the pitcher I had been hunting for so long. And there was a mall-wide sale in progress, so I even got a break on the price. I just knew there had to be something wrong with it, but a careful examination found no chips. It came home to join the collection in the dining room cupboard.

It is always satisfying to fill a vacant place in the puzzle. A small bonus find today can be seen in the upper shelf between the tureen and the bowl. A set of clear glass coasters with a gold edge that I didn't even know I wanted whistled at me as I passed them. They will look just great holding those red, antique glasses.

Lana, too, had some luck today and we left feeling the warm glow of successful antiquing and agreeing that we need more days like today.

LSW

Her's Not Fat

Remember back last June when Dixie came to live with us? Poor little, half-starved baby.

Before

Yesterday all three of the heathen cats spent the day at the vet's, getting their annual checkups and vaccinations and generally racking up a humongous bill for me to settle before they came home.

About 3 o'clock in the afternoon, my favorite of the lady doctors called me to report on the health of the kids and she started with Dixie. The little girl who had such a rough start got a glowing report with one small issue to work on. She's a little too heavy, weighing in at 9 pounds and still 2 months to go before she has her first birthday.

After

No more the tragic waif is she. There is still a minor balance issue (she tends to fall over if she tries to multi-task - like looking up at me while she is walking - kerplop!), but overall she got a clean bill of health and doctor's orders to cut down the food supply. Hmmm. The doctor has never had to deal with a hungry Dixie while trying to get dressed for work in the morning. I am more inclined to adhere to the old adage "her's not fat, her's fluffy". But...

It turns out that all three of the little heathens are a tad overweight. Not obese, just slightly plump for their frames. Scout was 8 pounds and Boo was 13 pounds. The doctor recommends that they also reduce their calorie intake. Pray for me. It is going to be a rough ride.

Surprisingly, Dixie was a little lamb for the doctor, but the other two - Lord, have mercy. My first call from the doctor was for permission to sedate them for their exams. They were having royal hissy fits right and left whenever the techs or doctor tried to work with them. Ka-ching, ka-ching, Mommy gets to pay for happy gas. During that conversation, I mentioned a slight concern I had about Boo and his *ahem* bathroom activities. Ka-ching, ka-ching, M0mmy gets to pay for a urinalysis. It turns out Boo has a urinary infection. Ka-ching, ka-ching, Mommy gets to pay for antibiotics. The girls got a glowing dental report, but Boo needs a good teeth cleaning. That one I postponed temporarily, at least until my income tax return gets back. Maybe it will be enough to cover the next round.

With my history of the horrible, finger-crippling cat bite of a few years ago, when the doctor mentioned giving Boo antibiotics, I pleaded for a liquid version. No way am I going to poke a pill down an irritable cat's throat. She proceeded to tell me to be sure and hold him by the scruff of the neck to render him passive while I give him the drops. {Here, insert maniacal laughter.} Boo's 13 pounds are difficult to render passive, even with that technique. I was ultimately successful giving him last night's dose and the next round is coming up shortly. I hope that he and I can come to a detente on this issue, because the alternative is to take him in for a long-lasting shot at the cost of another $40.

And, if this UTI issue continues, I may have to put him on a special diet which I'm sure means more ka-ching, ka-ching, and it also basically means that all three of them will be on the special diet since feeding them separately doesn't work too well.

Ok, I don't have to put them through college or bail them out of jail when they go joy-riding across someone's lawn, but don't let anybody tell you that being a good and conscientious cat mommy is the economical way to go. Vet bills aside, the first aisle I hit at the grocery store is the pet aisle and by the time I load the cart with cat litter, cat food dry and wet, dog food dry and wet, dog treats and maybe a bag of sunflower seeds for the birds/squirrels, I've already racked up about $50 worth of supplies and so far I have nothing to feed myself.

I am really going to have to start reading the fine print in the mommy contract before I take on another orphan.

LSW

Hoping It's Over

I am sporting a black eye today and I'm telling everybody that mean old Dixie kicked me.

I wish that were what happened.

I am one of the lucky folks who suffer from chalazions, which are like styes but instead of coming to a head on the eyelid, the infection goes deep into the eyelid. You end up with a painful lump that looks horrible and can distort your vision. Sometimes they go away on their own, sometimes they go away with a round of antibiotics and sometimes they have to be surgically excised.

These things have been tormenting me off and on for years. A couple of years ago was the first time I had to go to the eye surgeon to have one removed. It was not a fun experience, so earlier this year when I realized that another one was developing, I was not a happy camper. When I finally couldn't deny it was there, I revisited the eye surgeon and learned that I had not one but two of them in the same eyelid. We tried antibiotics and they didn't work, so somewhere between Halloween and Thanksgiving, I found myself lying back on a gurney while the surgeon went to work.

Let me tell you, when you see someone heading for your eye with a needle, it is really, really hard to lie still. The deadening shot is the worse part, but it's also not so pleasant when they fasten a clamp to your eyelid to hold it open. The actual removal of the infection isn't so bad, because by that time you have your jaws clenched so hard you are finding yourself distracted by the prospect of having to go to the dentist to have your cracked teeth repaired.

So I had congratulated myself on getting past the ordeal and felt absolutely confident that in a couple of weeks it would be a bad memory.

Thanksgiving came and went and Christmas was approaching and one of the lumps was still with me. It took every ounce of fortitude I had to call and make another appointment. She could see me two days before Christmas. Merry Christmas to me.

Surprisingly, she decided it was not at a stage where surgical intervention would do any good, so she decided we would try antibiotics again. I breathed a sigh of relief. But my relief was short-lived.

A month later it became obvious that I still had a problem, so once again I braced myself and headed back Friday for another evaluation and this time the dreaded sentence was handed down. We had to do another excision.

Once again I found myself on the gurney with the needle heading toward my eye. It hurt. She had to not only remove the infection but also remove scar tissue that had built up from the first time under the knife. The process was longer as a result and she warned me that this time there would be bruising and I would look pretty beat up for a few days. I left sporting a huge eye patch.

I decided to swing by Central Market on the way home and reward myself for having endured my ordeal with some of their wonderful tortilla soup for supper. I waltzed into Central Market, walked the entire store picking up various and sundry items and no one so much as batted an eye at my odd appearance. Austin is either full of very courteous folks or Austin is so full of weirdos that no one noticed one more.

I left the patch on until I got home because I remembered from the first time that exposing the wound to air resulted in unbearable stinging. Driving one-eyed is a challenge, but I made it home and finally removed the bandage and realized that I would indeed have a black eye for a day or two. That's when I decided I needed a good story and Dixie volunteered to be the scapegoat.

Today it looks like things are slowly improving and I'm hoping my eye looks more or less normal by Monday. I'm also hoping I don't have to do this again for awhile. I'm due to have some dental work done in a couple of months and the prospect doesn't even bother me. After two rounds of eyelid surgery, getting a cavity filled doesn't sound bad at all.

LSW

I Should Stop Listening

I go to antique stores quite frequently and generally I just look, but sometimes I will be walking by and something yells, "Hey, you! Over here!". I'm going to have to start ducking and running the opposite direction when I hear that call.

Today brother David and sis-in-law Karen and I went on a tour of Bastrop and Lee Counties. We started off by loading up a pickup full of furniture and assorted junk that I had dug out of the closets and garage and dropping it off at the thrift store. The available space in my bedroom almost doubled. All that junk had been accumulating in the far corner for weeks now and it's ALL GONE! Someone else will now have the opportunity to rescue the faux French provincial bedroom furniture that we acquired back in the early 1960s. Lord, bless them. I enjoyed it as long as I could stand. I love looking down in the end of the bedroom and seeing all that lovely space.

After that chore was completed, we went on to Smithville and wandered through all the little antique shops that line Main Street. I visit these stores at least quarterly and seldom find much to tempt me to open my checkbook. But today was one of those times when I kept hearing that tiny little voice from the corner of the store. "Hey! Over here! Yes, you!"

At the first store we visited, I found a first edition of an H. Allen Smith book I didn't have. H. Allen Smith was a humorist who was hot in the 1950s through the early 1970s. Mother was a big fan of his writing and introduced both David and me to his sharp wit. Over the years she built a collection of his books and I added to it on several birthdays and Christmases. There aren't that many of his books that are not to be found on a shelf in my bedroom bookcase, so I was greatly surprised to find one of the missing today. I figured that would be my one find for the day's outing.

Across the street in a store I've never found anything of interest in before, I heard that little voice again. This time it came from a top shelf. I glanced up and there sat a complete 6 volume set of the Golden Book Illustrated Dictionary. You may remember that a few months back I found a complete set of the Golden Book Atlas in an Alvin antique mall. I purchased it as a companion to the complete set of the Golden Book Illustrated Encyclopedias that I found in the Elgin Antique Mall a couple of years ago. I had owned a set of the encyclopedias when they were first issued in 1959, my parents having purchased a volume at a time in a grocery store promotion. I had read my set to tatters and was delighted to replace it. I didn't even know the atlas or dictionary existed at that point.

I bet I am the only one you know who now owns all three sets of these books. (Thanks to Google, I just discovered there is at least one other set out there left for me to acquire - a Golden Book History of America series.) At the same store, when I went to the counter to make my purchase, I heard a faint little whisper from the counter under the cash register and there sat a terrific little Japanese vase that also came home with me and will find a home in my miniature oriental room.

I had no expectation that there would be anything to find in the antiques store on the corner because they seldom have anything in my price range. And, in fact, I did not find anything but a slightly interesting oak buffet that refused to say anything to me. I was almost through the door when the little voice said "Hey, over here!" There, sitting in a little alcove, was a piece of golden oak furniture that I could not at first identify. So instead of running through the door like I should have done, I went over to get a better look.

The culprit was a pretty little sewing stand. I was hooked almost immediately, although it took me another 15 minutes strolling through the next store before I made up my mind and went back for it. It will be perfect as an end table in my living room and will also provide another nice storage place for my good yarn stash. (As opposed to the plastic bins in the garage that hold my mediocre yarn stash.)

The little sewing stand came with its contents, a motley assortment of yarns and needles and pins and patterns. I carefully, to avoid needle sticks, removed everything and learned that the previous owner did embroidery. In addition to the handful of threaded tapestry needles, I found little balls of yarn in about 20-30 different colors, a handful of embroidery floss, 4 pillow covers stamped for embroidery and in untouched condition, 2 books of embroidery stitch guides, and a card of buttons. I had a vision of some little old lady who enjoyed crewel work as she watched television in the evening and whose family, when she died, sold her sewing stand as it sat. It needed a good home and it knew a sucker when she passed by.

I was not the only one making good finds today. Karen and David took home a back seat full, because there were little voices yelling at them right and left, too. It was a good day for antiquing.

Then we headed on to Lincoln and ate at the Elm Creek Cafe. I indulged in a big chicken fried steak and David and I split a piece of dewberry pie.

It may have been a little cold today, but we had a good time poking in the corners of the little shops, talking to the proprietors, and figuring out how to fit everything in the small backseat of David's pickup for the ride home. Sometimes you just need to go on a ramble and listen to the little voices.

LSW

Musical Memories

I'm sure everyone has experienced a sudden flashback when a particular song from your past pops up on the radio. Smells, too, can take you back to a point in your history, but music is a more common source of time travel for me.

I have been listening to a new album by Rosanne Cash called The List which are her covers of a list given her by her father Johnny of essential country music songs. It is a very well done album and well worth a listen. Nothing like good old-fashioned country music to take you back.

Thinking about Johnny Cash got me thinking about a song of his that will forever transport me to middle-Tennessee in the summer of 1969. A Boy Named Sue was hot on the charts as we took our annual road trip, visiting various Civil War historic sites and headed for the Great Smoky Mountains as our target destination. I never ever hear that song without flashing on a little motel somewhere in Tennessee where we stopped for the night very soon after hearing that song play on the radio.

This past week in a used book store I ran across a piece of sheet music that I purchased because it rang one of those distant memory bells the instant I saw it. When I was in 4th grade or maybe 5th grade, it came time for the annual piano recital and my teacher got the brilliant notion that some of us should sing as a break in the midst of all the tedious piano pieces. I don't sing. That is, I don't sing alone. I have a thready soprano that is supported by lungs scarred by childhood asthma. I have no volume and very little breath control. Nevertheless, it was decided that 3 of us girls in our grade would sing as a trio and each of us would have a line or two to sing as a solo. That was bad enough, but the song she chose for us was Red Roses for a Blue Lady which sounds completely weird coming from 3 pre-pubescent girls. We sang and our bored parents politely clapped, but I have hated that song ever since. Why, you may ask, did I feel compelled to buy the sheet music these many years later? I have no idea. Childhood trauma causes unpredictable actions in later life.

It was a year or two later that the same piano teacher got the idea that we should all get a song of our own to sing as a solo. My assigned song was Edelweiss, a sweet little song and very moving when Christopher Plummer sang it in Sound of Music, but it suffered greatly under my rendition. I can still remember the hot spring night, standing on the auditorium stage, my thin little voice reaching about 5 inches past the microphone, and being very relieved when it was all over. My teacher went to Europe that summer and brought me a little package of dried edelweiss as a remembrance of my connection to that song and which I still have. Thankfully that was the last year I had to sing anything solo. I think she finally realized that I had not inherited my father's vocal talent and gave up on my potential singing career.

Two songs forever connect me to the two years I played basketball, another activity for which I had absolutely no talent whatsoever, but I did try. One Saturday we traveled to some spot close to San Antonio to participate in a tournament. We got drummed out of that pretty fast and on the way home we stopped for hamburgers at some little joint that had a jukebox. 96 Tears by ? and the Mysterians and 98.6 by Keith got repeated play and every time I hear them now, I flash back to that little hamburger joint somewhere between San Antonio and home and I'm eating a greasy hamburger with a bunch of giggly teenaged girls.

El Paso by Marty Robbins takes me back to two places - the parsonage at Oak Hill and the little rental house where we lived in Victoria. We got our stereo while we lived in Oak Hill and one of the first records Daddy bought through the Columbia Record Club was More Greatest Hits by Marty Robbins. I loved Marty Robbins and I played that record a lot. When we were in Victoria, as I described in a previous post we did a lot of dressing up and play acting and I can remember acting out the story of El Paso as I listened to the record. I don't remember very much at all about that house, but I can remember the front room where the stereo lived and the green braided rug under my feet as I danced and sang along with Marty. Marty Robbins records taught me a lot about harmony. Dancing, not so much.

A George Strait song, All My Exes Live in Texas, will always remind me of Colorado. It was very popular one year when we headed out on our annual camping trip to Gunnison and it must have played at least once an hour every time we had the radio on. That's a long drive and by the time we got home, I did not think it was as great a song as I had thought on the way out of Texas. But I still like it and I still think about that drive to Colorado every time I hear it.

Another song that always brings Colorado to mind is Patty Loveless' I Try to Think About Elvis. The last time I went to Colorado, I drove by myself and spent two weeks wandering about Colorado on my own, just me and my dog Bebop. That was the popular song that summer. It always brings to mind me driving along that long stretch from Lubbock to Clayton, New Mexico, Bebop sleeping peacefully on a pillow beside me. That trip proved to me that I could travel by myself and get along just fine. I'm not sure I would try doing that again - oh, sure I would - but somehow I don't think Mojo or Coco would be such great traveling companions. Bebop had a great time. That trip is one of my fondest memories of him.

I always enjoy the little unexpected trips down musical memory lane when a song from my past is suddenly dredged up out of nowhere. Satellite radio gives you a lot more of these opportunities with their stations devoted to classic country and early rock and roll. Recently I tuned to the classic country station on my cable tv and realized that I was singing non-stop all morning as one memory after another rolled out of their archives. Today's country music just isn't the same as listening to Patsy, Hank, Marty, Johnny and Loretta.

Good music and good memories. Except for that Red Roses for a Blue Lady episode.

LSW

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

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