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

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