"This Is Why I Work Here"

 That was Rosie's comment the other day while she was enjoying her work of redoing a mug display at the store. It is a matter of choice, where we work, and if we enjoy it or not.
I finally chose, almost thirty years ago, to love the home I own and to own the home I love. It wasn't easy sometimes to decide to love the home we own including the unchangeable window sizes and inevitable traffic of the too close streets.
 And the traffic through the yard of other peoples children, more yet the feet of a different culture pounding by the house at night or any other time they chose. It's all been training ground for us and our children. They grew up knowing that we are definitely in the world even though not of the world. We've had a lot of practice with that here.
    And yes, the willingness to maintain and love this odd, old house has been a choice, over and over. It's why I work here. Last night we brought home the first batch of lumber to remodel the basement. We have a dream. That's another reason we work here. A dream motivates us to believe that we can create a beautiful, functional space in what is now damp and unlikely. 

 Another reason for working here is that the next generation is depending on us. There's a park next door where the boys love to play. I hold out the promise of some park time after a portion of work is done.  This property is where we motivated our children to enjoy the constant work of a lawn, garden, and again the odd, old house. Here we are...still! I love my work here because it is where I am. And I have this wonderful privilege of sharing the love of living with our grandchildren. What can possibly more fulfilling than this? 

 Speaking at a girls retreat was also not really in my bucket list of things I wanted to do someday. I have to admit though, it was another reason to be glad that I work here. Here, where I am in my life with our own girls raised and also choosing to love their work. It is a taught/learned attitude. I thought and prayed over this speech for weeks. You heard about that already. It didn't take me long at all to realize that speaking is one of the places we work when we write and care about other people. Because we want to share in ways that encourage the rest. Ultimately, I discovered that love of sharing is why I work here in the world of words. 

 I enjoyed putting this display together this week at work. With Rosie's words on my mind I decided to get pictures to show you. This display is old and new stock rearranged to help our customers see the possibilities for their own decor at home. It is one of my favorite forms of sharing. It's fun to figure out new ways to do this. It is  an art, in a way. And it is definitely part of why I work here. The rewards are immediate and long term. And than there's a check at the end of the week, too. But truthfully, I would be tempted to do this job just for this pleasure. Elv might have other ideas about that. 
   Oh that's right, I guess this work is the reason we get to remodel the basement. Remember, life/work is what you make of it: a drudgery or a pleasure.

Happy Things

 Here's a chance for the rest of you to laugh at me, too, like Amy is. About my precious, little radish green. I don't mind the schputting. When I saw those green, curly leaves I couldn't resist. They're growing quickly... an inch in 12 hours easily. 
 "Who dares despise the day of small things, since the seven eyes of the LORD that range throughout the earth will rejoice when they see the chosen capstone in the hand of Zerubbabel?" Zechariah 4:10 NIV

Small beginnings of spring and  the upcoming summer projects are not to be despised.  Every little bit helps. 

The plan is to paint the bathroom the same white stain as is the frame.  I have permission to change the bathroom to white as along as the wood grain and character still show through. When spring comes. 

                                  Isaiah 61:11
    For as the earth brings forth its bud,
    As the garden causes the things that are sown in it to  spring forth,
    So the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations. 

It's Better To Laugh Than To Cry

    Who knew that old, well-used furniture, curtains, fixtures, and our dilapidated house would become "in".  What a bonanza. My ship came in without any effort whatsoever. Thanks Pinterest! 
     I just have to laugh. While the denizens of all things popular in the world of homemaking are having a field day using markers on their too new furniture to "distress" them, I am hugging myself with delight that all of my furniture is already quite distressed. 
    All I have to do now to have the ultimate in shabby chic is to clean it squeaky. Any day now, I expect Better Homes and Gardens to come knocking on my door to do a photo shoot for the magazine. 
     I sure could use some Annie Sloan paint on the kitchen cabinets. On the other hand, around every door and under every pull is an exquisite line of the chic-est of shabby-ness already. Why bother? 
    I fully intend to update my perfect kitchen one of these days with proper lower cabinets. When I paint them, I am going to buy some "un-shabby" oil based paint and do it right, Pinterest notwithstanding!
    I admit though, that I am impressed that we've discovered that the old and even well-used might actually be better than the expensive, cheaply-built new. And now that "anything goes" for decor; I can have the nicest in up-and-coming for pennies. That's a good thing at this house. Looks great on the pictures, too. Easier on grandchildren, too. 
                                           Happy Pinteresting Day to You

Winter Blues and Thankyous

 We are not feeling bluesy really. I am just thinking about the inconveniences of sub-zero weather. There are small annoyances that happen only in mid-winter when the temperatures drop.
   One of those things is static electricity. I walk across the carpet in our bedroom and listen to the snapping. I can feel it grab my skirt and swirl at my feet. I don't like it. We use Bounce dryer sheets with vigilance when we dry our clothes. We mix a solution of softener and water and fill a spray bottle and annoint our skirts a double dose on the ironing board so that we can walk and not get tangled up in yards of clinging fabric.
    Dog hair, lint, hair hair, and fuzz clings to everything fabric. Our veils look terrible on close inspection. 
   I have never seen such a thing but they say that there is danger of igniting a fire at the gas pumps and we're advised about the location of the shut off switch and urged to be aware. 
    The other week, they had a blizzard in Nebraska where Francis and Jenny live. The lightening that they saw during the storm was static electricity, I guess. That about makes my hair stand on end to think of it.
    So it is dry and cold and snappy here in Wisconsin. 
      

    I am thankful for cedar firewood right now. It crackles and pops beautifully, sending off sprays of sparks behind the glass. Warm, meaningful fires happen quickly when we need them. Elv's hands smell like cedar smoke. I like that.
   I am thankful for a heritage of faith today, too. We had a baptism this morning. Is there any other ceremony that incorporates salvation and eternity and joy all at once? Elv said this morning as his opening remarks that the baptism today is a forever thing.
   I suppose every day has "forever" decisions. It makes you take a second thought, doesn't it?

    When the dirtied snow is tired but still deep and cold; the house plants seem greener and lovelier. We are really enjoying this plant again. It never flowers, it just keep growing these perfect green leaves in ivy and geranium. I don't know why the geranium won't bloom but it makes itself quite useful as greenery.

I am thankful for the light during out short days that the white of the snow gives us. Even inside the deep wells of our stone house windows we have plenty of natural light during the day.
And thankful for quiet hours by the fire in the evening, especially after busy days of work.
   I am thankful for the songs we sing on Sunday morning. I love the old favorite hymns that we've sung for a hundred years yet they're vital and new to my heart each time.  I believe that it is the old and familiar that allows us to get the meat of the message in those songs. There is power in the blood, And whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow, Now wash me and I shall be whiter than snow. There's soul food on a winter morning for you. And Transformed by grace divine, the glory shall be thine. I am always getting "me" all tangled up in my own supposed victories. I do need this reminder.

I am thankful for Valentine's Day, because Elv and I think about our relationship again. We didn't do flowers and chocolate this year. I told him that his kindness is all the flowers and chocolate that I need. Besides he brings me flowers and chocolates a lot of other times of the year for no reason. Except, of course, that he loves me.
Maybe this is as good a time as any to say thank you to him. I am thankful for my husband's faithfulness and integrity in our marriage. I never worry about him. I don't take it for granted, either. It's a dark and dirty world we live in and I know he makes the right effort for our marriage. I am thankful for the respect and privacy we share and protect for each other when we cause offense to each other. I am no end grateful that Elv doesn't tell the world how awful I am when we hit a bump in our road. To share the blame and the solution in private between us is a wonderful gift of commitment. 
  

In a few weeks when the sun feels warmer through these windows, the geranium will respond by growing quickly and blooming in reds and whites. It's just above freezing here, but because they're acclimated, they survive. Given a little warmth they'll be lush and blooming in no time.
Must be a lesson in marriage enrichment here, too, since we're on the subject today. Commitment acclimates us to about anything even to a seemingly cold and lusterless relationship. Why not add a little warmth and watch it bloom? I can initiate that all alone. But it helps immensely when two decide to tango.

It Is Now Winter

                                      Happy December From Our House to Yours

Traditional Thanksgiving

That's what Elv said he wanted this year... a formal meal in the early afternoon.

So: Clark bought the biggest turkey out there not unlike Bob Crachit's own, long ago described in the pages of A Christmas Carol by Dickens. He marinaded it in apple juice and other goodies, of which I have no clue, for a day or so.  Yesterday day morning at about 7 AM when most people were still lounging abed he called and ordered up a cherry wood fire built in the home-made, barrel smoker, pronto. Then he packed his family and the turkey up in the sleigh (Jeep), cracked the whip, and came over the river and through the woods to our house. The turkey came out of the brine and went into the barrel and got such a smoking you ever did see. It was the moist and yummy.

And Amy made pie. She dug out her journal and found Grandma Graber's famous traditional Brown Sugar Pie recipe she has written there.  Brown Sugar Pie is a poor man's custard pie that only the great-grandmother Graber knows how to make perfectly where there are no layers and nothing falls in and it miraculously "sets up"correctly...anyway, you get the picture. Our girls continue to try. Jenny and Amy each have actually "gotten" it once or so. She also made pumpkin pie and then spent a long time over playing with the top crust of an apple pie making flowers and stems and leaves. I love this sort of thing. Not doing it, watching it done, and admiring it, that is. And of course, it is all about actually being related to someone with this much creativity and talent. It's like living in Better Homes and Gardens everyday, kinda. Only better, because it isn't Pinterest, it's really real where it actually matters. Does anybody know what I mean? Pinterest is a terrible waste of perfectly good  creativity if it stays there. Bring some of it home in actual work/time/material and then I'll be impressed! Oops, off the subject.

And I boiled the two lovely sweet potatoes I bought at Wal-mart, peeled them after they cooled and sliced them into wedges, long-ways and julienned them to perfection. The guys don't eat this traditional dish. Just us girls.

And mashed potatoes, Mennostyle. (Creamed to a spotless white and smooth perfection with little a cream cheese and a lot of butter.) None of your lumpy, grey looking brown speckled mashed potatoes of Perkins or the like, for us, thank you.

And the pretty table. Frank used cranberries, goblets and tea lights adding loveliness to our table length centerpiece. We could; so we did. White cloth, china, good food.

The most important element of Thanksgiving is us and our gratitude. The rest is a bad joke if we aren't thankful and happy. The guys played games in the afternoon. Us girls took a walk through the snow leaving the babies with the men. And visits. Important stuff.

The day closed with done dishes, a tidy house, half eaten covered pies on the table, depleted candy dishes, and stoked fires. The winter temperatures outside dropped from 3 degrees to 1 degree Fahrenheit in just a few minutes as the lights were being blown out for the night.

Thank You, Lisl

It came, Lisl! Your beautiful package made my day. Who wouldn't enjoy a package containing soft, white fabric, lace, and fun wooden buttons all done up in charming home made envelopes and handwritten notes. Lovely!
You didn't know it, I realize, but I wanted fabric for a much needed jacket for Ryan's wedding.  God knew that and what a wonder, He led you to send it now three weeks before the wedding all the way from Thailand.

Last, but certainly not least, I have a new edition of a Jube drawing.  The last whale he sent to me was much less recognizable, ie, we had to ask him what it was. No question that we have a veritable, worried whale on our hands this time. Goes on the fridge. It will stay there till he updates me.

This reminds me. I was in the bank this morning when I heard Jube (almost 4) in Thailand and Gwen  (31/2) in Nebraska start talking to each other. They had some parental coaching; but believe me, they were visiting. Gwen told Jube about her new kitten, and Jube with unmistakable longing in his voice says he wants a puppy! She replies to say that her puppy is named Mocha. They visit on a bit and then he is informed by the mom in the background that he needs to be off to bed and to say goodbye.

Is it just me, or is that kind of wonderful! Zello (smart phone 2-way radio style communication) is another one of our "gifts" in life today.

February, The Busy Month

    People used to eschew something they called the February blahs.  I simply don't understand. Our February calendar is always full. It's the month we realize that school has been half over for a couple of weeks already; but our books aren't quite to the middle, yet.
    It's the month for Elv's birthday.  This year he turns 50. So along with wishing I could go all out and buy him a four-wheeler like he suggests, or that gun, two wild ideas neither of us can afford; we're having a party for him. We are working on inviting Lewi's and Steve's and his mom. We'll see.
   It's the month for Valentine's Day. Elv brings flowers and chocolates home for me.  And I'll see to it that he gets his sparkling grape or apple juice. It is pretty neat to be able to celebrate our marriage right smack in the middle of the winter logging rush, before spring-breakup.  It's a great time to take a deep breath and grab some "perspective" on what really counts in the long run: not the work or the bills, but that we have each other, our family, our faith, and our love, to boot.
    It's the month of Sugar On Snow on the north shore.  All the hoopla of prep, people, food making, costuming, deadlines, overnighting away from home, packing, hauling, and working with the public is hard work. On the other hand, I look forward to the complete break from the normal routines of our winter and school to visit with the annual host of friends and workers and interpreters for three solid days.  I enjoy swishing about in a full skirted costume that I wouldn't be caught dead in anywhere else, and seeing everyone in theirs. It's fun to walk back into history and imagine lighting my house with those precious, home-made candles, to visualize the hard work and inconveniences of colonial life and to be thankful for our rich heritage and the modernization of our day more than ever. I love watching the miller and the carpenter helping the children to learn the trades.  There is nothing quite as good as warm, baked cornbread from the quern-ground corn, spread thickly with freshly churned, sweet butter.
   It's the month of taxes for us.  Its a good time to go back over the year and give account for how we handled the income of the year! There really are no surprises, but always reconsiderations of whether or not we did the right thing in that purchase or this expenditure.  It's good to know that for one more year the Lord has provided for our family and brought us through these times when fuel and food costs have gone up and up, yet we eat plenty and drive to where we need to go. It's a time to ask Him to please go with us in the year to come, as well, and to show us how to prioritize as we go.
    It's the month before spring breakup.  If winter is going to give us any more storms or snow then it had better get at it, because time is running out for interesting weather. Loggers are getting in their last good licks. Log trucks roll constantly because road bans will be upon us in a few short weeks.
   It's the month for garden planning and lists, and freezer and canning shelves inventory.
   For us this year, its the month before Dru's get home for their 10 week visit. If anyone has a car seat to loan us for Jube(2), please let us know.  Happy Valentine's Day and Happy February Busyness, Everyone!

Winter Work

If I Had A Camera

      I have a camera; but it is very old and many of the settings don't work anymore. Oh, I can get wonderful outdoor pictures with it, but indoor pictures are blurry and "disturbing", quote Geneva, and maddening. So last week went by in a blur and that's exactly what the resulting pictures show.
      There are pictures in my mind, though, that I am treasuring.
       Every morning Gwen would come downstairs barely awake and already commenting on life. I have a picture of her, in my mind, standing on the landing in her nighty, hugging her pink-dressed doll.  She never says "Good Morning" back to me.  She says, "Hi!"  This is typical of Gwen: unconventional, real, and always herself.
       On Sunday morning sitting among our adult children and a niece, I wished I could have gotten a picture of us filling our three benches at church. It is amazing what 10 or 15 years can do to sitting in church with your children. Just look at your row of children next Sunday. All those swinging feet will soon reach the floor. Before you know it the boys and some of your girls will sit higher at the shoulder than you do.  You'll be looking up to them.  Grown up children behave nicely in church, too.
      Then there was the day that Elv took us girls shopping in Rice Lake.  He and his daughters enjoy used shops. "Hey Dad, look at this." I look on and wonder what can be the attraction to that old piece of junk. I want a picture of Elv carefully placing glass mugs in the cart... the same glasses that I see and pass up every other time I am in the used shops.
      I want a picture of that moment when Jenny and I were holding/minding her two babies at the wedding when Gabe, the camera man, walked by. Both of them leaned out and wanted him at the same time with outstretched arms.  "They like him." I commented, and Jenny proudly smiled, "Yes, they do."  
     It would be hard to capture with a camera the living room times, I suppose. We discussed "church stuff", politics, news, and opinions together at different times all week. There were numerous Rook games and child training sessions. We sang once together and had family devotions a couple of times.  I wonder how many times we cleared dishes and coffee mugs out of the living room.  After everyone left we found a pacifier and part of a medicine dispenser that we had been looking for earlier and old popcorn under the couches and cushions. Upstairs, the girls found the well-wrapped, glass coffee carafe that Jenny had bought at the used shop that day.
     They don't make a camera that catches and keeps the memories we treasure today.

                                                                                                        

The Rhine River, Kauffmans, GF Double Chocolate Cookies, and a Brother in the Marshfield Hospital

       And yes, I know the title is too long, but too bad! It has to be that long to get it all in.
       Shall we start in Marshfield or over in Germany?
       I am TRYING to write a/the story of when my mother's people came to America back in the 18th century.  Today I've been on the Rhine telling, (okay maybe I do too much telling and not enough showing, I have never said I could actually write right), about sick babies and distraught women, and second-guessing husbands.  Not much has changed, has it?  Well, yes it has. Travel has changed. Hygiene and ship cleaning have changed. Ships have changed. The reasons for cruising up the Rhine have changed.  But people haven't changed so much. So I am trying to tell you all about why a family would leave home and country to find a new life in a new world at the great cost of even losing their babies to illness.
   
      After eating all those holiday cookies and candies, we were ready for honest meat and taters and no deserts for a few days.  Especially after getting on the scales. Never mind.  But today I decided to make GF (gluten free) cookies again. This time I made double chocolate cookies. The first two pans were not done enough and while the second two pans were in baking I had to go pick Frances up from her teaching job, so I put the timer on and had Brad lift those out of the oven when done. The second batch was picture perfect with beautifully cracked surfaces.  Only thing, they were crunchy done. Oh well.  Frances won't eat GF cookies. Too much beany taste for her. Brad says they're the best. So there you have it, a good cross section of opinion at our house about GF cooking.

        All the while we were baking and on the Rhine, my brother Eric is waiting in the Marshfield hospital for a doctor to come and tell him what can be wrong with him.  Last week they told him he had a something the size of a baseball on his lung, most likely fungus. Meds and pain killers for that.  Last night he had an attack of some sort, full of pain, at which they finally decided to throw nitroglycerin. That finally helped. Today they did more ex-rays and another CT scan and then left him to wait all day in his room for word/diagnosis/anything. Evening and dark are here and we still haven't heard. Odd!

       We cleaned the church today. What a good thing. We vacuumed up a lot of little things, mostly paper, I guess.  And cleaned two scuzzy restrooms.  And picked up illions of toys in the nursery.  While I clean I can't stop seeing where there ought to be church appropriate wall hangings.  And certainly, we could have rid of that tablecloth in the entry and use trivets for the hot casserole dishes instead? Please?  But nobody else sees it like that, so I quietly allow the beauty of that lovely oak table to be hidden. It's not a hill to die on. There seem to be fewer and fewer hills to die on. Peace and tranquility are more important than a LOT of things that don't really matter after all.  Are those last two sentences redundant?

         And where is winter? The snow was melty today. Chinook weather. The laundry dried on the lines outside without once freezing and clacking together like chunks of wood. Sunshine, too. Beautiful January weather, unless you have snowmobiles to rent out to rich tourists.

A Chimney Fire @TheStoneHouse

             It all started with a lovely warm fire in our sitting room stove this morning. Of course, Elv and I had no idea that we were creating the setting for a fire call. Just a nice morning of coffee and quiet time by the fire.
             The plan for today was for the children and me to haul firewood from the woods.  Elv thought there would be around 4 loads and he would assist us in loading at the woods.  So Elv and Lance left for a short day of work with intent to help us later. Lance planned to be home to study for Sunday School teaching this afternoon.
            Everything was ticking along as planned.  Elv and Lance were off to work.  I had made a quick breakfast of pancakes for the children and stacked the dirty dishes in a sink of hot water.  The girls were getting ready to go out the door when we noticed an odd smell.
            I followed my nose downstairs to till I came to a stop leaning over the stove looking behind it at the chimney door behind the stove.  It is a cute little door with a pretty design all painted white with a little catch just right for keeping it closed.  The problem now was that it was all glowing red as if there was a fire in there.  Wait! The fire is supposed to be in the stove, not in the chimney.
           I quickly called Elv who advised me to call 911. I did that and dispatch seemed to know who I was and where I was calling from. Neatest thing since sliced bread. All I had to do was to say I had a pretty good chimney fire.
          But first I must back track a little. Last night at the supper table, Lance who is Lieutenant on the fire department, was bemoaning the fact that Bass Lake Fire Department could soon be without a chief and therefore no longer in existence. Well, I certainly couldn't see a problem with the department today.
        In about three shakes after dispatch paged the crew I had six guys milling around in our basement sitting room solving and throwing their potions on the fire.  Lance had the little hand held xray machine that gave him the temperature of the chimney walls in the house here. And they all decided that the fire was indeed at the bottom of the chimney and nowhere else in our house.
        Since the fire in the stove was almost out, the chimney fire seemed to be as well, we decided to go ahead and haul firewood as planned. After the first load I came in and checked the chimney wall again by laying my hand on it. OOH! Very hot yet. Hmmm.
       I think we put on 250 miles today hauling firewood.  Eight loads later the woodlot is quite full of it. While Elv finished up the last two loads, Lance and I cleaned out the bottom of the chimney.
      We pulled out buckets of black stuff and it was STILL quite warm. I saw a coal once as we worked.  We put the pans/buckets outside the door and left everything in the chimney/stove area open and airing for Elv to inspect when he got in. Then we could put the stove back and clean up  the mess.
       The mess was mostly a dirty white film all over everything in the room including me by the time we were done. But it cleaned up easily with the vacuum sweeper and mopping water.
       After supper Elv went outside for some something and noticed that one of the pans of creosote on the patio that we had taken out of the chimney after the fire was supposedly out, was now a mass of red hot coals burning away nicely in the open air.  Does anyone wonder why chimney/house fires are notorious for restarting?
      Elv says that if I need that much attention, I am just to let him know after this.  He even offered to stay home from work on Saturday morning if that's what it takes. :) I have always wondered what it would take to get him to not go to work on Saturdays. :)
     We're all grateful for God's loving care over us today, and for a quick response from BLFD.

29th Anniversary

It is time to post again. What shall it be?  Well, the purpose of this blog is to update our family and friends. So then, I guess I ought to post the things we've been doing.

Elv and I had our 29th anniversary the beginning of October.  We just got around to taking some time off to vacation and celebrate. Except we worked at the cabin instead of vacationing, really.  There were windows to wash, floors to clean, dishes/kitchen to arrange, trees to remove, brush to clear and weeds to whack. 

We've been told that there is a place on Buck Mountain from which one can see Lake Superior.  One of the projects of this weekend was to find that spot.  Elv took his GPS and we found a trail that seemed to be leading us to the top.  After hiking on this land now for a couple years and always wanting to see this place our anticipation was pretty keen.  We found it! From up there on a clear day (such was the day of our first view), you can see the Splitrock lighthouse on this shore 3 plus miles away and the Apostle Islands miles across the lake. This is a little more than a 1/2 miles hike from the cabin at the end of a very passable hiking trail. 

This picture is for Gabe, Elv says.  Lacking a tractor to pull; Elv decided to put the Jeep to work. Thanks to our friend, Brian, who limbed the trees we had cut down that were too close to the house, we saw the potential in a spruce log. Hopefully some of them will become upright posts and cross beams in the cabin one of these days.
And while we were away, the children had a nice visit with Grandpa Sids. Thanks Dad and Mom for spending Friday with them.  Frances is very happy with the bookcase you built for her, Dad.

Curing Pinecones for Seasonal Decor

 We have been collecting pine cones for our friends who will be making wreaths for sale this season. The wind has been handing them down to us from the tops of our tallest white pine trees.  To avoid getting pitch on our hands we wear gloves to gather them by the box full.
Amber explained that they boil and bake the cones before adding them to their wreaths.  So I found an old rusty tea kettle with a good opening and proceeded to try it myself.  Unfortunately I think I've ruined the good  meat tongs but how else could I hold the cone under the boiling water? The pitch melted off the cone immediately and the whole cone closed in my grasp as I lifted it out onto a foil lined cookie sheet. The incredibly aromatic pitch rolled to the edge of the kettle and collected there. After a while I lifted out the long yellow stickiness and gingerly placed it in the trash can. But I wonder what it could be used for?
While I baked pans full of cones in a slow oven the whole house smelled strongly of pine. In about an hour the cones had reopened and dried completely. The result is a shiny shellacked looking cone. They're beautiful and perfectly safe to handle now.

I have had several people ask me how long to boil the cones.  I held them one at a time under the boiling water for only a few seconds. You can see the the pitch rolling off.  Then I baked them on tin foil in a low oven for an hour or so.  Hope this helps.

Sunday Evening Picnic

We had a picnic last night at the Ojibwa Park with our two nieces from Sahth Cahrahlahnah.  They take a lot of ribbing for their drawl.  But, they pass it right back so it is okay.  

They brought a real watermelon for us.  Let's have none of your wimpy, seedless tastless versions. This is the kind of watermelon on which you use the largest knife you own, simply because of its size. The only logical way to eat it is to cut it in nice wedges and eat it outside so that you can drip on the grass.  It was truly a tasty picnic watermelon. 

Elv wondered if we would want to picnic without facilities and have good privacy or would we like to have a few facilities and sacrifice privacy.  We picked facilities and ended up at the park with nobody else there anyway. We were a crowd all by ourselves. We had a yummy supper of haystacks and Strawberry and Blueberry Delights besides the melon.  

I don't know what this is about.  But these two were a team.

Clown Cousins

This took a long time. 

But we finally ended up with this little moment of no open mouths and all open eyes, sorta.

Another one of the clowns I live with.

The whole gang.

The big boys had fun making this thing go round fast with the girls on board.