May 15, 2006

• Michael and the girls here in Stephenville.  I apologize for the dearth of blogs lately.  We have been running circles, and, with school winding down, I find myself acutely behind where I should be, short of time, and even shorter of temper and patience.  Some girls might be knocking on your doors seeking refuge.  (All they ask is an Internet connection and television.  We have not had TV for several years now, so now that it is hooked back up, I fear my young addicts may be OD’ing.  I haven’t actually seen brain matter oozing from their ears yet, but their eyes are getting that glazed expression and their mouths are starting to hang open.)

  
  

  Saturday we worked around here on the jungle that we call a lawn.  We haven’t dared venture into the Lost World called the “garden” because we are too intimidated by the shrieks, screams, and thunderous crashes of predators and victims.  I plan to start tentative forays into the garden as soon as I am able to procure a howitzer, a couple of rocket launchers, and some flame throwers…

  
  

  Late in the day, we went to a dulcimer festival at Glen Rose.  The music was great (except that my “Yankee” lady guests were completely unappreciative of the red-neck, scatological, Southern ”humor” evidenced in some of the jokes and songs presented by several of the performers.  The high note of the evening [other than a fingernail-on-chalkboard falsetto performed by one of the male singers] occurred when my “Nawthun” lady friends learned that a squirrel running through the treetops had precipitated the fall [into the middle of a most unappreciative crowd] of a 4-5 foot snake.  After the gallant gentleman who removed the snake from the premises related the story [verified by his demure wife who was the epitome of honesty] to my guests, they watched the treetops much more than they watched the performers.

  
  

  [I, on the other hand, was most appreciative of this opportunity to tell my now-totally-rattled guests about our Texas Gliding Vipers that lurk about in treetops here in Texas watching for unsuspecting Yankees upon whom they can launch themselves, gliding in silently from great distances, to sink their fearsome, lethal fangs into their terrified-but-doomed victims.  The abuse that those sweet little Yankee ladies subsequently heaped upon this poor little "Suthun" lad was reminiscent of the injustices of Reconstruction at its nastiest and most vindictive...]

  
  

  We did get to hear some great mountain and hammer dulcimer music, though, and we thoroughly enjoyed the evening.  I only wish Lorena could have been with us.  She loves that sort of thing.

  
  

  Sunday, we went to Decoration at Pleasant Valley cemetery.  The only representatives of our immediate family were Barbara and Bill Hudgins and the girls and I.  The crowd was very small this year, so it felt lonely, and I found myself very nostalgic.  Jerome and Ruth Smith were at A&M for David’s graduation.  The Youngs were meeting at Dorothy and Terry’s.  [Robby had competed Saturday at the State Track Meet.]  Little Cody Johnson had been in the hospital with pneumonia last week [and I had not blogged about it], so Dena and Craig were unable to attend.  We still had a great visit with several of the Becks and the Pittmans — and Darwin Dickerson (who was just honored as citizen of the year of the city of Comanche.)  Bill led a tour of all the family graves — and we had a great time reminiscing.  [This part of Texas was only settled in the 1870's, and I am related either by marriage or blood to almost all those interred there.]

  
  

  We then made a pilgrimage around by Byrds Store, the old Thomas, Smith, Jones, and Boyd places.  Out on the dirt road between Tabor’s field and Jerome’s pasture, we ran a beautiful 4-5 foot rattler off the road.  I stopped and backed up as quickly as I could to where he had made his exit — where I jumped out and began searching the weeds in the bar ditch while Stephanie and Lya LOUDLY called me Stupid.  I really thought they might like to see a rattler closer up.  All I was able to find, though, was the burrow in which he had undoubtedly taken refuge. 

  
  

  We related all this to Lorena when we called last night.  She was sounding great, and she cried very hard when we wished her Happy Mother’s Day.  We passed along a litany of greetings and messages from all of you who have asked us to tell her things.  Again, it would have been great to have had her with us.  She really is sounding stronger.

  
  

  By the way, many of you know that I have been looking at work in Iraq or Afghanistan to pay for Lorena’s care.  I have decided to wait one more year because next year is Stephi’s senior year and I feel I need to be here for that.  I also need to take care of much more business around here before I head overseas.  I just wanted to let folks know on here because it will save me many individual explanations later to you folks.  We will see how it goes next year…

  
  

  Hilda Thomas called tonight to invite us to Dorothy and Hillman Thomas’s 60th wedding anniversary at Crossroads Baptist Church next Saturday (20 May, 2006) near Sandy Beach on the State Park Road from 2:00-4:00.  We are planning to have a small Thomas family reunion afterwards, so consider this an invitation.  I don’t get to see Aunt Dot and Uncle Hill nearly as much as I should, and I really miss them.  It has been years since I have seen most of my other relatives on that side of the family.  I sure hope there is a good turnout.  Lorena would be right in the big middle of it if she could be…

  
  

  Well, it is much too late, and I am much too tired to continue here.  (Besides that, I must go out and make sure that our trees are clear of Texas Gliding Vipers and Rattlers.)  [This is where Lorena would jab me in the ribs...] 

  
  

  Take care; we love you — and Lorena promises that she is coming back…  Her miracle continues.  To God be the glory…

  • 11:59 pm
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