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…

I have been very busy with everything, so I asked (repeatedly) Stephi to blog.  What a job, Stephanie.  For supper tonight, I will fix you a piece of macaroni and cheese…

Michael here in Stephenville.  It has been far too long since I have gotten on here.  We are well.  Stephanie survived her Powder Puff game.  In fact, there were no ambulance runs at all.   The juniors won, injuries were minimal, there were no criminal assaults, and the game did not have to be called…  All in all, it was a learning experience for all concerned:  Stephi learned that X’s and 0′s have more uses than merely to play tic-tac-toe or to sign love notes.  Some referees learned the importance of keeping the clock running ALL the time in a Powder Puff game.  And I learned that I will be eminently rich and famous if I can only find a means of harvesting the energy contained in trash talking before, during, and after a Powder Puff game…

Lorena has sounded great the last few times we have called.  She tries to talk more often, although we cannot make out the words she is trying to say.  She is laughing (and crying) [appropriately, I might add] harder and more often than she had in the past.  There is absolutely no doubt that she is getting better steadily.

Later tonight, I will try to blog some more, but right now I must go home to get ready for an Art Honor Society banquet that I get to attend with my two daughters, Stephi and L.  L came into my classroom the other day, put her head down on her desk — and started boo-hooing as if her heart would break.  When I asked her what was wrong, she told me that none of her family would go to the Art Honor Society with her.  Her mom is going camping with boyfriend, so L is having to stay with her grandmother, and grandmother refuses to go to the AHS banquet because she is on a diet.  Having told me this she started bawling really hard as she said, “I just want someone to be proud of me…”  I hugged her and said I would be honored to go to the banquet with her if she would have me.  She gave me a big hug and said that would be wonderful.  I sent her back to art class to tell Mrs. Waters our plans in case seating was assigned at the banquet so that L would be seated with Steph and me.  L came back to class beaming; Mrs. Waters had talked the story out of her and then told her, “That will be no problem.  And I will be sitting on the other side of you.”  Mrs. Waters then let L watch as she changed the seating chart so that L will be sitting between me and Mrs. Waters.  L hugged me again and thanked me, then said, “It will be nice sitting by you — but it is really cool to get to sit by the art teacher!”  [Surely, math teachers are okay, too, though...]

Our team beat the seniors at powder puff….pretty sweet

steph

Michael here in Stephenville where Stephanie “The Stomper” Thomas is bashing and crashing her way into Powder Puff football.  Just as any sensible girl would do, she says she has always wanted to play football, but “I am really just doing it to get the T-shirt.”

Stephanie doesn’t know much about football.  She told me she has been made an offensive linewoman — and then she asked me what an offensive linewoman does.  I received a huge eye-rolling response when I replied that I had expected her to be on the offensive team because she can be pretty offensive at times.  Ironically, that comment immediately put her on the defensive, to which she quickly responded by becoming even more offensive.

Actually, I asked if they were wearing pads and helmets this year because each year in the course of our dainty little Powder Puff game we get a few broken collarbones, arms, noses, and various other appendages and protuberances, along with enough scrapes, bruises, sprains, pulls, and tears to put an entire pro football team on injured reserve.  The girls start the games playing flag football, but the game soon disintegrates into a combination of Mad Max at the Armageddon Super Bowl and The Longest Yard Roman Gladiatorial style.  I now know why most schools do not allow girls to play football.  It is to protect us poor guys from the viciousness of “the fairer sex.”

The powder puff teams are coached by varsity football players overseen by the football coaching staff.  Stephanie said they were warned against playing rough, but she overheard some of the coaches trying to decide just how long it would take the girls to start going for the jugular instead of the flag.  Apparently the betting line is running from one minute to two minutes before the mayhem begins.  Tackling is much more effective than grabbing a little wispy piece of plastic bunting wafting in the breeze.  Tackling is also, of course, much more satisfying, and it makes much more of a statement.

Stephanie has opened my eyes to a few things.  She is playing for a T-shirt, but she said that the rosters really fill up as girls find out who has signed up to play.  Girl A signs up, so Girl B signs up to play on the other team to give Girl A some payback, so Girl C signs up to play on the other team to teach Girl B a lesson, so Girls D-Z sign up to get their own licks in.  Soon the teams are filled with 16th and 17th string players, which causes great consternation among the players because several of the girls are fearful that they will not be able to dole out the retribution they signed up to deliver either because the game will be over before they get to play or the dainty young lady they signed on to punish will already be in the hospital…

Some of the highlight quotes of the week:

•  Stephi:  “Daddy, I got yelled at in practice today.” 
   Me:  “Why?  What did you do?”
   Stephi:  “We were about to run a play when I looked down at the girl’s
               hands on the other side of the line, and I said, ‘Ooh!!!    I like 
               your fingernails!!!  What color is that???’  And then my coach
               yelled, ‘NO!!!  NOT IN FOOTBALL!!!  You NEVER say
               ANYTHING like that in FOOTBALL!!!’”
    Me:  “What did you do then?”
    Stephi:  “I said, ‘Okay.  But I really do like her fingernails…’.”
    Me:  “What did he do then?”
    Stephi:  “His face just turned real red, and he yelled, ‘NOT IN
              FOOTBALL!  YOU NEVER DO THAT IN FOOTBALL!’”

•  Stephi:  “Daddy, we all got yelled at in practice today by the
               coaches.”
    Me:  “What happened, Steph?”
   Stephi:  “The coaches had just explained a play to us and we were
              supposed to practice it, but then someone walked up with a
              real pretty little puppy, so all of us ran over to it to coo over it
              and to pet it.  We were all saying, ‘Oooooooh, it looks
              sooooooooooo cute!!!  What’s its name?  May I hold it?
              Oooooooooh, it is so soft!  Do you have any more?’  And then
              all the coaches started yelling, ‘NOT IN FOOTBALL!!!  GET
              THAT DOG OUT OF HERE!!!  YOU NEVER DO THAT IN
              FOOTBALL!!!  GET AWAY FROM THAT DOG!!!  GET
              OUT ON THE FIELD!!!’  Daddy, they acted like they were
              going to go crazy…”

•  Stephi:  “Daddy, what does an offensive tackle do?  The coaches
              have made me an offensive tackle.”
   Me:  ”As an offensive tackle, you will block the players on the defense
            to protect your back field and to open up holes for your
            running backs to run through.” 
   Stephi: ”So I tackle the players on the other team?”
   Me:  “No, Stephanie, you BLOCK the players on the other team.”
   Stephi [holding her elbows out in front of her like lethal battering
            rams]:  “So I block the other players like this, and then I tackle
            them?”
   Me:  “No, Stephi, you cannot elbow the other players; you cannot
           grab them; you can only block them.  You will NEVER tackle
           them.”
   Stephi [incredulously]:  “I never get to tackle anybody???  Why did
           they say I would be an offensive tackle then?  That stinks!  I
           want to tackle somebody!”

My dainty little offensive tackle went to another prom last night, resplendent in a pink evening gown with pink roses embedded in the cute little curls in her very expensive coiffure.  I had the distinct pleasure of spending an hour sitting in a beauty salon waiting for her, watching everyone’s reactions as I sat there (with my shaved pate) acting as if I were next in line — and telling the stylist, when she would ask the occasional guy who came in for a haircut how he wanted it cut, to cut it like mine — and then watching the guy’s reaction.  [Only later did one of my dear ones point out to me that everyone probably only thought that I was in there to get my head waxed.  Ouch!] 

Suffice it to say, I have the most beautiful little offensive tackle anywhere in football.  [And I can hear the coaches apoplectically yelling, "NO!!!  NOT IN FOOTBALL!!!  NEVER IN FOOTBALL!!!"]

I can’t wait to report all of this to Lorena tonight.  Her laughter will be wonderful to hear…

Michael back again.  We had a great conversation with Lorena last night.  It was the first call in quite awhile because each time we would call, she would be working in some kind of therapy — with another 30 minutes to an hour to go.  I have been very busy lately, and getting these girls to blog is much like getting Patrick Kennedy to cast his ballot in a crucial House vote at 3:00 a.m.; they get busy doing something else, so they just never get around to it — and then they forget that they were even supposed to do it…

The visit last night was great.  Lorena laughed many times, mostly when I bellyached to her about the abuse I have to endure here from these so-called “little ladies”.  I am seriously thinking of changing my name to Matt because I am always being walked on around here…

Needless to say, the final installment of the cloves-flavored onion soup saga elicited a great Mexicana guffaw.  Technically, I suppose that Lorena had the last laugh regarding my latest culinary adventure.  However, here at home, the last laugh was mine to savor as I watched the girls metamorphose from clove-onion-soup skeptics to enthusiastic converts, initially ridiculing my gastronomic genius, then sampling my scrumptious creation, then scarfing it down like a bunch of starving high school guys on a pepperoni pizza.  I am having difficulty deciding if my next onion soup creation will feature chocolate, butterscotch, or peanut butter.  I don’t know exactly when this next heavenly batch of ambrosia will be ready, but I will accept orders now.  You had better hurry, though, because it will go fast…

There were three hard cries last night.  The first occurred after I told Lorena about a surprise email I had received from the beautiful Priscilla McBride Monson.  Prissy is a (very young) old, dear friend.  She played piano at our wedding, and then, years later, plied us both liberally with champagne at her own wedding.  Lorena and Prissy clicked from the moment they met, and visiting more with Prissy was one of those plans we had slated in for after Lorena’s MBA graduation.

Anyway, Prissy wrote:   Still clever after all these years!   [Prissy, be civil; that hurt!!!]  Actually, I tried to post a long letter that I had written to Lorena at Christmas-time, but I somehow lost it during the posting process!  Shows you how smart I am!   I have read this blog faithfully for months now, having been directed to it by Ruth Smith.  Truthfully, I feel saddened on the days when it doesn’t arrive in my inbox.  My prayers for Lorena are ever-present, and your family stays within my heart and mind always.

I will once again try to write a long letter for Lorena and post it on the blog.  I also have for you some of your original letters that you sent to me from Germany….they detail your engagement to Lorena, and I want you and your family to have them.  I kept every letter you sent to me during those embarrassing times!   (Remember????)  They are in storage, and once I put my hands on them, I will return them to you.  I know that Lorena will love reading them!

So last night my dad talked Lya into trying his onion soup creation, which led to Lya talking me into it…and surprisingly it was good! We ate and watched Lya’s new movie of choice, Sleepover, which is about some jr high girls having a sleepover then going on an adventure scavenger hunt against another group of girls where the prize for the winning team is the best and coolest lunch spot at the High School.  I say that it is Lya’s new favorite, but I think she likes to put it on mute, make her own lines to the actors, and laugh as she makes fun of how corny it is all played out better than she likes to actually watch the movie.  The laughter only grew after that because then Lorraine came over and we all giggled and squealed as we wrestled and tickled each other…maybe it was just Lya that was doing the giggling and squealing..and I was the one doing the tickling…Lorraine was doing laundry.  Shortly after that Lya left with Lorraine because she wanted to spend the night with her, that only meant that my dad and I were left to take care of Pax the  Moodle. I love Max.  We all do. My dad may say he doens’t, only because he doesn’t think that we see him playing with Max…he’s not that sneaky hahaha!

Well, I’m going to go…I hope I did this well!

Stephanie

Michael y mis hijas in Stephenville.  It was such an incredibly beautiful weekend.  We got rain Friday and Saturday, not a lot, but rain nonetheless, and we were spared the hail and wind with which so many places around us were battered.  It was COOL and wonderful.

Duane Godwin came by, and we had a wonderful talk, exchanging wonderful tidbits of information about Lorena.  He calls down there periodically to talk to her.  Duane and Nony were two of the first people we met when we came to Stephenville, and Duane taught Lorena in some of her classes at Tarleton.  Nony is from Chihuahua, Mexico, so she and Lorena were paisanas.  The Godwins had lived in Spain, and we had traveled in Spain.  It just seemed that we were inextricably linked from the first time we met.  Their first granddaughter was named Rainey because their daughter Holly liked the name (that she heard when Nony baby sat Lorraine.)  Lorena loves the Godwins dearly, I could not function without them, and the Godwins have proven to be Angels of deliverance for us in so many ways.

Mary Kay Nussbaum got back in touch with us.  She and Lorena still have a high tea appointment that they have not kept.  Mary Kay is still working on her teaching certification.  Our children will be blessed when she gets it because she will be an incredible teacher.  Mary Kay, it is good to have you back in touch with us.

Gaurav Gupta and Supaporn Netramanee also reestablished contact with us.  They have gone through some tough times, but they are tough people, and I am so much richer for having them in my life.  I really feel as though they are family now. 

Several folks have called us trying to get more info on Lorena.  I am sorry for the little information that I have, but what I have, I put on here.  She sounds much stronger.  I asked if she has been having them put her in the rocker more often — and she indicated no.  I told her she needs to do that.  I instructed her to have the nurses ask Carlos if there would be any problem with it.  If not, she should request it for the additional exercise it would afford her, for the sense of accomplishment it would give her, and for US!!!  She agreed that she should be rocking herself more often, and I hope she follows through.

I had more cloves-flavored French onion soup today, and it is surprisingly good.  Not, of course, that I plan to ever make it again.  Last night, Lorena laughed at me again when I mentioned that I had had cloves-flavored onion soup for supper again.  I then asked her if she would like for me to send her a bowl so she could try it.  She laughed again very hard, and Miguel, her nurse and the moderator of our call, said, “She say, ‘No!’”  Oh, well, I guess that means that I get to eat the rest of this 50 gallons of soup myself — as the enticing aroma of onions and cloves wafts through the house…  I asked the girls if they would like to try some when they got home this evening, and they ALL TOO QUICKLY assured me that they had already eaten AND WERE TOO STUFFED TO EAT ANYTHING ELSE!  Yeah, right!!!  Wimps!!!

Some of you have probably seen the recipe email that Herb and Marion Wooten sent me:  I inadvertently deleted it, or I would have stuck it on here.  It begins by asking what do you get when you mix flour and water?  The answer, of course, is PASTE.

Then it asks what do you get when you mix flour, water, eggs, milk, sugar, etc., and bake it.? The answer is:  A CAKE.

It then asks, what happens to the glue that you got when you mixed the flour and water initially?  The answer:  that is what makes the cake stick to your hips…