notinKansasanymore

WOWburger: Hamburgers served at the Rock Of Ages. WOWmobile: any old, beat-up automobile, generally second- or third-hand, driven by a WOW ambassador (it was the only car that they could afford, because they spent most of their time doing ministry work, rather than working to afford a decent car). HQ: Headquarters of the Way, in New Knoxville, OH. Rock of Ages: Week-long gathering of the faithful followers of TWI, held in August at HQ. Sometimes attended by (reportedly) 20,000 people, in the heyday of the Way. Utilized (supposedly) "largest bigtop tent in America" as primary meeting space. Followers filled area hotels and motels, and a very large tent-camping area on HQ grounds. Corps Week: Week-long gathering of Way Corps members and graduates, held on the same grounds as the ROA, one week prior to ROA. Included events such as teachings and single's dances. Corps Weddings: Mass weddings, held at The Way College of Emporia, one day after Corps Graduation, with as many as 50 couples. Corps promised not to change their marital status during training, so people waited until the day after training ended to marry, and VPW would hang around for a day, to perform the ceremony.

Congratulations to Cyndi's daughter! And to Cyndi! Just think; when we were that age, we were getting into a cult. I'll bet Cyndi's daughter is smarter than that! Three cheers for the kid! :)-->

That is what I'd truly like to be-e-e. -->

Whaddya mean, the change in the private messaging format? Enlighten the eyes of my understanding, please?

Thanks, folks! I e-mailed the Shipper. You, too, can write him. Just write The Shipper, P.O.Box 328, New Knoxville, Ohio, 45871

Yo, Mellowtripper! E-mail me! I've been sent a pretty decent deal on Australia tickets, and can't find your e-mail address! (I surely can't go, but I'd imagine you're burning up the friendly skies these days!)

Fellowbirder, do your flycatchers have yellow bellies? This one had a beautiful dove-grey head and back, double brown bands on the wings, and a rich pastel yellow underside. The folks at Wildcare tried to look it up, but said that it's really not supposed to be here. What are your flycatchers like? They've been getting more and more way-Southern species of birds in the past couple of years. Species are slowly migrating Northward, as their tolerable temperature ranges also move Northward. Last week of school for the kids! Billions of boxes to pack!

"Mother?" You must needs now open the eyes of my understanding. Boxes, drowning in boxes. Does anyone remember the Box Factory story yer? Found a flycatcher in the mudroom this morning; it was surrounded by yard cats, and had subsequently lost its tail feathers. I took it out to Wildcare, where they'll feed it nice, fat grubs until the feathers grow back in a few weeks. Funny thing is that this kind of flycatcher isn't supposed to live in Central Oklahoma. It's supposed to be a lot further south. Global Warming has come to niKa's back yard! Break out the sunscreen!

Reunions in Australia AND in Mexico! Hooo, YEAAAHH! Now, that's Corps.

Mr. Moonlight: Thanks for posting. As others have said, be careful not to "out" yourself. As weird as it sounds, God can bless you even if you're stuck somewhere that you don't really want to be; it's the old "bloom where you're planted" line that's been handed to women for decades. But it does bring some comfort, in times of need. Your stakes are so high (your children). I will pray for your spouse to want to leave. In the meantime, again, be careful. This site has had many accounts related of TWI breaking up marriages in order to keep one of the spouses under their thumbs, when it became apparent to them that they couldn't still have both. love, and good luck, niKa

I'm surrounded by boxes. Did I tell youse guys that we're moving a block down the street, at the end of the summer? Leaving the asparagus bed behind. Leaving the basement that we never use. Leaving the wbole second floor that we almost never use. Leaving the humongous house payment that we can surely use elsewhere. Moving into the rent house (our renters are moving out at the end of the summer; he graduated from law school, and the Air Force is sending him off to be J.A.G. somewhere exciting in the world). Kids won't have to change schools. We will actually be able to save for retirement! (Retirement: that's when we meet up with Fellowshipper in Australia and all go fishing together.) For now, I'm surrounded by boxes. Fellowshipper; you're lucky that you didn't stop by to say "hello" the other day; I'd have talked you into saying "hello" to the piano that we were moving out on that day. It went to a graduate student. I've promised my husband that he'll never, ever in his life have to move another piano. He loves me for that. One more week of school for the kids. I'll never get it all done. Makes me think of George Henley's "Box Factory" story, but I can't remember how the story goes. Any thoughts on it? :D-->

One lays tile; one must let sleeping dogs lie. Most particularly, one must let lying, cult-leading sleeping dogs lie. ;)-->

Ahh, Tuttle! You bring a tear to my eye. You wonder what you can say to your people at a time like this. I think that we need another Ice Cream Bowl. Oh, and Exie: the outdoor cats are feral and wild; they stay outside all the time. We've offered to let them in, but they know a good deal when they have it; food, medical care, and the whole outdoors to play in. The indoor cats never, ever go out; two are declawed on the front, and the third was a little crippled thing that used to be in the feral cat family; we brought her in and had some surgery done; now, she's our little baby. She's too afraid to go out, but we'd never let her out, anyway, because we'd be crushed if she got lost. She couldn't survive out on her own.

Speaking of plumbers, they've filled in the trench (sorry Tommy!) and gone away. They were very nice. The yard cats are very confused. The children and the house cats spent a little time at the window today, staring wistfully out at what used to be a grand view; then, they sighed, turned around, and went back to a normal life, as children and cats without the Grand Canyon to gaze at, in the back yard. Youth, and great trenches, are so fleeting . . ..

Tommy, if it was only 2-1/2 feet deep, like any normal self-respecting sewer ditch, I'd be out there playing it with them! But ten feet is just too dangerous. Already, a small section of the side has started to tumble into the ditch;let us just say that MamaKansasNoMore is being extra watchful these days. So, on a happy note: my little girl turned to me just at dusk today, and said: "Mamma, which one is the second star to the right?" You know, I've been looking for that one for awhile, myself. I keep some old Fairy Dust on hand, just in case I ever figure it out.

Aaaahh, thank you; Happy Monday to you, too, Excie! I have been absent from this esteemed company for two days because the plumbers who were digging my new sewer line accidentally severed my esteemed telephone wire. They were very nice about it, however, and are bedding in my line with a truckload of sand, for which they are not charging me. It's kind of cool; there's a ten-foot deep ditch, two and a half feet wide, and 140 feet long, all the way from my back door to the alley. The yard cats are confused. The possums, skunks, and raccoons have so far avoided it. The blue jays play with it; down to the bottom, up to the top; etc., etc., etc. It's almost as if they are hoping that one of the yard cats will try to catch them in there, and get stuck. The Ditch should be filled in sometime tomorrow, after the city inspection. The nice part is that it's right in front of my kitchen window, and the kids got to sit on the kitchen counter and watch it being done, all day Saturday. The plumbers did not charge overtime for Saturday work, either. Soooo, that's what's happening notinKansas these days. What's up with you folks?

Poor Tommy! You are always offering delectable refreshments, and we are never here to partake (not take part) in them! Oh, we love you, love you, love you And we'll sing it once again, Oh, we love you, love you, love you Comes back the glad refrain From the mountains to the prairies, To the islands of the sea, You can hear the whole world singing Our joyous melody. Mmmmmwwwwaaaaahhhhh! :)-->

Honestly, I think that as long as they get someone who isn't a lech, they'll do alright. The three men who've been mentioned in this thread so far are all, as far as my experience, upright in their dealings with the opposite sex. That would be a welcome change in male Way presidents. I think that any of the three of them would do a fine job. Hey, TWI is certainly not my bag anymore. But if it's still theirs, they should do it 100%. We all should do whatever we're doing 100%. Sure, they have been around and seen bad things, and maybe they've kept their mouths shut, and maybe they haven't. But that was a culture of keeping one's mouth shut; we were all taught to do that. They were doing what they were taught, just like we did. If they still want to spend their lives there, then I hope that they at least spend their lives to the best of their individual abilities. In my opinion, a terrible waste. But they're not my lives to spend. And that's all I've got to say about that.

Wow, you guys are tons better than me. As requested, I was trying to make people sound like they could operate the manifestation of kissing in tongues, but you know, the rhymes just don't work that way. They just build up and up, and sooner or later, flow over the top, and roll out to freedom. Karmic - you're cool. I still haven't made it back to Arizona, but have high hopes. There once was a Tucket named Paw I hold him in some certain Awe. 'Cause he started a site Now we're up all the night He's one of the best that I've saw. (I can say "saw" if I want to; so there.) :P-->

Hey, ya'll. If I forgot anyone, please let me know. There once was a Tommy named Tuttle Skilled in the art of the cuddle When our Tommy's in town, Famous is his renown: The lucky one is Mrs. Tuttle! There once was a Zealot called Simon Which is pretty darn hard to be rhymin'. With his muscled tattoos And his truck for a cruise, In the rough, we've found a diamond. There once was a Tommy so Strange That his fame spread all over the range in Texas, my Texas, (that's out where the West is) His legend will always remain. (okay,that's weak, but have YOU ever tried to rhyme "Strange"?) There once was a lady named Exie And everyone thought she was Sexy. She was the belle of Greasespottie Because she was so Hottie We read it in the original dialectsie.

Okay, so I really meant "lip-lock," but it didn't rhyme. Sue me.

There once was a fellow named Shipper Who just couldn't get any hipper. When he gets to Australia, To see his sweet Sheila, He'll give her a great big lock-lipper.

I am pressed beyond measure. Pressed down, shaken together, and running over, shall be the convertibles and the Harleys unto you. When the roll is called in Sturgis, When the roll is called in Sturgis, When the roll is called in Stur--GIS, Whent the roll is called up yonder, I'll be home ironing shirts. I once rode a motorcycle in my pajamas. How the motorcycle put on my pajamas, I'll never know.

Elrod . . . is he still singing the blues?

This dream can be interpreted. I don't understand the part about TommyT, but convertibles I know, and Harleys I know. The bright yellow convertible is seven dates of plenty. (And you know who you are.) The bright yellow Harley is seven dates of Heaven. Because if you know the right guy, and he's driving the right Harley, he can take you to seventh heaven. My advice to you, Exie, is to keep your eyes open for a windblown-lookin' guy wearing a yellow shirt.