notinKansasanymore

Fellowshipper, are you back YET? It's going to be 98 here today. And that's not a dry heat. HHHHHHHMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. That's the sound of my friend, the air conditioner.

If I were the president of TWI, I'd encourage people to THINK and agree to disagree, rather than insist on cookie-cutter lockstep on every little issue. That's one of my favorite things about the church I belong to now. We represent lots of different viewpoints. BTW, went to see Ziggy Marley in concert last night. Now THAT led to dancing, lemeetellya. No, that would have to be "lemeetellyaMON." It's the first time that the 17-year-old has actually asked to go along on one of our dates.

Naw, with the kids it's generally just freestyle; lots of twirls, giggles, and tickles. Fancy footwork with no rhyme or reason. Big grins. Colored eggs for lunch, mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Good morning, everybody. We're going to decorate Easter eggs today. Why? Why not? The little ones are organizing all of the decorating supplies, and the eggs are boiling on the stove. Could lead to dancing.

Oooooooh. Pretty! (((((Exie))))) I wish that I had known you better, back in the day. I never took the time to learn how cool you are. There's a quote on my stove spoon-holder, given by the Polish side of my husband's family: "We grow too soon oldt, and too late schmart."

That Mike is a toughie; I tried to talk to him on another thread, and he accused me of yelling at him. Honestly, though, I didn't. I just checked out of that thread; I don't need to listen to that junk anymore. Rocky, I used to know Mt. Lemmon; they sent a picture, and all that's left is the chimney, and the concrete deck supports. I'd thought that the ash would at least be dramatic, and blackened; it's only a very light gray, and almost looks like a picture of something by moonlight; you know how everything just looks "silver," in the right frame of mind, in the moonlight? It's very sad, but plans are already in the works for demolishing the remainder, and rebuilding on the same spot. It's only stuff. People are the important part. Well, it's still sad that the stuff is gone. But, you know that they say that this kind of thing reminds us of what's really important. It does.

You guys who are getting together in AZ next week, I hope that you have a great time. I will be thinking of you. It's okay, because "it's a dry heat." I will rightly divide a gin & tonic in your honor, at the appropriate hour of the appointed day. In fact, let's just organize a group toast, whatsay? Pinky fingers out, everybody!

Thanks. Actually, Dad spent a lot of time in a VA hospital after the war; they couldn't really help him, because he was so shot up. They basically sent him home to die among people whom he loved. After spending about a month at home, he got tired of all the "oh, poor Sam" action, and ran away to Mexico. He ate everything hot that he could get his hands on. Peppers must have been good for him, because he's now 79 years old, and still ornery. But, you know, as far as the OTHER remarks that the Right Rev. Tuttle made, and their interpretation, I have no idea. I looked up "boy george" and "lizard," but got no hits, and can only hope that my loving family will not wonder why I have been searching such weird stuff. Perhaps this is one of those situations in which the same one who spoke must interpret.

I can interpret what it meant to me. Shrubael Stearns, who came to these shores and died during his first few months here. His son, Charles, survived, and had a son named Shrubael, who had a son named Shrubael, who had children, etc. Shrubael was my NNNNnnnnnth-great grandfather. He never lived to see his children grow, or his town blossom. Shrubael (could you tell by his name?) was a Puritan. He died in 1630, a member of the Massachusetts Bay Colony. Among his descendents were missionaries to the Choctaw, other various beginners of congregatins and churches, soldiers (generally militia, few regular army until more modern days). One of his nth-great grandsons was tortured, years later, by the British, because he wouldn't reveal the location of his father and the rest of the patrol of Revolutionaries; the grandson was ten years old at the time. He was finally released, on account of his tender age, and he rejoined his patrol (yes, he was a soldier, with his father, at that age). Another of Shrubael's nth-great grandsons was taken prisoner by Union soldiers during the Civil War, but was mistakenly reported as killed in action. When he was released from the prison camp (no picnic, that) after the war, he returned home to find his wife remarried. He left money for the education of his two small sons, and disappeared forever. Another of Shrubael's nth-great grandsons was in the patrol which held the record for being behind enemy lines for the most number of days, for the Pacific theater of WW2. That was my dad. We have a lot to be thankful for, here with our cushy lives and our Krispy Kremes. Our household pets eat better than millions of people do. I don't ever want to forget that I didn't get here under my own steam. I always want to honor those who went before, because they were the true bridge-builders. They saw themselves as important to the history of the world, and acted in uncommon ways to get things done. To them, I say: well done.

If you're going to do a word study on gin-osko, don't forget to cross-reference for tonic and lemon. Attention to detail is vital in word studies. Happy fourth of July, everybody! It's a lot to celebrate, and a lot of people who have gone before us, so that we could. All of you folks who are veterans, thank you.

Now I know that I'm not the only one . . . I thought that it was Wednesday. But Tommystrangenous thinks it's already Friday? There's the cameraderie of the committed, alright. Committed to remembering my watch the next time, I suppose.

AND then, there as the time that I stood in a blinding sleetstorm for hours, watching the cars pass by and by, because my partner (male) and I both looked like guys; we were wearing our LEAD ponchos and shivering like the paintshaker machines at Home Depot.

I remember that some truckers really appreciated feminine conversation. Why, when Elaine Landmark and I were hitch-hiking back and forth between Emporia and Lightbearers, we once got out of a semi-truck, and literally did not have time to set our suitcases down on the side of the road to put out our thumbs, before another trucker pulled off to ask us whether we needed a ride. Yes, it was definitely easier to hitch without you fellows in tow.

Hi, Simon.

Fellowshipper, are you home yet?

He touched me, Oh, he touched me. I felt a giggle down in my soul. Coffee shot right out of my nose, He touched me, and made me whole.

Moira was very cool. She's one of the folks that I particularly miss.

I read the Bible, slept more than I had in months, drank water. Built a fire, because the 2nd year, the solo was during a blizzard. Built a bomb-proof hooch and stuck to it pretty closely, particularly after hearing somebody rounding up cattle and loading them into a truck; figured that we weren't as "solo" as we thought. The LEAD instructors didn't believe me on that one, but being from Texas, I have had some experience recognizing that particular sound. Tried out the old story about how "good" roasted prickly-pear is. Even two days with no food couldn't prod me to take a second bite. I loved the sauna at the end; I guess the ladies weren't as stinky. Go figure. I loved the climbing. I still have a picture of my favorite chimney, somewhere. I didn't get to climb again until my husband took me to the mountains while we were dating; that was great. Somehow, though, now that I have children, I'm just not as happy to hang off of the edge of nothing and twirl. I keep thinking, "but we're both out here, on the same rope. Would my sister really WANT to raise my children?" So, we don't go together as much any more. I have to say, however, that my better half is h*ll on wheels on a big rock. He likes to hang his sleeping bag off of a high crag in the middle of a two-day climb and spend the night in the air. I'm not sure that I was ever quite that nutso.

Just to refresh my memory, what were the names of the 11th Corps bands? I think that I have figured out who you are, but may be misreading your verbalization style. Were you the frontguy for one of the 11th Corps bands? Were you married while in residence? Dark-headed? I was also in WayProd, albeit in a very second-rate fashion.

Tried to register my phone number three or four times yesterday; it was loggjammed. Finally got through this morning; registered my # and my parents'. Who's this too gray person? You are only as gray as you feel. (easy for me to say; my Mom still isn't completely gray, at 73.) Hey, TG, give us some clues as to your secret identity!

Now, we're talkin'. I can here Ron "Calvary" Hill announcing seconds, right now. George Hendley is approaching the microphone to begin his announcements, shaking his head that anybody would go back for more of this glorious repast. Sunday sack suppers are available on the way out. Oh, I forgot . . . we are all way out. Exie, thank you for the picture. What meanest thou to deny that you know us? Was that the cock crowing thrice?

Actually, we had to hitch-hike to and from Gunnison; thanks for asking. I did a darn lot of hitch-hiking back then, come to think of it. OH, the joys of being given car rides, late at night, by locals who think Way girls are A)easy, and B)insatiable, and offer hot sex right then and there . . .. There was also a warlock who once picked me up in his eighteen-wheeler, admittedly on his way to kill his wife's lover . . . and I wonder why I was so paranoid back then. The picture looks like strawberries to me; it's too bright red to be boooooooooooorscht. What we got here, a counterfeit or sumpin'?

The house is locked, the cats are fed, it's time for niKa to go to bed. If you write any long posts, I'll be sure to read them in the morning. Sweet sleep.

Hey, sports fans: Did you ever think you'd live to see the day when you were glad that Ted Patrick walked the face of the Earth? If I had a kid in the ministry today, I think I'd at least consider it. Don't know whether I'd do it, but I'd sure mail off for the pamphlet, knowwhuuddamean.

Sheila Toney?