Rocking Aidan and Enjoying Harvest Time

After a busy two days attending our BSU convention, I was tired. An email announcing that our first Union County Writers Group anthology was available Friday night for pickup at a reception at Bethany Village at Anna would have been ignored--except for a kind invitation from Lois Barrett to ride down with her.

I knew I was too tired to write that night, and if I tried to read or watch TV, I'd fall asleep, so I accepted Lois' invitation. I was so glad I did. The beautful book edited by Kathy Cotton featured her cover design as well as some of her writings. The fall colors of the cover of Harvest of Words was repeated on the lovely refreshment table. There was even a cake decorated to match the anthology cover, and Betty Hickam brought a million-dollar pie she'd learned about on a recent Ophrah show. The anthology means much more to me now that I have met many of the other authors, and it was so much fun getting their autographs on my copy. The only thing left wanting for me was Pat Evans' and Violet Toler's presence. I can get their autographs later, but I knew they would have liked to be there and I would have liked to see them. Of course visiting with Lois going down and coming back to the farm was enjoyable as always.

The next morning I woke up and decided to take another hour's rest knowing Gerald would wake me in time for us to go to the state tourney game at Pinckneyville at l0:30. Imagine my shock when Gerald came into the bedroom after 9 o'clock and said, "We have five minutes to get ready to leave for Pinckneyville!" He had gotten caught up in his photography hobby downstairs and let time slip away. I think I made the deadline and assumed I'd skip breakfast, but Gerald had my bagle toasted and sprayed with margerine and a large covered container of coffee all ready for me as I dressed. Then we caught up with Mary Ellen by phone and she was taking Trent to be with Samuel for some free item David was going to take them to get from Toys R Us. Gerald and I crawled in with Mary Ellen and Brianna and took all the shortcuts that Gerald has learned about from years of going to the Pinckneyville ball fields. We were late, and only saw the third of Geri Ann's three hits, but it was a good game that ended right.

One of our big reasons to hurry there was our eagerness to see our four-month old great grandson, whom we had not seen since he was nine weeks old. Bryan had brought Tara and Aidan down, so Tara could see Geri Ann play as well as her Pinckneyville team, which she coached last year. He favored us all with smiles and let his great aunt Mary Ellen give him his bottle. (Mary Ellen likes Aidan, she says, cause he made her "great.") Then though he is not much on rocking, when he got sleepy, he let Great Grandma Sue rock him to sleep in her canvas lawn chair. To hold a great grandson is indeed one of life's greatest blessings.

After eating Chinese on the square and then back to the ball park for more Aidan watching, we eventually went back to Marion to pick up our car and a few groceries and head to the farm. Later that evening the Taylors came out with Samuel along and we got our belongings straightened out and to the right person.

On Sunday Katherine and David and Sam and the Taylors came for noon dinner--again increased by Mary Ellen's green bean casserole and dressing from their family's supper the night before. The kids were more interested in playing than eating, which reminded me of our kids and their cousins a generation back. We enjoyed the afternoon before everyone had to go their separate ways.

Gerry and Vickie had gotten up at 3 a.m. to go to Notre Dame and see Erin play in a practice game there, so the Archibalds were going to meet up with the Johnson and Borum relatives for their Sunday dinner. They needed to see Aidan too, of course. Tara and Bryan were assigned the privilege of taking Geri Ann and friend to a PomPom picture or practice or something so there was no chance for Aidan to stop by the farm even though Grandma Shirley lives down the road and around a curve or so from us. (But Gerald and I both got to go by Gerry and Vickie's house today and get a fresh report from their visit with Erin and I got to feed Aidan his bottle. Bryan had to return to Aurora last night because of work, but Tara stayed over to see tomorrow's game and will then take the train from DuQuoin back home to Aurora.)

I ended Sunday with a prayer walk with fellow church members praying for our school, our teachers, and our young people.

More softball after dentist, dermatologist, doctor

Gerald and I barely made it to Benton this evening to see the last inning of the regional championship game for middle school girls playing softball. The game had been rained out on Saturday. The scoreboard said 1-0 when we arrived, and it was a relief to ask a parent fan and find Johnston City had the run.

We had debated whether we should go or not since Gerald got out of the doctor's office later than expected for a quick follow-up. But when you have sat through two-hour games followed by extra innings as we have sometimes done, we could imagine that the game might be barely half over and we decided to go to the game. The final inning was quick as was the entire game. I am sure the quick game was a relief to Johnston City people since they needed to scurry on to see the Homecoming football game that had been cancelled also on Saturday. Was the trip worth it to see one inning? We both agreed it was. Now the girls will travel to Pinckneyville on Saturday for the state tournament. (There will also be a state tournament for the softball teams in the northern part of the state.)

I started my day with a 9 a.m. dental appointment in Johnston City. I am still being very careful with my tooth because all the dentist did this morning was to create a longer post for me and put a temporary cap back on. I got done in time to pick Katherine up for her appointment with dermatologist at West Frankfort. I enjoyed the renovation of the former city hall while I waited for the completion of the minor surgery she was having done. Only then was there time to refill the gas tank--and I wished I had waited longer when I saw the reduction of price during the afternoon. That is not exactly true. I get very nervous when the marker hovers near empty, and it is worth quite a bit to me to feel the relaxation that comes when the tank is full again. We were almost ready to do a bank errand at a second bank when Katherine realized the time and the reason for the increased pain, nausea, and dizziness she was feeling. We left the bank deposit errand to hurry in to O'Charley's where she bought my lunch and she was able to take her belated meds with her food.

After I took Katherine back home, she fellowshipped with Lucy, their new Golden Doodle, who'd been alone all morning. I got to see Samuel and Josh coming in from school carrying the terranium Sam had made for a class project with two lizards--one he had found and one Josh had given him. Then I dropped off the empty med bottles from our church for Hands of Hope Clinic and hurried on to the agreed-on parking spot to meet up with Gerald.

One of the blessings of my wait there was reaching down to retrieve a lunch mint that I had dropped, and suddenly I saw my lost cell phone there under the front seat. I had searched and seached both Thursday night and Friday morning so I don't know how I had missed it. Although I have a great dislike for cell phones, I sure was glad to have it back. That same day I lost the phone, I had also lost a coin purse, so it made me feel less incompetent to have at least found one item!

MRI, Softball, Copyrights

I am really too tired to blog, but I am already one day late on my self-imposed Wednesday deadline. Rather than be two days late, I'll write a bit.

I started the day getting ready for the Southern Illinois Writers Guild meeting tonight and ended the day going to that meeting.

In between I took Katherine for a needed MRI and another medical appointment,and then we went through the drive-in for a burrita for a 3 p.m. lunch at her house. Next I tried to turn in empty med bottles at Hands of Hope, but for some reason they were closed early. On to UPS for finally getting my coffee pot returned there. I'd received a new one because of arcing danger, the warnings said. It has barely been much more than a year since I went through the same thing with this coffee pot and made perhaps a poor decision to accept a new one for the bargain price of $40 I think it was. The company made it as convenient as possible to return the faulty pot, both last year and this. I know the coffee pot would not likely arc, but we all want to be safe once we have been warned. To busy consumers, this kind of recall is one of 21st century's annoyances--kinda like the spinach scare. Then I ran up to the beautiful Benton City Park to see Geri Ann pitch for Johnston City as they played West Frankfort in the regional tournament. I finally found a place to park in lots crowded by those attending a track meet as well as all the softball parents. Thinking I was late, I hurried across the swinging bridge to the ball fields only to find out our game did not start until 5:30 instead of 4:30. I watched until 6:20 guessing I could make it to the Guild on time. We were far enough ahead I was confident we were going to win. I hurried on to Writers Guild. I should have left at 6:15.

Professor Sue Liemer of Southern Illinois University Carbondale gave us a fascinating and informative presentation on copyrights, and everyone left a little smarter than we began. Finally back home at l0, I ate my supper sandwich while I read the newest Heartland Women that Lois Barrett had brought to share with the Guild. And now I have even made a only one day late blog entry. Yeah for me. I am going to bed.

After the Conference....

As Carol Cross explains, it is not expensive to belong to Southern Illinois Writers Guild--if you don't like to read, that is. Of course, almost all writers do love to read and need to read to perfect their craft. And being around writers with books to sell is a terrible temptation to people like me. As much as I tout libraries, I still love owning books. I like to mark them, take notes, re-read them, loan them, look at them on the shelf, and cherish them.

So after a SIWG conference like Saturday's, I not only come home inspired and with my brain buzzing with new information and ideas, I also have a new stack of books to peruse. I find it hard to get much else done because the temptation to buy the books is replaced with the temptation to devour them--whether I really have time to read or not. Some are for Christmas gifts, so those need to be wrapped.

Jon Musgrave had a few copies of his newest book The Bloody Vendetta shipped down overnight, and they were delivered to the conference, where I got my preordered one hot off the press with his inscription that I got the first copy. That was a thrill. Years ago I read the Milo Erwin book, but I am eager to read Jon's updated information combined with his. The rest of Jon's books were to arrive today, and he was probably already signing them somewhere as he will be this Saturday at the Women's Health Conference at our SIWG table there. We were at the same table yesterday with Deb Tucker at Club Day at John A. Logan College. We had two students become new members of SIWG!

One of our presenters at the conference was Doris Wenzel, who co-authored Ten Sisters, the story of her siblings and her, who were separated for many many years. Some of the children went to Cunningham Children's Home, where my friend and former co-worker Bunny Wolfe worked raising donations and educating about the home. Because of Bunny, I get the home's newsletter. I am sorry to say I've never donated, because Gerald and I naturally have given for years to the Baptist Children's Home through our church. But the book made me think again what I think every time I get the newsletter: I need to make a donation to this important place. I learned a great deal from the book about the resilience of children and of the pain of being separated from siblings. I am eager to see the PBS documentary about the sisters next spring. I loved the picture book version of the adult book called Ten Little Sisters.

I traded books with Wendy Culver, and that too was a sad story without the happy ending of the ten sisters. I started to read Velma Crow's book, which is a Bible study, but I realized I needed more time to concentrate on that type of reading.

Tonight I can barely stand to put down The Advocate, a murder mystery by Bill O'Shea, who is donating all his profits to CASA and women and children's shelters. Interestingly he has a four-year-old character named Michael, who echoes the superior ability to take care of himself that the ten sisters exhibited. Bill, who once worked as policeman in Chicago, intrigued us with The Foot Post, a few years back. Now living in Southern Illinois and volunteering with CASA, this private detective is an extraordinarily compassionate man who is raising awareness of sexual predators through his writing. I like to watch Bill interact with people. His empathy and skill with others' emotions is impressive. He always makes me feel understood and cared for. If you get a chance to have him sign a book for you, I am sure he will make you feel the same way. And you can also feel good about where your money is going to help children.

Packing Goody Bags for the Conference

After a day of trying to get the laundry area of the garage straightened up a bit before the repair person comes tomorrow, it was a relief to get off the farm and drive over to John A. Logan and pack the goody bags for our September 9th conference.

When we moved to this house, the buyers of our other farm house did not want our old washer/dryer, and so we stuck them in the garage here. The new set went in the downstairs laundry room and was not even hooked up for almost a year, and I got in the habit of using the old ones in the garage.

However, we had another family living with us two of the first four summers, and then during the third summer here we had frequent family weekend guests before the Taylors moved their camper up to Wayside Farm for the weekends. So the two sets of laundry appliances have been a blessing, and both sets have been greatly used.

I was upset when the old washer went crazy one day and just kept washing that load of clothes for hours before I caught on what had happened. I called a repair place I was fond of the very next day. They were swamped and haven't been able to get out here. So tomorrow another repairman is coming.

In the summer, our garage is frightfully hot, and I just ignored the dirt and messes since I was no longer doing the laundry there. Today was the day of reckoning, and fortunately it was a lovely cool day and the work was pleasant, but by noon I was tired.

After preparing lunch and cleaning the kitchen, I barely had time to run by my daughter's and take a few things left over in the garage from a long-ago camping trip on our island. Since West Nile has been found in our region, I thought she might be able to use the mosquito sprays, etc.

I picked up Ernie Brasher in a nearby neighborhood. Ernie had said she would help and she had already gathered more goodies than anyone for our bags--thanks to her continued volunteer work with the lung association and asthma walks and their donated items. I had wanted copies of Heartland Women for our bags but no one had contacted the paper until Lois Barrett did today. In walked a smiling Chandra Green carrying 92 copies for us. Talk about community service! With five of us at the college pitching in, we made quick work of the task, and some of us kept visiting during the supper hour. It was a restful way to end an busy day.

Southern Illinois Writers Conference Saturday, September 9, 8:30 a.m. to 4 p.m.

Although I tend to be an obsessive rule observer, I have always clung to the belief that rules are made to be broken. One of my personal rules has been to write different posts on my blogs. However, because I think our upcoming fall writers' conference is so important, I am breaking my rule and reproducing here the blog I also write on the Amazon plog. If you read it there, you can skip it here!

Excitement is building for our third Southern Illinois Writers Conference at the Ray Hancock Conference Center at John A. Logan College on Route 13 at Carterville, Illinois.

Two Illinois publishers are scheduled to be there and share with us. What a wonderful opportunity for you to discover what publishers want! And what a bargain! No pre-registration is necessary since lunch is off campus. So come on out and register between 8:30 and 9 a.m.

To compensate for the higher gas prices this year, Southern Illinois Writers Guild is offering this terrific day with information, inspiration, and fellowship with like-minded writers and aspiring writers for only a $l0 registration fee. The morning will feature five break-out sessions with something for everyone to choose from. Keynote presentations by the publishers will be in the afternoon.

Doris Wenzel started her publishing company Mayhaven at Mahomet in 1990 and publishes books for children and adults, fiction and nonfiction. Already a successful writer herself, she has now helped many other writers create books to be proud of. She is the co-author of Ten Sisters and the children’s version of the true story called Ten Little Sisters. A PBS documentary is planned to be aired later this year about these separated siblings. In addition to her writing for newspapers and magazines, Wenzel taught at the University of Illinois, worked as a communication consultant for a financial institution, and won The Richter Fellowship and the Lincoln Academy Award for researching and writing the play Without Discretion about the life of Mary Todd Lincoln. Check her out at www.mayhavenpublishing.com.

Ray Elliott, former Marine, oilfield roughneck, farmer, high school English and journalism teacher, started his publishing company Tales Press in Urbana in 1998. After a l0-year cultural journalism project in southeastern Illinois about the general store era of the early 20th century, Elliott started Tales Press with the desire to continue preserving history and culture of the Midwest. He publishes both fiction and non-fiction, and he also continues writing his newspaper column, which has been published in central Illinois for over 25 years. The website for Elliott is www.talespress.com

In addition to a two-hour workshop by Joanne Blakely, founder and president of the Union County Writers Guild, there will be four other 50-minute sessions to choose from which should guarantee that every would-be writer can find what they are looking for.

Fresh back from the summer in New Mexico, Blakely has written two books, and the second edition of Catfish Are in the Elkhorn (a Whiteside County history) is planned for release next summer. Her workshop will offer hands-on creative expression to help break writer’s block and to enhance writing experience for people of all ability levels and backgrounds.

Michael Meyerhofer, lecturer at Southern Illinois University Carbondale, will be sharing with those interested in writing poetry. Meyerhofer, whose poetry has appeared in countless publications and online, won the Liam Rector First Book Award from Briery Creek Press for Leaving Iowa. Since then he has published two chapbooks. He won the Copperhead Poetry Contest from Southeast Missouri University Press, which published Cardboard Urn: Poems in 2005. His second chapbook The Right Madness of Beggars won the Ucceli Press Chapbook Competition. Meyerhofer was nominated for the Pushcart award in 2003.

One of the area’s best known nonfiction writers, Jon Musgrave, will present on self-publishing your book. He will also discuss print-on-demand publishing. Musgrave is the author of recently published Slaves, Salt, Sex, and Mr. Crenshaw and the forthcoming The Bloody Vendetta of Southern Illinois as well as four previous books. A former newspaper reporter, Musgrave is the current editor of SAGA, the quarterly publication of the Genealogical Society of Southern Illinois. His much viewed website is located at www.Illinoishistory.com.

Dixie Terry, another of one of the region’s most published writers not only in local publications but also in many regional and national publications, will present on writing for newspapers and magazines. Her cookbook From My Kitchen Window based on l0 years of food columns for Springhouse is widely used and she is a regional editor for Taste of Home and a columnist for several publications. She writes widely not only on food but on people, community events, antiques, sports, and travel, and she often throws in a bit of humor as she shares remarks about her favorite husband and her active family of children and grandchildren. She also wrote a shrimp cookbook, a book with the history of Goreville and is planning another book of her food columns.

Ruby Jung will be presenting on building your own website on a shoestring. Both a poet and an essayist, Jung’s writings and beautiful photographs appear on her website called Ruby’s Tuesdays. She writes for and has photographs in the annual regional almanac The Waterman and Hill-Traveller’s Companion published by her husband, Jim Jung and on his website. In addition to poems and other writings in numerous publications, she has served as an editor of the Southern Illinois Writers Guild anthology for three years.

The Southern Illinois Writers Conference will end the day with an open mic coffee house.

You may use any parking lot to enter the building and go down to the caferteria turning north going up the hallway past the Terrace Dining Room Annex where the SIWG usually meets. Continue until you come to the conference registration. However, the shortest way to the Ray Hancock Conference Center is to use Parking Lot D on the north side of the building and enter there.

Texas Trip and Terrible Softball Game

Gerald made it to Texas yesterday and stayed with friends Don and Helen Ruth Dillow last night. By then he had learned that our friend Bobby, who lives in a nearby town, was in the hospital with diverticulitis.

This trip has suddenly changed its nature once again! When he was trucking, Gerald always stayed in Bobby’s camper in the back yard and they laughingly called it the Conrad Hilton. Although the Dillows wanted him to come back to their house tonight, Gerald is in the camper since Bobby is to be dismissed tomorrow.

Gerald has been well taken care of. The caregiver of Bobby’s mother invited Gerald to the house for beans and cornbread for supper. And then he said that she came knocking at his door this evening bringing him ice cream for a snack. Gerald always enjoys the Blue Bonnet ice cream that Bobby keeps in his freezer. Gerald is comfortably settled for the night and ready to read until he falls asleep.

I drove the pickup over to Carterville this afternoon to see Johnston City middle school play softball there. Since we have won five or six games straight since the season started, I thought this could be our first loss as Carterville is always a difficult school to play against. I was not prepared to see us lose 10 to 0. Hmmm. We just could not seem to hang onto that ball. Some of our girls play summer ball with Carterville girls, so although the rivalry is strong, it is also very friendly. I wonder what the coach said in the after-game team meeting. It was very hot this afternoon, and a loss like that makes it seem even hotter.

Seeing a Cardiologist in Saint Louis

Thanks to Mary Ellen’s help, we believe we have finally found a cardiologist who will not only see Gerald but will also listen well and who explains things extremely well. Our summer full of bad experiences was beginning to make me cynical. I am feeling better towards the medical profession tonight.

After coming back from Springfield with the heart almost immediately going out of rhythm, Gerald was seen by the local doctor, who wanted Gerald to see a cardiologist as soon as possible as he thought he might be hearing something else. Some local heart doctors were on vacation, and those not were over booked with patients of the vacationing doctors, so an appointment was hard to come by. Gerald could have seen a Paducah doctor on Monday, but Mary Ellen really wanted us to go to a doctor nearer her and the St. Louis hospitals. So we waited, and we are extremely glad we did.

We received lots of reassurances but also a heart monitor, which will pick up on anything that might be acting up besides the not-so-dangerous atrial fillibration. We left the doctor’s office feeling very calm and assured we were doing the right things at last--and with an important prescription for the medicine Gerald should not have been taken off of back in May. We think now his blood pressure will soon be back to normal, and he has plans for finishing some dirt work he started below the lake and for taking the early summer trip he had had to postpone. And now maybe his wife will relax and quit badgering him to be careful and stay out of the heat.

On Schedule but Out of Rhythm

I guess the least I can do is write a paragraph or so tonight to try to stay on schedule since I try to write on Wednesdays. I relax by both reading and by processing the world by writing.

We aren't feeling too relaxed around here today, as Gerald's visit to his local doctor yesterday confirmed what we were fearing: his heart is out of rhythm. Gerald had noticed some irregularity on the monitor in his Springfield hospital room as the nurse was dismissing him. He asked her about it, but she said there was some leeway in irregularity and implied it was okay. I wondered if she knew what she was talking about or if she was just trying to make us feel better since the doctor had told me his heart was back in rhythm. Gerald called the doctor's office nurse in Springfield as this dismissing nurse told him to do, but she was busy then, and she has not had time to call back. Wanna bet she never has time to call him back? GRRRR.

[Addendum on September 1: I was wrong in the paragraph above written on August 9th. The doctor's nurse called Gerald back yesterday to set up an appointment for follow-up. Of course, he told her he had a different cardiologist to do the follow-up. He did not tell her that the second cardiologist was so obviously superior in ability and willingness to communicate that we felt embarrassment to even compare the two doctors. The nurse said she had actually called him back on August 8 and left a message on our answering machine for him to call her back. Since our answering machine is working perfectly these days, and we did not get such a message, do you suppose she perhaps misdialed and left his message on someone else's answering machine? She even said she had documentation that she had made a call to us. Isn't that amazing? I really think I was home all day on August 8, as we were anxiously waiting for that phone call since we were given no instructions at the hospital. Ah well, I was wrong that the nurse might never call us. She said she did, and in addition to that, 23 days later she called again to make another appointment.]

Gerald has stayed in today most of the day out of the heat, although that is very difficult for him to do. He is definitely an outside person. He only rode the lawnmower this evening after the near rain had really cooled things off here. Our neighbor offered to mow for him, but Gerald claimed it was too much fun to let Scott do it instead of himself.

He had some 200 plus letters to get out for the annual BSU Reunion, and he was able to finish that job since he woke up at 3 a.m. His sleep apnea mask woke him up again, and once he wakes up, he is up for the day.

Fortunately the technician came today and brought two new masks for him to try out. I do not know how anyone can sleep with those things on their face. (Of course I am the kind of person who cannot even stand to wear a necklace for any length of time. I used to be unable to keep glasses on. I would never know where they were, but young Mary Ellen was very observant and she would know where I'd left them. I was in a terrible mess when she left for college. Now I need them so badly that I no longer unconsciously take them off as I used to do.)

After it cooled this evening, I went out and picked the okra. I will need to put it in the freezer tomorrow morning. That was the first time I have been in the garden all summer. I have shamefully neglected the few flower gardens I have. But I have not wanted to be in the terrible heat we have had.

In addition to the okra, I have been cooking green beans, corn, and serving up lots of sliced tomatoes. Made a really good vegetable soup last night to go with our supper sandwich. And I filled all the hummingbird feeders today with the syrup I cooked for them.

Gpa Has Rhythm

When I called home to Woodsong on Friday afternoon after the doctor had said that Gerald's cardioversion was successful, it was sweet to hear the enormous relief in Samuel and Trent's voices. Brianna yelled, "Hallejah!" I had failed to realize how concerned the children naturally would be. Mary Ellen explained to them that now Gpa has rhythm! We just pray that his heart stays in rhythm and does not revert to the irregular beat.

The house still contains the remains of last week's busyness. I have gotten most of the VBS stuff back home that adorned the dining room table week before last and was then carried to our classroom for last week. I am doing the put-away by baby steps. From the classroom to the car. From the car to the garage. I actually have everything that belonged in the garage put properly away. The house stuff was carried back to the dining room table, then separated on the buffet counter, and the downstairs stuff carried downstairs and placed on the fireplace sitting spot. That is also where I put all the collected stuff left over from the grandkids' play. Maybe tomorrow I will put it all away. Baby steps. Baby steps. I always find it interesting that when the grandkids come to play, I frequently find things afterwards that I had not seen nor thought about for years. But broken jewelry, odds and ends, poles, etc. all can be used for pirates' costumes, club houses, daggers, art projects, and other purposes.

Gerald's early spring decision to reduce his garden has not impressed me as very successful. He was out early this morning and picked a huge tub of beans and later in the day a large bucket of tomatoes. I am kept busy trying to give vegetables away as well as cook them.

With the VBS grandkids gone home, it was great to have Erin show up Sunday afternoon. She'd driven in the day before from Notre Dame, where she studied economics and statistics in a six-week summer session. That is much too short a time for those subjects in my opinion. She was not complaining, however. And it is great for her to have those out of the way before ball practice starts this fall. It was fun talking to her and hearing all the plans for decorating her dorm room this fall.

Then this afternoon her sister Tara showed up with nine-week-old Aidan, our only great-grandchild. We were thrilled to watch what a wonderful mother Tara was as she had him cooing and making every effort to move his mouth to imitate her. His black curly hair is unique in both families, but there it is. Tara drove down late last night in hopes he would sleep during the trip, and he did. She had to clear her former classroom of her books from last year, and Erin got to babysit.

Tonight they are feasting down the road from us at Gma Shirley's house. Aidan's great great Gma Borum and Great Aunt Janice will be happy campers getting to hold him again. Tomorrow Tara must get Aidan's birth certificate before she starts the long drive back to Chicago area. Since Tara's mother and dad and Geri Ann are at the national softball tourney in Oklahoma City, they are missing out on this visit. But Aidan talked to his Gma Vickie on the phone anyhow.

Back to Springfield

With all the VBS stuff going on, I was too tired to blog last night. It has been a good week, but is ending early for me as Gerald's blood tested thin enough on Wednesday for the Springfield doctor to okay his coming back tomorrow to complete the therapy designed to put his heart back into regular rhythm.

So I will miss the last day of VBS with the kids. The co-teacher is highly qualified and she will complete our part in the last day (which we call Park Day at Veggietown)quite well without my presence. I will also miss eating the picnic luncheon at the pavilion afterwards, which Jo Barger always generously prepares for the kids, workers, parents, grandparents, etc.

Mary Ellen is coming down tonight (if all goes well) to take the kids to this last day of Bible school. Five years ago she also got called down to finish the week. That was the time I was trying to neaten up the ball park where our kids had left water cups, and I did not see a concrete barrier and fell into an end of a bleacher with a rough edge. I kept telling everyone I was fine while the grandkids looked scared and people kept telling me I could not get up. An ambulance quickly arrived and because of that, I got into ER rapidly to receive stitches. Katherine and David took care of the kids treating them to McDonald's, etc., until Mary Ellen arrived from Lake Saint Louis. The next day, she took over my class and Gerald and I attended the picnic only--to celebrate our 45th wedding anniversary there. VBS and our anniversary have often been close, but not this year with our the late August date for VBS.

Every morning I have started the day at church blind because the humidity is so high that when I step out of the air-conditioned car, my glasses fog over and I cannot see with them on. Of course, I can't see very much with them off either. Despite the heat, the classes, which are very small, have been extremely well behaved and, thus, just a joy to teach.

And the heat when we take our play time outside only causes the kids to appreciate the church air-conditioning that much more. It always feels so wonderful when we step inside, go to the rest room to wash our hands and sit together at table to enjoy a snack and cold fruit juice. How I pray that children all over the world could know snacks and nutritious food when they are hungry.

Since our grandkids are older, I have not handed them offerings as I did when they were younger. I thought I would just see what would happen. I was very touched when Brianna quietly said she forgot something. She came back upstairs with money in her hand for our offering, which will go to alleviate world hunger. Later without my saying anything, Trent said he is going to give all of his offering at one time on Friday.

The newly-wed daughter of our pastor and her new husband are in Zimbabwe this week with others from Marion Third Baptist Church. Their being there is an amazing story since one of their passports accidentally was run through the washer-dryer and the cover ruined. They were told by the Chicago office that would look like it had been tampered with and would prevent their going unless replaced, but there were no open appointments for replacing the covers. However, the African trip became possible after all thanks to a blessed cancellation, numerous phone calls, many prayers from people in several states, and a dedicated father who braved driving them to and around Chicago and back to the Saint Louis airport in a rushed trip. I suspect some kids over in Zimbabwe also had a good time as our kids did at Center this week. A Sunday School teacher went along on the trip to Chicago and arranged their overnight stay there with her aunt and uncle and the overnight stay in Saint Louis with friends or a niece. People were generous and helpful all through the ordeal, and our VBS kids have been diligent in praying for Chris and Aimee on the other side of the world.

I had prepared a "pickle pot" which holds problems for the kids to solve, but it was a glass pickle pot and I decided that wasn't safe. So I emptied and washed a gallon plastic jug of pickle relish. After the hot soapy wash, I let it sit open two or three days and then put in the pickle-shaped problems and put the lid back on. The kids have been amused and some almost nauseated when they pull the green paper pickles out and the smell is very authentic. We've had lots of laughs and some serious thinking as well this week, and I wish I could be there tomorrow.

Most of all, I pray for success with the therapy tomorrow.

In a Pickle--Time is Running Out

It is almost time for the annual visit of grandkids during Vacation Bible School at Center. I hope that I am almost ready.

We got a late start on VBS preparation this year because so much was going on with our congregation--still is for that matter. To try and alleviate stress, it was decided to repeat a week of Veggietown lessons from many years ago. Our pastor had our lessons saved for us, and while the material is vaguely familiar, I still have a great deal of study to do before now and Monday morning. Seems like it was just last year that I got rid of some of the materials I had used the first time way back then.

What I did not count on was having someone accidentally jump a curb and run into our back passenger car door while I was inside the mall last week the very afternoon before we were to leave at 5 a.m. next day for Springfield doctor appointment. And that “quick trip” to Springfield was supposed to just be for a second opinion to back up the first. We probably broke records in recent years for a slow trip home from Springfield because of all the storm-caused delays. And unexpectedly, we have to go back again this Friday for follow-up. So for those and other reasons, an over-full schedule was expanded considerably this past week.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed telling the Heartland Rotary Club about Southern Illinois Writers Guild on Tuesday morning. If we are not detained in Springfield, I will be able to read from Down on the Farm as planned for the reception for showings of the Historic Structures and Farm Machinery in Art at the newly refurbished Little Egypt Art Association building on the Marion Square on Saturday afternoon. As I searched the book for appropriate readings about old farm houses and machinery, I was somewhat surprised to find much more than I needed for the 15-minute reading.

Our Guild is also planning a third Southern Illinois Writer’s Conference on Saturday, September 9, at John A. Logan College, so part of my brain is working on that. SIWG is pretty excited that we have two Illinois publishers coming: Doris Wenzel from Mayhaven Publishing in Mahomet and Ray Elliott from Tales Press in Urbana. This will be an incredible day for anyone interested in writing. And this year because of gas prices, we are making the registration fee just $l0 instead of $35 and hoping we will have enough extra people attending to make up the difference. People can go off campus to local cafes to eat, so the conference will be affordable for students and those on fixed incomes. This is going to be a great bargain and I hope a productive day for writers in this region.

I will be taking my Bible and lesson plans along to Springfield for more study and prep. I have the new pickle pot ready for the kids to use to determine what to do in some of the pickles they may find themselves in. I am just hoping I will be ready and not in a pickle myself on Monday morning.

July Heat Wave; Computer Crisis and Joys

The heat wave throughout much of the nation has affected us in Southern Illinois also. Not me cause I am able to stay mostly under AC. But I worry because of Katherine's MS and I worry because Gerald was up against a deadline on a project with our neighbor, and he has worked outside in his shop right through all of this heat. He has come in with his clothes wringing wet. But tonight he came in celebrating, nevertheless.

Tonight Gerald and Scott tested the two spray rigs they have been building for weeks now. The sprayers worked. In the cool of the evening, I went out and watched them try out the first sprayer. One will be shipped to Florida tomorrow and another to England. Since he has to help load hay or straw bales in the morning before he goes to physical therapy, Gerald will still be working out in the heat. I must say he is tough.

Because we had two blue-screen shut downs at the first of the week following by another crisis on Monday night, I have spent a couple of days getting at least some of my documents backed up. I am terribly negligent about back-up. And I have never arranged to keep back-ups in another place in case of fire as I was told to do in a class early in the history of computers. I considered it excellent advice, but I have failed to follow it.

I have warned all my email buddies that I may be shut down with a crash anyday now. But once I started warning people, our computer has worked perfectly. Well, slow, but just fine otherwise. So we will see what happens. I am pleased I have the back-ups accomplished. Certainly not everything as I got terribly bored, but I hope the most important documents. On an older computer, I used to back up important emails, but then I did not know how to retrieve them from the disk. So I don't back up emails anymore.

Computers are so amazing and mystifying to me. I have been receiving emails of a friend's son and family on a mission trip to Morocco. The same Texas friend is also sending us up-to-date information about a mutural friend in a nursing home in Nebraska. I am also checking Jon Musgrave's blog and audio entries from over in the Ukraine with a mission team from Marion Second Baptist. I am in closer contact with cousins than I have ever been in my life since I hear from them regularly at least with forwards while in the old days, we might only hear from each other at Christmas. And like much of the population, I have found family history on the Internet that I never dreamed I would ever be able to discover. And like much of the population, I will go through a difficult withdrawal period if and when we crash.

Rainy Summer Days Are Very Welcome!

Gentle rains have started and stopped for a couple of days now at our house, and we are grateful. Gerald's garden plants seem to be taller every time I look out the kitchen window. He brought in the first tomato and a huge head of cabbage. So we had slaw with our hamburgers tonight.

We are most grateful, of course, for the rains on Brian's crops. I imagine Gerald has seen the the corn and soybean fields both days, and he will undoubtedly take me by the first time we are out running around together. Going by fields with Brian's crops is a part of his summer activity. And our friend "Bun" Handkins checks them regularly also. It pleases us to think that someone in his 90s is still involved with life and watching our crops.

Gerald was awake at 4 a.m. and stayed awake until it was time for him to take a friend to an airport in Indiana for the friend to pick up his plane being serviced there. So when Brian called from Lake Saint Louis tonight, Gerald was sound asleep in his comfy chair in front of the TV, which works better than a sleeping pill for him.

I stayed up later than I should have last night reading the fascinating blog of a paraplegic, who has accomplished amazing things. So I was still asleep when the phone rang this morning--very late this morning. A saleswoman was following up on Gerald's first foray into looking for a stone to put on our cemetery lot. We are very proud to have one finally purchased. I was quite horrified when he told me at supper last night what stones cost. Yikes. What a waste of money. I wondered if we could take one of the huge left-over rocks Gerald used for our new rock garden and just bolt a piece of metal on it or something explaining who we are when we die. But our children might not like that, so we will probably be conventional. But I can think of a great many things I'd rather do with that much money than to buy a tombstone--I would love to give it away to all sorts of people and causes. Now that would be fun. I don't see anything fun about spending money on a rock. GRRRR.

For some reason for the first time since we have lived here, we have a bluebird visitor who likes to sit on our upper ledge of our living room windows and look in longingly as if it would like to join us. The baby martins are giving their lungs lots of exercise chirping loudly and flying excitedly all around us as we watch them from the deck. The yellow finches brighten our day as they eat thistleseed from their bag hanging down over the patio. As Pat Evans observed, the rain does not deter the hummingbirds from their feeders. They keep me busy making them sugar water.

Quiet Fourth of July

Busy with our various projects, Gerald and I did not go far yesterday on the Fourth of July. In the past, we have sometimes gone to a community barbeque or to a bash our daughter-in-law sometimes hosts. But we had been celebrating with the famly for a week during Jeannie's visit, and it was good to have a restful day. After running to town for a prescription, Gerald did run up to Gerry and Vickie's house and found our little Geri Ann suffering from one of the many viruses in our community. (She is fine today.)

Although Tara, Bryan, and baby Aidan had squeezed in a trip down here to get a truck load of stuff from their house in DuQuoin and hurried back to Chicago area on Monday, we had not seen them during their too-brief visit. Jeannie and daughters hit it lucky and happened by at the right moment to get to meet Aidan. Of course Gerry and Vickie had delighted in seeing their daughter's family and holding that new grandson again. When Gerald asked about how much Aidan might have grown, Vickie looked sad and Gerry said, "She is suffering post-partum depression." We don't think he was really kidding. I suspect there may be a trip up in that direction when Erin plays softball at Elgin.

Besides the wonderful rain we had, our only treat for the holiday was a ride around the farm on the "mule" for Gerald to show me some dirt work he has been doing--a favorite past time for him. He had worked that morning again leveling a spot on the west side of the farm. An old pond must had been therein days gone by, and he was smoothing it out. Today he moved the kids' swing from the tree in the north fence row over to that newly created flat area. Our neighbor thinks we need a picnic table there.

Mext we traveled on and looked at the lake spillway that he was making some adjustments to. Because of the rain, water was pouring out of a pipe in the bank there.

As we continued around the lake, we enjoyed seeing the 26 geese we now have at Woodsong because they were swimming on the lake. We don't mind the frequent inconvenience of having to slow the car when they cross the lane in front of the car as they busily come and go to the wheat field and we don't mind their being on the edge of the lawn, but we get upset if they wander too close to the patio. But they are a pretty sight on the lake. We think the ducks are a pretty sight no matter how close they come to the house. Yesterday the island was alight with Queen Anne's lace and the bright yellow blooms of black-eyed Susans, and it looked like a big bouquet. But the narrow back channel and some areas of the lake are covered with algae like last summer, and those areas are not so pretty.

Yesterday we prayed for peace and democracy in Iraq and other troubled spots around the world, and we thought prayerfully about our service people and their families. And we remembered the several groups from our area that are in other lands or about to go to other lands on mission trips. And we will continue to pray those prayers after the Fourth of July also.

Cool Summer Evening

Jeannie and her daughters, Leslie and Cecelie, arrived at Woodsong yesterday afternoon along with the two shit-zus, Lucky and Leah. (Elijah could not come because he had been put on a bus with his church youth group to attend the music fest Creation in the mountains of Pennsylvania, where the kids camp out in tents. Elijah's group got as far as Ohio when they learned the torrential rains had made it necessary to cancel Creation for this year. They were going to an amusement park and some other activities at a church there, and then turn around and come home. Fortunately, by the time Elijah gets back to Freeport, his dad will be home from the conference he's been attending in Florida.)

Jeannie had picked up Samuel in Marion, so he and Cec were soon at play. Gerald added to the evening's entertainment by taking the kids on a ride on the "mule" around the lake before Sam's dad came to pick him up. Lesley entertains herself with her guitar, her telephone, and communicating with friends on myspace. She is briefly between part-time jobs right now--her first in an ice cream parlor and the new one to be at a radio station. Geri Ann was tied up with Pom Pom actitivies until this afternoon when Vickie brought her down to join the fray.

Since it was such a cool pleasant evening, tonight we ate sandwiches for supper out on the deck with the hummingbirds. After Cecelie succeeded in her begging Gerald for yet another "mule ride," the kids played croquet on Geri Ann's new set she brought down. (I hid ours years ago at Pondside because the kids were younger then, and I was afraid someone was going to get hit in the head with a ball. I have no idea what happened to that set.) Geri Ann's brother-in-law had been teaching her the game, so she taught it to these cousins--and to Gerald who joined in their last game, which they finished after dark.

Parents have come and taken the two local grandkids home now. Sam has a job to do yet tonight. Samuel has been hired to feed his friend's dog and cat while the family is in Florida. He will make $20 and he takes the responsibility very seriously. Summertime and the living is easy--but the kids are learning to work hard as well as play hard.

Summer Arrives With a Vengeance

Hot. Hot. Hot. Although in the blur of busyness, it was hard for me to realize that summer solstice had passed, the heat in Southern Illinois clarified for me that spring was over. Gerald, who works outside, was more aware than I was and had opened our garage windows that help reduce the temperature in our tightly insulated garage. Even so, the heat there makes me welcome stepping back into the air-conditioned kitchen.

Our baby geese are full-size now and with the addition of some other geese who have flown in to join them on our lake, we have quite a flock enjoying the wheat and other goodies available to them.

Finally yesterday, Gerald could not stand watching the poor goose out in one of the floating nests, who had been there much too long. She was patiently waiting for the hatching of what Gerald had realized were infertile eggs. As he tested the eggs, every egg floated, and he broke up the nest hoping to free the mother from her burden of needlessly setting on useless eggs. He was feeling bad for her.

Our baby duck crop remains zilch. All the babies and some mamas have fallen prey to the predators despite Gerald's best efforts. Our flower beds also contain broken shells where coons or some hungry creature have feasted on embryos that never had the opportunity to develop. Nature can be cruel.

I had planned to get back on schedule by blogging here last night only to have a program Gerald was downloading for his photography project to take much much longer than it was supposed to download. (We cannot obtain high-speed Internet out here in the country though Gerald and our neighbor have both tried hard to obtain it.) Since I am trying to make allowances for growing older by trying to get to bed earlier, when the computer was finally available, I decided to postpone blogging until this morning.

Going to bed is not an easy thing for me to do. I never like endings, and all my life I have hated that a day must end. Theoretically, I can sleep in most days since I am retired, but the day light comes through our thin bedroom curtains and the ducks made noises and once I wake up, I can't always go back to sleep. So I am trying to grow up and get to bed earlier.

Continuing to Celebrate Our 50th Anniversary

The day after our stay at the log cabin bed and breakfast called Olde Squat Inn, we were hanging around home for Gerald to complete a doctor’s appointment that he could only get on June 16. We were alerted to trouble when we walked into the doctor’s Carbondale office and saw a room full of disgruntled folk. Two men were commiserating with each other as they claimed they’d already waited for their wives for over two hours. Come to find out, the doctor was leaving on vacation the next day, and he needed to cram all these appointments into one afternoon.

The very nice receptionist kept assuring everyone the doctor was in, but running very behind schedule. Finally she came out and announced, he was now an hour behind and anyone who wanted could reschedule. Having invested time and gas already for this appointment, we debated what to do. We were the last in the room of people to come in, and the more we thought about being at the tail end of the doctor’s schedule, the less likely we felt he would be at his sharpest self. After conferring with the receptionist, Gerald took her offer to reschedule. Having postponed our continued 50th wedding anniversary because of this appointment, we felt a little silly walking out, but Gerald and I both felt our blood pressure would profit by leaving the office to those who needed to see the doctor more than he did. Ah well.

Since we were now free, we debated leaving early on our next day’s trip to Elizabethtown and The Rose Hotel. But home sounded better to us than hurry, so we had a lovely leisurely dinner for two at Honeybakers and then ran by to see Katherine. We were amazed that she was getting ready to go to Samuel’s Vacation Bible School commencement with her husband David. Did she feel like it? Not at all. But Samuel wanted her there, and she wanted to reassure him that as sick as she had been the previous week, she was getting better and that she was still able to attend his special functions. Thus, she was using her last drop of energy to make the effort to attend. I helped her dress, and I hoped our visit did not make them late.

The next morning we could not resist going up to Gerry and Vickie’s house, where Bryan, Tara, and baby Aidan had arrived from the Chicago area at 11 p.m. the night before. We got to hold and hug Aidan and see how much he had matured in the week-and-a-half since we had seen him. This time Gerald was able to get pictures of him with his eyes wide open staring attentively at his mother, snuggling his daddy, and one photo where I swear he was smiling at Tara. (I remember that the baby books used to tell us that our babies’ early smiles weren’t real smiles, but I believe Aidan’s was. The phrase used to be that a baby was “smiling at the angels” and not really at his parents those first few weeks. I think that was another piece of misinformation we were given.}

With final hugs, we left and drove through the countryside on a road I had not traversed before to Harrisburg. We stopped along the way to see Gerry and Vickie’s former home up the old Harco road, and we were pleased to see how well the present owners were taking care of it. This was where little Erin was invited to her first boy-girl dance party at a classmate's home at the rather remarkably tender age of 9 or l0. So her two grandfathers left Tara’s birthday party that night and escorted Erin to that premature party laughingly saying those boys better be aware that they were watching out for her!

While the family lived there, Gerald almost got in trouble attending Grandparents’ Day at Erin’s school. He made some kids laugh during school before he realized that it was not a time for laughter. And, of course, we remember Tara‘s many softball games in Harrisburg and taking baby Geri Ann to see the puppies near the softball field. And Jeannie bringing little Leslie and Elijah over to watch the games and the kids playing in the pile of sand--or was it dirt piled up there? So it was appropriate that we stop at the Kentucky Fried Chicken there, where we used to eat while visiting during that era, and to reminisce a bit more. The KFC owners, whose daughter played on the same team, were so kind to Tara and family when they were newcomers in town. And the KFC buffet is one of the best buffets in Southern Illinois.

There we talked about the fact that neither of us had ever visited Fort Massac State Park at Metropolis. We decided to go and ended up misreading the map and were on the way to Brookport before we caught on what we had done. I do not remember ever going over the old bridge at Brookport to Paducah before, so Gerald offered to drive over even though it was being repaired and the traffic was one-way at a time. In Paducah, we filled up with the cheaper gas there and then took the new bridge back to Illinois and Fort Massac. All the way we were enjoying the Ohio River and the abundance of orange tiger lilies brightening the leafy green landscape,

At the site of the George Rogers Clark statue on the banks of the Ohio, we were able to review a bit of the history of Clark and the amazing feat he and his men accomplished when they camped where the former French barracks had been. They then went on to Kaskaskia on the other side of the state and surprised and defeated the British by marching through swamps and terrain without roads in a truly unbelievable escapade of human grit and determination.

After wondering through the replica of the fort and block houses built in 1794 during George Washington's presidency, we ended up at the visitors’ center museum watching and talking with two women at their spinning wheels--one was spinning flax and the other wool. We started to leave and were surprised to see our young friend Sheila Richey, who grew up in our village of Crab Orchard. I knew she was a site interpreter there, but had forgotten it. It was good to visit with her and know she is using her degree in history at this oldest state park in Illinois.

We hurried to our car because of the approaching rain, and we drove onto to Elizabethtown through a downpour. We hoped we were getting that rain at the farm. We weren’t, but we got a wonderful rain the next day at home.

With all our celebrating, I have been lax at writing on my Amazon.com plog, so I am going to wind down here and continue telling about our stay at The Rose Hotel tomorrow.

Olde Squat Inn

When Gerald and I first learned that Jim Grisley had started reconstructing log cabins on his farm, we were interested in his project. Jim invited Gerald to bring me up, and we had taken a drive up there a few years ago and wandered around the log cabin village being created. Ever since, I had wanted to stay in one of the log cabins.

When various events made it seem unwise to take the trip we had talked about for our 50th wedding anniversary, we decided a trip to Olde Squat Inn was a good way to celebrate. The bread and breakfast set of log cabins--seven ready to be rented out and others under construction--are located on the old Robert Worthen Trail originally just up the road from Old Squat Church for which the Inn is named.

We had gone up on Wednesday afternoon and checked in, and Katy Lockwood welcomed us with fresh brewed tea and walked us down to our cabin, where her homemade cookies were waiting for us on the table there. We loved the inviting swing on the wrap-around porch, the tin roof, the wooden floors, and all the details inside from old books and magazines to read to the arrangement of tiger lilies and Queen Anne’s lace in an ancient pitcher with a crack in it. Katy did not know how often down through the years I have picked a wild flower bouquet to recognize our anniversary, but I knew I was at a place I would love.

Gerald’s friend Jim came to visit with us as he does with all his guests, and he answered our questions about the log cabins under construction and the brick wall being finished. A previous wall was made from bricks of the old Pittsburg bank. He explained that Old Squat Church later became Union Grove Church, which only recently had been torn down. He had retrieved much of the materials of the building and will be using them in future projects. So later we had to go back to the cemetery that I had spent an afternoon walking through not much over a year ago when the Union Grove Church building was still standing. It was sad to see the new dirt where the old building had been, but the cost of roofing and repair for the building no longer used had caused the decision to safely do away with it.

In the cool of evening, we walked around the small lake and thrilled to the hoot owls calling each other back and forth from the woods on either side of us. We were accompanied by Buster, the young dog with retriever blood, constantly begging us to throw his little piece of lumber for him to run and bring back to us. We tired before he did, but he continued to keep us company, and we even had to throw the wood a few times after we got back home to our swing. We enjoyed seeing the vegetable gardens and the deer in the pasture. Rather than using the cabin kitchen, we had dinner in town, and we came back to swing some more as we looked at the stars and listened to the katydids and night sounds. Then we went in to read until bedtime.

And so we woke up on June 15th, our 50th anniversary, in the most tranquil and relaxed environment that one could imagine. We had a scrumptious breakfast that Katy had made for us with country ham prepared with new potatoes dug the night before from the patch we had observed. And there was french toast with cream cheese in the middle. A little questioning by our breakfast mate, Nancy Durbin, who was down from Springfield to promote Amtrak in our area, brought out the information that Katy had put in just a touch of strawberry flavor in the cream cheese. The eggs and toasted English muffins, jellies, homemade apple butter, juices, and fresh fruit compote were all accompanied by hot coffee served by our friendly hostess. Katy, an art teacher, explained she started cooking when she was 8 on the Missouri farm where she grew up. She knows our region well and gives information and advice to visitors of all our area attractions.

Another walk that morning took us through the herb gardens and we got to meet a young family with their toddler and large dogs down from the Chicago area. Near the plum tree orchard in the tall grass by the log barns, we stirred up a wild turkey and her baby chicks. Gerald was thrilled to get a photograph.

We were sad to leave our peaceful retreat, but it was time to go. Gerald made our entry in the guest journal, where we had seen names and read comments of people from all over the nation and from out of the nation. We found out we were not the only couple that had chosen to celebrate an anniversary in that cabin. And there were honeymooners also who had stayed there. Some journal entries were by children as plenty of beds upstairs as well as the one in the main room made the cabin family friendly. Reluctantly we closed the cabin door and headed to our own home some ten miles down the road.

Back at Woodsong, there was a beautiful bouquet of red roses from Gerald. I would fill the hummingbird feeders, and we would attend to some other things before we took off for our next adventure in Southern Illinois at The Rose Hotel on the Ohio River.

The Pain of Multiple Sclerosis

After three days of cell phone malfunctions, misunderstood messages, and aborted communications, I spent today with my daughter Katherine at her home and learned more about her unexpected trip to St. Louis University Hospital.

Suddenly I understood more. Today For the first time I heard the work "attack" or what in multiple sclerosis circles used to be called "an exacerbation."

I felt better also that although her own MS doctor was out of the country, she was seen by several excellent doctors. She came home with a sheath of prescriptions, some suggestions/equipment, and a follow-up appointment in a couple of weeks. The problems are still there and will continue to be there unless there is a remission of the attack, a remission of the disease,or a miracle.

Living a life filled with pain is very difficult. Pain is invisible. And immeasurable. People don't understand what cannot be seen. Those without imagination or empathy are quick to accuse a pain-filled person of maligngering. One of my favorite MS stories, is about the neurologist, who many years ago was invited to speak to a group of people with the disease, and he told them MS did not cause pain. He was almost hooted out of the room, and all I could hope was that he learned how wrong he was. Needless to say, people in that group did not want him for a doctor. Nor do I.

It is easy to sympathize with a broken limb; it is much harder to understand pain. A frequent lament in MS periodicals is the common reaction that those with the disease have when they are constantly told, "But you look so good." They want to look good and they work at it. I have asked, "So why aren't people with MS happy when someone says they look good?" I think it is the locked-in loneliness of knowing that no one can understand how bone tired and exhausted they are and how much they hurt.

(When I had the sciatica problem in December and was asked to label the intensity of the pain from l to l0, I wanted to hit someone. The question struck me as ridiculous. If someone needed to know the answer to that question, I wanted them to give me a test to tell me if the pain was from l to l0--not me deciding what it should be called. However, as the month progressed, I learned I could do it: somedays it was 9 and l0 and somedays 5 and 6. When I wake in the mornings now, somedays it is 1 and somedays it is 2. Usually it goes back to 0 during the day, but sometimes continues or comes back later in the day as 2 or 3. If you want to disagree with the number I have chosen, I challenge you to prove me wrong. Ha.)

I remember when I first realized a few years ago that Katherine lived with almost constant pain. She did not tell me. I saw it on her face as it changed to secretly record what she was good at acting was not there. Interestingly, as time passed, that subtle change in her face went away. Maybe she became more skilled at smiling to prevent the facial skin from recording the pain. Maybe she just became more skilled at accepting and handling the pain--because I knew that pain was worsening all the time as spasms increased and muscles stiffened and the myelin deteriorated.

I have long prayed for medical researchers. I also pray for my daughter's recovery and I pray for her personal miracle. I know miracles happen. However, the miracle produced by medical researchers is one that will aid multitudes with a particular disease. My heroes are those who submit to the agony and hard labor of intense study and to the discipline of continuing after failures to find the treatment for and the cure of and, best of all, the prevention of diseases. So many medical advances have already been achieved, and I long for the day when the smartest among us can lessen and eliminate MS, cancer, chorea, epilepsy,lupus, autism, fibromyalgia, neurofibromatosis, diabetes, depression, Schizophrenia, bipolar, and all diseases including those called orphan diseases, which lack research dollars because so few humans have those rare diseases. Even eczema can be life changing and devastating I am learning from a friend handicapped by it. How grateful she is for finally finding a doctor who offers a diagnosis and a solution.

While we tried to catch up on laundry accumulated during the travel and other needed tasks at Katherine's house, Sam's cousins whom he had stayed with while his mother was in the hospital were brought by the house after lunch. Although nothing can take away the pain he has because of his mother's illness, we hope distraction takes his mind off of it and softens his awareness and adds happiness during sad times. Those three kids played their hearts out, and I did not hear a cross word between the three. Sometimes they were in the house and sometimes out in the heat and we would occasionally check on them, but they were too busy having fun to pay much attention to us. There were almost too busy for even a bite of supper. Then I took them all three out to the camper at Wayside Farm, where Brian was mowing the lawn but was prepared to let them make s'mores over the campfire. David had Samuel carry along some of the left-over s'more fixings from their recent vacation trek out West. What wonderful memories of camping at the farm these cousins are going to have! We are grateful to Brian.

Posting Late and With a Sad Heart

Since I had decided to try to post here on Wednesdays, I am two days overdue. But my heart has not been in posting.

I planned three good days in a row and enjoyed them all: a picnic and afternoon trip with Gerald to Golconda to the Trail of Tears Association and on to see a cousin of his on Sunday, a day in the Little Egypt Arts Association on Monday, and a visit with my friend and cousin's daughter Mickey Finch on Tuesday. Since Mickey and I had been trying to have this particular get-together at Woodsong for four years, I was especially pleased about that. Mickey and I could talk all day and night and never complete our visiting. Our blood runs thick, and our friendship more so. She brought me a book Crones Don't Whine : Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women by Dr. Jean Shinoda Bolen, one of Mickey's latest enthusiasms.

What would otherwise have been a perfect day contained a phone call from our daughter Katherine that they were en route to St. Louis University Hospital ER for a necessary test because of a doctor's fear of a blood clot. Knowing she and David were not seen at ER until late in the evening and she was not given a bed until 2 a.m. or so broke my heart -- just like all the other sad and horrible things that happen to anyone with multiple sclerosis and also to their spouse. Although that blood clot fear turned out to be unjustified, other problems and symptoms related to multiple sclerosis created various problems in taking MRI's.

Katherine's sister Mary Ellen immediately included Samuel in her family's plans Tuesday night and Wednesday for a mini vacation near the ball park and some fun activities the next day, and a free movie yesterday morning. I was on the alert to go pick up children at St. Clair Square if needed but that did not materialize. Gerald and I were set to go up this morning to help Mary Ellen with the three kids and for me to be at the hospital since David needs to be back at work. That all changed with the last night's phone call, and I think David is bringing Katherine and Samuel home right now. So with a broken heart I acknowledge that although I may be wrong and I hope I am, the hospital visit may have helped her very little if at all other than with some immediate problems. I don’t like telling that to friends and relatives who love her and call for information. We will wait and see what tomorrow will bring.

Our First Great Grandchild

Struck with awe at the birth of Aidan Chance Archibald, life has paused here at Woodsong the last two days. We had known for a long time that this baby was to be a boy, and his parents had his name chosen and waiting.

At the first of the week, we were told that our oldest grandchild, Tara Archibald, would be going to the hospital yesterday at 6 a.m. to induce labor before the baby became any bigger. Throughout the morning relatives were coming and going at Heartland Hospital to give Tara and her husband Bryan encouragement and company. The labor started slowly, and except for Tara, who was working, the first half of the day passed uneventfully. We all watched the monitor anxiously and an occasional nurse came and went, and then doctor made a welcome visit at mid-morning. Although security measures were firmly in place to enter the labor/nursery ward, once we were there we were made most welcome and comfortable by the staff.

Tara’s two sisters, Erin and Geri Ann, were there eagerly awaiting their first nephew. First-time grandmother Vickie was calm and smiling and dignified while we visited. First-time grandfather Gerry was in and out--nervous and excited but also smiling. Gerald had had a doctor’s appointment requiring blood tests and had fasted from the previous day. So we left at almost noon for him to eat breakfast and me lunch. We decided to go back to the farm and wait for the phone call about the baby’s birth.

When the phone call came, we went back to town to join Aidan’s first family gathering. We admired his black curly hair, his big feet and hands, and his beautiful little face. Great Grandma Shirley was there and announced Aidan was the most pleasant baby--just not crying a bit. Soon the nurse came in, and she and Tara instructed Aidan on nursing. While he was shielded by his blanket, the rest of us looked at his pictures on people‘s cameras and carried on conversations about how beautiful this special child was.

To say we were all overwhelmed by the miracle in the room is an understatement. Emotions of relief and concern for Aidan’s mother were palpable, and tears of joy and happiness and gratefulness for his safe arrival were near the surface. We passed him around letting everyone delight in him. Just seeing his little tongue moving inside that miniature mouth was an amazing sight. And that little nose. And ears. Indeed, how wonderfully humans are made.

When the nurse came to give him his first shampoo and bath, we were mesmerized by his beauty and grateful for her expertise and competent handling. Swaddled in soft cotton gown and receiving blanket, he was a contented baby, and we all took our turns holding him again. I told Aidan he did not have to ever play ball if he did not want to--that we would love him just as much. Gerry had a man-to-man conversation with him and told him that he was going to take him frog gigging and hunting and all kind of exciting things.

Somewhere in here Aunt Erin had gone for the birthday cake that Tara had ordered for Aidan and his father. Bryan was 26 yesterday. They will be celebrating birthdays together from now on. Although Tara said not to hurry off, we felt she deserved a rest, and after stopping for supper, we went back to the farm to share the good news with friends and relatives.

We went back today to see Aidan once more before his doctor dismissed the little family to return to their home in DuQuoin. Gerald had forgotten our camera yesterday, and he wanted his very own pictures of this family. Since Bryan has taken a job with an architecture firm in the Chicago area, we know our family gatherings with Aidan will be few and far between for us great grandparents. I suspect that Gerry and Vickie and Geri Ann will arrange frequent visits. And Erin knows exactly how long it is going to take her to drive over from Notre Dame to see him on the weekends.

Working to Beautify Buildings and Gardens

Dropping by the Little Egypt Arts Association yesterday on the Marion Square, I was not surprised to find Neal and Patty Morrison hard at work with the exciting remodeling going on there. LEAA is revamping their building's upstairs after decades of not being in use, and they are uncovering history at the same time. Marion residents remember the downstairs as the home of Albrights, where we could find nice men’s shirts and ties for Christmas presents. Not many remember ever being upstairs.

Volunteer electricians, plumbers, painters, the Morrisons and others are in the midst of making this fine building, donated by the Powell family, a fitting home for the visual and performing arts. Located in a prime location close to the Civic Center, LEAA is giving our area something to look forward to with pride.

Gay blocks of multicolored tile greet you as you enter the first upstairs room from the new second staircase, which was required by fire and safety codes. (The old staircase on the opposite end of the building enters from the street from the days when doctors and others used the upstairs as their office quarters.) Last week the Morrisons carefully laid the donated blocks to create the most attractive pattern possible. Patty also said they had learned to “mud” to cover up flaws and problems with the ancient walls. The result looks good. A center upstairs room with lesser amounts of light is planned for quilters and watercolorists, which will help protect their work.

Much thought and effort is being exerted in making this major expansion of LEAA headquarters into an even greater valuable addition to the Marion Square. The children who take art classes and those of us who love to view the beautiful paintings in the downstairs gallery have always appreciated LEAA. Now we will be enjoying the improvements made by all this donated labor for years to come. Working in the l00-year-old accumulation of dirt and grime is not easy nor pleasant work, but the results are pleasant.

Continuing to Katherine’s house, I relished seeing the beautiful tall healthy lilies blooming brightly around their front lawn lamppost. In their backyard, I see my mother’s lilies that Katherine dug up at Pondside Farm before we left there. Out her bedroom window is the only remaining lilac bush that survived of the eight small plants she dug from beneath the old bush we loved so. This lilac bush too is healthy and growing taller each year, and Katherine hopes it will bloom next spring. Maybe I will get a start from it. She had dug the lilacs up from hard baked earth in hot July sun five years ago, when no one with MS should have been outside--let alone digging up plants.

She had also transplanted some of the lily of the valley plants that lined our walk at Pondside Farm, They were given to us by our late friend Helen Lee, the mother of Katherine’s friend Karen who died at 18 in a tragic car accident going to work in Harrisburg. Unless there is a plant or two left in her far-back shade garden, which we didn’t check yesterday, these plants did not make it through last year’s remodeling construction. These flowers were against the park fence and not in the path of the construction, yet the plants and the protective brick around them oddly disappeared during the late fall when the family had to be out of their house.

Yesterday morning Katherine had noticed two young men with weed eaters working at her next-door neighbors, and she wheeled out to ask them if they’d use their weed eaters for a quick front lawn task she needed done. She quickly wheeled back in to get her check book thinking whatever they charged would be worth it and came back with the check partially written out. The young men would have none of the check. She laughingly said she planned to tell her husband that she had weed eated yesterday morning and see his reaction. All of us are profiting from the beauty she created with much effort and pain before her chair became a full-time necessity.

Generous volunteers and good-hearted workers creating beauty make life richer and worth living.

Duckling Disasters and Foul Fowls

What a difference a day makes. One day we were happy and confident in this year’s duckling population. The next day things changed.

We woke up last Thursday in a hurry to take off for Green Tree Elementary School at Lake Saint Louis, where Gerald was to be an honored guest at the fifth graders’ luncheon. This event climaxes the biography project, and the students present the honorees with spiral-bound books of their life stories.

As we both frequently do, I started my day by looking out our bedroom window. Gerald likes to see the large carp feeding in the lake early in the morning. I always hope to catch a glimpse of the multi-colored ducks with their amazing and beautiful feather patterns. That morning I was wondering if any baby ducks might have hatched overnight in the nest below our window. Sure enough looking down, I could see movement of baby ducks and felt excitement at their birth. Then to my horror, I looked up and several feet away in a weird position the mother duck was lying motionless. I ran calling Gerald, who always gets up hours before I do. He hadn’t looked out the window that morning. We ran outside to find the mother duck was headless--we blame an owl. Gerald gathered up the eight ducklings (altho he could not get the little wiggly things counted right then) and he took them to a warm overhead light in a pen in his shop, gave them water, and starter mash. He had not planned to mother any of our ducklings this year; he was going to let nature take its course under the mother ducks’ watch. However, there was already one duckling there under the light in the little pen.

Why? Well, we’d been bragging on the first mama duck who had hatched her eggs this season. For several days, she had been keeping all eight ducklings alive. Even the afternoon before, we had looked out and enjoyed seeing the mama duck walking across the lawn. Only five babies were left to follow her, but that is better than most of our mother ducks have done, so that was good enough to make us happy. And they were so cute. We noticed a couple of drakes nearby.

It had started sprinkling, and we were leaving the farm to go look at plant nurseries for some flowers to put in the new rock garden Gerald is creating beside his shop. As we passed where the ducks had been in the lawn, there were the five little ones huddled together and no older ones around. Gerald was upset, but I wasn’t. In my heart, I was confident that mother was probably close by in the shrubbery or someplace. I could not imagine her deserting those tiny fluffy little ones.

When we got back home, one baby duckling was alone on our patio. Gerald caught it and cuddled it and rode all over looking for the mother and the others thinking it may just have gotten separated from the gang. Not only did he not find the deserting mother and the four other ducklings, neither was there any sight or sign of the second mother duck who had hatched about the same number of little ones.

So we left for Lake Saint Louis with heavy hearts altho our friend Scott and little Katie were to look out for the ducklings in the shop while we were away. They did a good job, and we had eight ducklings under the light when we checked on them Saturday night.

Sunday morning I started that day by hurrying out the front door to check the setting duck under the azalea bush. I stopped abruptly. Our front sidewalk was covered with droppings. And our front porch. Not a pretty sight. I had been so amazed that with all these ducks around, our patio and front porch and sidewalk remained clean. Our experience with the geese years ago at the other farm house had not been so pleasant. I found it odd that after four years we suddenly had this problem. But I got a bucket of water, soap, and a broom and cleaned the area. (What I did not know was that Gerald, who had gone downstairs when he got up, had seen the same thing all over our walk-out lakeside patio. He cleaned that with a hose later in the day.)

Not too much later, I looked out the front door again and there on the sidewalk were the two parent geese and their seven children, who are now quite gawky and amazingly large. When I started out the door, the nine geese ran off and oddly have not been back on the sidewalk or patio since. I guess our being away lured them up to our quarters to investigate. Although the ducks are all over our yard, usually the geese have kept their distance at the edge of the lawn down by the lake.

So now I know one important difference in ducks and geese: ducks have better potty habits. When we walked around the lake the next day, I loved seeing the two adult geese guiding their seven goslings off the island and into the water. I just hope these geese continue to know their place!

Spring Green and Other Delights

A quail is whistling, “Bob White,“ as I walk to the mail box. The killdeer are screaming fiercely for my attention as they fly up and away from the gravel in our lane. They really don’t need to fuss and try to fool me like that. I will not likely find their eggs in the gravel at the edge of the roadbed even though I will look for the nest. I did see one nest last year. The eggs were in plain view, but still were almost invisible lying there camouflaged with the gravel around them.

Everything is lush and so brightly green that it is almost overwhelming after winter’s duller colors. The lavender iris that Scott and Sonje gave us from a family farm up north are blooming profusely, and I saw one yellow bud on the day lilies beside the house. Gerald’s garden is up and growing.

We found out that the “bachelor goose” that was honking so incessantly was indeed guarding a nest and not a bachelor after all. Gerald and I were riding the “mule” around the lake and saw a head sticking up in one of the floating nests he had made a couple of summers ago. He had earlier seen a duck nest there that evidently the predators had reached. Yesterday he pedaled out in the pedal boat and saw the nesting goose there on her eggs.

We have had two nests of ducklings hatched. The first mama had eight babies, and so far she has kept them alive, which is very different than our previous experience. Gerald thinks maturity has somehow taught this second-time mom ways to be more wary. We haven’t seen the second set of baby ducks since the mother took them to water. There is yet another nest outside out bedroom window and one in the front lawn under an azalea bush.

The martins are peering out from the openings in their house, and we assume there are little ones inside. The hummingbirds are back from Mexico. The red-bellied woodpecker still comes to the deck for a treat of suet that Gerald has stuffed in holes he made in a beaver-log turned bird feeder.

Gerald went to the island and had to knock five ticks off his clothing when he left there. I have been wanting to go over, but that slowed my desire. He has mowed a wide swath all around the lake for walking, and so far I’ve not had any unwelcome visitors. Ticks are definitely not one of spring’s delights.

Two-Parent Family with Seven Goslings

Gerald and I looked up from the breakfast table this morning to see two adult geese marching with great dignity across our lawn with their seven babies parading behind. How those children are growing! The family were on their way to the gravel in our long driveway to get some rock for their craws, I think. Later they turned back to the lakeside and headed south and eventually went back to water. They can also be seen down the lane crossing the gravel to get to our neighbor's wheat field.

I did not see the family when I took a walk around the lake at twilight last night, but one lonely goose was talking at the top of his voice the entire time I approached that side of the lake. We keep wondering if he has a mate someplace with a nest, but if so, Gerald has not found it. He stayed in place until I was very close. I tried talking to him soothingly as I approached assuring him I would not hurt him. But he left anyway. Jumping in and swimming out into the lake, he kept honking noisily.

Remembering my brother Jim's story this weekend about our father having a problem with his sheep herd being attacked by dogs or other animals, I started singing to the goose. The goose did not respond to the song. Jim had recalled that Daddy could not get the sheep to come up to safety at night. One evening with his work done, he went out on to the porch in the cooler air to play his violin. Before he knew it, here came the sheep. His problem was solved. He played for them each evening and they came up to their pen.

Although my singing did not attract the swimming goose back to lakeside, the goose's vocalizing may have had a similar effect on his friends. As if the honker had called them in, here came two geese from the field across the road below us to fly low over the water toward the other end of the lake. I stood and watched in awe at their beauty, strength, and skill as they glided rapidly through the air over the lake which was reflecting the pink and lavender twilight clouds above. As I continued walking, the sky was darkening and, thus, the lake was also. The ducks were gathered on the small dock near the lawn seemingly ready to settle down for the night. I undid the arms of my jacket tied around my waist and put it on and headed for the house.

Sharing about Priscilla at Schingoethe Center for Native Americans

Fields of yellow mustard now brighten the Southern Illinois countryside. Most of our flowering spring trees are already green, but as I traveled up to the northern part of the state to Aurora, I was able to enjoy the flowering red bud, pear, dogwood, and other blooming trees all over again.

I left Woodsong on Saturday to go to Mattoon to visit my brother Jim and his wife Vivian. Finally I got to meet 17-month old Willow, my great grand niece. Her mother Leana (my great niece) and her grandmother Judi (my niece) were visiting with Jim and Vivian when I arrived. Just like I had been told, Willow is a live wire who was busy every minute exploring. I did not try to hold her because a success would have lasted only a few seconds. Instead I enjoyed receiving the magazines and other items she rushed around the room gathering and bringing to me and her great-grandparents. With blue eyes, light complexion, and lovely blond curls, her beautiful face would have made an exquisite doll. As the evening progressed, she did not slow down but her little face registered fatique, and I bet she was asleep in the car seat before her mother had her back home to Charleston.

On Sunday I met Dr. Darrell Latch at Arcola in front of his power lifting gym to ride the rest of the way to Aurora University where the Illinois Trail of Tears Association was meeting at the Schingoethe Center. A beautiful facility with artfully arranged displays in the museum, the small library, and auditorium, the curator Meg Bero has crated an exciting and colorful environment to help us appreciate native Americans.

I enjoyed sharing the story of Priscilla, the Hollyhock Girl, who was freed from slavery off the 1838 Trail of Tears in the southern part of the state. And I invited folks down to the annual Memorial Day weekend open house held at Silkwood Inn, where Priscilla lived, from l0 to 4 on Saturday and Sunday. Sponsored by the West Franklin Historical Society as well as the Mulkeytown Historical Society, the museum in the former Mulkeytown School will be open as well.

Arriving back in Mattoon to Jim and Vivian's, I was ready to relax over late-evening sandwiches and with late-night visiting. We finally went to bed a little after midnight and slept in very late Monday morning. More visiting over a late breakfast and an afternoon lunch at Sullivan, where Jim took me around the square so I could at least see the theater there that I have read so much about. Finally at five, I figured I better be on the road again to head home. Gerald and Gerry were also headed home from Louisville, KY, where they had gone back to see Erin and Notre Dame play a double header after the games were rained out on Sunday. We hoped to possibly meet at Mt. Vernon for supper, but I was enough ahead of them that we didn't try that rendevouz.

Not an Eagle but an Osprey

Having lunch with our son Gerry and his buddies at the Johnston City McDonalds, Gerald was telling Gerry about the eagle. Immediately Gerry said, "I bet it was an osprey."

Sure enough, Gerald came home and looked up osprey on the Internet and found out it is the only bird that hunts for fish in the way he saw this big hawk doing yesterday. The Internet article said that it is often confused with the bald eagle.

Son-in-law Brian dropped in late last night to copy some records for the a local government farm office before he headed off to Lake Saint Louis. He was feeling great with this crop all in before today's rains. He didn't arrive home until 1:30 this morning, but I'm sure he would tell you it was worth it.

An Eagle at Woodsong

When I came home to the farm yesterday evening, Gerald was excited and disappointed that I had missed the excitement. A neighbor had phoned him, and he went out on the deck and watched the first eagle anyone have ever seen on our lake. First, he said it dive-bombed out of a tree and into the water and under and came up empty-mouthed. Then as he continued to watch, the eagle fished again in identical fashion and this time came up with supper. Watching it huge wing span as it came out of the water was quite a thrill.

We've already been excited about our new baby geese, who are being supervised and guided with the utmost care by their two parents. There were seven eggs, which Gerald has been watching for some weeks, and there were seven goslings hatched. We hurried down to see them, and the parents were already taking them for a swim. One little fellow had bravely (fool-heartedly??) gone out and away from his family to two ducks quite a way off. Then he took off all by himself--barely out of the egg and he was able to swim the great distance without trouble. But his parents and their more submissive brood swam out to him, and I like to think he was relieved to be back in their care.

We have held our breaths because last year the one geese family that hatched took the babies away the next day--we think to more isolated neighbor's pond. We also were afraid that predators would capture one or more of the goslings as so often happens to our ducklings. However, they are old enough now that we feel they are staying and also likely to survive since they are less vulnerable everyday.

We have at least four duck nests still around the house. Some have been deserted, and one was broken into early on by some creature. One mama duck is exactly in the spot in the day lily bed where last spring we had a batch hatched out on Mother's Day. I suppose it is the same mama duck.

I kept noticing a middle-size black bird with brown head at our feeder, and I wondered what it was. Ben Gelman's column came out just in time to tell me: the brown-headed cowbirds are back in the area! I don't think I had ever seen one. And if they destroy other birds' eggs, they aren't as welcome as they would be otherwise.

Easter Joys

Everything is beautiful in Southern Illinois right now, and it is impossible not to rejoice at the loveliness. I have no idea what the earth looks like at this time of year in Jerusalem where Jesus rose again, but here in the southern end of our state, nature seems to be applauding his resurrection. Jeannie and three children arrived Good Friday morning a little after seven after a harrowing trip down from Freeport through rain storms and fog. After an hour or so of sleep before Cecelie tried to join her in her bedroom, she was up for the rest of the day. She loved seeing the spring season here that is ahead of the northern part of the state: the flowering trees and the lavish green abounding everywhere.

We enjoyed lots of grandchildren visits with kids coming and going. Some left to sleep over with local cousins and then back the next day for more adventures: dying eggs, making nests outside with the plants and field flowers, fishing, riding the "mule" and the Taylors' "gator," hiking at the lake, watching the ducks and martins, and spending a great deal of time on a new game the kids have made up. I don't really know what the rules are or what they call it, but every time they come lately, I see pieces of paper with clues left all over the house. I've been picking them up since the house emptied. Example: Clue 3 says, "Go to the place you will find a real, cool game that puzzles your mind." As I clean out the area downstairs that we call the "art room," I am always impressed at how much writing/drawing/reading/creating practice the kids have gotten as they enthusiastically play as hard as they can while they are together. They never seem to run out of ideas for play. (I almost forgot one weekend activity. On Friday afternoon while Gma Sue was keeping her hair appointment and then going for the pizza, Gpa was in charge. It was in the 80's and hot. He'd taken the kids to the island and other such doings when he later saw them near the water's edge. He didn't have the heart to make them get out of the water when they couldn't resist getting in--street clothes and all. Some kids were washing their clothes in the machine in the garage when I brought the pizza home. I guess starting the swimming season early wasn't too bad a thing.)

Add to the mix of grandkids. the Taylors' dog named Fifi and the Eilers' dog named Lucky, and there is a lot going on when our family gathers. Rick did not get to come down with Jeannie as he coaches tennis as well as teaching math at the high school, and he had a tennis match to attend on Saturday. Since he also cared for their dog Leah, who has just given birth to six Shit-zu puppies, the kids here were really disappointed he and those seven dogs did not come. Everyone had wanted to see these babies.

Special weekend highlights included celebrating Samuel's ninth birthday with cake, several of the kids going to the Easter egg hunt on the lawn at Center Church, Lige and Trent playing by the creek at Wayside where they had spent Friday night in the Taylor camper, the women and girl cousins attending the baby shower for their cousin Tara up at Gerry and Vickie's house, meeting their Taylor cousins' other grandmother--G'ma Dot here from Florida, listening to Leslie sing, and finally worshipping together on Easter Sunday at Center.

We met the three Notre Dame softball players that came home with Erin at the shower on Saturday afternoon, but with warnings of possible storms, they left right after early morning worship at West Frankfort. Although I would have loved for them to be here with the other 18 family members for Sunday dinner, after hearing about the Eiler family's travel through the storm, I was relieved they did not delay leaving for their long trip back to northern Indiana. They were playing at Northwestern today.

We finished Sunday evening watching old videos, so Bryan Archibald could see Tara at age ten pitching and batting in the Marion park with her arm in a cast. Brian Taylor arrived back to join us after delivering his mother--G'ma Dot--to the airport in Saint Louis. Finally whoever was still here had a late night meal of leftovers from dinner. (I am still serving leftovers to Gerald and putting some in the freezer.)

We now have two Brian/Bryans in the family, but at least their names are spelled differently. Brian Taylor had started farming up at Wayside on Friday, and he stayed over to work at the farm on Monday. The fields are disked, and the anhydrous is on.

Fish from the Ocean

Living as we do on a small lake, it may seem odd that neither Gerald nor I fish. He has a fishing rod, but I doubt if he has fished four times in the over four years we have lived here.

Over at Pondside Farm, it used to be an ambition of mine to learn to fish and to clean them, so that I could take the grandchildren fishing, let them help me clean them, and then fry them. But I never did that, and I have given up the ambition.

However, good friends and neighbors, Jay and Winnie Payne, not only bring us fish, but Jay cleans it ready for our freezer!! And on occasion, Winnie has even called and told us she is bringing us fish and fixings for our supper. Winnie is such a good cook that I wouldn't dare tell her not to, or I'd be in trouble.

I don't really think anyone can fry fish so it is not tasty, but I know it is not necessarily good for us. So for years I tried to bake fish according to recipes, and all I ever got for my efforts was a stinky kitchen and a not very good fish meal.

We went to visit friends Sonje and Scott and Katie recently when they got back home from visiting her parents in Florida. We enjoyed all the photos of the HUGE fish Scott and his father-in-law's party had caught. Scott presented us not only with oranges but also with a couple of packages of fish he'd caught in the ocean. I was excited at the prospect of cooking fish from way out there in the deep. Admittedly I can and have bought frozen fish at the store, but that did not seem the same as fixing fish that Scott had caught.

I got up my nerve to fix the snapper, and decided to bake it with lemon and butter as Scott said he sometimes does. With the fish thawed, I realized that I didn't have a lemon in the house, and on the farm you don't jump in your car and drive to the corner grocery.

But I had lemon juice which I mixed with melted butter and probably put some sort of spices in the mixture. I can't remember now what I did use exactly; I started to say cumin, but that was what I added to the soup last week the second night I heated it up and thought it had been a bit dull the night before.

Then having recently heard a TV cook advise using capers on fish, I added some capers. (I'd bought them probably a year ago for another recipe, which I misplaced before I used them. I do that more than I'd like myself to do.) I'd learned from the TV cook that capers were pickled flower buds--the dictionary says from a Mediterranean shrub. Although I can't say Gerald or I liked the cooking smell, the snapper was delicious, and we enjoyed knowing we were eating healthy.