Irish Hills

Today Mommy assigned me to buzz the littlest boys and I said all right, and got to it. First came smallest, I prepared the buzz tools, plugged it in and started buzzing away, oops. My mistake, I had put the shortest attachment. His head looks like an egg! Or as Mommy said a cancer patient. His hair is GONE! We’ll have to knit little caps for him. He looks totally bald. I guess I’ll have to give myself a buzz now as a punishment.

Back to school (trudge, trudge) Fiddle fum, (trudge, trudge) And all the math (fiddle fum) till we are done (trudge, trudge).

Remember a while back when my Mom posted about country churches? Today we went to a country church, way back in the woods and worshiped with about five other families, pretty tiny. Here’s my Mom’s post on little backwoodsy churches.

You city slickers just won’t understand…

~ The final words of the benediction are, “Ya’ll come back now, ya hear.”

Well, it wasn’t quite like that, but we loved worshipping with our close friends, in a tiny country church.

Blessings, Grace

Ever since I was a little girl I’ve wanted to write a book. Many attempts have been made to fulfill this dream; little notebooks filled with my wobbly scribblings and stories, perhaps a half a dozen pages of writing, on various subjects, that I worked so hard on then dropped. I smile, when I see my litle sister frantically working on a new “book” to get it sent of to the publishers in time. I’m still like that. I love to see sheets of new paper and extra sharp pencils (with erasers of course!) But then when I start to write, I’m so disapointed in myself that I give up; I can never be like my Mom, I moan, or finish a short book like my brother Pieter did (then stored away.) Somehow, I always try one more time, perhaps I’ll never reach my goal but I can keep trying can’t I?

Here’s an excerpt from the story that I’m writing now. It’s set during reconstruction during the South.

There are strange deeds that are done under the sun, uncharted and un-rememberd, yet they lay and stay under the surface of our nature, to be called up at a snap of the fingers. These acts hold sway over us and take hold of our very being, eating away at our soul, and the acid of them burns our minds. The strong become feeble and the weak become weaker. How do we correct our deeds once they are done?

Our courage vaporized with the rising of the sun and wafted away into the gray mists. We grimaced and our hands shook at our daily work. Strange though, there were the numbered few who smiled and were steadfast in their daily lives. A fine silver mettle was hammered into their souls by a silversmith that none knew the name of. Or perhaps we had just not yet discovered it within ourselves…

I hope that I’ll be able to finish this story. I’ll just keep plodding away. Don’t give up at writing!

Grace

Baseball day, yeah! Early this morning the little stinkers awoke and got out of their beds. We packed a large picnic lunch and the essential baseball tools and headed out the door. First we took Ben to an interview for an aviation scholarship, I think that he did fairly well (I wasn’t there, though we had practiced an interview with him the night before) We all sat still for a full ten minutes and oohed and aahed at the airplanes taking off the runway, a hundred yards from our car.

At the park we turned the kids all loose on the huge playground and sat back and watched Baby boy, slide down the biggest slide, and come out the other end, full of static electricity (I am never going to go down one of those, unless I have full body armour on!) After lunch we went and played ball, in the little baseball field at the pack of the park.

Daddy was the pitcher throughout the entire game, and the kids took turns coming up to bat and guarding the bases. I was, for the most part, the catcher, though I did get to be batter a few times (even hitting one home run!) Mommy was our “umpire” and taught us the basic rules of the game, including, running the right way, after a few failed attempts. Hey, a few of us even hit home runs, including Mommy. Daddy was the easiest on the boys but threw a few fast balls at me, not fair Daddy! Finally we packed up and left.

Mommy has fixed a nice dinner for the older ones, Gumbo, a soup of shrimp and crab. I got part of the job of peeling the shrimp (does any one else here find it fun to tear the skins and legs off of water bugs?) Dinner still cooking so I’ll tell you how it tastes later. Some of us have a refined tast for seafood, others don’t.

Cheerio! Pip pip, I’ll be toddling along (I just had someone tell me that I have an English accent, heaven forbid!)

Grace

I found this story to be highly amusing. Some people just have no sense of humor. To aquire this humor, you must go read ten Gary Larson cartoon books.

Grace