People say life is the thing, but I prefer reading. ~ Logan Pearsall Smith (1931)

My last blog post mentioned reading books in a cave by candlelight. Forget all this high tech communication stuff! 

I just love reading books. I can think of no greater pleasure than whiling my time away in a different place and time, if only in my mind. I can marvel at historical accounts from centuries ago, and I can wonder about so many things while reading a good book. Some of the things I discover are priceless, and others are just totally fun. My imagination takes me on a journey each time I open the cover. 

My family knows me well, and for Christmas I got several interesting (non-fiction) ones, and then for my birthday shortly afterwards, here came another set, in a mix of genres. 

Whether waiting for hours to renew my driver’s license, sitting at the doctor’s office or flying on a plane, my go-to activity is to stick my nose in an interesting book. It’s actually something I look forward to (waiting), because it gives me a good excuse to indulge in my favorite thing to do. 

I seldom take the time to do this while at home. For some reason, it makes me feel a little guilty for not doing something more important. I need to fix that. 

Forget Kindles or Nooks or whatever the techno-flavor gadget of the month is, I like book books. Favorites are kept, others are passed along or re-sold. Our old, historic books are some of our greatest treasures. 

I’ll never let go of the Oz books that belonged to my mother in law. When Shannon was a little girl, we read each one together. There was a lot more going on in Oz than a girl named Dorothy dropping into Munchkinland! 

Yes, they are somewhat fragile, so they are more on display that  looked at, but that doesn’t lessen their call to me. The stories they tell are a legacy to the next generation, and they need to be preserved and cherished. 

My favorite? It’s the set of five volumes of “A History of Texas and Texans” by Frank W. Johnson (a leader in the Texas Revolution), published in 1914. They belonged to my great grandfather, who is featured in one article about the trail drivers of the 19th century. My dad treasured these books, as do I. 

I’ll admit, I’ve not studied them closely, but I’ll bet they have a wealth of information about people and events that we have never heard of. 

So just last week, I opened Volume V. And what did I discover? A photo of my great, great uncle, Louis Oge! (pronounced O-Zhay) Born in 1832 in Alsace-Lorraine, his home in the King William District of San Antonio is now an amazing bed and breakfast inn (on Washington St.). I knew about him from my great grandfather’s memoirs (his mom was Louis’ sister), but had never seen a photo of him! And right here is an extensive article about him. 

I can’t believe I just opened the book to this exact page! What an amazing coincidence. And what a treasure I have right there on the shelves in the living room… all these wonderful books that have been cherished through the generations and will continue to be so, even if I end up living in a cave, reading by candlelight.

Pewperson will return on Feb. 10

Progress through technology ~ Audi motors advertising slogan circa 1986 

I am not a TV watcher… I never really have been one. TV watching in my growing up years was controlled; we six children had to choose what to watch, but if the other kids chose something different, well… bonus! 

When I graduated from college, my parents gave me a sewing machine (at my request), because having a TV just wasn’t that important to me. My very first personal TV was a small (12″ diagonal) black/white one that I bought at Sears in the summer of 1978. It cost maybe $100, and I paid it out at $10 a month for a year. It had no remote control, rather it had a dial that you would turn to the station you wanted, and it needed an aerial (rabbit ears) to work. 

Recently, while cleaning out old files, we found a handwritten invoice from Curtis TV & Video, dated 12/15/80. It was for our Sony 19″ Color Remote TV. Total cost was $657. We put a down payment of $157 and financed the $500 in 12 payments of $46.66. Joel had just begun practicing law, and we didn’t have much money. That TV lasted until after we moved to this house… maybe 20 + years? After that one, I have never been able to figure out how to work subsequent ones… 

The remote control on this TV had an on/off switch, a mute button and the 13+ channel buttons, of which there were only 6 that actually had channels we could watch. You looked at the TV guide and turned on the show you wanted to watch when it was time to watch it. How quaint! 

In the fall of 1995, our previous house was burglarized, and many electronics were taken, along with shotguns, jewelry, computer equipment and odd things, like our coats, Joel’s underwear and belts, and small oriental throw rugs. I think the burglars used the coats and rugs to wrap up stuff, but the underwear/belts? We’re still scratching our heads about that. 

But they didn’t take that ancient 19″ Sony TV! Did it not fit through the window they jimmied open? Or was it just too old fashioned? All I know is that when we moved to our current house, it came with us. With all the costs of moving and re-decorating, plus a car wreck that required buying a new one (Bert!), once again, we found ourselves without any extra money for a new TV. 

For a long time we resisted the siren song of cable TV, but finally that good old TV bit the dust, and because it was so ancient, we didn’t see any reason to fix it. So we succumbed to getting cable, mostly to take advantage of the high speed internet feature. But with it came a new TV with such a complicated remote that I had to refer to written instructions in order to make it work. I think I was successful once. 

As time marched on, here came an even newer new TV, an HD flat screen one, which is even worse. I have no idea how it works, and I guess I just don’t care. But when grandkids come around, I suppose I’ll have to finally learn! I’ll bet they’ll be able to teach me. 

In the meantime, you can find me in my cave, reading my books by candlelight…

It is strange that the years teach us patience; that the shorter our time, the greater our capacity for waiting. ~ Elizabeth Taylor

Another January has rolled around, and this month, my driver’s license was set to expire. I’d been given a pass six years ago, and renewed it by mail. The last time I went to the DPS office in person must have been 12 years ago, and I distinctly recall not having to wait at all. I’d barely sat down when they called me to the back. 

I’m not sure why that was the case back then, but I thought maybe I got lucky because not very many people are born in January? However, now that I think about it, there are lots of other folks out there who have just moved here and need a new license, or lost their license or something like that, so their dates of birth are irrelevant. 

So I wandered over there in the morning, hoping for the best, book tucked under my arm, ready for whatever might happen. It wasn’t a good sign that the parking lot was beyond full, with cars parked on the lawn beyond. It also wasn’t a good sign that inside the door was a very large crowd of people, with not enough places to sit. 

You would not believe the diversity of that crowd! I’ve never seen such a rainbow of faces, attire and languages before in my life. This crowd trumped last year’s diverse jury duty experience hands down. I wish I had taken a photo… it was that fascinating. Great people watching!

(especially the portly man who had on belted dress slacks with a sleeveless black undershirt tucked in… yikes!)

I could have turned around and come back another day, but I decided to just go for it. I’d blocked off the entire morning, just in case, and besides, I had my book. I don’t mind waiting, as long as I have something to read. 

57 was my number. I thought it was strange that they were calling random numbers in the 300′s, 900′s, 700′s, with no seeming pattern to them. When the heck would it be my turn? 

I found an empty chair next to a fidgety young woman with the  number 915. She’d been there an hour and a half, she said, and she saw other people being called who had arrived after her. When they finally called number 917, she was so mad! She stomped back there, and I don’t know what she did or said, but the very next number they called was hers! 

On the other side of my seat was a quiet young man with the  number 51. We compared notes and decided that each set of numbers must be assigned to different types of situations. For instance, we were both just renewing our licenses, so perhaps numbers 1-100 were for people like us? 

We got so excited when all of a sudden they called number 50! After a few more odd and random numbers, they finally called his number, and we both acted as if we had won the lottery. Crazy, I know! Off he went, and another man sat down by me. It is beyond coincidence, but his number was 58. What are the odds of having two people sitting together in that very crowded room with subsequent numbers? 

#53, #54… and then a long string of other numbers, making us wonder if the fifties person had gone to lunch or something. FINALLY, it was my turn, over two hours after I’d arrived. Wouldn’t you know it, the clerk at my assigned station was having computer problems, and my #58 friend was in and out at another station before I was. Sheesh! 

He didn’t have to take an eye exam. I did. He didn’t have to show his Social Security card. I did. Glad I had it with me! It seemed to take forever, but finally, FINALLY, I was finished. I’m good for another six years, and I HOPE that I don’t have to go back for another twelve!

Two and a half hours. Amazing… but oh, so interesting!

When Jesus heard this, he said, “Healthy people don’t need a doctor—sick people do.”  ~ Matthew 9:12

Regular pewperson readers know that I am never… well hardly ever, sick. It happens so infrequently that I can think back and recall each occasion vividly. The last time it happened was in September of 2009, when I had a temperature spike of five degrees, which really knocked the wind out of my sails. It only lasted a day or two, but it took me awhile to get back on my feet. That’s all it was; there were no other symptoms. Weird. 

It was about that same time that I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis (RA), an autoimmune disease which can be debilitating, but with drug therapy, it is controllable, and because my case has been so mild, my rheumatologist has taken me off my meds for six months to see if it has gone into remission. 

In December I went in for my annual checkup with my “main” doctor, the gatekeeper, and the one who is always trying to find something wrong with me. He always asks me about this or that, and I always say, “I’m doing great! No problems, etc.” I think I frustrate him. 

The reason I am beholden to going to him so regularly in the face of my seemingly good health is that I have my father’s inherited overly elevated cholesterol level, which cannot be controlled by diet, so I must take a statin drug. And because of that one prescription, I must get checked regularly to make sure it isn’t doing weird things to my innards. 

After the doctor finished the exam, I thought I was good to go, but no. In came his assistant who said that he wanted to run a test on me that involved injecting me with a solution and waiting 15 minutes, drawing blood, waiting another 15 minutes and drawing some more. I can’t even tell you what the heck he was looking for (something about my thyroid), but I sighed and agreed. 

She said I may feel a sensation of needing to urinate and experience a metallic taste in my mouth, both of which indeed occurred, but neither caused much discomfort. Weird. 

After having had a needle stuck in my arm for 30 minutes, my elbow was a little sore. Then over the next few days, my shoulder was sore. Then the other one. And my feet. And then my knees. It seemed like all my joints were sore. Was it a resurgence of RA? Yikes!

I decided to call the rheumatologist not only to make my semi-annual appointment with her, but also to ask about this sudden soreness, wondering if I should begin taking the meds that I had previously been taking. She was out of town, and the earliest I could see her was mid January. Her partner suggested that I take prednisone, a steroid, until she could evaluate my condition. 

Reluctantly, I filled the prescription, but after I took a look at the “possible” side effects, I decided to forgo taking them, thinking that I’d rather be sore than sick. And so I persevered. The soreness was strangely random, often very painful, and sometimes gone. Weird. 

The night of Dec. 26, I could not get comfortable. Not even my trusty Tempur pedic mattress helped. I tossed, I turned, then my nose started to run, and my wrist hurt so badly that I put a stabilizing brace on it. My head hurt, too, which is unusual, since I seldom have headaches. “Someone” was snoring, and I simply did not sleep a wink. 

Joel says he thought he heard me crying, but I wasn’t. I may have groaned in anguish, and I know at one point, I begged, “please God, heal me with your touch!” 

In the morning, I limped out of bed to take care of Tucker, and then, since it was raining outside, I just flopped on the couch in the kitchen and enjoyed the warmth of the fire. Just as soon as Joel got up, my plan was to go back to bed. 

I don’t know why, but before I did that, I took my temperature. It was over 100 (normally, it is 97.8). Hmm. Weird. Then I got back in bed and slept deeply for about 4 hours.

When I got up, I had no more pain. None. All my joints were flexible and easy to bend. No headache. My temperature was back to 97.8, and I was ravenous. Since then, I have had no recurrence of pain or fever. Weird… but awesome. 

The next day, the doctor’s office called to report that all my numbers were good, (which I could have TOLD her before I took the stupid test). I reported to her what had happened afterwards,  and wondered if it had been a reaction to the test. She couldn’t understand how, but documented it, just in case. There is just no explaining the timing of the onset and then the suddenness of its disappearance. 

It wasn’t until two days later when it occurred to me that, in my anguish, I had called on God with a prayer requesting healing. And so I was healed, shortly thereafter. Coincidence? Or just weird? 

I know God has many, many other, WAY more important cries of anguish to attend to, but could He possibly have heard mine? I choose to believe He did, and because I do, I know I must glorify His name, and be ever mindful of His grace. What can I do to repay His gift to me? Lots. I can think of many ways, and they will be done. 

I wonder what my rheumatologist will say when I see her? I almost can’t wait! In the meantime, I’ve been running, packing up Christmas, etc. with no ill effects, no wrist brace, no limping, just ordinary, but much appreciated normalcy. 

Weird!

Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom

In an annual rite of cleaning out and reorganizing my digital files, I came across this photo of three very special people. Taken in December 2009, the three friends smiled broadly into the camera, never dreaming what the year 2010 would bring them.

The one at left (my precious sister) would lose her husband in the spring after a diagnosis of a brain tumor; despite a successful surgery, he ultimately passed away from a massive coronary just days afterwards. In hindsight, she is grateful that he didn’t have to suffer through the ravages of chemo/radiation with a poor prognosis, even after aggressive treatment. 

The one in the middle (my dear friend from high school days) had been diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer the summer before, but she was ever hopeful that there was a cure out there to buy her some time. It was not to be, and sadly, she passed away just days after my sister’s husband, leaving her husband and two beautiful daughters, one in college and one in high school. Losing these two beloved people so close together was a double whammy to my heart. 

Her dearest hope had been to live long enough to see them grown up, successful and independent. She didn’t quite make it, but I hope and pray that her girls will honor their mother’s memory and remember her influence. 

The one at right’s husband (also friends from high school days) would be diagnosed with ALS the very next month, and she would watch him progressively decline from that point on. He bravely fights this insidious disease to this very day. 

I cling to this photo to remember the happy times, the innocent times. It’s a reminder about how fleeting life is! Our days are numbered, but none of us know when it will be our turn. How precious life is, and like the character, Emily in Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town”, we must cherish each and every ordinary day. 

Especially during the holiday season, focus on what’s good and right, and always be thankful for your loved ones, your favorite traditions and your faith. Enjoy all the usual tasks that come with celebrating Christmas or Hanukah, and don’t let them bring you down. Do them intentionally with an attitude of blessing. Cherish each one as if it were the last time you would ever do them, because you just never know.

Merry Christmas, holiday happiness and a blessed 2012 to all! 

note: pewperson will return on Jan. 6.

How Much is That Doggie in the Window? (arf arf!) ~ Patti Page 

The saga of Tucker puppy continues with his being “fixed” once he reached his sixth month. While he was under anesthesia, the plan was for the vets to check his mouth thoroughly for any gaps in his palate that may not have healed up or had been overlooked the first time. 

We had high hopes for an easy procedure, but with Tucker, apparently NOTHING comes easily. Not only were his testicles totally un-descended, they were tucked way up in his abdomen, which required major surgery to extricate them. And they did sew up a few more places in his mouth, while they were at it. 

Then they handed my stitched up, dazed and confused puppy to me along with his meds and said, “see you next week!” 

Ack!  It wouldn’t have been so daunting had there been just one stitch location to deal with, but we had two. He had to be fed pureed food because of the mouth stitches, and he needed the dreaded blue cone to protect his abdominal ones. 

Having had both abdominal and oral surgery, I could relate to what he was feeling, and I treated him with kid gloves. Of course he was tired, but once he recovered from the anesthesia and injected pain meds, he was frantic because of his discomfort. The oral pain meds helped, but only to a certain extent. 

You can’t explain things like this to a pet. They are wondering why they hurt, and respond accordingly, while we keep telling them, “No, no!! Don’t chew on your stitches,” which, of course, they don’t understand. 

Needless to say, the days were long until he finally felt well enough to disregard both stitch locations. When I saw him rear up and do his happy dance for his friend, “W”, I knew we were getting close to normal. 

When I could feed him his normal diet (instead of pureed food), it was such a relief! Normalcy was never so welcome.

One might say we have a star crossed pup, and in terms of shelling out money to make him whole, well then, you may be right. But I’d do it again without a second thought, because this one is a happy one. How much is this doggie? I don’t care. He’s worth it.

We got a Christmas card today from the owner of Kismet Kennels, where Tucker was born. Guy said, “Thank you for giving Tucker a chance at a normal life. We hope he repays you with his love and companionship. We are very grateful.” 

And we are grateful to Guy for sending this special, happy pup to us. There is nothing we wouldn’t do for him. He is one lucky dog!

To be or not to be. That is the question: ~ William Shakespeare (from Hamlet, circa 1600) 

It would have been a very easy thing to do. I had shopped for Christmas decor at Cornelius Nursery and had a basket full of berries, garlands, poinsettias, tree lights and pillar candles. The cashier leaned over and zapped the bar codes on everything, and I trundled off to my car, happy to have crossed everything off my list. 

As I unloaded the layers of things, I realized that the candles, buried beneath the 12 foot evergreen garland, had been overlooked. I paused for a moment and thought, “no one would ever know if I walked off with these!” 

It’s one thing to do the right thing when people are watching. It’s quite another thing to do the right thing when no one is. For instance, if I had had Shannon with me, no matter what age she was, there would have been no question. I’d have gone back and had the cashier ring up the candles. 

Another thing that crossed my mind was just to imagine if a security officer had noticed my lapse and stopped me. How embarrassing that would have been! It is totally not worth tossing a good reputation away. 

It didn’t take long for me to make a decision. I could not have lived with myself if I had stolen them. I would have been a thief. How could I have looked at myself in the mirror, knowing that I was? 

Many people out there shoplift things every day and brag about getting away with it. They think that the companies deserve it, because they charge too much, etc. But they are actually hurting the rest of us, because we ALL pay higher prices as a result of routine pilfering. Thanks a lot! 

Greed is a powerful impulse, and one that brings grief to those who succumb and are caught. Think of recent corporate scandals; most, if not all of them happened because someone was greedy for more and more money.  

#8 of the 10 Commandments reads, “Thou shalt not steal.” I think it would transform the world if this one commandment were honored; certainly it was a powerful influence on me on this particular day. 

So I went back. The cashier was VERY appreciative, and slyly asked me, “Did you forget your discount coupon that was in the paper last weekend?” (I had not even been aware of it) Her thank you gift to me was to use the store coupon to give me a discount on those very expensive pillar candles that will grace the entry hall table during the Christmas season. 

I already feel a sense of relief because I made the right decision. A light heart has only added to my Christmas spirit! 

My heartfelt wish is that the rest of the people in the world would follow suit and be a good example for the next generation. Merry Christmas and a most Happy New Year!

Fine writing is next to fine doing the top thing in the world. ~ John Keats (1819) 

It’s been five years since I began blogging; I’ve posted 242 entries (average once a week) with subject matters ranging from gelatin salads (thank you, Shannon!) to dog antics, travelogues to amusing anecdotes, family stories to observations on a theme. 

It’s been a pleasure, a discipline and somewhat of a journal. I hope you have enjoyed reading my work!

Below is my very first post, which still rings true today. I can’t wait to see and hear the geese again as I walk with Tucker…

Nov. 25, 2006

The Wild Geese

Psalm 46:10 “Be still, and know that I am God! I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted in the earth.”

As I walked Shadow and Bailey one recent fall morning, I heard the distant call of the wild geese as they migrated south. Bird migration is one of the most fascinating mysteries of nature to me, and I love it when I have an opportunity to witness it. I stopped, scanned the sky, and then spotted hundreds of them in several vees.  

We stood a long time, just watching and listening. Suddenly, a man approached from behind us. He was berating someone on his cell phone… something about needing a work order (mind you, this was at 7:15 or so in the morning). He shouted past us, not even seeing us, and continued on his way, never looking up. I came this close to shouting out, “Look!” but I decided he’d probably think I was nuts. Anyway he missed the whole thing.

Take the time to be still. You never know what wonderful things you may experience!

Think where man’s glory most begins and ends

And say my glory was I had such friends. ~W.B. Yeats (1939) 

At Thanksgiving, I am grateful for many things, but friendship is especially on my mind today. Last week, the “street ladies” (my neighbors) and my “church lady” friends both hosted happy hours on the same evening. I attended both, arriving early at the first and late at the second. How blessed I am to have such fun friends, whom I know would do (and have done) special things for me in time of need. 

Gosh, where to begin? Thinking about the various and random groups of friends that I have accumulated over the years, I made a list that includes (in no particular order): the heathens, IHGLAM, Sunday School class(es), choir parents through the years, the above mentioned church ladies and street ladies, church staff, school friends, extended family (am SO lucky to love my family!), Facebook friends (which include many of the above), office friends, ABA friends, parents of Shannon’s friends over the years and now, some adult friends of Shannon and Kat. 

I’m sure there are other groups of friends that I overlooked, but for sure, I mustn’t forget the special individuals who have come into my life that may not quite fit into a particular group. 

For instance, I have a friend named Dorothy. She is a woman who attends the same service at church that I do, and sits in the same vicinity as I do. Funny how that works! 

Pewpeople are prone to sit in the same place every Sunday, and if someone sits in their spot, well then, it just feels odd to have to sit elsewhere. I don’t get cranky, but I know that others do. (all pewpeople, for goodness sake, just go sit somewhere else and maybe you’ll meet some new friends!)

It began with a simple greeting, and then when I was away or sat elsewhere, Dorothy would tell me she missed seeing me. As we became better acquainted, it just felt right to sit together each Sunday and share the days of our lives. Dorothy is the epitome of Southern charm, and I enjoy visiting with her each week. 

Usually, if we have plans to be away on a particular Sunday, we will make sure the other knows. So it was a bit unsettling that Dorothy was absent last Sunday, and  none of the other nearby pewpeople knew where she was. So I worried a bit. 

The only amusing aspect of this scenario was that when I went into the Sanctuary, I wasn’t quite sure which was “our” pew because Dorothy always gets there first. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and there were a number of folks whom I didn’t recognize (always a good thing to welcome new faces!). I think that one particular couple sat in “Dorothy’s pew”. I’m not sure how she would have responded if she had been there! 

I’m also not sure if Dorothy has any other connections to our church other than attending the early service there. The reason I bring this up is that our church’s new theme is that “no one will walk alone”, to try to plug people into various opportunities to grow in their faith. 

No matter what Dorothy’s other church connections are, she is now firmly connected to me and some of the other people who sit nearby, because we all worried about her last Sunday. I called her afterwards, and she was ok, but had had some allergies that prevented her coming to church. 

Not long ago, a mutual acquaintance told me just how much Dorothy enjoyed our friendship. Lynnda said, ” She looks so forward to her time with you and  just will not miss church, as she wants to spend the time with you.” 

I’ve got to say that the feeling is mutual. She is my friend, and it makes me smile knowing that she feels the same way. 

So here’s to Dorothy and ALL my friends, who mean so much to me. I am grateful for all of you, and I wish you all a blessed Thanksgiving!

Virginia is For Lovers~ tourism and travel slogan of the Commonwealth of Virginia 

As many of you know, our son in law, Kat is now a 1L student at Washington & Lee University in Lexington, VA. This is a wonderful thing, because we love W&L, where Joel went to undergraduate school, and we LOVE Lexington. 

It’s been four years since our last visit together. I was there briefly in August, after helping the kids drive their two cars up, but I certainly didn’t have the time to explore and enjoy the town; we were much too busy unpacking! 

So it was with great anticipation that we traveled up to visit them recently. Joel is the best at finding interesting and unusual places to stay, and he outdid himself when he booked the Bayberry Cottage at Autumn Ridge. It was a little jewel box of a space, tucked into the woods, with every amenity thoughtfully provided. It wasn’t exactly a B&B, rather it was just a B… in other words, no breakfast was provided, but with a full kitchen, we were happy to make our own.

 There is no place more beautiful than Virginia in the fall, specifically, in Lexington. Yes, I know that many pewperson readers may disagree (in their humble opinions), but bear in mind that on the one “eye”, we are looking through the lens of shared memories, and on the other “eye”, the lens of being with our precious children (fun to use that plural noun!). 

For example, the Hudson Valley and the front range of the Colorado Rockies are also beautiful places in the fall, but now that Shannon and Kat don’t live there anymore, they have lost some of their luster in my eyes. 

(note: I’ve got to hand it to them; they have lived in some great places to visit over the past 7 years!)

 The weather was glorious in Lexington, cold and sunny by day, with brilliant stars in the night sky. We enjoyed watching the deer, wild turkeys and other birds around our cottage, and loved exploring our old haunts downtown. Joel commented on how strange it was to be in a place so little changed from the way it was 35+ years ago. Well, except for the fact that now women attend W&L as undergraduates and there are such things as lingerie shops in Lexington… unheard of back in the mid 1970′s! 

Of course, the best part of our visit was hanging out with Shannon and Kat, enjoying meals together and just catching up. We do miss them, but know they are in a good place and enjoying married life in their farmhouse cottage. Walking with their dog, Lucas on a brisk Saturday morning was especially fun as we explored a nearby public garden with a rambling trail and quirky art objects.

 Lucas LOVES the cold weather; after all, he is a Great Pyrenees, so what else would you expect? I noted that he doesn’t drool or shed nearly as much in Lexington than he did in hot old Houston. And he certainly was more frisky… what a lovable fellow he is!

 We’ll be traveling back to VA next spring for Joel’s 35th college reunion. It will be extra special with the kids there, and I can hardly wait! There is no place more beautiful in the spring than Lexington…