How long has it been since you saw a worm crawling on concrete after a rain?

OOPS, will have to reduce photo size after brunch.
The "fishing plug" is eight or nine inches long and about two inches wide. The "baited hooks" may be five of six inches long. Wanna guess what the kids intended Rusty use them for?

The kids looked long and hard for this frame. Five y.o. grandson Casey helped put on the fishing hat and fly, the hooked fish, Gone Fishing sign, and the anglers.




D-i-l Stacey's mom gave Rusty this little tackle box and box of snacks, "In case you don't catch any fish, you'll at least have something to eat."

Is Rusty the only one to squawk about how some people take gift opening pictures of little kids? The kid is sitting on the floor facing the Christmas tree when someone BEHIND him demands, "Charlie, turn around here. C-h-a-r-l-i-e, turn around here for ——-(me)." The overly exuberant individual takes a shot, or shots, showing: the kid's very twisted neck, face, a wad of wrapping paper, and possibly only PART of the gift that Aunt Suzie gave him.
For crying out loud, why can't these camera bugs position themselves so they can get head on exposures of the gift and however much of the kid's visible above the mountain of wrapping paper, boxes and the gift? Does any of this make sense to you?

Blogger commenter billy birddog sent me the rootun tootunest video but I couldn't get it on here. You'll ROTFLYBO. I PROMISE. Hit the Contact Rusty button BEFORE NOON TODAY.

If a fellow blogger gets it, please direct the readers via the comment space below. MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY. THANKS FOR READING US.

The new Supermarket near our house has an automatic
water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before it goes
on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of
fresh rain.

When you approach the milk cases, you hear cows mooing
and witness the scent of fresh hay.

When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon
and eggs frying.

The veggie department features the smell of fresh buttered corn.

I don't buy toilet paper there any more.

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DOES THIS HELP?

Rusty's "frugality" has been causing him misery lately. When we ran out of flaxseed oil/borage softgels recently, fish oil softgels with being touted as having lots of Omega 3 sounded like a more cost effective substitute.
Mrs. Rusty took one look in the bottle, "I can't take these vile things, that sickening fish oil keeps comin' back up. I have to have those coated ones." "They never bothered me, I'll take'em."
Back at Wally world, the bottle of COATED softgells were like $9.95 for 250. She has those now. The VILE, OILY ones were about $8.95 for 300. Isn't that the best bargain? After all, only about 3 or 4 out of that last bottle "surfaced" on me.
Rusty wasn't so lucky on this last bottle. Way too many of those flippin' things have nearly involuntarily came to the light of day. Yesterday, it hit me, "Yekkk, this must be what seagull urp tastes like. It's the coated ones from now on."

In an effort to see if Rusty could make magazine quality digital photos by projecting old slides onto a screen, this happened after midnight when most sane people should be in bed. Never found the projector screen so used a shiny piece of wallboard, propped up on the kitchen range,for a screen. Some mildew and spots and scratches on some of those 35+ y.o. Instamatic slides hindered the quality.

2 y.o. Aaran marching around our sporting goods shop going, HO HO HO

Courtney at 9 months sitting on a rock in the Powder River Breaks east of Buffalo, Wyoming. Oh, to be healthy and that skinny again.

LOON had a link on "Submitted without comment" about a couple teenage boys near Springtown, TX who lit a match to see in a 5,000+ gallon (probably Barrels) crude oil tank. One lived through the explosion and fire. Reminded me of this: Rusty Abe had this to say
December 20, 2006 - Posted at 10:14 pm
My dad was a pumper for Sohio Petroleum Co. One day he went to guage a tank that the company wouldn't fix the insulation on the wires on an electric switch or float. He wasn't careful enough when he lifted the wires out. When the bare wire hit the edge of the hatch the spark ignited the fumes in the top of the tank and the flame blew right up in his face. Fortunately, the tank had only about a foot of airspace. Otherwise, it could have blown that tank battery all over the prairie. To hear his story, "I jumped off and realized how far it was to the ground and made a circle and came back to the catwalk on the stairs side of the fire." He ran down to the pickup and rubbed motor oil all over his face, neck, ears, hands and arms. He was "hairless" for awhile. His pink lips pooched out like an old channelcat that'd been on a hook three or four days."

It's good to have the right answer now and then. A distraught "widder woman" called, "I'm about $81.00 short of having enough to pay my light bill and they're gonna cut my electricity off today. Do you know of anybody to turn to besides A. & B.?"

"Try calling the Community Action Committee in Victoria at 361-578-2989. They are sometimes able to help with utilities."

"I can't. I'm at xyz's house and they're gone and I can't make long distance calls without them here."

"What's that number and I'll try to have them call ya." Finally finding the toll free number, 800-365-7712, I was able to reach Vicki Smith who replied, "What's her name and contact number and we'll see what we can do."

A follow-up to Vicki got this response, "Our case worker called her and then called the power company. They said, "Tell'er to pay $$$ on her bill and that'll carry her over into January", by then, our new budget year starts and we should be able to help her some more."

THANKS, CACV for all you do to help folks in need.

Where can we find a little mouse to have looking out of this knot hole?


Someone apparently didn't appreciate the wood grain on this "tater bin" so tried to "antique" it by applying what turned out to look like baby barf. It has taken many hours using goop like paint remover, a hand scrapper and sanders.

The similar "mess" on a cedar chest will have to wait.

Bluestain results from a fungus getting into the lumber. Not harmful structurally, some folks don't like it. Those areas "fuzzed up" when sanded.

When the box got warped, it made some of the lid and front grain match up better.

Shoulda used those top two knots as eyes for a "critter" What critter would you put on there?

Rusty lied to me again, said the 'puter was gonna be turned off at 10:00 tonight.

Recent cold, rainy weather reminded me of sleeping in a manger. It happened near Landmark, Idaho, in late August 1962. Our U.S. Forest Service summer work crews, composed mostly of college students, were dispatched from our duty station to fight a forest fire.
The fire was on the north side of a mountain. As long as we were close to the fire line we were sweaty. When we backed away just a few yards, the air temperature at the 8,200 foot elevation was quite frosty. All the first night we were on the fire line all battling the several hundred-acre blaze. By the second night we were eager to crawl into USFS sleeping bags provided at the fire camp. In spite of our weary bodies, it was tough sleeping on frozen ground in bags which were too short.
The third night we got the idea of snapping four bags together in the middle. Two guys had their heads at the south end of the giant sack and two guys had their heads pointed north. By placing our feet along side of the opposing fellows' legs we were able to scoot far enough inside to get our shoulders covered. That worked well enough for us to get some much-needed sleep...until about 3 a.m. when a big foot kicked a snap loose.
The rainy and snowy days were sometimes as miserable as the nights had been. It wasn't so bad as long as there were patches of live fire to suppress. When we started doing "mop-up" (trying to eliminate all the sources of smoke popping up), there wasn't enough heat to keep us warm. Chainsaw gasoline wasn't all consumed in the saws. When the fire boss disappeared around the mountain, smoldering stumps mysteriously started blazing. (WARNING: This is a very dangerous practice. Never put gasoline on anything which MAY be burning.”
By our last night at fire camp most of the other crews had been sent home. That allowed me to grab two sleeping bags and find shelter in the vacant horse barn. A layer of fresh smelling prairie hay in the manger formed as comfortable a mattress as any 19 year-old bone weary youth could want. Putting the bags together in a "T" shape allowed sufficient foot room and covered shoulders. Being out of wind, off the frozen ground, provided a much appreciated night’s sleep.
Seeing Christmas scenes or hearing “…and they laid Him in a manger” stirs up memories. If you think about it, that Bethlehem manger probably wasn’t such a bad place. Out of the weather, it should have been dry. Body heat from the animals provided warmth. Mary and Joseph sleeping on the hay were possibly more comfortable than sleeping on a bedbug-infested mattress.
There was no doorman to keep out visitors. Shepherds and other working people could get in without having to take baths or change clothes. Dirty shoes didn’t have to be removed. Their coming and going wouldn’t disturb other inn guests. There was probably room for several visitors at a time thus increasing warmth. The price should have been a bargain as well.
As usual, God knew just what the situation required and He provided. Despite the original sound of it, the Prince of Peace was given quarters fit for a king, The King of Kings.
****************
Who do you know that you can invite over for Christmas dinner? Maybe wrap them a useful little gift. The experts claim there are more suicides during the holiday season than at any other time of the year, apparently due to the despair of loneliness and feeling left out or unwanted.
Due to our mobile society, with so many of us having to move around so often to remain employed, there are scads of people around who were elsewhere last Christmas. Many (of those who are actually employed) lack a sufficient number of days off to allow them a lengthy trip to be with loved ones. Now that the economy has taken the downturn it has, many fewer people can afford to go anywhere. Others have lost spouses or dear ones and are extremely lonely.
What can we do to make their holiday season a bit happier? Maybe we can encourage (or even help) some homeless person to contact their family for reconciliation. Their going home undoubtedly will be the answer to many prayers. It might even save their life. It is well documented that homeless people are often the victims of mental illnesses or misunderstandings which render them afraid or unable to get home by themselves. “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” Here’s wishing happy and safe holidays to you and yours.
*******

#1. What is the commitment of a land surveror whose customer is embroiled in a property dispute dealing with the surveyor's official maps? Shouldn't surveyors still verify the validity of a public marker when using it as an official reference point?

#2. How many of you know of someone who's lived on family property all their lives? Especially if the family gave them a certain parcel of land? There was most likely no mortgage on the gifted parcel so the family never even dreamed of registering that transaction in the public records. What all confusion can a spouse or heir(s) experience when propery ownership and boundary lines and corners come into question? Besides having an expensive survey which establishes property corners, that may result in a big conflab when it cuts off a chunk of land someone always thought was theirs?

#3. What happens when a new neighbor starts setting corner posts and then it's determined they are encroaching on the old neighbor's place?

On the Fox Sports web site was a poll about "Should Jeff Bagwell go into the baseball hall of fame at Cooperstown?" I'll save my comments until after y'all have had a chance to make yours.

Are none of the blogs on this screen interesting enough to comment on besides AMIGO'S CANE? It was nice to see the comments on the pool ladder.

What kinds of things will get any comments around here? Should Rusty do other things besides this blog? Be honest. What don't you like about this effort? They were asked for so your comments will be taken under advisement.

If this is his last posting, he thanks you for your participation the past 18 months or so. Y'all have a very Merry Christmas and a fabulous 2007.

HEY FRAZZLED ID these jumping jacks for us.

Julie had this to say
December 18, 2006 - Posted at 1:24 pm
Okay..its me, and my niece Kaitlyn, and my two heathens jadyn and janaya!

RUSTY HERE: One observer thought we should have had the girls there during the day. One VERY LATE brainstorm was to offer to let everyone who came by ring the bell.

GANADO SALVATION ARMY KETTLE DRIVE




HAS ANYONE FIGURED WHO THESE JUMPING JACKS ARE?

Volunteers will be filling one hour time slots from 7 am to 8 pm in front of the Ganado Grocery Saturday December 16. All the money collected in Jackson County will go to purchase medication for needy county citizens.

The milk had just been poured into the bowl of mini-wheat squares when the phone rang about 9:25 this a.m.
It was from the INTERVIEWEE for an Amblin' story about a lady monitoring environmental aspects of the Lavaca & Navidad River watersheds. About two bites were wolfed down before my heading to my office.

After a series of undelivered emails (to her) and phone calls she sent photos for the story. Text comes via email tomorrow. Worked on the Lighthouse 2911 Fishers of Men grant proposal until about 1:00 p.m.

The cereal soaking up the milk had turned the squares to much larger ones and they were still "kinda" soggy. Did you ever try to eat a big round bale of hay?

Anyone have another goofy story to share?

Grandma and Rusty often encounter an old Spanish gentleman on our walks. Is his name Fernando? Francisco? Frederico? Anyway, he was accustomed to seeing my using a walking stick to lean on when tired or winded. Recently, he walked out into the road and flagged me down. Jesturing for me to stay put he went into the house that he and several of his buddies live in. When he came back out he was carrying this unidentified piece of pipe resembling a cane. When I plan to walk within eyesight of his place the "Amigo" cane goes along.

What do you say the contraption was or was part of? Let's see if we agree.

Rusty had an interesting afternoon at the Victoria Mall. Grandma was shopping while he visited a bit. Oscar & Helen Welfel were in Penneys. Retired from 36 years with Halliburton, he was wearing an oxygen hose and pushing one of those fancy walkers that some of us old folks need at times. When asked about how he liked his walker he enthusiastically replied, "I love it. It has a place for my oxygen tank and more storage pouches. And when I get tired I can do this (as he plunked himself down on the seat)." At 80, he suffers from spinal stenosis but a surgeon won't touch him because of his need for supplied oxygen. He told me of his mint condition Chevy El Camino that people keep trying to buy. He's not interested.
*****
After admiring Frank & T.C.'s Advocate photo display in the Dillard's court just south of Santa's throne a park bench was really inviting. When Richard Franka sat down he answered my, "What do you do?" "I'm in the floor business, carpets, wood floors, etc." Naturally, my next question was, "Did you ever have a floor sander strapped to your body?" "Oh, yes. We lived in Edna first and my dad sanded floors all around that area. Back then we only got ten cents a square foot for sanding, filling and finishing." "Yeah, that's what we got for old floors." "It'd make you sick what they get nowa days." "Yes, about $3.00/square foot, it sure does. I'd like to be able to do that work now. I did some on our floors After the fire. I showed a couple guys how to run the sander and the edger. When it was all done I wished I'd have done all the sanding myself. Too many people thought I'd have another stroke so I humored them."

"Did y'all have a belt around your back when y'all were running the big sander?" "Yes, we did. If you didn't use one you'd pay for it.
At night you'd have blisters on your feet from tryin' to hold it back." "Yeah, and your arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets.
We rented one of those 110 volt machines at Home Depot and had to jerry rig a belt. I tried to impress on the guy when we took it back about how important it was to put back belts on their machines. It didn't seem to phase him. I'd like to hear the customer remarks after running one of them."

Naturally, there was always some dude who'd get your quote and decide, "I can do it cheaper'n that." Then after he'd screwed the floor up and the sander had just about eaten him up, he'd change his tune, "Hey, how much will you charge to come over and straighten this mess out?" "More that we asked you in the first place, depending on how much extra work it takes."

We sat there and sanded gym floors as well as residential comparing sanding machines and methods and stories. We compared how we mixed our fillers and what different finishes we'd used. Much of their work was done around San Antonio after their family moved there.

Richard was glad when his dad started installing carpet and linoleum. "That was a lot easier work. At first when I helped him with the sanding my job was to set the nails (hit the finish nails in the three or four boards next to the wall with a hammer and drive them down far enough they wouldn't tear our sand paper), and run the edger and scrape out the corners. That edger always hurt my back because you had to bend over when runnin' it." About ten minutes was about the limit of edging time before I had to straighten up. My brother would holler at me,"What's a matter, did the time lock git ya?"

Richard and I both agreed that what we hated most was skinny closets with narrow doorways that we couldn't sand with the big machine. That meant we'd have to do nearly all the sanding with the edger.
Our enjoyable visit was over after Gloria helped us remember and decided it was time to head to the casa.

LOIS SENT US THIS We all need to read this one over and over until it becomes part of who we are!

HOW TO STAY YOUNG

1. Try everything twice. On Madams tombstone (of Whelan's and Madam) she said she wanted this epitaph: Tried everything twice...loved it both times!
2. Keep only cheerful friends.
The grouches pull you down. (keep this in mind if you are one of those grouches;)
3. Keep learning: Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever. Never let the brain get idle. "An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer's!
4. Enjoy the simple things.
5. Laugh often, long and loud. Laugh until you gasp for breath. And if you have a friend who makes you laugh, spend lots and lots of time with HIM/HER.
6. The tears happen: Endure, grieve, and move on. The only person who is with us our entire life, is ourselves. LIVE while you are alive.
7. Surround yourself with what you love: Whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever. Your home is your refuge.
8. Cherish your health: If it is good, preserve it. If it is unstable, improve it. If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.
9. Don't take guilt trips. Take a trip to the mall, even to the next county, to a foreign country, but NOT to where the guilt is.
10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.
11. Forgive now those who made you cry. You might not get a second time.

And if you don't send this to at least 4 people - who cares? But do share this with someone. Lost time can never be found!

"Life is what you choose to make of it my friend if it doesn't fit
You must make alterations".

(^,~) wink...

The right to be heard does not automatically include the right to be taken seriously.

Contact Rusty Abe For an emailed copy of this. It won't upload to the blog.
Source: National Geographic Magazine

An archeological team, digging in WashingtonDC, has uncovered 10,000 year old bones and fossil remains of what is believed to be the first
Politician.

You know, come to think of it, it may be a projection of what someone digs out of the grave of George W. Bush.

HAS ANYONE FIGURED WHO THESE JUMPING JACKS ARE?

Volunteers will be filling one hour time slots from 7 am to 8 pm in front of the Ganado Grocery Fridays and Saturdays December 8, 9, 15, & 16. All the money collected in Jackson County will go to Helping Hands of Jackson County to purchase medication for needy county citizens.

This was part of a prayer mail sent out Wednesday morning early. —- Everything seemed to go to pot today. It took lots of wrench time getting the ECR unit off the throttle body on my suburban. The gasket immediately fell apart. After soaking that idle speed controller in "sea foam" Charlotte
and I just had enough time to walk to the parts house. They took a gasket out of a kit so it wasn't so high. When I got home the unit seemed pretty snug but since it took so long to unscrew it I thought it'd take as much effort to put it back. Consequently, I twisted the threads off in the body
of the thing possibly totally ruining the whole throttle body.

Evidently my meds are working because the worst I said was "damnit". And only once at that.
The therapy is obviously doing me lots of good, that or I'm "over
medicated". I haven't any idea where to get the part(s) and don't even want to think about the price. I could just imagine hundreds of dollars. This is definatly another non-budgeted item.

One thing that really rankles me is having my Internet searches going in all directions because of sidetracking websites. I don't want any BMW or Ford Mustang or Corvette Performance parts for my GMC.
We'll see how God works this one out for us because I'm stumped.

ABOUT 2;30 WEDNESDAY MORNING I said, "Lord, I really screwed it up this time so I need you to show me what to do." About then the thought came to me, "take the throttle body off the engine and figure out how to get the broken threads out." "Thank ya Lord." Darrell Staff (Staff's Auto Repair & Muffelor Shop in Ganado) stopped by and held the little chisel and I tapped it out with a few encouraging hammer taps. 'THANKS LORD'. The idle control valve and gasket were about $73.00. Thanks again Lord.

My old buddy Garon sent this; Subject: A Very Touching Christmas Story

Always believe in MIRACLES!! Three years ago, a little boy and his grandmother came to see Santa at Mayfair Mall in Wisconsin. The child climbed up on his lap, holding a picture of a little girl.
Who is this?" asked Santa, smiling. "Your friend? Your sister?"
Yes, Santa," he replied . "My sister, Sarah, who is very sick," he said sadly. Santa glanced over at the grandmother who was waiting nearby, and saw her dabbing her eyes with a tissue. "She wanted to come with me to see you, oh, so very much, Santa!" the child exclaimed. "She misses you," he added softly.

Santa tried to be cheerful and encouraged a smile to the boy's face, asking him what he wanted Santa to bring him for Christmas. When they finished their visit, the Grandmother came over to help the child off his lap, and started to say something to Santa, but halted.
"What is it?" Santa asked warmly.
"Well, I know it's really too much to ask you, Santa, but ." the old woman began, shooing her grandson over to one of Santa's elves to collect the little gift which Santa gave all his young visitors. "The girl in the photograph... my granddaughter well, you see ... she has leukemia and isn't expected to make it even through the holidays," she said through tear-filled eyes. "Is there any way, Santa . any possible way that you could come see Sarah? That's all she's asked for, for Christmas, is to see Santa."

Santa blinked and swallowed hard and told the woman to leave information with his elves as to where Sarah was, and he would see what he could do. Santa thought of little else the rest of that afternoon. He knew what he had to do. "What if it were MY child lying in that hospital bed, dying," he thought with a sinking heart, "this is the least I can do."
When Santa finished visiting with all the boys and girls that evening, he retrieved from his helper the name of the hospital where Sarah was staying. He asked the assistant location manager how to get to Children's Hospital.
"Why?" Rick asked, with a puzzled look on his face.
Santa relayed to him the conversation with Sarah's grandmother earlier that day. "C'mon.... I'll take you there," Rick said softly.

Rick drove them to the hospital and came inside with Santa. They found out which room Sarah was in. A pale Rick said he would wait out in the hall.

Santa quietly peeked into the room through the half-closed door and saw little Sarah on the bed. The room was full of what appeared to be her family; there was the Grandmother and the girl's brother he had met earlier that day. A woman whom he guessed was Sarah's mother stood by the bed, gently pushing Sarah's thin hair off her forehead. And another woman who he discovered later was Sarah's aunt, sat in a chair near the bed with weary, sad look on her face. They were talking quietly, and Santa could sense the warmth and closeness of the family, and their love and concern for Sarah. Taking a deep breath, and forcing a smile on his face, Santa entered the room, bellowing a hearty, "Ho, ho, ho!"

"Santa!" shrieked little Sarah weakly, as she tried to escape her bed to run to him, IV tubes in tact. Santa rushed to her side and gave her a warm hug. A child the tender age of his own son — 9 years old — gazed up at him with wonder and excitement. Her skin was pale and her short tresses bore telltale bald patches from the effects of chemotherapy. But all he saw when he looked at her was a pair of huge, blue eyes. His heart melted and he had to force himself to choke back tears. Though his eyes were riveted upon Sarah's face, he could hear the gasps and quiet sobbing of the women in the room.

As he and Sarah began talking, the family crept quietly to the bedside one by one, squeezing Santa's shoulder or his hand gratefully, whispering "thank you" as they gazed sincerely at him with shining eyes. Santa and Sarah talked and talked, and she told him excitedly all the toys she wanted for Christmas, assuring him she'd been a very good girl that year. As their time together dwindled, Santa felt led in his spirit to pray for Sarah, and asked for permission from the girl's mother. She nodded in agreement and the entire family circled around Sarah's bed, holding hands Santa looked intensely at Sarah and asked her if she believed in angels.
"Oh, yes, Santa... I do!" she exclaimed.

"Well, I'm going to ask that angels watch over you, "he said. Laying one hand on the child's head, Santa closed his eyes and prayed. He asked that God touch little Sarah, and heal her body from this disease. He asked that angels minister to her, watch and keep her. And when he finished praying, still with eyes closed, he started singing softly, "Silent Night, Holy Night.... all is calm, all is bright." The family joined in, still holding hands, smiling at Sarah, and crying tears of hope, tears of joy for this moment, as Sarah beamed at them all. When the song ended, Santa sat on the side of the bed again and held Sarah's frail, small hands in his own.

"Now, Sarah, "he said authoritatively, "you have a job to do, and that is to concentrate on getting well. I want you to have fun playing with your friends this summer, and I expect to see you at my house at Mayfair Mall this time next year!" He knew it was risky proclaiming that, to this little girl who had terminal cancer, but he "had" to. He had to give her the greatest gift he could — not dolls or games or toys — but the gift of HOPE.
"Yes, Santa! "Sarah exclaimed, her eyes bright.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead and left the room. Out in the hall, the minute Santa's eyes met Rick's, a look passed between them and they wept unashamed. Sarah's mother and grandmother slipped out of the room quickly and rushed to Santa's side to thank him.

"My only child is the same age as Sarah," he explained quietly. "This is the least I could do." They nodded with understanding and hugged him.

One year later, Santa Mark was again back on the set in Milwaukee for his six-week, seasonal job which he so loves to do. Several weeks went by and then one day a child came up to sit on his lap.
"Hi, Santa! Remember me?!"
"Of course, I do," Santa proclaimed (as he always does), smiling down at her. After all, the secret to being a "good" Santa is to always make each child feel as if they are the "only" child in the world at that moment.

"You came to see me in the hospital last year!" Santa's jaw dropped. Tears immediately sprang in his eyes, and he grabbed this little miracle and held her to his chest. "Sarah!" he exclaimed. He scarcely recognized her,for her hair was long and silky and her cheeks were rosy — much different from the little girl he had visited just a year before. He looked over and saw Sarah's mother and grandmother in the sidelines smiling and waving and wiping their eyes.
That was the best Christmas ever for Santa Claus. He had witnessed —and been blessed to be instrumental in bringing about — this miracle of hope.
This precious little child was healed. Cancer-free. Alive and well. He silently looked up to Heaven and humbly whispered, "Thank you, Father. 'Tis a very, Merry Christmas!
If you believe in miracles pass this on...I did!

How long has it been since you got out of bed and had to walk barefooted on a cold linoleum floor? Is there anything colder?

HEY, SHARE YOUR MEMORIES WITH US. Rusty got carried away with one of his. Now, it's your turn.

Until we got so old, we'd open presents on Christmas Eve with our city grandparents and Christmas day with the grandparents down on the farm. After a huge dinner where all the men folks and a kid or two ate first, afternoons were typical. My brother, dad, and a varying number of uncles and a couple dogs would go squirrel hunting. Just "below the hen house" some would crawl through the fence between the wheat field and the neighbor's pasture. Besides a few smaller trees, there were two big cottonwood trees before we reached the creek. The dogs usually raised a fuss when there was a fox squirrel or two or three in the cottonwoods. Being the youngest, and because I was easing along behind the men, it often fell my lot to pickoff any bushytails that were circling the tree away from the rest of the party.
We next followed a steep cow path leading down and back up again on red sandy clay creek basks. In Quapaw Creek there was hardly any water that time of the year.
Next we worked the pecan, hickory, and oak trees along in a fairly open place on flat ground before the timber thickened going up a hill side. Down by the bullfrog pond we'd follow the solitary pecan trees and patches of mostly blackjack and post oaks and circle back along the other "brainch" (not BRANCH but BRAINCH)of the creek.
We usually broke out of the crosstimbers (called that because many of the oak logs weren't long enough to make anything but railroad cross ties and cross arms for power poles) at about the red pond on a bare hill side facing the house.
Our path there went down another steep red bank cut by many years of being trod by milk cow hooves. It led across the creek below where the forks joined. Once up the other side was another line of trees along the back side of the hog pen. That had to be searched and purged of pesky bushytails.
Back up at the two story frame white house we were usually greeted by the smell of a blackjack oak fire in the living room stove.
The men would sort of ease out to the implement shed where my dad could always be counted on to have something to liven up the egg nog.
Of course, some of the boys' toys had to be tried out, especially if a new football was in the bunch. There's nothing like being tackled in the peanut patch and end up with a gazillion sandburs in your hands, arms, knees and clothes. Landing on your backside was always a thrill. We'd usually cart home a gunny sack full of home grown Spanish peanuts raised in that deep sandy soil.

Lately we've had eight little doves grazing on seeds and maybe bugs in our yard. This is the clearest pic I got of them.

SOMEBODY PLEASE PASS THIS ALONG TO RO WAUER. This pic was in his column today.

Rusty got in dutch for not believing the wife's story at first. Here it is.

In the late spring of 1992 I saw the largest woodpecker I had ever seen. It was feeding in a large wooded area with several downed trees with stumps. Now I didn't have any idea what it was called; but I knew it was a woodpecker. I saw it two different times. It was black with white markings and had a red topknot and a long white bill. I would swear it was at least two feet tall.

While my husband was at work one day I saw that bird pecking around on that log and a nearby stump. It was taller than the log was in diameter. Unfortunately I didn’t take any pictures of it. When I told my husband that night he said, “That sounds like an ivory billed woodpecker but they’re extinct. I don’t know what you saw but you didn’t see one of them.”

The next day it was back out at the same place but my husband still didn’t believe that was what I saw. During the last few years, I’ve seen several newspaper articles showing pictures just like the one I saw in Illinois. THAT one wasn’t extinct.

At the time, we were renting a house west of Robinson, Illinois. Robinson is located in Crawford County, 165 miles east of St. Louis, near the Wabash River.

IT NOW COMES TO LIGHT. RUMMY tried to get BUSH to rethink Iraq policy. Guess what Dubya did about it? Nothing. What did YOU expect?
http://www.washingtonpost.c... target='_blank'>HERE