One More Christmas Story: Rodan

When I started thinking about writing down some of my fondest memories of Christmastime, I had no idea just how many wonderful Christmas memories I actually had. There was just SO much joy. The kind of joy that can only be experienced in the secure environment that a stable home life and loving parents can give to a small child. Do you know how grateful it makes me feel towards the parents who made each of those memories happen? I am overwhelmed and humbled.


As a kid, I was infatuated with dinosaurs. I absolutely loved them. I was one of those annoying kids who could rattle off the name/weight/height/primary diet/hunting technique of every major (and most minor) dinosaur species known to science. A natural (?) offshoot of that was a great love of all things Godzilla. I watched every "Godzilla vs. ______" movie that ever re-ran on a Saturday afternoon and (much to my eldest sister's mortification) could regale you with all the facts of Godzilla's creation, the monsters he's battled and every other completely useless factoid a child might fill their mind with.

I already owned the large Godzilla action figure with the flaming tongue and the shooting fist. We're talkin' 17 inches of pure monster force, here, folks. It was absolutely awesome and my most prized toy.

As an aside, I should make it known that we did not have the kind of parents who ran right out and bought us every new and exciting toy that our little hearts desired. It was a big deal to get a toy like that. My Godzilla was a direct result of my having been in the hospital for a hernia operation. I won't tell you how many times I said a little prayer of thanks that God gave me that hernia! (I was like 7yo, alright?)


Anyhoo, back to the story.

The only thing I needed to make my collection complete and my life fulfilled (again, I was like 7yo, OK?) was to own the great and glorious counterpart to Godzilla. The one and only...RODAN. That winged arch-nemesis of Godzilla, with a life-like moving beak and claws that could actually grasp GIJoe size guys and hold them as he flew!! In the Sears&Roebuck catalog, there was the most incredible picture of the Godzilla and Rodan action figures, locked in furious battle.

I HAD to have Rodan. Period.

So on my Christmas list to Santa that year, Rodan was first and foremost. And it was with great excitement that I anticipated/hoped/dreamed that Santa would come through.

The big Christmas Eve party was a huge blowout, as usual. Family and friends arrived and everyone ate and drank and laughed and enjoyed themselves. I remember being very hot all evening long. Hot and feeling a bit light-headed, but telling not a soul, just in case I might be suspected of getting sick. I would NOT be sick on the biggest night of the year! No matter how sick I was!!

Towards the end of the evening, Santa made his appearance and we all had our picture taken with him and Emily sat on his lap and cried. All par for the course. I remember feeling very weird and detached and just really HOT.

Before bed, I finally told Mom about how I was feeling (or perhaps she just guessed it, from my erratic behaviour and flushed cheeks; I don't remember for sure). She felt my head and realized I had a high fever. I was dosed with meds and fell fast asleep with delirious visions of Santa and Rodan floating through my head.

The next morning, Em awoke me with that once a year, earth-shattering statement "Hey. Wake up...it's Christmas!". I was torn between the incredible excitement and anticipation of Christmas morning and the horrible headache/stomachache/fever which threatened to keep me in bed. But the suspense was too much for me, so I drug my sick, fevered, half delirious body out of bed and rounded the corner to see...RODAN. There he was in all his glory. Giant wings spread, fierce beak parted. He was magnificent. Breathtaking. It was all my feverish little psyche could handle. As my sister's looked on, I joyfully exclaimed something unintelligible....and then barfed all over the carpet. Melissa, as the initial shock of seeing vomit on Christmas morn faded, quickly ran in to awaken the Cleaner of All Puke (Mom). I was shuffled back to the bedroom (babbling in a state of euphoric delirium the whole way), medicin'd up and tucked back into bed, all happy and delirious and dizzy and very ill.

Obviously, I got over the flu and lived to enjoy many more wonderful Christmases.

I still own my Godzilla and Rodan. And there is a part of me that would like to pack them away safely somewhere to "save" them. But what would the point of that be? That would relegate my beloved toys to just another couple of objects gathering dust in my attic. That's why they are currently in the basement of my parent's house and my nephews still play with them. And it gives me great joy to see them doing so. I occasionally have to replace the rubber bands in Rodan's claws or locate a missing peice of Godzilla. But each time I see them being enjoyed by those little guys, I get a happy flashback of what it was like to be a kid at Christmas. And it's priceless :0)

Christmas Traditions, Part Two

A few more fun things I remember about Christmas at our house. Please feel free to share your own Christmas memories!!


Christmas Socks
Every year on Christmas Eve, our "stocking" were hung by the fire with care. Mom would take three of Dad's old "stockings" ( long, black socks) and tack them to the mantle. Santa would then come that night and fill them with a handful of hard candy--you know, the striped kind you can only find during the holidays--one large orange and a few nuts. When we little ones awoke in the morning we would find our Christmas Socks hanging there, all long and lumpy and ready to be pillaged. The orange and nuts were quickly discarded in favor of the Christmas candy stuffed deep down in the toe. Due to the heat of the fire, the candy would have formed into a hard, sticky lump, all covered with sock lint. Naturally, we didn't dig in right away. There were so many non-fuzzy things to eat lying around from the previous night's party, there was no rush. By about December 27th, though, pickins were slim and that hard, fuzzy clump of stickiness was lookin' mighty tasty. You could chip it apart with a butter knife and, once you sucked off that first layer of lint, it really was pretty good.
I remember realizing, in later years that most people had actual Christmas "stockings", all cheerfully decorated and never having had anyone's foot actually inside of them, in which they received pre-wrapped candy and little toys. But by then, the tradition was formed and Christmas wouldn't have seemed quite right without those long, black socks over the fireplace and a big ole' lump of furry candy to chip away on. :0)

Christmas Morn
Me and Em shared a bedroom for many of our growing up years. Prior to Em's arrival, Melissa and I roomed together. So there were always two sister's in a room on Christmas morning. Whichever sister first opened their eyes on that happy morning, would turn to the one still sleeping and whisper loudly what were quite possibly the five most exciting words a kid can hear "Hey. Wake up....it's Christmas!". I can remember being awoken by those words and I can also remember being the one whispering them. Didn't matter who said it, the reaction was always the same. Giant smiles and bolting from beneath the covers to fly towards the Front Room. The tension was almost unbearable as you slowed down and rounded that last corner in a kind of silent awe. Santa always brought our gifts in an unwrapped state, so when you did round that corner it was a visual feast! Each of us flew to the spot where our gifts were set up and ooohed and aaahed and showed off our bounty to one another. Then we would go in and wake up Mom--this was usually at like 5:00am---to bring her in and show her what Santa had left for each of us.
Mom always insisted that Dad be allowed to sleep in for a while longer before we woke him up, too. The wrapped presents were not to be touched until Dad was up. This was tough. REALLY tough. It would take hours...many,many, many hours before we were allowed to timidly poke our head through the bedroom door and ask Dad to get up. OK, maybe it wasn't actually hours, but it may as well have been an eternity!! Dad would eventually join us, and the rest of the gifts would be opened in a cloud of wrapping paper and bows and all the happiness that giving and receiving brings.

Oyster Stew at Uncle Ralph's
Later in the day, as things settled down, PJ's were exchanged for dressier apparel and we all loaded up and headed over to Uncle Ralph's for some homemade oyster stew. The mixture of aromas when you walked in to that house was always a combination of cigar smoke, expensive perfume and delicious oyster stew. Smiling aunts and uncles and cousins were very happy to see us and plied us with sweets and treats of all sorts.
I'll always have etched in my mind the memory of a larger-than-life Uncle Ralph in his kitchen tending the giant pot of delicious smelling stew; big spoon in one hand, wine glass in the other and the ever-present cigar stub (with the ash always poised to fall,
but never actually dropping) grasped firmly between his lips.

Christmas Traditions, Part One

I'm just writing down a few things I remember about Christmas at our house when I was a kid. Just some little things that our family always did that helped make the season special. Bridget's post made me start thinking about it.
This is part one. I'll get to part two in a few days. And anyone who was a participant (or bystander) in these traditions is welcome to comment and remind me of details I may have forgotten. Or if you would like to share you own Christmas traditions, please feel free to comment.


Santa Face
Artistically etched in fake snow on the front window of the house, was the giant face of jolly old St. Nick. Mom's prowess with the canned snow was legendary in our neck of the woods. She could create a jolly Santa face, 10x larger than life OR add just a hint of faux frost to the corners of the window pane for that crisp, wintry feel.


The Christmas Bush

This is how we affectionately referred to our Christmas tree each year. Mom always insisted on a cedar tree which we cut down ourselves and laboriously trimmed and pruned to a size that would fit in to the living room. It was always decorated with an assortment of mismatched, well-beloved ornaments; lit with multi-colored bubble lights and draped with fake snow, plastic icicles and LOTS of tinsel (remember those filmy, silvery strands that would get spread all over the house by New Year's? Do they even make that kind of tinsel anymore?)

As we got older, my sister's and I protested gently against the self-cut, be-tinseled tree, feeling it was a bit unsophisticated. I mean look at the nice, neat trees some of our friend's had: all pre-lit and color coordinated and perfectly sculpted! But Mom persevered. Her logic on the issue was along these lines: A store bought tree? Who would spend money on such a thing! And what would Christmas BE without that cedar-tree smell in the house? And what's wrong with bubble lights, anyway? You girls!

How can you fight that kind of logic? ;0)
And nowadays, I look back and realize I wouldn't trade my memories of our Christmas bushes for all the color coordinated, perfectly trimmed trees in the world.

The Christmas Eve Party


This was just SO exciting. It would take place in the basement and we kids were allowed to help decorate. Mom had quite the stash of shiny, turquoise garland (it matched the carpet down there, OK?) and we tacked it to the walls and ceiling and wrapped it around light fixtures and any where else there might be a nook or cranny where it would fit. Fun, fun, fun!!!

The house would be filled with aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and classic Christmas tunes from Dad's state of the art stereo system (big as a full-size couch and had a 3-speed turntable. Yep.)

The two highlights of every Christmas Eve party were the arrival of Santa and being allowed to open one precious, precious gift from under the tree.

Santa's arrival was always awaited with longing and hope and a little tinge of fear, too. Every adult there had to remind you of Santa's impending arrival at least once when you spoke to them. "Have you been good? Santa's coming to the party later, you know!" Yeh. Liiiiiitle tinge of fear. I never doubted that I had made Santa's "Good" list----until it was time to meet him face to face. But when he did arrive he was always jolly and kind and boisterous and you didn't want him to leave. But he had a busy night ahead, so he needed to get going. And I never DID get to see the reindeer. But some (slightly tipsy) relative or other would always assure me that THEY had seen them, in all their glory, Rudolph in the lead, parked with the sleigh on the roof or the hillside. In fact, I remember Dad coming in one Christmas morn (stone cold sober, mind you) saying that there were inexplicable deer tracks all OVER the hillside by the house. And so the legend lived on. :0)

When all of the guests had parted, we would be allowed the incredibly exciting privilege of opening one of our gifts. This made the early, anxious desire for the guests to arrive gradually change into a secret longing for the party to be over. Then it was time to choose the gift. Oh, the pressure, the anxiety of choosing which gift to open! Feverishly but oh-so-respectfully was the gift pile picked through (NO furious digging or you had to wait until morning!!)to find each precious item with my name on it. Absolutely exquisite, suspenseful joy! The gift was unwrapped and all the happiness that only a kid at Christmastime can feel was experienced. There really IS nothing like being a kid on Christmas.

Thanksgiving 2008

I arrived at the farm a day early to help with the preparations and try to squeeze in a little hunting.

I was there to fetch and carry and clean, but Mom and Dad really have the holiday feast making down to a science. Mom has her handy-dandy list of what will be made and when it will be made and crosses off each dish as it comes to the final stages of preparation. It's like clockwork, man.

And I learned some things. Did you know that pea salad should not be put together until the day it is to be served? Well, it's true. If you prepare it too early, it will form an unappetizing puddle on top. And I was astounded by the amount of tasty bread stuffing that can be crammed into the body cavity of a 22lb bird. I've never seen the likes of it. Apparently, unbeknownst to me, my folks are absolute master turkey-stuffers.

The meal was perfect. Tender foul, perfectly seasoned stuffing, rich gravy, green bean casserole with those little crunchy onions on top, candied sweet potatoes, tart/sweet homemade cranberry relish, fluffy mashed potatoes. And did I mention the whole buffet table piled high with fresh baked desserts?

Twenty-five guests, friends and family all, descended upon the household around 2pm and by 4pm they were gone again, other than the immediate family. All full and happy and content.

It was a great day. There was just so much to be thankful for. Family and food and the freedom to enjoy it all together.

I was able to get in to the woods twice, but didn't see a thing. And while I would love to have some fresh venison to put in the freezer, it was wonderful just to have the opportunity to sit quietly in the woods for a few hours. It is a very good thing to quietly blend into the woods and just watch nature exist around you for a while.

Here are a few pictures from the holiday. I'll be adding more later:

Girl's Night: My Take On It

Apple martini's and cosmopolitans served up in prettily garnished glasses. Brie and crackers.
A comfortable, empty beach house with no nosy neighbors insight. Three smart, witty, world-weary gals all in desperate need of a break from the rigors and drudgery of everyday life.
These are the elements that came together to form the spur of the moment and much needed Girl's Night.

We began in light-hearted, but earnest conversation around the dinner table, sipping fruity adult beverages and nibbling on cheese and crackers. The TV was tuned in to a "party tunes" station (80s-90's type stuff). As the evening progressed and the martinis flowed, the music just kept getting better and better with each classic song (well, it seemed to be getting better, anyway, although I can't recall the name of many of the tunes just now, heh-heh!). One song would end and as the opening notes of another began to play, someone would hold up their hand to stop the conversation and then shrill exclamations would break out from around the table: "Oh my GOSH!", "I LOVE that song!", "That song is SOOO awesome!!" And the three of us would spring from our seats and break into spontaneous dancing and singing.

By the end of the night, we were all flat-out getting on our respective grooves. And for a group of gals who are generally calm and collected whilst in the public eye, we have NEVER in reality taken ourselves too awfully serious. You can imagine the gut-busting laughter that ensued.

Booties were shaken, moves were busted. The Cabbage Patch, the Wave and the Robot were all tried on for size and found to be VERY funny. Vodka makes so very MANY things funny. But, I still think I would have laughed nearly as hard without the Vodka. 30-somethings doing the robot will ALWAYS be funny in my book. Alcohol just makes it insanely hysterical.

Allow me to take a moment to expound on the dancing:

My style: booty-shaking gyrations accompanied by random hand motions and minimal foot movement (although I seem to recall that at some point in the night I was bustin' a move or two out on the patio and giving a double thumbs up to the other gals through the window...it's all a liiittle hazy, heh-heh!).

Our Friend: Petite, feisty and remarkably (shockingly, really) quick and varied in her styles, wonderfully energetic and utterly unpredictable--anything can happen when that imaginary dance floor crowd parted to form a circle around her.

Melissa: 20 Minute Workout gal meets the Rockettes; extremely light, bouncy and mobile--the world was her dance floor (well, the living room, in this case). A lot of and hair shaking and high-pitched "whoo-hooing", high kicks, high energy and happiness.

Yes, that was us on Girl's Night. Laughing and dancing ruled the night supreme.

In the end (the wee, wee hours), I was exhausted and happy and life was simply wonderful as I slid quickly into dreamland.

And, yes, my head hurt the next morning. But some things are worth it. And Girl's Night is one of those things!!

One of the annual Springtime events I look forward to the most is the Easter dinner at my sister's house. The whole family comes and the food and conversation and all the little ones running around everywhere ensure that a wonderful time is in store.

Melissa's house looks awesome and the dinner table was straight out of Southern Living. Beautiful and seemingly effortless.









Notice how the MEN all hit the table first. It cracks me up the way there is very little conversation on the first go 'round---very serious faces. There's food to be had, after all. Priorities, you know. The second go 'round and they're all jolly and conversational. I love it!!!





Tiny E is TRYING to be patient while all of the big people are filling their plates. That expression is just TOO cute.





The trampoline played a big part in this year's festivities. All the little ones (and a few of us big ones, too!) had a go at it.





Everett's hair went wild with static electricity from the trampoline. The whole crowd got a huge laugh out of this. Walker sputtered through his doubled over laughter "He needs a haircut!" It was SOOOO hilarious!!




Walker showing off his mad trampoline skills as the fam looks on from the deck





Austin displaying his amazing athletic abilities on the trampoline. Seriously, I've never seen a kid in better shape than he is!




This is Jackson's fort. Pretty dog-gone cool!





Savannah and Austin on the roof of the shed--one of the kids' favorite places to hang out.



We all missed Race and wished he was there. It was the only thing that made the holiday imperfect. Thankfully, he's back safe again now. :0)

Thanks to Melissa for her hard work and hospitality. What a wonderful way to celebrate the holiday.

Our Lord is risen!!!

Mom's Birthday

We celebrated Mom's birthday this week by partaking of a family meal at her favorite little French restaurant. This has become a b-day tradition for Mom and I think I can confidently say, a very welcome one for the whole family!!

It is such a blessing when the whole family can all get together to celebrate special occasions---especially one that means so much to us all.

The food was, of course, exquisite from apertiff to entree to dessert. Absolutely scrumptious! The conversation was lively and funny and warm. And the kids---where do I even begin? They are THE most well-behaved, well-mannered and well-adjusted group of young'uns I've ever seen. One and all, they are funny and happy and just an absolute pleasure to be around. I give ALL credit to the parents (and by proxy, to the grandparents) for the undeniable and amazing results of their chid-raising efforts.

Uncle Race sat beside Walker and kept him quite entertained and happy throughout the evening. The sugar buzz from a couple of rounds of Shirley Temples kept him lively, too!!



A good snap of Jackson.


Mom opened her gifts as dessert was served. As you can see, Everett was happy to lend a helping hand. How cute is he, BTW!!!



Quentin was excited to give Mam-maw a homemade card featuring hand drawn portraits of herself and Pap-paw.


The whole dad-gummed crew. I can't believe how grown-up Savannah and Austin look. It really seems like just yesterday that they were Q&W's age. :0)



Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!!!!!

HELP!!! Decor Decisions

Possibly the most difficult thing I've dealt with in trying to get the studio finished has been trying to decide on the interior design. I drove my self half-batty attempting to find the PERFECT paint color. Well, the walls are now painted (and I'm okay with it--not thrilled, but it works) and the next phase of maddening decisions is upon me. Which images to hang on the walls?! And how should they be presented?? Framed? On canvas? behind glass? as gallery wraps?? AAHHHHH!!!!!

Here are a just few images I'm leaning towards. I would appreciate any constructive criticisms from readers. Should I put it on the wall? No? Yes? Be honest, now. I have an enormous library of pictures from which to choose so it's not like I don't have other choices. I could really use some input, folks!!

Thanks SO much for visiting!!! :0)

Guts

Grit. Iron. Moxey. Cahonies. What does that mean to you?

When I was growing up, I thought it meant being brave in the face of physical danger. To prove my bravery to myself and my compadres, I would climb the highest tree, or jump from a higher limb than anyone else. I would drive the fastest on the ATV or hold my breath the longest underwater.

But deep down, I was scared. Not of physical pain but of emotional trauma. I was scared of people, of social situations. I could do a backflip off of the diving board without blinking (and it WAS scary every time I made myself do it), but I would hide in the woods rather than face a room full of strangers.

This weekend, I witnessed a different kind of courage. The kind that I did NOT have, growing up.

Savannah stayed with me Sat and Sun night. I was scheduled to drop her off at her audition on Sunday afternoon. This was to be her first REAL audition....I'm talking singing with piano accompaniment and an unrehearsed script reading in front of strangers. Scary stuff. Stuff I wouldn't have dreamed of doing at her age. At ANY age.

We spent Saturday evening picking raspberries and walking the dogs. Later, we watched "The Village" and ate fried raspberry pies with ice cream. It was a fun girls night in. Throughout the evening, I would ask Savannah questions about the audition. Was she nervous? Did she need help practicing her song? Each time, she would calmly reply that she was looking forward to it and ready to go. Alrighty, then. I tried not to let on how nervous that I was for her! I tossed and turned all that night, having nightmares about not getting her to the theatre on time, or forgetting her sheet music, etc. She slept like a lamb and was cheerfully ready-to-roll the next morning.

After a breakfast of raspberry pancakes, we headed off to the audition.

We sat there and watched as kids came filing in, singly and in groups. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. These kids were like Broadway professionals. Try to imagine sitting there and watching as the crowd of mostly 12-14 yr olds gathered. With each new arrival there were rounds of hugs and compliments showered upon one another, lots of lip gloss and eye shadow and dramatic accessories; high heels, artsy outfits and lively discussion of previous performances, dance classes and shared accquaintances. Meanwhile there I sat with Savannah, dressed in her simple t-shirt, khaki shorts and comfortable sneakers, hair demurely pulled back in a headband, filling out her paperwork and reading over her lines quiet as a mouse. We got a few curious glances, but were mostly ignored in the bustle. Savannah was not oblivious to what was going on around her; I could see that. She took it all in. But in the face of this daunting crowd, she was as stalwart as a general on the battlefield.


At this point, two courses of action were in my head. The first and strongest impulse was to gather her up and RUN away back to my house in the mountains, never to return to the theatre---or the outside world for that matter---thereby saving her from any emotional trauma. EVER. The second was to immediatley begin giving her advice on how to handle these wolves, er, I mean kids. What to say, how to get "in" with them. Which ones to AVOID being friendly with, etc.

In the end, I just sat there. This was her battle and she was obviously willing to fight it. She was nervous, yes. But she was ready. She was NOT there for the other kids and she was not going to be intimidated by them. She was there to peform. She was there to learn. She was there because she loves it. So we just sat there. Guts, man. Pure. Guts.

I didn't get to see her audition, as it was behind closed doors. When she came out, she seemed a bit preoccupied but still cool as a cucumber. She simply said it went "Okay". Tough nut to crack, that one.

After costume measurements were taken, the group was herded into the auditorium and given a crash course on one of the meticuloulsy choreographed dance routines. I was able to watch a little of it. This was not elementary stuff they were learning. It was not easy. When she came out, she admitted that it was hard but smiled, all the same, and said that it had been fun!

That evening, over chocolate fondue and "King Kong", I kept trying to get her to open up a little further about the audition, gently plying her for more info. She didn't have much to say, other than that she was definitley looking forward to the next day. And when the next day came, she was sure enough ready to roll. And sure enough ready for me to drop her off...and LEAVE. She thanked me sincerely, gave me a hug and basically, very sweetly-----dismissed me. I drove away praying hard for her.

The courage to face new tasks, new social situations. Puttng yourself in uncomfortable, potentially embarassing circumstances in order to learn and grow. Now THAT's the kind of guts that gets you somewhere in life!

She found out Monday that she has been chosen for a speaking part in the play. She's gotten to know a few of the kids and is having a wonderful time of it.

It occured to me later that by the time all was said and done, Savannah would get to know the kids in this class and make some friends, too. She would meet new people and learn and have fun. She always does, in every class/activity she's ever been involved with. Her opinion of the other kids was not automatically jaded by their appearance or experience or idle chatter, as mine was. So I kept my opinions about the other kids to myself. I did, very non-chalantly of course, share with her the little bit of "insider" info that I gathered by covertly watching the other kids fill out there bio sheets. Names, ages, experience, etc. I let this information slip out casually in hopes that it will come back to her if she should need it. Hey, it's always good to know who you're hyena's, um, I mean FRIENDS really are, right? *wink-wink* ;0)

I just finished reading Melissa's post on the same subject (great minds think alike, ROFL!!!) and Savannah was SO right on her judgement of Mr. Thirty-something (who's actually 18--don't ask me how I know that). Not only is she gutsy, she's perceptive, too! The girl's gonna go far!

Summer Fun with the Kids

I picked up Austin, Savannah and Jackson Wednesday evening to spend the night and part of Thursday with me. We had a great time together! We did a little shopping, then came home and sat around a campfire and related our scariest dreams to each other.

Poor S was up sick half of the night, but was bright-eyed and bushy tailed the next morning. I fixed us all Mexican omelets and then we gathered up the dogs and headed out to pick wild black rasberries.



S and J and Elvis headed down the road to the rasberry patches



Austin goofin' around



The whole berry-pickin' crew!


We ended up with quite the haul of sweet, juicy rasberries. I'm going to make ...well...something out of them. Probably cobbler or fried pies. We'll see. Either way, how can you lose? :0)



After berry-picking, we armed ourselves with bug repellent and piled into the car--dogs and all---and headed out to a creek in the National Forest.


Hilda and Jackson both quite at home in their natural element!!



Savannah and Austin taking a dip


Pretty things we saw



Savannah took this picture. I think I see an assistant in the making!! Great angle and composition, too!



Austin sharpening a stick and having a go at spear fishing


Hilda being her usual "helpful" self


Skipping stones


Savannah on the trail with Hilda



Hilda's big adventure on the log---she lost some serious cool points, there! :0)


Jackson catches a water snake



Elvis participating in his favorite water-related frolic: destroying big sticks. The Big E is 13 years old now and STILL a force to be reckoned with. Who needs ADT??? This is the same dog that happily curled up beside Jackson on the futon the night before, gentle as a lamb. Good dog!! :0)



We arrived back at my house wet, tired and happy. I can't wait until we can go out and do it again!! I just heard about a HUGE swimming hole in a nearby river. I think that might be our next adventure together.

They all have busy summer schedules (and so do I!), so it's harder to get together and do these things. But it's SO worth the effort to get to spend time with them. Thanks for all the fun, guys!! Looking forward to next time! :0)