267 Prinsengracht, Amsterdam

Anyone who visits Amsterdam should see the Anne Frank house and museum. I read her diary many times over the years without comprehension of what it must have been like for a young girl to be locked away in hiding for two years at such an impressionable age. Her written words brought the horror of the halocaust to your doorstep. By visiting the house that was her prison her written words come alive.



As you wind your way up the narrow stairways and through the empty wood-floored rooms, peeking out windows to the sidewalk and canal below, you eerily feel what it must have been like for the families who lived in hiding for so many months. You'll pass through the famous bookcase and enter the "private", cramped rooms of the family; the bathrooms, the kitchen, and finally the room where Anne pasted photos to the walls and created a life for herself. The photos are still pasted to those walls and remnants of the old wall paper is still attached in places. The museum is very well set up with video screens telling the story as you pass through the halls and rooms. Remnants of the day are in glass cases.



I left the house with tears streaming down my face.

Got the Crud.

I've been putting it off for two weeks now but after those two weeks of little sleep from coughing my gizzard up I finally went to see the doc today. He diagnosed mycoplasma pneumonia, aka, the crud. The treatment includes lots of liquids, rest, some big pills suitable for horses, and some sort of nasty stuff that supposedly tastes like oranges and pineapples ( but tastes sort of like what I'd imagine poison made from foxgloves would). If I feel worse or not a lot better after 6 days I'm to return for more x-rays.

I've gotta get better, or die cause it's cheaper.

Doing the Netherlands in 1995, Part 1.

Some time in late Autumn or early winter I'm attending a wedding in the Netherlands. I'm pretty excited about the trip and have been thinking a lot about our last trip over there.

Nine years ago hubby and I made the trip to a small town in the south of Holland, to visit Danielle (Soony) who had lived with us for 10 months in 1989/1990 as an exchange student. We went somewhere and did something different every day of our trip but I think the most fun day was the day we "did" Amsterdam.
We arrived by train cause parking is nearly impossible in Amsterdam.

I read about it. I saw pictures of it. And I had to walk through it when I was in Amsterdam. Actually we went through on a family day trip. The Red Light District is like nothing else I have ever seen. The ladies sitting in the windows with the red neon lights was so surprising to me and yet so ordinary for Amsterdam. What is considered a taboo in many places is unassuming and acceptable here. You can even buy maps to direct you through the area or get a tour guide! You are advised not to take pictures in the area and I did not want to cause any commotion so I kept my camera out of sight for the most part while we walked through this area. We did try to negotiate with one prostitute to take photos but her english wasn't too good and she thought we wanted a 3some or moresome and never did understand that we just wanted to pay her to have her photo taken with us (clothed) so we gave up pretty quickly. Anyway, walking through the red light district is all part of the Amsterdam experience.

A view of part of the Redlight District just as it was getting dark.



I had to smile as I tried to imagine this fountain on the square in front of the courthouse in Helena. Those old bible-thumpin ladies would be in a swoon!


In the red-light district, the bottom floors of many of these buildings have been converted into sets of small rooms -- or single rooms with small booths or chambers -- with large, door-sized windows facing the street. These windows are typically lined or overhung on the outside with red (or pink) lights. Inside, a prostitute poses (usually in lingerie or a thong bikini) under a black-light or a dim white light.





You're walking along the brick-paved streets checking out the scene. To your left is the canal, to your right a series of prostitutes lit up in the windows, their lingerie like neon signs glowing white under the black-light as if illuminated from within; a live sex show with a barker out front trying to lure in an audience ("You've seen the girls in the windows, now come see the banana show! And they offered us a family discount!"); and an Amsterdam coffeeshop, where you can buy hashish and cannabis, magic mushrooms, poppers, space cakes, and good drinks.




There are coffeeshops everywhere!

There is a great variety of ages, races, body-shapes, and come-ons. Some women sit on chairs looking out at the canal with bored expressions on their faces; others pose, dance, gyrate like "exotic dancers;" others eat fast food or do their nails; others open their doors and call out offers to interested-looking passers-by. You see a man in front of you walk up to a lit window and knock. The door opens and a price is negotiated. The man enters the room and takes off his jacket. The prostitute closes the door and shuts the drapes over the window.



You stop in at a sexual novelty store to get your bearings. Videos galore, magazines for every conceivable taste (for instance, the "animals" category is subdivided into specialties -- women with dogs, women with donkeys, men with cows, etc.; there is even a set of nudism magazines ostensibly made for kids in the naturalist subculture but which are obviously a compromise solution for making relatively non-threatening child pornography available to the pedophile set), dildoes, butt plugs, bondage supplies, poppers, desensitizing lotions for the premature-ejaculate/sore-anus crowd, lewd postcards of all varieties, video viewing booths equipped with leather couches and rolls of tissue.



Coffeeshops sell coffee but they also sell green gold. Yes folks, marijuana is for sale in the coffeeshops with the green and white sticker in the window. Dutch tolerance is a wonderful thing.

Don't overdo it and become a silly tourist knocking the locals off their bikes or let one of those Dutch bike riders knock you on your ass. There are bikes EVERYWHERE and the tiny, narrow streets don't allow much room for you to wander around in a daze without watching where you're going or who's coming up behind you.




Take a tour in the canalboats. It's the only way to experience the true Amsterdam as the canals were of great historical importance. Only few places on earth have this possibility. Personally I would recommend the Museumboat (main boatstop across the Central Station, next to the TouristInfo). This canalboat has six major stops near most visited museums. You can hop on and off the boat as many times as you want and can also endlessly make circles the whole day.





Tomorrow I'll take you on a tour of the rest of Amsterdam.

Arkansas Love Poem

Susie Lee done fell in love,

She planned to marry Joe.

She was so happy 'bout it all,

She told her Pappy so.



Pappy told her, "Susie Gal,

You'll have to find another.

I'd just as soon yo' maw don't know, But

Joe is yo' half-brother."



So Susie put aside her Joe,

And planned to marry Will.

But, after telling Pappy this,

He said, "There's trouble still.



You cain't marry Will, my gal,

And please don't tell yo' mother,

But Will and Joe and several mo'

I know is yo' half-brother."



But Mama knew and said "My Child,

Just do what makes yo' happy.

Marry Will or marry Joe,

Cuz you ain't no kin to Pappy.

When does it become child abuse?

I am determined that Zach is going to clean his room. I made him stay in there from 9:30 a.m. yesterday until 9 p.m. last night with breaks to pee, get drinks, and have meals (we did have to go out to pay the water bill). The room is still a diaster area so as soon as he wakes up I'm sending him right back to it.

I'm more tired from this than if I had cleaned the damn thing myself!!


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Let me add this on here.... it's too good not to.

Bubba was fixing a door and he found that he needed a new hinge, so he sent his wife Mary Louise to the hardware store. At the hardware store Mary Louise saw a beautiful teapot on a top shelf while she was waiting for Joe Bob, the manager, to finish waiting on a customer.
When Joe Bob was finished, Mary Louise asked how much for the teapot.
Joe Bob replied, "That's silver and it costs $100!"
"My goodness, that sure is a lotta money!" Mary Louise exclaimed. Then she proceeded to describe the hinge that Bubba had sent her to buy, and Joe Bob went to the backroom to find it.
From the backroom Joe Bob yelled, "Mary Louise, you wanna screw for that hinge?"
To which Mary Louise replied, "No, but I will for the teapot!"

In just a few weeks I will be turning Fifty, that's 50!

Fifty years have now passed. In a way it seems a bit hard to believe. I've seen a lot of changes in the past fifty years, but somehow it sure doesn't feel like fifty years. Actually, it's turning out to be quite a weird experience.

I grew up as an Air Force brat, but from age 6 to age 14, I lived on a rural farm in Arkansas next door to my mother's parents. Today I live just 35 miles or so from there but I've been fortunate to have seen many places along the way.



When I was growing up we had no indoor bathrooms. One of my earliest memories is the was a tall narrow outhouse that stood in the back yard. It was dark, smelly, and a haunt for spiders and wasps. I caused a major diaster one year when I was burning trash and burned down the toilet along with our old barn.

We didn't have a telephone in our house but when I was around 9 or so, my grandparents got a phone. It was on a party line and the phone rang every time anyone was calling any of the other two parties on the line but it had different rings. Grandma would get upset with us if we answered her phone at the wrong rings. So we'd sit there and wait for 3 long rings in a row before we could answer the phone for her. There were old ladies in the neighborhood who had nothing better to do than to listen in on all the phone calls.

Remember the stories of so-and-so's grandfather who had to walk a mile to school trudging through the snow? Well, I've been there and done that. Literally. At least we were lucky in that we lived that mile from a small town and a mostly modern school for the early 60's and there isn't that much snow during Arkansas winters.

I'm finding that I know more and more people who don't remember the Beatles or Kennedy's assassination or Huckleberry Hound or Saturday morning Tarzan and Sky King. I have heard it said that you're only as old as your attitude. I've always managed to find a variety of interesting things to occupy my mind and body. I'm finding out that not all of them were good.

I don’t have gray pubic hairs! Yet.

I'm now convinced that life is an ongoing lesson in humility.

Diet pills don't work. They just make me chew faster.

As I have heard it said, sometimes you’re the windshield and sometimes you’re the bug. Sometimes you’re the seagull and sometimes the unsuspecting tourist. I carry a Kleenex for life’s unexpected moments.

In the year I was born,

The Salk vaccine for polio was discovered.

Ike proposed the interstate highway system.

The top song of '54 was "Shake, Rattle and Roll" by Bill Haley and the Comets

Gasoline cost 21 sents a gallon

Cost of a first-class stamp: $0.03

Nobel Prize for Literature: Ernest Hemingway (US)

I grew up listening to such great music.

Shake Rattle and Roll Bill Haley & His Comets
Rock Around The Clock Bill Haley & His Comets
Unchained Melody by Les Baxter

Maybellene by Chuck Berry
Ain't That A Shame by Fats Domino
Only You by The Platters
Smoke Gets in Your Eyes by The Platters
My Happiness by Connie Francis

(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction, The Rolling Stones
Yesterday, The Beatles
The House Of The Rising Sun, The Animals
Oh, Pretty Woman, Roy Orbison
The Lion Sleeps Tonight, The Tokens
Purple Haze, Jimi Hendrix Experience
Honky Tonk Woman, The Rolling Stones
Runaway, Del Shannon
I Heard It Through The Gravevine, Marvin Gaye
Leaving On A Jet Plane, Peter, Paul & Mary
Wild Thing, The Troggs
Louie Louie, The Kingsmen
She's Not There, The Zombies

I also grew up loving music by such greats as Grateful Dead, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Janis Joplin, Sly & The Family Stone, The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Joe Cocker, Blood Sweat And Tears, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Sha-Na-Na, Jimi Hendrix, The Eagles, The Beatles, Elvis Presley, Simon and Garfunkel.

I heard "Joy to the World" by Three Dog Night for the first time when I was dating the lad who would become my husband.

I remember John F. Kennedy being elected as President of the U.S. and remember his assination in November 1963. I watched the news as John Glenn orbited the Earth and watched it again as three Apollo astronauts—Col. Virgil I. Grissom, Col. Edward White II, and Lt. Cmdr. Roger B. Chaffee— were killed in spacecraft fire during simulated launch.

I watched the Beatles when they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in 1964, the news when it was announced in 1968 that Robert F. Kennedy was shot and critically wounded in Los Angeles hotel after winning California primary.

I remember the Apollo 11 astronauts—Neil A. Armstrong, Edwin E. Aldrin, Jr., and Michael Collins—take man's first walk on moon.

I've raised 3 children to adulthood and have seen the family grow by 7 as they have their own children. I've mourned the deaths of my grandparents, my mother, my brother, and two nephews and have outlived 3 good friends.

I don't remember ever being without responsibility for someone. I suppose this is true of anyone with younger brothers and sisters though.

I was here at the beginning of this great electronic age we now live in and have been amazed at it's progression. I stand in awe over the friendships that it's offered me from all over the world.

I could write pages and pages about the things I've seen and learned over the past 50 years but I fear it would in no way compare to the things seen and learned by my parents and grandparents who worked so hard for the things I've enjoyed over the first 50 years of my lifetime.

The only problem I have with turning 50 is the fact that I'll be HALF A CENTURY OLD! That's considered an antique isn't it?

The Speedy saga.

During the first night of our visit with my sister in Missouri we met my nephew, Fisher's, little buddy, Speedy, the hamster. I'm not a great fan of hamsters since their appearance is much like that of a fuzzy rat, but I think Jerri's love of them was just a tad less than mine because she actually referred to him as The Rat.

Around 2 a.m. on Thursday morning I awoke to see Zach standing beside my bed with fear in his eyes. He was muttering something about Speedy as I tucked into bed beside me but it was the next morning before I realized that what he'd been saying was that during the night Speedy had escaped from the sleeping bag that he'd be sharing with my nephew.

I did a quick search upon finding Speedy's empty cage and we discussed the fact at breakfast that ole Speedy was probably hid out somewhere and it was doubtful that we'd find him since he'd had a head start on his escape.

On Saturday evening as we were gathering some of our things to pack for our return home the following day, I heard Jerri yelp, "Ohhhhh Shit!, it's the Rat!" It seems Speedy had decided that he should show himself to bid us goodbye and let himself be known by trapsing across Jerri's foot. We were so thankful that she didn't stomp on the little fella.

Tired enough to die but too lazy for a funeral.

That's pretty bad huh?

I slipped in here to read a couple of blogs before taking my old, tired ass to bed and one of the ones I popped in to see was The Pissed Kitty's. It brought to mind one of my sorry old memories. Actually not old enough but we won't go into that right now.

This memory comes from around the same time as the "shot on the interstate" episode when I was going as fast as I could in every direction but the right one and was afraid to stop and take stock for fear that I'd fizzle right on the vine.

My baby sis and I decided this one particular evening that we needed a break. Her friend, the catholic who's confessions caused the heart attacks of at least two priests that we know of, was visiting for the weekend and we all went out. My sister invited her boyfriend to come along and he, being the kind, gentle, man that he was, invited 3 of his copter pilot buddies to meet all of us at this little bar at the National Guard Camp in North Little Rock.

Well, we ran into them on the way over to the bar when we stopped to have dinner at this little Mexican place that had excellent beer. I don't quite remember, probably due to the fact that I'd been sippin on several margarita's throughout the afternoon, but I believe that we never got around to actually ordering much food other than appetizers. But, did I say that the beer was excellent??

I know there was a couple of pool tables at the little place at the camp, and a pretty well stocked bar. I know this because one of those copter pilots kept going to the bar and bringing back these little, teeny, tiny, tequila shots. Several times. And I don't believe they ran out of the stuff, at least not to my recollection.

Anyway, this one particular pilot throughout every topic of conversation, would interrupt to ask me, "Are those real"? I'd say, "yep", and the conversation would continue to flow around the table. Finally the little smart-ass slapped the table and said, "Well I don't think they are"! I told him, as politely as a person can through a tequila haze, that they were real and he wouldn't know what real was anyway since he didn't look like he was old enough to know REAL. He kept on and he shouldn't have.

The next thing I remember was standing there with his driver's license in my hand and a cool breeze blowing gently across my chest. I don't think the lad will ever be the same.

I also seem to recall him standing beside my sister's car, after I'd gracefully sashayed my way to it, as he asked me to adopt him and take him home with me.

But I didn't cause I knew sobriety usually comes way too soon.

The end of a long day.

I woke up this morning, checked my email, posted a bit in my blog, and then I took a nap. I had to get ready for the afternoon of work that snuck up on me.

I bet I'm one of the best corn shuckers in Phillips County, Arkansas.

I hope ya'll had a wonderful day and have a Happy 4th of July! (even you folks who don't live in the U.S.!)

Oh, it's Saturday huh?

I lost a day there somewhere.

Last night while chatting on IM with that Special K that we all know and love, she gave me some tips on how to use my stat counter. I looked in the margin on the stat page and, lo and behold, there were other informational items to be found.

For instance, I found out that every time I opened up my blog page it put a hit on my counter. No wonder I was getting more numbers up there than I was getting comments about my witty ways. So I fixed that little do-hicky beings that I don't want to count ME.

Then I looked a little further and found that my blog had been accessed through search engines a few times yesterday when folks were searching for things such as

Brenda big&start
whats up with girls
amusement park braless
braless boobs photos
daisy duke type stretch shorts

Weird, but it could also be that these folks are like me and can't spell for shit.

Have you ever noticed that it doesn't much matter what you're searching for, there's a porn site for it? Really, there are some things I'd rather not know the details of.



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Thought ya'll might appreciate this t-shirt I bought for hubby at Bass Pro last week.

The Root of All Evil

Dear Uncle Ralph,
The local preacher says beer and money are the root of all evil. He says that beer and money break up marriages...especially when money is used to buy beer. Is this true. After watchin all my huntin buddies, I think beer is the reason most marriages happen... and it's the reason for havin kids runnin around the house. Am i right or is the preacher just tryin to keep me from havin fun again?
Cork screwed again,
Raymond

Dear Raymond,
I almost never disagree with a preacher. I figure that they got an inside track. But , the good book don’t say that the money is the root of all evil. It says that the LOVE of money is the root of all evil. I know, I checked.

So this leaves me to wonder, if I love money, but have none, am I still evil or just broke? Cause if having money is evil then I am a saint. But the good book does have something to say about beer. You should look this one up – it’s that important.
Hezekiah 9, verses 1-3

Yea, it is better to drink not the fruit of the hops lest your loins defy thee. A woman of lesser beauty oft becomes the lust of thy heart and the lust of thy heart begat children. Again I say to drink not the fruit of the hops and avoid strong drink lest thy children also cometh with lesser beauty and thy sins shall find thee out on the countenance of thy sons.

Let me translate: Don’t drink Buckhorn (or any other beer). If you do you’ll end up with an ugly woman and have ugly kids.
I wish I had read this 30 years ago.
So your observation is also correct. My advice to you is: listen to your preacher. He knows.
Uncle Ralph

I can't help it

this is funny!

A Houston construction site boss was interviewing men for a job, when along came a Lower Cajun. “I'm not hiring any Cajuns”, the foreman thought to himself, so he made up a test to avoid hiring the Cajun without getting into an argument.

"Here's your first question," the foreman said. "Without using numbers, represent the number 9."

"Without numbers?" The Cajun says. "Dat is easy," and proceeds to draw three trees.



"What's this?" the boss asks.



"Ave you got no brain? Tree and tree and tree make nine," says the Cajun.

"Fair enough," says the boss. "Here is your second question. Use the same rules, but this time the number is 99."

The Cajun stares into space for a while, then picks up the picture that he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree.

"Ere you go."



The boss scratches his head and says, “How on earth do you get that to represent 99?"

"Each of da trees is dirty now! So it's dirty tree, and dirty tree, and dirty tree. Dat is 99."



The boss is getting worried he's going to have to hire this Cajun, so he says, "All right, last question. Same rules again, but represent the number 100."

The Cajun stares into space some more, then he picks up the picture again and makes a little mark at the base of each tree, and says, "Ere you go. One hundred."

The boss looks at the attempt. "You must be nuts if you think that represents a hundred."

The Cajun leans forward and points to the marks at the base of each tree, and says, "A little dog come along and crap by each tree. So now you got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty tree and a turd, which make one hundred. So when I start?”

Low Tolerance

For some reason, certain people enjoy it when other people are suffering. I don't know why they are like that. Maybe it's because others did the same to them growing up and this gives them a feeling of power that they wished they had. Small-minded people thrive on the misery of others, because the misery elevates the self-esteem perhaps.

I don't know.

They do not realize the people they hurt most have nothing to do with the person they do not like for whatever reason. They take something as silly as politics to the extreme like it was something that could be painted black or white, right or wrong. They say we come here to protest, when we all know it's just their game they like to play to pass their time at work or life at home. These arguments are used to pass their time and nothing more. They do not care who they bother or who they disturb, as long as they are able to pass some time. Time in which their life is stagnant.

I also believe that this sort of person is a hypocritical do-gooder in that they'll take their charitable actions to the extreme as long as there's something in it for them, even if that something is unrecognizable to most as being worthwhile.

I try to accept this type of person because I have a tendency to disbelieve that anyone can have such a cold spirit and a person with this sort of personality does sometimes offer offer comic relief to one's normal, daily activities.

Lately my tolerance for acceptance has been very low.

I don't know.

Blame it on my age or something.

Blue Collar Comedy Tour

If ya'll haven't seen this DVD you gotta! These guys sure know how to make you laugh.


Larry The Cable Guy: My grandma just recently passed away, at 104 years old. That right, but they saved the baby.
to Jeff
Larry The Cable Guy: So I go to the flower feller to get her some flowers, and a card up 'ere at the flower feller.
Jeff Foxworthy: Wait, wait...
Larry The Cable Guy: So I go in there...
Jeff Foxworthy: No, wait, wait, you bought a CARD for your dead grandmother.
Larry The Cable Guy: They had 'em there.
Jeff Foxworthy: I know I'm gonna regret this; what did it say?
Larry The Cable Guy: Get well soon!


Recounting his arrest record
Ron White:,,,And one DWI, which turned out to be a bogus charge, because it turns out they were stopping every vehicle that was traveling along that particular sidewalk. And that's profilin', and profilin' is wrong!


In the lost luggage section of an airport
Bill Engvall: She said, "Can I help you?" I said, "Yes ma'am, you lost my luggage." She looked me right in the eye and said, "Has your plane landed yet?" "No, princess, I'm having an out-of-body experience! I'm just checking on it! Here's your sign."


His definition of redneck
Jeff Foxworthy: A glorious absence of sophistication. It can be full-time or part-time, but we're all guilty of it at some time or another. And if you're not guilty of it, then you have relatives who are.


I'd never heard of Ron White before watching this dvd but I will be looking for some more of this stuff. He's a hard drinking, smoking Texan (who does both on stage btw), and he pretty much renewed my belief that some Texans can actually be funny.

Day, 3 ,& 4, and home Sunday!

We piddled around some Friday morning and then decided to find a river/stream to laze by and in for awhile.



Later we went home and the kids took a dip while we cooked some ribs on the grill.



Saturday we ladies hit some garage sales while the men folk played horse shoes and cards. The only photo I took was of this cat with great attitude. I got dizzy looking into his eyes. In my mind I decided that his owner should have named him Cleeter cause he just LOOKs like a Cleeter to me.



On our way home Sunday we followed my sister to the mountain she just bought with some friends of hers. She has plans to build a cabin there some day. It's about 10 miles from a little stop in the road, and over 20 to the nearest town. There's a trail leading up to the property with a few spots of gravel or rock here and there on it. I told her I'd visit her up there when the cabin was built and she had a bathroom (I know squatting up there is where I got some of my chiggers!) and a coffee pot. I wouldn't have made a happy pioneer folks.



The End.

Day 2 of Vacation

Thursday A.M. Bass Pro Shop in Springfield.

We had a fine time shopping.
Besides, we had to appease Bubbie so he wouldn't mind our afternoon plans.


Thursday P.M. drive through an Exotic Animal Park

This was fun. We couldn't get out of the car but after a few yards into the park I understood why. We were swamped by hungry (or greedy) animals looking for their bite of whatever-god-awful food that was in the bags.


There were lots of ostriches and emus. The owner told us we could run over the big, black ostrich and cook him on the grill for supper and he'd be greatly appreciative but he must have heard him cause we didn't see the big, black one. This fella was pretty pushy. He stuck his head right into the car looking for his food when we were too slow in passing it out to him.



We called this guy Larry Llama.




And this little fella Earnie Emu


We didn't get to know this old guy well enough to name him. He got close to the car and we were pushing buttons to roll up the windows cause he smelled like he'd been rode hard and put up wet,,,TWICE!!



They had a little pond with paddle boats in the park where everyone cooled off and then while Alexis and I watched, the older kids drove a few laps on the go carts. (no photos of that, sorry)




We asked the park owner about the nutritional qualities of the animal food due to the several ounces of the stuff that the Chickie insisted on consuming. He promised that it was child safe.

Continuation of Day 1.

After leaving the Natural Bridge, we stopped in a little hill town called Marshall for gourmet Pizza Hut pizza. The reason I refer to it as gourmet is not due to the delectable quality of the pizza but to the nearly have to sell your soul price of the shitty pizza they served. And did I mention that they did not serve beer, Marshall being in a dry county and all? I guess this could have been called a good thing since half our food budget would have been left in that little spot in the road and as it was only a third of it was deposited there.



The last 4 hours of the drive is far from boring since up or down every mountain and around each twisting curve in the road is a little surprises such as the horse barn above.

We finally made it to my sister's and were ready for a snack and to catch up on the family gossip.


Paula and Jerri


This is Sparky, my sister's minpin who was happy to have someone her own size to play with when Alexis arrived.


Ms. Alexis made herself right at home in Sparky's kennel.

I'm home!

We made it in about 8 p.m. last evening and were greeted about 30 minutes from home with rain. James said it rained almost every day that we were gone. Of course we were happy that it stayed down here and we had lovely weather during our entire trip.

I'm still working on the photos. My memory card ran out and I didn't get to take some of the photos that I intended to but I still got several good ones, so I'll try to post a few of those over the next few days.



On our way up on Wednesday we stopped at the site of a natural bridge located near Clinton, Arkansas. It was a winding drive down the mountain to a spot near the bottom of a gorge where we found a little cabin-like entrance to the trail. There was only one other car there when we arrived so we had a quiet stroll along the trail.







Zach scooted down this little garden-side hill and later we would learn that he got one of the worst case of chiggers this Nanny has ever seen. I acquired a couple of the critter bites myself just from the stroll down the trail so imagine his misery since he was covered from ears to waist!





I've decided that while the mountains in Arkansas and Missouri are lovely to look at, I think I'd rather fight the mosquitos and occasional normal chigger here in the delta rather than the monster chiggers and blood sucking ticks in them thar hills!