Christmas Dinner

 Good morning and Happy December!

I actually forgot that today was Friday until I was going to bed last night and realized that not only is it Friday but it's December and I had nothing picked or planned to post. So, after digging through my older posts, I found something for you. But we'll get to that later.

This week was another one where the days ran together and yet a lot got done.

Last Friday– We worked on organizing and cleaning up the back room in our house (that was my writing room and then became Sis's sewing room, and is now storage) so we could get the Christmas boxes out and put them in there. Then my youngest 3 nieces and nephew came over all afternoon. They got to help me set up the Christmas tree and decorate it. (Yes, I did adjust some of the ornaments after they were gone.)

Saturday– I spent most of the morning putting some cube shelves together for my sister's sewing room. Then I picked up my oldest niece and she helped me start decorating. We got the stairs and some of the living room done.

Sunday– I had music practice before church and then played for prelude. Then my sister and I worked with the kids in Children's Church on the Christmas song we're teaching them for the Christmas program. I then taught Children's Church. After lunch I read, and then we all spent around 1 1/2 hours wrapping presents. That was rather fun. We decided to give each person (these are all my brother's family's gifts) a different wrapping paper, so all my brother's gifts were wrapped in one thing, my sis-in-law in another, and each kid in a different paper. 

Monday– I finished wrapping the presents, cleaned some things, put some things away, and I'm not sure what else.

Tuesday– My oldest niece came over again. This time for most of the day and we got the decorating done except for outside. It wasn't even the 1st of December and the house was decorated and the gifts wrapped! Lovely!

Wednesday– I spend 2 hours trying to put a cabinet together but the directions were awful! They told you to put some pieces on the wrong place so they were upside down, and another piece they didn't tell you there was a front and back to it. Then I had a lot of Camp stuff to do in the afternoon with the Camp party. And then I worked nursery.

Thursday– Yesterday I fixed the cabinet that was messed up and built another thing. I worked on some different things, raked leaves, and reviewed a few stories.

Today– I'm going to do some cleaning! And I don't know what.

Anyway, this was long. Here's a short story for you to read. It was based on a Christmas song that just had me wanting to write a story. Enjoy!

Christmas Dinner

    It was Christmas day. The air outside was crisp, and the snow sparkled and glittered across the farmyard in the late afternoon sunshine. Inside the house all was warm and cozy. Smells from the kitchen pervaded every nook and cranny of the snug farmhouse, from the living room where the large tree stood looking bare with all the gifts gone, to the farthest corner of the attic where empty boxes stood waiting to be filled once again with the ornaments and decorations of Christmas time.
    Rousing from his afternoon nap, Farmer Jones yawned and stretched. Standing up he sniffed the air and then, tucking his thumbs in his suspenders, he ambled from the living room. “Sure smells good, don’t it?” he remarked to his second son.
    Eighteen-year-old Jeremiah looked up from hanging his coat on the hook. “Sure does. Think Mother has dinner about ready, Pa?”
    “Sure hope so. I’ll go find out.”
    Sauntering down the hall through the dining room and into the kitchen, Farmer Jones sniffed again. The turkey smelled divine! His wife, an apron tied about her ample waist, was bustling here and there, a smudge of flour on her cheek and wisps of her hair curling about her face instead of staying properly in her bun.
    “Mother,” Farmer Jones said, “everybody’s starvin’. Let’s eat.”
    Mother Jones, as she was known far and wide, turned around, a wooden spoon in her hand. “Hold your horses, Father. I’ve got a million courses to get ready, and,” she waved her spoon with a shake of her head. “I’m fixing a treat! I could use some help though.”
    Quickly Father Jones turned around. He heard someone whistling and called out, “Jeremiah, go and help your mother.” Then, catching sight of the thirteen-year-old twins on the stairs, he added, “Jane and Jonah, you too.”
    The clatter of the twins’ feet was heard as they rushed down the stairs. No doubt they had been smelling the feast and were hungry.
    After checking in the living room and the library but not finding his other children, Farmer Jones looked out the front door. “Ah, there’s another one,” he thought to himself, hurrying to the door and swinging it wide open. “Hezekiah!” His shout caused the head of his third son to raise from the wood he had been stacking.
    “Yes, sir?”
    “Go and fetch your brother.”
    “Sure thing, Pa. Which one? And where is he?”
    “Jud. I ‘spect he’s in the barn with his horse.” When Hezekiah nodded, Father started to shut the door and then stuck his head out once more. “Then fetch Amy and Sue.”
    Hezekiah’s brown head nodded as he strode off toward the red barn.
    Patting his round stomach, Father shut the door and sighed. He could smell all those dishes Mother was fixing and he couldn’t wait to sit down with his family and partake. It was a favorite part of the Jones family Christmas day.
    It wasn’t long before Hezekiah and Jud could be heard stomping the snow off their boots on the porch. A gust of cold air came in with the boys and Father, turning from watching Jane, her pretty dark hair tied back with a red ribbon, set the table, saw Hezekiah start up the stairs, no doubt in search of the two youngest Jones girls.
    Things were in a bustle as Jed, and then Hezekiah, Amy, and Sue all joined in to help Mother get the food on. Father stayed out of the way. He was no help in the kitchen and knew it. As each steaming dish was brought to the table, his mouth watered even more. Finally he stationed himself before his chair at the head of the table and Jeremiah set the turkey down before him. It was golden brown and steam rose in a fragrant wave.
    As everyone found their places, the three oldest boys, Jud, Jeremiah and Hezekiah, on one side, Jane and Jonah, Amy and Sue on the other, and Mother at the food, Father smiled.
    “Mother, everybody’s happy. We’ve got a reason to smile.”
    Mother laughed her bright, bubbly laugh which caused smiles and a few giggles among her children. “That’s ‘cause you know that I’m about to serve a Christmas dinner country style.”
    “No doubt, Mother, no doubt. But let’s all sit and bow our heads. I’ll say grace, then we’ll break bread.”
    There was a slight shuffling as each person quickly sat down. Every head, light, dark, and a few browns, bowed reverently as Father gave thanks for the dinner and for Christmas and what it meant. After a hearty “Amen” from everyone present, heads were lifted and eyes sparkled at the knowledge that they were about to partake of Mother’s wonderful cooking.
    “Put your napkins in your lap, girls,” Mother reminded Amy and Sue.
    “While Jud pours cider from the tap,” added Father. “Is it fresh cider, Jud?”
    “Sure is, Pa. I made it yesterday with some of the apples from the cellar since we had such a lot.”
    There was so much food and it was passed along from one person to the next, across the table, clock-wise and counter-clock-wise. Turkey, both dark and white meat, ham, chestnut stuffing, huckleberry muffins, marshmallow yam, and cranberry sauce, rhubarb, and black-eyed peas. It was a feast to fill any hungry boy or girl. Or a dozen of them. Everyone ate and talked and ate some more. Seconds were had by everyone and the four boys even had thirds.
    “I think I’m ‘bout to explode, Mother,” Jane said, leaning back in her chair.
    “Me too,” echoed Amy and Sue.
    “Have a little pickled quince,” Jeremiah offered, holding out the dish.
    “Choose your pie, everyone,” Father instructed. “Pumpkin or mince.”
    No one refused. How could they when it was Mother who had made them? But at last no one could eat another bite.
    Leaning back in his chair, Father looked down the table at his wife and said, “Oh, dinner was grand, to say the least!” Glancing at his children seated on either side of the now ravished table, he added, with a nod toward Mother Jones, “Honor the lady who cooked this feast.”
    “Mother, thank you for the dinner!” Chorused all seven children.
    And Jonah added, “All the fixin’s were great!”
    A broad smile crossed Mother’s face. “Nothin’ to it. I’m mighty glad to do it, seein’ how much you ate! Now I shouldn’t have to feed you until spring.”
    A general laugh filled the dining room and then Jud pushed back his chair. “Well, it’s time to clear it all away. Come on. Jeremiah, get the turkey, or what’s left of it. Hezekiah, the ham platter. The rest of you start collecting the dishes. Mother, you and Father go sit in the living room and just relax.”
    With a smile, Mother stood up. “All right, but don’t you go and break any of my good china now.” It was something she said every year, and none of it had been broken except one saucer when Jeremiah was no larger than the family dog.
    Beaming, Father rose slowly, tucked his thumbs in his suspenders and stood a moment watching his children clear off the table. Then, with a sigh, he ambled slowly into the living room and built up the fire in the large stone fireplace before sinking down into his favorite chair. “That sure was a Christmas dinner, Mother,” he remarked.
    Wearily Mother rested her feet on the footstool and nodded. “It sure was.”

    Before long the children appeared in the doorway, their faces bright and no sign of having stuffed themselves.
    “Jeremiah,” Jane begged, “go and get your fiddle!”
    “Yeah, go get it,” eagerly pleaded Amy and Sue, while his brothers all nodded in agreement.
    “All right.” Jeremiah sauntered into the other room, and they could hear the sounds of the fiddle strings as he tested them. Soon he was back, lightly drawing the bow over the strings in a tune which set each foot to tapping.
    “Come on, Father, let’s dance,” begged Jane, hurrying to her father’s side.
    But Farmer Jones shook his head and patted his full stomach, “I’m too full of turkey and stuffing. Sorry, Janie, I ain’t takin’ a chance. Get one of your brothers to take you for a spin.”
    So, while Mother and Father sat watching, the six children, Jud and Amy, Hezekiah and Sue, and Jane and Jonah danced to the lively tunes Jeremiah brought forth from his fiddle.
    When at last the fiddler ceased and everyone sank laughing onto chairs and sofas, Father said, “It’s been a very, very merry Christmas. We’ve got reason to smile.” He looked around at each shining face “Mother, everybody loved your Christmas dinner country style.”

 Did you have a good week?

Do you have Christmas decorations up?

Have you ever heard the song that goes with this story?

Through an Author's Eyes - Part 10

 Happy Black Friday!

I hope you all had a good Thanksgiving. I did. I got to spend most of it at my brother's house with his family. We hung out and ate, played a little ping-pong, and some other games. Then we came back to out crazy, full, messy house. Since we'd gotten help from my two oldest nephews on Wednesday, we have all the boxes that were in storage back at our house. Along with other things we'd forgotten we had sent down there. Now we don't really have places for everything yet, and so we have boxes stacked all over!

But, my parents are back to sleeping in their own room again! After 4 months of living in the living room, they are glad to have a room again. And my sister is back in the sewing room. Not all the shelves are here and up yet, but she can at least keep sewing in her newly redone room. But I still can't write. Our room is a disaster. And did I mention that our washing machine went out last week? We got a new one, but it's not hooked up yet. That makes things a bit interesting. Hopefully it will get hooked up today.

Anyway, that's that.

This morning my mom and I are going to tackle the back room where we usually put all the Christmas stuff we don't use during December. Then this afternoon the youngest 3-4 nieces and nephews will be coming over while my brother and older nephews work on their new addition, and my sis-in-law and oldest niece help decorate the church. Then tomorrow my oldest niece is coming over to help us decorate.

And today is Black Friday. It's the first time in a few years that I don't have books in Perry's Indie Author Sale, but I just didn't have time to set anything up. But I do have one Thanksgiving story that is Free today if you haven't gotten and read it already. You can find it HERE.

And now enjoy this next part of this author story.

 

 Through an Author's Eyes

Part 10

    Picking up her purse and Bible, she carefully made her way to the stairs. She knew it would take her longer than usual to get down the stairs. Somehow going down was worse than going up and half way down she stopped, turned around and proceeded to take the steps backwards.
    “Are you going up or down?” laughed Aunt Yvonne from the foot of the stairs.
    “Down. It’s less painful to do it this way.”
    “A niece who thinks,” Uncle Cleveland remarked. “It must be because she’s a writer. We come up with all sorts of situations for our characters and then have to figure out a way to get them out, don’t we?”
    Taking the last step down, Annette turned around and nodded. “Only this time I know what my poor MC is feeling. I never did before.” Shaking her head, Annette gave a slight chuckle and then stopped with a frown. “Why do I hurt all over?” she moaned. “I hope I don’t regret saying I want to climb a mountain.”
    “Well, as long as you don’t climb in cowboy boots I reckon you’ll do fine. You said you are used to climbing the Appalachians.”
    “True. And I’ve never ridden a horse before. Levi should have warned me I wouldn’t be able to move.” And she pretended to glare at her oldest cousin as he came into the room.
    He looked like a cowboy even with his church clothes on for he wore a western style shirt, dark denim jeans, cowboy boots that weren’t filthy, and a shiny buckle was on his belt. His hat was in one hand and his Bible in the other. “You wouldn’t have believed me if I had, would you?” he asked.
    “I don’t know. But you didn’t even warn me! I don’t know if I’ll get on a horse tomorrow or not.” She nodded her head once for emphasis.
    “You will. Are the others already outside?”
    “Here they come.” The rest of the family hurried into the room and together they walked out to the suburban.
    It was a forty-five minute ride to church, but Annette didn’t mind. The scenery was lovely and she scarcely took her eyes from the windows. “Oh!” her exclamation came suddenly. “I didn’t know we were going to Cats Claw!”
    “Yep,” Savanna said. “On Sunday the population more than doubles. There’s the church.”
    Annette followed the pointing finger and saw with delight a white church looking like it was taken straight from an old catalogue or magazine. It even had a tall white steeple and she wondered if a bell still hung from the tower. As she gingerly climbed from the vehicle, she watched the people going up the steps and into the church. Most of the men had on cowboy hats and boots, only the women seemed out of place for not one was wearing a hat with flowers or even a bonnet. “So much for going back in time,” she whispered to Savanna who had joined her. Ava slipped her hand into Annette’s and together the three girls crossed the grassy yard.
    Each step was painful for Annette, but she decided to grin and bear it, as her mother would say and when Bethany came up, she returned her hug without wincing too badly.
    “Sore from the ride yesterday?” Bethany asked in low tones.
    “What do you think?” Annette grimaced. “And Levi says I have to ride again tomorrow.”
    “It’s the best way to work out the soreness,” Bethany assured. “But come on.”
    Inside the church, Annette was thankful to see cushioned chairs instead of the hard pews she had expected.

    By the time the Vogel suburban pulled into the home ranch, Annette was tired. Not only had she heard a really good sermon, but she had been introduced to so many people that she couldn’t keep names and faces in her mind. All she wanted was lunch and a long nap. Climbing out of the suburban, a groan escaped her lips without her permission. She had hoped the sore muscles would ease as the day wore on.
    “You need to take a long leisurely walk this afternoon down the lane and back to loosen you up,” Aunt Yvonne remarked.
    Annette raised her eyebrows. A walk? She didn’t even think she could walk to the house let alone make it down the lane! She looked down at the ground. There was grass just a few steps away. If it weren’t so hard to sit down . . .
    “Should I carry you?” Levi questioned.
    “Don’t let him!” Savanna hurried over to say; Annette shook her head. “I’m afraid that would hurt worse than trying to walk.”
    Somehow Annette hobbled or staggered to the porch, moaned her way up the stairs and sagged against the wall inside. She didn’t want to go upstairs until she had to. And she certainly didn’t want to go up and then come right back down for lunch! Nope, she was going to remain downstairs and would eat lunch in her church clothes. Slowly making her way into the kitchen, she asked, “Can I help get lunch ready?”
    “There’s not much to do, but you can get paper plates from that cabinet if you want. We like to keep lunch simple and the dishes even simpler,” Aunt Yvonne replied. “We’re just having sandwiches, fruit, carrots and chips.”
    Annette managed to get the plates out without too much difficulty, but carrying them to the counter was hard and required silent groans with each stiff step she took. Her arms weren’t too sore and she was thankful for that.
    Ava did most of the talking during lunch, then everyone pitched in to clean up and Annette was soon free to make her slow, painful way up the stairs and to her room. “I can do this,” she muttered to herself, pausing on the seventh step and eyeing the rest of them. “I never knew riding a horse was so–well, painful and used so many muscles! Won’t Dad get a laugh when I tell him how sore and stiff I am.” A rueful smile crossed her face as she started upward again. “He’d tell me the same thing Levi is: Get up and ride again. That’s what he always told me when I was stiff and sore from hiking. He’d say, ‘Annette, we’re going to hike again tomorrow. And the next day until you get over being stiff and sore.’”

Did you have a good Thanksgiving?

Have you started decorating for Christmas?

Are you planning on shopping some book sales?

God is Still Good

 Good morning dear readers!

It's cold this morning. Below freezing right now, but the sun is coming up in a cloudless sky. It's going to be a good day.

This week has had it's ups and downs. Trying to be patient about finishing up the rooms so we can move back in them, and things not happening as quickly as we'd like. But yesterday the last of the trim in both rooms (not counting the closet off the sewing room and the hall) got the last of their trim up! Now I can finish spackling and do the touch up painting! Then we have 8 outlets and 1 light switch to do, and put up the closet shelves and stuff in my parents room and we can hang curtains and move them back in!!!! We are so excited!!!! Forget writing, I'm going to be working on the rooms today. And tomorrow.

Also today, my grandpa is coming down. He wants to see the rooms and he's bringing us some drawers that only the Lowe's up there had for our cabinets. 

Last night I spoke to a group for the first time about my writing journey. There were only 5 other people besides me. It was nice to start off with a small group. And yes, it was rather fun. I think they enjoyed it and it looked like some of them were interested in a few of my books. 

Thanksgiving is coming. We are going to my brother's for the day. That will be fun. I heard there is, or at least was, a chance of snow for Thanksgiving day, but I rather doubt it will be anything but rain. We just don't get snow this early most of the time.

Anyway, I'm keeping this really short because I need to get everything done on the computer that I can before breakfast so I can just work on the house. :D I hope you enjoy this short little story and the reminder that God is always good.

 God is Still Good

 

    Corina hugged her friend’s furry neck. “Come Maria, we’ll go back to the house. I’m sure Papa can help us.”
    The young alpaca nuzzled the small girl and walked quietly behind her across the yard and around the stone wall. It was cold, but Corina didn’t feel the biting air for she was well bundled up in warm clothes and a hat was pulled down over her dark hair.
    Coming up next to the house, Corina stopped. The door was open and Papa’s voice sounded stern.
    “You have been allowed to wallow in your sorrow and grief too long, Elia. It is time you returned to work and to God.”
    “God. He didn’t care about my Bridget when her time came!”
    Corina heard the pain in her brother’s voice.
    Papa’s voice was softer but no less firm. “You are wrong, my son. God was there and He took your Bridget home to live with Him. But he left you with a little daughter. A daughter who needs her papa to be strong and to provide for her. You have not done that, my Elia. You have turned bitter. You are like the pigs that love to wallow in the dirt and mud. They can be clean but they wish not to be. You too are wallowing in what is not clean and pure. You would rather sit and do nothing and blame God when He is good.”
    “If He is good, why did He take my Bridget, Papa? Why?”
    Carina felt her eyes fill with tears. Bridget had been such a dear older sister to her. She too had wondered why God had taken her.
    “My Elia,” Papa’s voice was gentle, tender. “I do not know the ways of God. But I do know that He gives and He takes away because He is good. Pain and suffering, grief and death are the fault of mankind, not God. When your mama was so ill before she died, I asked the same questions. And I got an answer. I prayed, but God chose to say no. I too say no to Corina at times just like I said no to you and Manuel when you were young. It was not that I don’t love you. It was because I did love you.”
    Corina listened hard and heard what sounded like a sob. Turning, she wrapped her arms around her alpaca’s neck and hid her face.
    “Pray for me, Papa. I don’t understand, and I feel so lost without my Bridget. I want to trust that God knows best, but I don’t see how taking my daughter’s mother could be best.”
    “I do not see it either, my son.” Papa’s voice was husky. “I still do not understand why He chose to take your mama either. But this I do know, though He slay me, yet will I trust Him. I will be praying for you, Elia. Bring your little one over and let Corina mother her for a time. She is always mothering the orphaned animals.”
    “Thank you, Papa. I will. I must go now. The neighbor can only stay a little. Can I come here and work?”
    “Of course. There is much to do.”
    Corina looked around and saw Elia leave the house and stride away. He hadn’t seen her. Papa came to the door and looked after him. Then he turned. His face was gentle as he looked at her.
    “Are you willing to mother your little niece, my Corina? It is hard to be without a mother, and your brother is still hurting.”
    “Oh, yes, Papa. I will take care of the little one. Maria will help me.” She hugged her furry friend. “Papa, God is still good, isn’t He?”
    “Yes. Always good, Carina. Never forget that.” 

 

How has your week been?

Anything happening that makes you excited?

Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?

Go With God

 Good morning, readers,

It rained last night. I woke to the gentle patter of raindrops on the roof and skylight. I didn't know it was supposed to rain.

Yesterday was a good day. I painted the primer on a window that all had forgotten needed painted. Got the rest of the floor laid in the sewing room. Some of that I actually did myself which was rather fun. A friend came over after lunch, and he and my dad got all the trim up that they could do in that room. One place in the closet we have to find out from the guy who is going to build shelves if the baseboard should be on there or not. And in the room, we have to get a few other boards painted to go around the cabinet they put in. But wow! It sure doesn't look like our house any more! Very exciting. In the evening my dad and I cut and sanded the boards for my parents' room. They need primed and painted.

But, not only did a lot of work get done on the house, but I wrote! Yes, I did. It was only 341 words, but that's so much more than none at all.

Today the grandkids are coming over to spend the day. They haven't seen the house since we got sheetrock up. We are going to put a few pieces of furniture together that will go in the sewing room. And who knows what else. But before they come I'm going to work on filling in all the nail holes and cracks between the trim pieces. 

Our goal was to get my sister moved back downstairs today, but we decided not to try. Since the room isn't completely done, and she's too busy with orders to take time to move now, and she doesn't want to be trying to sew when construction is still going on down there, we'll wait. But that's okay. We made great progress. Now we can focus on getting the master bedroom done. Then we'll have the hall. But that might wait a bit.

Anyway, that's been my week. Here's a short little story I wrote back in July.

 Go With God

    The late summer sunshine came through a hazy layer of clouds and a breeze tossed the young man’s brown hair making him shiver.
    Samuel hugged himself to try and ward off the chill of the mountain air. “You’d think that being higher like this and closer to the sun it would be warmer not colder,” he said to the towering pine tree beside him.
    The tree shook its branches as though laughing at the idea, and Samuel had to smile too.
    Pausing on the rocky outcropping overlooking a vast panorama of mountains with sharp ridges and blanketed by pines, Samuel sighed and the smile left his face as one thumb slipped over the strap which held is precious guitar on his back.
    “Uncle James said it takes pluck to move on after a loss like mine. But it’s not pluck, it’s God. I know I’ll see my sisters again and my parents. I didn’t always act like I believed it though. Fourteen is a hard age to lose the ones you love most. If it weren’t for Miss Hope and my music I wouldn’t have made it these last three years.”
    His hands gently rubbed the red knit sweater Miss Hope had made for him before he left to seek a life beyond the small village and farms hidden in the valley. He knew he’d always be grateful to her for sending out letters for him and finding a place in a music shop with one of her cousins.
    “Remember, Samuel,” she had told him before he left, “your musical talent is not something you acquired by your own effort. It’s a gift from God. Always use it for His glory.”
    Samuel had promised. How could he not when Miss Hope had pointed him back to the Savior and the peace He offered after the tragic railway accident?
    Gently lifting the strap of his guitar over his head, he sat down and gently began to strum the strings. His music blended with the sighing of the pines and the rustle of grass. He would rest a few minutes before picking up his duffel bag and setting down the other side of the mountain to the bus stop which would take him away from the mountains, the farms, and from those who had taken him under their wing.
    “Go with God, Samuel,” Miss Hope had said, her eyes brimming with tears but a smile on her lips. “And write often.”
    “I will. Goodbye.”
    With one final strum of the strings, Samuel rose, settle his instrument on his back and returned to the path where he picked up his bag and set for once again.
 

Have you had an exciting day this week?

 Did you do any writing?

What do you think happened to Samuel?

Whomsoever

 Good morning dear readers,

Life is super busy these days. Somehow mixing camp and working on the house and other things equals crazy. Ready for a quick rundown? 

Last Friday: Finishers came to do the last coat of mud. My dad and I spend the afternoon and half the morning painting trim and doors. (And I hurt my back doing so because the saw-horses were a little too low.) I babysat my youngest niece (17 months) in the evening while the others watched my oldest niece play volleyball.

Saturday: We were ready for the guys to come do texturing at 8. They said they'd come at 9. They came at 10. I was also babysitting my youngest niece and nephew. 

Sunday: I taught in Children's Church, had a fellowship meal after church. Relaxed in the afternoon. Back hurting.

Monday: Wanted to paint but my back was in no shape. Tried to catch up on other things. Finally got to write 564 words!

Tuesday: Worked as an election judge all day.

Wednesday: Painted primer all day.

Thursday: Painted paint! Got one room, closet and the hall done. Went to my oldest niece's volleyball tournament in the evening. I didn't stay until the end. (I watched the first game she played and knew her team was heading to the championship, but that game didn't end up starting until 10:30 PM.)

Today: Finish the paining, install light covers, take up paper off floor, other things.

Our weather has been cold this week and some cloudy days. But it's supposed to warm back up into the 60s and 70s, so it will be nice to air out the house.

I hope you enjoy this short story. 

 

Whomsoever

 

    Mrs. Lane sat on the shady back porch her open Bible in her lap. But she wasn’t reading. Her eyes had stopped on the word “Whomsoever” and her mind had slipped back to a long time ago. Way back when her daughters were young.

*

    The sky looked like a watercolor painting. Blues, purples, pinks, and clouds of blended orange, yellow and pink. Along the horizon the colors had blended into a rosy red as the sun sank below the edge of the land. A moon, looking almost out of place sat in the middle of the sky and a flock of birds, only black silhouettes against the colorful sky, flew below it.
    “Amelie!” Mrs. Lane called.
    The little girl jumped from the swing and ran to the house. “What, Mama?”
    “Supper is almost ready. Will you go find your sister?”
    “May I have a drink first?”
    “Of course.” Mrs. Lane returned to the stove and her singing while her youngest daughter got a drink. “Whosoever will may come.”
    “Mama, what does whomsoever mean in the song?”
    “You mean whosoever?”
    Not sure what the difference was, Amalie nodded.
    “It means everyone. Anyone who wants to may come.”
    Her thirst quenched and thrilled by her mother’s words, Amelie dashed across the field and over the hill. She knew where her sister was playing. Any time she could, twelve-year-old Annalissa disappeared to the Caster’s home.
    The Casters were poor and shy. Mrs. Caster was sickly, Mr. Caster was out of work, and there were a dozen hungry children to keep fed and clothed. Annalissa enjoyed playing with the children, cuddling the baby, and helping out however she could.
    “Annalissa!” Amelie called, running down the hill. “Annalissa!”
    Annalissa appeared around the side of the barn holding the hand of a small dirty child. “Amelie, is something wrong?”
    Panting for breath, Amelie shook her head. “No, but Mama is inviting anyone who wants to for supper! She said whomsoever and said it means anyone can come!”
    “Are you sure?” Annalissa stared at her little sister.
    “I asked her what it mean and that’s what she said. The Casters can come for supper!”
    “But . . . but Mama doesn’t know I play with them, does she?”
    “I don’t know, but she said whomsoever and she had a big pot of soup on, so she must be expecting more than just us and Papa! Won’t that be just lovely?”
    Annalissa nodded. “Nobody’s very clean.”
    “That’s okay. She didn’t say anyone who was clean, but whomsoever will. They will won’t they?”
    “I’m sure they will. I don’t think Mr. or Mrs. Caster can come though. But I’ll get the rest. You run home and tell Mama I’m bringing them.”
    “All right!” Whirling, Amelie raced back home. “Mama! Mama, she’s bringin’ ‘em!”
    Mrs. Lane hurried out to the stoop. “Bringing who? Amelie what are you talking about?”
    “The whomsoever, Mama! The ones you were singing about. Annalissa is bringing them. It’s all the Caster children. They would like a good meal, and you didn’t say anyone who was clean. But they can wash their hands. Oh, Mama, won’t this be just the most splendid time? Is Papa home? Have you told him about whomsoever?”
    Feeling rather numb, Mrs. Lane could only shake her head and watch her daughter dance inside to repeat the story of the whomsoever to her father. “I guess I do have enough soup. I just won’t can any of it,” Mrs. Lane remarked to the darkening sky. “I never thought one word in a hymn would bring an entire houseful of young ones to dinner.”

*

    Mrs. Lane smiled. “I didn’t know at the time that I was feeding a future son-in-law, or that he would become a minister. Annalissa makes a lovely minister’s wife. And Amelie, well, she is still finding those ‘whomsoevers’ wherever she goes.”
 

Was your week busy?

Would you like the "whomsoever" to show up at your house?

How's the weather at your house?

A Kitten

 Hello, Favorite Friday Fiction Fans,

Today is rainy and cold and windy. We've had rain Wednesday, Thursday, and during the nights. I'm ready for some sunshine but it sounds like it's supposed to be cloudy today even if it doesn't rain much. 

It's been a bit of a tough week. The guys who came to do the finishing of the Sheetrock on Saturday told us they'd come back on Wednesday to do the next coat. Then they said they'd try to come back sooner. Nope. We had to wait until Wednesday. I spent the day painting trim. Then they guys told us they'd come back Friday (today) to do the next coat. It is so hard not to get frustrated at them for not doing things the next day and getting this done sooner. We were hoping to start moving back in the beginning of November. That ain't happening. The guys still have to come today, and then come back another time (don't know when) to do the texturing. Then I have to paint primer on all the walls and ceilings. Then the regular paint. Next we have to lay the floor, then we have to put up trim. And a friend of ours is supposed to come help us get the trim up, but I don't know if we'll have to wait for his schedule or if he'll be able to just come when we're ready. Oh, and I'm working as an election judge on Tuesday, so even if the house was ready to paint then I couldn't do it. And the Sheetrock dust and the smell of the mud has been giving us headaches. I am overly ready for the house to be done! 🙂

But it hasn't all been hard. Writing camp has started and it's been fun to chat with girls there. I'm not sure if I'll get much writing done this camp since I can't seem to get the words to come out with all the mess of the house. But hopefully I can get something written.

Oh, guess what else happened? A new collection of stories including an abridged version of one of mine just got published. You can read about it HERE. And today's story has the same characters as are in my story.

Yes, I know it's short, but I have other things I need to do. Besides, my creativity seems to be stuck behind unfinished walls, painting, flooring, trim and doors. 😜

 

A Kitten

    “Is he a boy or a girl?” asked the little girl, crouching down to look at the little kitten.
    It was a sunny summer morning and Jolie and Elliana had followed their big brother Stephen to the barn where he had found a kitten.
    “I don’t know,” Stephen replied, leaning against the side of the barn with an amused expression on his face.
    “Well,” Elliana said, “we’ll just have to think of a name that could be for a boy or a girl.” She tugged on her light brown braid.
    Jolie, still crouched down in the grass, tipped her head to one side. “She’s kind of white, but not like snow because she had gray ears.” She giggled. “Look, he had gray around his mouth like he got into mischief! And his paws are even sort of gray.”
    “We could call her mischief,” Elliana suggested. “But she except for her dirty face and paws she doesn’t look like she would get into mischief, does she, Stephen?”
    At that precise moment, the kitchen sat up and its ears twitched. Then lifted a paw and batted at a grasshopper.
    Jolie burst into giggles again. “Oh, Ellie, I think he will get into mischief if he’s chasing grasshoppers. Let’s call him Mischief.” She looked up at her big brother. “Don’t you think that is a good name, Stephen?”
    With a grin, Stephen nodded as the kitten trying to catch a butterfly, fell into a shallow mud puddle. “Indubitably the perfect name.”
    As the kitten, looking much astonished at where it had landed, the two girls burst into laughter.
    “Mischief,” Elliana called, “don’t you know you aren’t a fish?”
    Sitting in the grass, Jolie and Elliana coaxed the kitten to them and with the help of Stephen’s handkerchief, helped the sunshine dry the little kitten off.
    “Do you think Mama will let us keep him, Stephen?” Jolie asked anxiously.
    “We promise not to bring her inside,” Elliana said.
    Before he answered, Stephen looked toward the house. “You can ask her yourself, for here she comes.”

How was your week?

Do you think you'll read the new collection?

Do you like kittens?

Through an Author's Eyes - Part 9

 Good morning readers,

It's chilly this morning. in the low 40s and I have a cozy shirt on. I'm always ready to get out my warm, cozy clothes when fall comes, but by the time spring arrives I'm ready for short sleeves. We haven't had any frosts yet and nothing 40º or colder to kill the chiggers.

Guess what? The Sheetrock has been hung! Two guys came Tuesday around 3 and got almost all of it done in 3 1/2 hours. Then one guy came back Wednesday afternoon and finished it up in about an hour and a half. It's so different having the Sheetrock up. We have Sheetrock where we've never had it before. And boy do those rooms echo! The finishers are coming tomorrow at 8 AM to start the taping and mudding. Then it will have to dry, then they'll have to come back and sand it. Then they'll have to texture it, let it dry and come back and sand again. After that I get to paint! Then it's floor, trim, and moving back in! Of course I have no idea how long all of this will take. Praying not too long. I'm ready for a normal house again. :)

No writing this week and only some reading. I've been working on Camp stuff. Registration is open in case you hadn't heard. It's going to be a full month of camp this time, and I'm really hoping I can get some good writing in.

I didn't think about looking to see what other stories I could share, so you'll have to have the next part of this one.

 

 Through an Author's Eyes

Part 9

    “Suites me,” Annette laughed. “I could use another cousin or two. Dad only has one married sibling and he only has two kids, so I’m kind of short in the cousin department.”
    Talking and laughing, the three girls saddled their horses and mounted up. Annette for the first time since arriving, was wearing her aunt’s cowboy hat instead of a helmet. “Levi must think I know enough not to fall off now,” she had laughed to Savanna when Levi had told her to wear his mom’s hat.
    “More like he doesn’t want you to get too much sun. It can get really sunny out on the ranch and a helmet doesn’t offer much shade.”

    The ride was long and pleasant. Annette enjoyed every minute of it. Lunch was eaten in the shade of several large trees near an ice cold stream. “This is what I’ve always dreamed of doing,” she sighed, leaning back on her elbows and gazing up into the shading branches of the trees.
    “You’re probably going to be stiff and sore tomorrow,” Savanna warned. “You haven’t ridden this much before.”
    “I don’t care,” Annette sighed. “I’m just going to enjoy every single minute of this experience. Including that snake over there.” And she pointed to a sunny rock near the water’s edge.
    After a quick look, Bethany relaxed. “It’s not poisonous, so we don’t have to worry about it.”

    It was late afternoon when they returned to the barn. The boys had already returned from wherever they had gone and offered to help unsaddle and brush the horses down. As Annette swung down from the saddle, she felt her muscles protest. “Savanna’s right,” she thought, trying to ignore the stiffness in her legs. “I’m going to find walking normal almost impossible tomorrow. And it’s Sunday too. Oh, well.” She gave a sigh.
    “Something wrong?” Vic asked, lifting her saddle off Mouse and pausing to look at her.
    “Nope. I was just thinking of what to add to my story later.”
    “About being stiff and sore from a long ride when you aren’t used to it yet?” Annette was always astonished at Victor’s insight. He didn’t speak much but he saw and noticed all sorts of things.
    “Yeah,” she admitted. “I have a feeling I’m not going to be moving too well tomorrow.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. It’s the price I pay for riding a horse. Thanks for helping me, Vic. I’m still rather green about taking care of a horse.”
    “You’ll get the hang of it.” He picked up a brush and handed it to her. “Start brushing her and I’ll finish untacking her.”

    Bethany stayed for supper and then drove home in her car. After helping with the dishes, Annette said good night and headed up to her room. She had a story to write. Besides, she hoped to catch her parents on line and chat for a few minutes with them.

    When she climbed out of bed in the morning every muscle in her body seemed to scream at her. Limping her way to the bathroom with a moan at each step, she wondered if a hot shower would help or only make her more stiff later. A look at the clock decided the matter for her. She had time for a quick shower.
    An hour later she silently groaned her way down to the kitchen and eased herself into a chair at the table.
    “Feeling the affects of the ride yesterday?” Aunt Yvonne asked.
    “Uh huh.”
    “You’ll have to take a walk later to help loosen things up. And I imagine Levi will tell you get on a horse again tomorrow.”
    “Tomorrow?” Annette groaned, this time aloud. “I don’t know if I’ll even be able to move tomorrow let alone get on a horse.”
    Savanna turned from the stove where she had been flipping pancakes and, carrying a large plate of them to the table said, “If you don’t get on a horse tomorrow you won’t get used to riding.”
    The back door opened and Levi, Vic, Devon and Uncle Cleveland came in.
    “What’s this about not getting used to riding?” Uncle Cleveland asked, hanging up his hat.
    “Annette said she doesn't think she’ll be able to get on a horse tomorrow. The ride we took yesterday left her really sore.”
    “She’ll ride tomorrow.” Levi, having hung up his hat, turned from washing his hands. “I can’t make her into a cowgirl unless she does.”
    Annette glared at him. “I’ll bet none of you remember what it feels like to be as sore and stiff as I am! Why I can hardly move!”
    Going to the doorway, Aunt Yvonne called, “Ava! Breakfast!”
    No one replied to Annette and after everyone had gathered and seated themselves at the table, Uncle Cleveland gave thanks.
    If Annette couldn’t move very well, there was nothing wrong with her appetite. If anything she was hungrier than she had ever remembered being, and ate four pancakes, a pile of scrambled eggs and several pieces of bacon.
    “All right guys,” Uncle Cleveland said, glancing up at the clock. “We leave for church in twenty minutes. Anyone out the door after that has to take the truck.”
    There was a scramble of legs, the scraping of chairs and the clatter of dishes. Before Annette could carry her dirty dishes to the sink, the were snatched from her hands and Savanna said, “Go get ready. It’ll take you longer.”
    “But what about the dishes?”
    “We rinse them off and stick them in the dish washer. When we get home we add the lunch dishes and turn it on. It’s about the only time we use the dishwasher. Now go get ready!”
    Staggering from the kitchen, Annette cringed at the thought of climbing the stairs to brush her teeth and get her Bible and purse, but holding back her moans and groans, she gripped the railing and hauled herself up the stairs. “Why did I ever want to go on a trail ride yesterday?” she muttered as she squeezed toothpaste onto her tooth brush. “It was a crazy idea. I thought I was sore before when I had only ridden a little bit–” A glance at the red lights of her alarm clock made her hurry.

Have you ever ridden a horse before?

Do you like to paint?

What do you usually eat for breakfast on Sunday?