Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 3 + Black Friday Sale!

Good morning, FFFFs!

Happy day after Thanksgiving. Okay, happy Black Friday. ;)

I'm going to keep this part short because you might want to go look at books and read the final part of the Thanksgiving story.

But it's been a good week. My grandparents and aunt came down on Monday and we spent several hours over at my brother's new house eating lunch, putting the swing set together and playing baseball. Yes, my 90-year-old grandpa pitched for most of the time. Then my mom pitched.

Yesterday it was just my parents, sister and I here at the house. We had our turkey dinner around one, and even started decorating for Christmas. Usually we wait until after Thanksgiving to start, but since everyone was home and no one else was over, plus the fact that Thanksgiving came really late this year, we decided to get started. We got a good bit done! Today my nieces and nephews are coming over to help do some decorating. My oldest niece wants to decorate the stairs, and everyone wants to help with the village. I have to get the landscape and snow done before they come so they can help with houses and all the people and trees.

I've gotten some writing done this week. And it's NOT a Christmas story! :) I'm hoping to reach 10k this month. I think I can.

Now here's the rest of your post. :)

Are you ready to add more books to your reading pile? Do you need some sale books to keep you reading until Christmas? What about books to give your friends and family members for Christmas? Or just because more books are fun?

Yes?

I thought so. Check out the books on the Black Friday sale! There are over 100 titles!

And nearly all of mind are included in it! :D Including my Christmas books!

Head over now! It might take you a while to decide what to get because of all the genres and books in each category. So start looking.

The sale ends Monday.

 

And now we return you to our regularly scheduled program.

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 3

    “Hey, Brad,” one of the boys asked, “what are we going to do next? I mean, we’ve already had the big game and the parade.”

    “Well, when it gets dark we are going to have a bonfire–”

    “And roast s’mores!” Cherry put in eagerly.

    “But until then,” Brad shrugged. “We could always play some games like monopoly, or freeze tag, or capture the flag.”

    “Hey, yeah, let’s play capture the flag! We could use the whole neighborhood and the yards, and maybe some of the older ones would play too!” the boy’s enthusiasm was catching.

    With a grin, Brad stood up and picked up his paper plate. “I’ll check with Dad, but I think that’d be fun.”

    Mr. Miller had no objection and, after checking with the other adults, gave permission, provided there was to be no going in and out of houses. “And no one is allowed to cross any street but this one. Understood?”

    “Yes, sir,” Brad replied, and hurried off to see if Sgt. Crawford and Mr. Hunter would join them. Much to Brad and the other children’s delight, both agreed to play after everything was cleared off the street. Never had a Thanksgiving feast been cleared away so quickly. Trash bags were filled with paper plates, utensils, cups and napkins. The extra food was divided up and taken to houses, tables were wiped off and then folded and returned to houses, though some ended up in the wrong place and had to be switched a day or so later. All the chairs were also put away, and before long the street was back to normal.

    It was a lively game that followed. The street was declared “no man’s land,” and the only safe place to cross into “enemy territory” without being certain you were seen, was the empty lot where the parade had been organized. Many were the prisoners caught, the daring prison breaks, and the mad rushes back for the safety of your own side. It was growing dark before Sgt. Crawford, with a few select team members, Brad included, managed to slip across the street one at a time under cover of a diversion farther down the street. Once over, they hid for a little while before creeping stealthily around the houses. The flag was found, but before they could hope to get it, they would have to elude the vigil of the two guards who paced the yard three feet from the swing set where the flag rested in the baby swing.

    “If we all rush them together,” Brad whispered, “They’ll just call for help. I think we should try to get closer and then just have two of us appear and try to lead them away.”

    “Good plan,” Sgt. Crawford nodded. “Who volunteers?”

    Brad and two others did. When he wasn’t chosen, Brad was secretly relieved. He wanted to be in on snatching the flag and taking it to victory.

    Before motioning the decoys to leave, Sgt. Crawford gave a few other whispered instructions.

    Moments later, the “guards” were drawn farther from the swing set. Not too far, but far enough to give Sgt. Crawford and his companion time to rush for the flag. Tingling with excitement, Brad remained where he was, motionless, hoping that the growing darkness would hide him from the sharp eyes of any opposing team members.

    Shouts came from the two guards and Brad wished he dared steal a peek around the corner of the air conditioning unit behind which he crouched. Heavy footsteps were coming closer. Was it–? Brad fairly held his breath until a white cloth dropped almost in his lap and the footsteps turned and darted away. More shouts and footsteps. Brad hid the cloth behind his bent knees and watched as two figures from the other side raced past his place of concealment. When the shouts grew distant, he ventured to lean out and glance about. All was still, even the guards had left their post to chase the two who they thought had their flag. Springing to his feet, Brad raced as quickly as he could towards the street, the white flag clutched firmly in his hand. If he could only make it to the street without being seen, he stood a good chance of winning the game. Just before he ventured from between the two houses, he paused. No one was close. With a burst of speed he dashed for the street waving the white flag and shouting “Victory!”

    From everywhere members from both teams seemed to appear, but there was really no contest, for Brad had a head start and crossed the street to safety well ahead of the fastest runner.

    There was much laughter, a few groans, and one or two complaints, but no one paid attention to the latter.

    By six o’clock darkness had settled over the neighborhood. The promised bonfire had been started and everyone was gathered around. Most of the younger ones begged for hot dogs to roast, for they had run off most of their dinner. After the biggest appetites were satisfied, the s’mores were brought out, and soon sticky fingers and chocolate-adorned mouths, gave proof of their enjoyment.

    It was a perfect evening to sit around a fire with friends and family. Mr. Miller started the final event of the day by naming three things he was thankful for. “The Lord Jesus Christ, a wonderful wife and kids, and a neighborhood to enjoy a day with.”

    From his seat beside Trenton, Brad looked up at the sky as one by one each person named three things he or she was thankful for. Without the streetlights on, the stars seemed brighter, closer. The moon, a crescent, shone with unusual luster, and there seemed to be a new hush over the homes and yards all around them. This was a Thanksgiving Brad would never forget. He half wished that next year the power would be out again. “But nothing would quite equal this year,” he mused, watching the sparks shooting up as a few more logs were placed on the fire.

Have you ever had an unusual Thanksgiving?

How was your Thanksgiving?

Are you planning on getting any new books from the sale?

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 2

Good morning, FFFFs,

The rain is pattering lightly on the skylight of my room. I can hear the street-sweeper somewhere in the area. It's colder this morning. Only 37º right now instead of in the 50s. The last few days have been damp and cloudy. I think we're supposed to get sunshine either later today or tomorrow. That will be nice.

I've actually done some writing this week! Are you shocked? I am. ;) I've written every day (except Sunday when I don't write) and am planning to write today and tomorrow. No, I haven't gotten 1k written most days, but even 500 is better than nothing, right? I finished one Christmas story which you probably won't get until next year. Sorry. Now I'm not sure what I'll do. I think I might leave the other unfinished Christmas stories to wait until next year. I still need to write a short story for our Christmas cards. Any ideas? Any Christmas songs you would like to see in a Christian story?

I've also been practicing my violin. We are playing our Thanksgiving song on Sunday. And I finally got music for the two Christmas specials we are planning on doing. The one for the Christmas program is easy which is good since I'll be very busy that evening. ;)

Another thing I'm doing is taking part in Tarissa's Literary Christmas again! This is the 3rd year I've done it. Basically you read Christmas books and review them on your blog, or on Goodreads, or Amazon, then share the title and the link to the review on Tarissa's blog. It's fun to see what sort of Christmas books people read. Oh, and she's doing a giveaway right now. :) All you have to do to enter is read and review a Christmas book, share the link, and there you go. (There are other ways to enter the giveaway too.) Anyway, I hope you'll come join the fun. I'd love to see what books you read. You can get to Tarissa's post by clicking on the image below.

And now for the 2nd part of your Thanksgiving story. I think I need to write a few more Thanksgiving stories. And 4th of July stories, and Valentine's Day stories, and  . . . ;)

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 2

    Brad was frowning. “I don’t know. He’s supposed to be in a sleigh on top of a house, but . . .” Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “The dog house! If we could put it on wheels of some sort, we could cut a cardboard box so it kind of looks like a sleigh and the whole thing can be pulled or pushed.”

    It was an ingenious idea. Brad raced home to ask his dad for a little help in getting the dog house to the lot. One of their neighbors, who had been talking with Mr. Miller when Brad arrived, offered the use of his small gator and flat trailer to put the doghouse and such on. “You can use it if Hunter’ll drive it,” Mr. Johnson agreed. “I don’t want any youngster accidentally running into the next float or dumping Santa Claus into the street.”

    It was almost noon before the “Neighborhood Macy’s Parade” was ready to begin. From all around the neighborhood families and friends gathered in the front yards along the side of the street. The end of the street had been blocked off with bright orange cones, so there was no fear of traffic to interrupt the parade.

    Loud were the cheers when the “floats” began to appear. There was one with pilgrims and Indians. Who cared that the Indian’s feathers were bright blue and pink, or that the pilgrim father’s paper hat blew off and he had to chase it. Next came the “band” consisting of a pot beaten enthusiastically, a kazoo, and a trumpet.

    The onlookers roared with laughter when they beheld Cherry leading on a string an enormous “turkey” who seemed strangely tall considering that its face appeared to be that of Trenton wearing a beak and red floppy comb under his chin. It took only a look at the boots under the yellow paper “feet,” however, to realize that Sgt. Crawford, home from the Marines for several months, was the lower part of the bird. “He’s probably got couch cushions or his pack on his back covered with a cloth,” whispered one lady to her husband amid the laughter.

    “Yep, and I reckon it’s supposed to be one of those balloon things.”

    The “Macy’s” float came next, with a large sign, and a wagon full of stuffed animals, and dolls all sporting fashionable clothes.

    Three bicycle riders came next, followed by a few more ingenious “floats,” but the crowning moment came when “Santa Claus came to town.” No one minded or even commented on the fact that Santa’s legs stuck out the bottom of his sleigh and the toes of his boots were hooked on the edge of the roof so that he wouldn’t fall out. His outfit was splendid, and he sported a beard of white batting which made him sneeze several times as he was carried slowly down the street waving to the people and shouting, “Come to Macy’s and buy your Christmas presents!” This last bit brought down the house, and even the sound of the gator’s engine was drowned out.

    Pulling off the itchy beard, Brad asked, “When is the game, Dad?”

    Mr. Miller chuckled. “Not yet. You’ve got to give everyone a little time to recover from the parade. And besides, aren’t you all hungry yet?”

    “I am!” Rosa exclaimed. “But we can’t eat a Thanksgiving dinner, can we?”

    “Well, not like we usually do, but we’ll eat a feast later in the afternoon. We’ve got three turkeys roasting in roaster ovens powered by a generator Mr. Leeks had. Between all the families, I imagine we’ll have enough to at least taste a bit of turkey. If they don’t get done, or if anyone is still hungry after we eat, they can roast hot dogs.”

    At two o’clock everyone gathered in the “Neighborhood Bowl” behind Mr. Merrik’s house for the big foot ball game. All the players had been divided into two opposing teams: Panthers vs. Cowboys. All around the field chairs had been set up, a few trucks had been parked and more chairs set up in their beds. “To give the impression of stands,” Mr. Miller had told his wife. Since no one had real padding, the game was tag football, but no one minded. One of the men used to work as a referee and he had pulled out his black and white shirt and hung his whistle around his neck.

    At half time the score was 3-1 in favor of the Panthers. Most of the ladies left the game then, as did a few of the men who weren’t playing. The ones who remained, however, cheered every play and shouted encouragement to the younger players until they were hoarse.

    When the game finally ended the Cowboys had managed to win the game by one point at the very end. Brad came off the field rather winded and hot. He found his sisters and brothers waiting for him in the back of their dad’s truck. “Well, I thought we were going to win,” he remarked, reaching for the water bottle Rosa held out to him.

    “But it was a really close game,” Rosa said, waving to a friend who had been sitting on the other side of the field. “Now you have to go get cleaned up so we can eat.”

    Everyone agreed it was a most unusual place for a Thanksgiving dinner, but the middle of their quiet, blocked off street seemed to be the perfect place to put tables and chairs. “Of course, anyone is welcome to sit in the grass or on their porch, if they’d rather,” Mrs. Miller told everyone as they all gathered.

    It wasn’t the traditional Thanksgiving meal most families in America would be partaking of, but it was a feast. The three turkeys had been roasted to perfection and, with the use of three grills, two gas stoves, and two dutch ovens, the ladies had managed to prepare potatoes, both mashed and baked, stuffing, corn, cranberry sauce, and a few other dishes, not to mention the pies which had been baked ahead of time. As for rolls, Mr. Henthorn, who worked at a bakery, had brought home dozens of rolls the evening before, when he had learned of the intended feast. Though there wasn’t enough turkey for everyone to have as much as they might have wanted, no one was hungry by the time the meal was over.

    Brad leaned back in his chair and looked down the length of the street. “It sure is funny to be eating our Thanksgiving meal in the middle of a street.”

    Rosa nodded. “But we wouldn’t have fit anywhere else very well, except for the empty lots, and that would have been a long way to carry all the tables and things.”

If you had to create a float for this parade, what would you do?

Do you enjoy watching or playing football?

Have you started reading Christmas books yet?

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 1

Happy Friday, Favorite Friday Fiction Fans!

It's a beautiful morning! The sun is rising in a clear sky. It is cold (25º) but it's supposed to warm up to the upper 40s or low 50s. A good day to sign papers for a new house. No, not me. My brother and sis-in-law are signing papers for their house this morning. Then this afternoon they are going over to clean or wipe things down. I'll probably be going over too, and I think my sister will. Then tomorrow is moving day. Busy. But fun. The kids are excited.

I wrote a little this week. Enough to finish the Christmas story I'll be sharing next month. It's the story version of the Christmas play I wrote. ;) I wanted to write more, but haven't had the chance.

Sunday was a day my brain worked extra. The beginning of the church service was first, then I went to Children's Church to work with the kids on their play, then back to church for the last half of the sermon, then as soon as church was over I had to switch to the other play to work with the kids on that. Next I had to talk with some of the mom's about practice dates and costumes before rushing off to get in on the last part of choir. Whew! This Sunday won't be quite as crazy since I'll have bells instead of the other play and choir.

I can't believe that today is the half-way point of November! What? How is that even possible? I knew it would be a busy month, but . . . Well, anyway, here's the first part of your Thanksgiving story. :) Hope you enjoy it!

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 1

    The early pre-dawn light was just beginning to spread across the eastern sky, giving a hint to a beautiful Thanksgiving day. The neighborhood was still shrouded in darkness. Not a light shone in any window, giving the impression that no one was awake or that everyone had left town for the holiday. However, the eerily dark streetlights hinted that something more than late sleepers was causing the darkness.

    Inside the Miller home, eleven-year-old Brad shut his Bible and placed it back on the shelf before snapping off his flashlight. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, but when they did, he slipped from his small room and knocked softly on the door across the hall.

    It opened in a minute and his sister appeared.

    “Are you ready?” Brad whispered.

    “Yep.” There was excitement in Rosa’s voice as she turned off her light and tucked it into her pocket.

    Together the siblings hurried down the hall to the stairs. A faint light glimmered from the living room, and Brad and Rosa headed towards it.

    Looking up from his Bible as the children entered, Mr. Miller smiled. “Is it time already?”

    “Yeah, it’s just after six.”

    “Is Mom awake yet?” Rosa asked.

    Mr. Miller nodded. “Yes. She’s going to let the younger ones sleep as late as they want because I don’t think anyone except Molly is going to take a nap today.” As he spoke, Mr. Miller had risen, set his Bible on the table and picked up a camping lantern. “All right, let’s get coats and get to work. Brad, get the posters, Rosa, the papers.”

    The air was brisk as the three figures stepped outside. The soft twitter of a single bird was the only sound to be heard.

    “It sure is quiet without the hum of that streetlight,” Brad whispered.

    “And dark,” Rosa added, shivering.

    The Millers worked quickly, tucking a paper announcing the unusual day’s events, into the front door of each family who was in town. Posters were stapled to light posts. Across the top of these was written in large letters: “Neighborhood Thanksgiving Festival.” Below was a list of events and where they would take place. Though most of the families already knew about the day, the time and place of most of the events hadn’t been announced.

    As they returned to their own home, Brad could hardly wait for everyone to get up. He didn’t even think about the sudden power outage which had knocked out all their original plans for a “normal” Thanksgiving; he was just eager for the fun he knew would be coming.

    Breakfast was hardly over before the excitement and work began. Arrivals at the front door seemed incessant, and Brad and Rosa were kept busy answering questions or directing people to the kitchen to talk with their mom, as she fed baby Molly, or to the back yard where Dad was working.

    At nine o’clock Mr. Miller came inside. “Brad,” he called.

    “Yeah?”

    “I think it might be a good idea to head up to the empty lot and start getting ready for the ‘Macy’s Parade.’ It’s going to take quite a while to get everything ready, I imagine.”

    Brad pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Come on, Rosa!” he shouted.

    Instantly Cherry and Trenton began to beg to go, and Ryan started crying, “Me too! Me too!”

    Turning in despair to his mom, Brad exclaimed, “Mom, I can’t watch the little ones and get a parade ready!”

    Mrs. Miller smiled as she stepped over Molly’s scattered toys. “I know you can’t. Miss Elise and Mr. Hunter said they’d come help when the time came. The younger ones can stay with Miss Elise while you and Mr. Hunter get everything ready and organized.”

    A flurry of jackets were pulled on, and five Miller children raced out the door and up the street to the empty lot which marked the end of their housing development. From nearby homes other children spilled from doors, some dragging wagons or hopping on bikes, others carrying bags or boxes from which trailed fabric of all sorts.

    Everything in the lot was mass confusion for several minutes until Mr. Hunter, a college age young man who was respected by every child in the neighborhood, got everyone’s attention. After that, Brad was able to assign numbers to the various “floats,” and the work of decorating them and dressing up began. There was much laughter over some of the floats, much borrowing of garments, a seemingly constant request for safety pins, and much running back to houses to get thing forgotten or needed.

    “Mr. Hunter,” Brad asked, when everyone was busy, “since this is supposed to be a ‘Macy’s Parade,’ and they always end theirs with a Santa Claus, do you think we can too?”

    With a laugh, Mr. Hunter shrugged. “We can try. We’d have to find a red coat though, unless someone has a Santa suit.”

    “I don’t know of anyone who does. But I’ll ask the kids.” And Brad ran off. He didn’t believe in Santa and knew most of the other kids didn’t either, but the big parade they were copying always had a Santa at the end, and it just wouldn’t be the same without one. There were no Santa suits, but he learned he could get a pair of red snow pants, a red hoodie and a Santa hat. “I still need a black belt, white gloves and black boots,” he panted, running back to Mr. Hunter who had three-year-old Ryan on his shoulders.

    “I can get a black belt for you and you should be able to find some black boots.” He turned to his sister. “Hey, Elise, do you have any white gloves Santa can wear?”

    “Sure. If you’ll keep Trenton with you, Cherry and I’ll run and get them.”

    “And grab my black belt from the closet, will you? Oh, and see if you can locate any black boots,” Mr. Hunter called after her. Then he turned to Brad. “What is Santa going to ride in?”

How was your week?

Did you get any writing done?

Have you ever created your own parade?

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 3

Happy Day-After-Thanksgiving FFFs!
Yeah, I know, I could have said "happy Black Friday" but I didn't want to. :) This morning I woke up to the sound of rain pattering on the roof. Usually I just turn over and go back to sleep until the alarm goes off. But this morning my brain was so busy already that real sound sleep was impossible. I was thinking off all the things I needed to tell you, new decorating ideas for the house, my list of "to-do" projects, projects that I think would be so much fun, things I need to clean up, deadlines for other things, what was going on today . . . and the list went on. So, on that note, I'm going to start my list of what I needed to tell you.

• I posted about a sale of books on Read Another Page, so go check it out. And no, sorry, I don't have my books listed on there this year.

• Since December starts next week, you might want to keep checking this blog because you never know just when I'll post something. And I have plans . . . :)

• If you were hoping for a Black Friday sale of my books, sorry, I didn't get one ready, but December is coming. I'm planning on on some sales and giveaways either here or on my Read Another Page blog between now and Christmas, so stay tuned.

• Perhaps you don't want to wait for a sale, well, I have a special offer for you from Amazon. If you'd like to get a paperback copy of any of my books (or any other books) here is a 30% off any book code.

• My new book "Through the Tunnel" is now published. You can  use that 30% off to get it if you just can't wait any longer. :)

Well, I think that was all the list I had to tell you. I hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving! Enjoy the last part of

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 3

    “Hey, Brad,” one of the boys asked, “what are we going to do next? I mean, we’ve already had the big game and the parade.”
    “Well, when it gets dark we are going to have a bonfire–”
    “And roast s’mores!” Cherry put in eagerly.
    “But until then,” Brad shrugged. “We could always play some games like monopoly, or freeze tag, or capture the flag.”
    “Hey, yeah, let’s play capture the flag! We could use the whole neighborhood and the yards, and maybe some of the older ones would play too!” the boy’s enthusiasm was catching.
    With a grin, Brad stood up and picked up his paper plate. “I’ll check with Dad, but I think that’d be fun.”
    Mr. Miller had no objection and, after checking with the other adults, gave permission, provided there was to be no going in and out of houses. “And no one is allowed to cross any street but this one. Understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” Brad replied, and hurried off to see if Sgt. Crawford and Mr. Hunter would join them. Much to Brad and the other children’s delight, both agreed to play after everything was cleared off the street. Never had a Thanksgiving feast been cleared away so quickly. Trash bags were filled with paper plates, utensils, cups and napkins. The extra food was divided up and taken to houses, tables were wiped off and then folded and returned to houses, though some ended up in the wrong place and had to be switched a day or so later. All the chairs were also put away, and before long the street was back to normal.
    It was a lively game that followed. The street was declared “no man’s land,” and the only safe place to cross into “enemy territory” without being certain you were seen, was the empty lot where the parade had been organized. Many were the prisoners caught, the daring prison breaks, and the mad rushes back for the safety of your own side. It was growing dark before Sgt. Crawford, with a few select team members, Brad included, managed to slip across the street one at a time under cover of a diversion farther down the street. Once over, they hid for a little while before creeping stealthily around the houses. The flag was found, but before they could hope to get it, they would have to elude the vigil of the two guards who paced the yard three feet from the swing set where the flag rested in the baby swing.
    “If we all rush them together,” Brad whispered, “They’ll just call for help. I think we should try to get closer and then just have two of us appear and try to lead them away.”
    “Good plan,” Sgt. Crawford nodded. “Who volunteers?”
    Brad and two others did. When he wasn’t chosen, Brad was secretly relieved. He wanted to be in on snatching the flag and taking it to victory.
    Before motioning the decoys to leave, Sgt. Crawford gave a few other whispered instructions.
    Moments later, the “guards” were drawn farther from the swing set. Not too far, but far enough to give Sgt. Crawford and his companion time to rush for the flag. Tingling with excitement, Brad remained where he was, motionless, hoping that the growing darkness would hide him from the sharp eyes of any opposing team members.
    Shouts came from the two guards and Brad wished he dared steal a peek around the corner of the air conditioning unit behind which he crouched. Heavy footsteps were coming closer. Was it–? Brad fairly held his breath until a white cloth dropped almost in his lap and the footsteps turned and darted away. More shouts and footsteps. Brad hid the cloth behind his bent knees and watched as two figures from the other side raced past his place of concealment. When the shouts grew distant, he ventured to lean out and glance about. All was still, even the guards had left their post to chase the two who they thought had their flag. Springing to his feet, Brad raced as quickly as he could towards the street, the white flag clutched firmly in his hand. If he could only make it to the street without being seen, he stood a good chance of winning the game. Just before he ventured from between the two houses, he paused. No one was close. With a burst of speed he dashed for the street waving the white flag and shouting “Victory!”
    From everywhere members from both teams seemed to appear, but there was really no contest, for Brad had a head start and crossed the street to safety well ahead of the fastest runner.
    There was much laughter, a few groans, and one or two complaints, but no one paid attention to the latter.

    By six o’clock darkness had settled over the neighborhood. The promised bonfire had been started and everyone was gathered around. Most of the younger ones begged for hot dogs to roast, for they had run off most of their dinner. After the biggest appetites were satisfied, the s’mores were brought out, and soon sticky fingers and chocolate-adorned mouths, gave proof of their enjoyment.
    It was a perfect evening to sit around a fire with friends and family. Mr. Miller started the final event of the day by naming three things he was thankful for. “The Lord Jesus Christ, a wonderful wife and kids, and a neighborhood to enjoy a day with.”
    From his seat beside Trenton, Brad looked up at the sky as one by one each person named three things he or she was thankful for. Without the streetlights on, the stars seemed brighter, closer. The moon, a crescent, shone with unusual luster, and there seemed to be a new hush over the homes and yards all around them. This was a Thanksgiving Brad would never forget. He half wished that next year the power would be out again. “But nothing would quite equal this year,” he mused, watching the sparks shooting up as a few more logs were placed on the fire.

Do you like playing Capture the Flag?

What was your favorite part about Thanksgiving this year?

Will you be hanging around in December?

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 2

Good morning!
In some ways it feels like it should be Friday because it seems like quite a while ago since I posted last. But on the other hand, it doesn't seem possible that it could be Friday the 20th! Does anyone else feel like the days are going by much too quickly?

It's been a good writing week for me. I have not written this much in one week since the beginning of April! Yeah. Crazy. If I can write tonight and tomorrow night I may set a new record. Perhaps I'll even get ten thousand words written. I've never written that many in one week before. It sure would be fun. And if I did, I would hope that would mean I could finally get this Christmas story finished. It's already 13 parts long. And now I have an idea for another Christmas story. Though I really hope this one will be shorter. :P

Update on Through the Tunnel:
I only have one more person, my sister, who has to finish reading this book. But she can't get to it until Sunday as she's way too busy sewing. I got the cover fixed and uploaded last night. Hopefully it will be right this time. I'm going to work on making corrections on the interior hopefully today or tomorrow. And there is a chance that the book will be available on Amazon by next Friday. Anyone excited?

And now I'll let you get to your story. Enjoy!

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 2

    Brad was frowning. “I don’t know. He’s supposed to be in a sleigh on top of a house, but . . .” Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “The dog house! If we could put it on wheels of some sort, we could cut a cardboard box so it kind of looks like a sleigh and the whole thing can be pulled or pushed.”
    It was an ingenious idea. Brad raced home to ask his dad for a little help in getting the dog house to the lot. One of their neighbors, who had been talking with Mr. Miller when Brad arrived, offered the use of his small gator and flat trailer to put the doghouse and such on. “You can use it if Hunter’ll drive it,” Mr. Johnson agreed. “I don’t want any youngster accidentally running into the next float or dumping Santa Claus into the street.”

    It was almost noon before the “Neighborhood Macy’s Parade” was ready to begin. From all around the neighborhood families and friends gathered in the front yards along the side of the street. The end of the street had been blocked off with bright orange cones, so there was no fear of traffic to interrupt the parade.
    Loud were the cheers when the “floats” began to appear. There was one with pilgrims and Indians. Who cared that the Indian’s feathers were bright blue and pink, or that the pilgrim father’s paper hat blew off and he had to chase it. Next came the “band” consisting of a pot beaten enthusiastically, a kazoo, and a trumpet.
    The onlookers roared with laughter when they beheld Cherry leading on a string an enormous “turkey” who seemed strangely tall considering that its face appeared to be that of Trenton wearing a beak and red floppy comb under his chin. It took only a look at the boots under the yellow paper “feet,” however, to realize that Sgt. Crawford, home from the Marines for several months, was the lower part of the bird. “He’s probably got couch cushions or his pack on his back covered with a cloth,” whispered one lady to her husband amid the laughter.
    “Yep, and I reckon it’s supposed to be one of those balloon things.”
    The “Macy’s” float came next, with a large sign, and a wagon full of stuffed animals, and dolls all sporting fashionable clothes.
    Three bicycle riders came next, followed by a few more ingenious “floats,” but the crowning moment came when “Santa Claus came to town.” No one minded or even commented on the fact that Santa’s legs stuck out the bottom of his sleigh and the toes of his boots were hooked on the edge of the roof so that he wouldn’t fall out. His outfit was splendid, and he sported a beard of white batting which made him sneeze several times as he was carried slowly down the street waving to the people and shouting, “Come to Macy’s and buy your Christmas presents!” This last bit brought down the house, and even the sound of the gator’s engine was drowned out.

    Pulling off the itchy beard, Brad asked, “When is the game, Dad?”
    Mr. Miller chuckled. “Not yet. You’ve got to give everyone a little time to recover from the parade. And besides, aren’t you all hungry yet?”
    “I am!” Rosa exclaimed. “But we can’t eat a Thanksgiving dinner, can we?”
    “Well, not like we usually do, but we’ll eat a feast later in the afternoon. We’ve got three turkeys roasting in roaster ovens powered by a generator Mr. Leeks had. Between all the families, I imagine we’ll have enough to at least taste a bit of turkey. If they don’t get done, or if anyone is still hungry after we eat, they can roast hot dogs.”

    At two o’clock everyone gathered in the “Neighborhood Bowl” behind Mr. Merrik’s house for the big foot ball game. All the players had been divided into two opposing teams: Panthers vs. Cowboys. All around the field chairs had been set up, a few trucks had been parked and more chairs set up in their beds. “To give the impression of stands,” Mr. Miller had told his wife. Since no one had real padding, the game was tag football, but no one minded. One of the men used to work as a referee and he had pulled out his black and white shirt and hung his whistle around his neck.
    At half time the score was 3-1 in favor of the Panthers. Most of the ladies left the game then, as did a few of the men who weren’t playing. The ones who remained, however, cheered every play and shouted encouragement to the younger players until they were hoarse.
    When the game finally ended the Cowboys had managed to win the game by one point at the very end. Brad came off the field rather winded and hot. He found his sisters and brothers waiting for him in the back of their dad’s truck. “Well, I thought we were going to win,” he remarked, reaching for the water bottle Rosa held out to him.
    “But it was a really close game,” Rosa said, waving to a friend who had been sitting on the other side of the field. “Now you have to go get cleaned up so we can eat.”

    Everyone agreed it was a most unusual place for a Thanksgiving dinner, but the middle of their quiet, blocked off street seemed to be the perfect place to put tables and chairs. “Of course, anyone is welcome to sit in the grass or on their porch, if they’d rather,” Mrs. Miller told everyone as they all gathered.
    It wasn’t the traditional Thanksgiving meal most families in America would be partaking of, but it was a feast. The three turkeys had been roasted to perfection and, with the use of three grills, two gas stoves, and two dutch ovens, the ladies had managed to prepare potatoes, both mashed and baked, stuffing, corn, cranberry sauce, and a few other dishes, not to mention the pies which had been baked ahead of time. As for rolls, Mr. Henthorn, who worked at a bakery, had brought home dozens of rolls the evening before, when he had learned of the intended feast. Though there wasn’t enough turkey for everyone to have as much as they might have wanted, no one was hungry by the time the meal was over.
    Brad leaned back in his chair and looked down the length of the street. “It sure is funny to be eating our Thanksgiving meal in the middle of a street.”
    Rosa nodded. “But we wouldn’t have fit anywhere else very well, except for the empty lots, and that would have been a long way to carry all the tables and things.”

Have you ever eaten in the middle of a street before?

Do you like playing football?

Are you excited about "Through the Tunnel"?

Thanksgiving Makeover - Part 1

Hello FFFs,
What's the weather like at your place? It's chilly here right now. But it was warmer this week and on Wednesday we thought we might blow away because the wind was so strong and it blew nearly all day from the south. After dark it switched around and blew from the north dropping the temperature quite a bit. Right now the sun is coming up and it's pretty calm and still outside. Most of the leaves still on the trees blew off in the wind and the ground is now thickly spread with a crunchy carpet.

Last night my grandpa and I went to a concert. It was lovely except that for some reason they were running the air conditioning! Everyone was freezing most of the first half. We listened to a violin, clarinet and piano trio. The violin was a Stradivarius! I forgot what year she said it was, but the tone was incredible!

I have been writing. Some. On Monday and Tuesday. I was gone to work in the nursery at church Wednesday night and last night was the concert and tonight I'm going to babysit my youngest niece and nephews. So . . . Maybe tomorrow night.

I don't have any update on "Through the Tunnel." I'm still waiting for the proof copy to arrive. Perhaps it will come today. I was hoping for yesterday but forgot the mail didn't run on Wednesday.

If you haven't read my blog post on Read Another Page, you might want to check it out. Especially if you have never read my book "Home Fires of the Great War." If you have read it and you haven't left a review on Amazon, I'd love to read what you think of the book.

And now I will give you the first part of this Thanksgiving story. It's a different kind of story. I can't decide if I like it or not. I'll leave that up for you to decide.

Thanksgiving Makeover

Part 1

    The early pre-dawn light was just beginning to spread across the eastern sky, giving a hint to a beautiful Thanksgiving day. The neighborhood was still shrouded in darkness. Not a light shone in any window, giving the impression that no one was awake or that everyone had left town for the holiday. However, the eerily dark streetlights hinted that something more than late sleepers was causing the darkness.
    Inside the Miller home, eleven-year-old Brad shut his Bible and placed it back on the shelf before snapping off his flashlight. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the gloom, but when they did, he slipped from his small room and knocked softly on the door across the hall.
    It opened in a minute and his sister appeared.
    “Are you ready?” Brad whispered.
    “Yep.” There was excitement in Rosa’s voice as she turned off her light and tucked it into her pocket.
    Together the siblings hurried down the hall to the stairs. A faint light glimmered from the living room, and Brad and Rosa headed towards it.
    Looking up from his Bible as the children entered, Mr. Miller smiled. “Is it time already?”
    “Yeah, it’s just after six.”
    “Is Mom awake yet?” Rosa asked.
    Mr. Miller nodded. “Yes. She’s going to let the younger ones sleep as late as they want because I don’t think anyone except Molly is going to take a nap today.” As he spoke, Mr. Miller had risen, set his Bible on the table and picked up a camping lantern. “All right, let’s get coats and get to work. Brad, get the posters, Rosa, the papers.”
    The air was brisk as the three figures stepped outside. The soft twitter of a single bird was the only sound to be heard.
    “It sure is quiet without the hum of that streetlight,” Brad whispered.
    “And dark,” Rosa added, shivering.
    The Millers worked quickly, tucking a paper announcing the unusual day’s events, into the front door of each family who was in town. Posters were stapled to light posts. Across the top of these was written in large letters: “Neighborhood Thanksgiving Festival.” Below was a list of events and where they would take place. Though most of the families already knew about the day, the time and place of most of the events hadn’t been announced.
    As they returned to their own home, Brad could hardly wait for everyone to get up. He didn’t even think about the sudden power outage which had knocked out all their original plans for a “normal” Thanksgiving; he was just eager for the fun he knew would be coming.

    Breakfast was hardly over before the excitement and work began. Arrivals at the front door seemed incessant, and Brad and Rosa were kept busy answering questions or directing people to the kitchen to talk with their mom, as she fed baby Molly, or to the back yard where Dad was working.
    At nine o’clock Mr. Miller came inside. “Brad,” he called.
    “Yeah?”
    “I think it might be a good idea to head up to the empty lot and start getting ready for the ‘Macy’s Parade.’ It’s going to take quite a while to get everything ready, I imagine.”
    Brad pumped his fist in the air. “Yes! Come on, Rosa!” he shouted.
    Instantly Cherry and Trenton began to beg to go, and Ryan started crying, “Me too! Me too!”
    Turning in despair to his mom, Brad exclaimed, “Mom, I can’t watch the little ones and get a parade ready!”
    Mrs. Miller smiled as she stepped over Molly’s scattered toys. “I know you can’t. Miss Elise and Mr. Hunter said they’d come help when the time came. The younger ones can stay with Miss Elise while you and Mr. Hunter get everything ready and organized.”
    A flurry of jackets were pulled on, and five Miller children raced out the door and up the street to the empty lot which marked the end of their housing development. From nearby homes other children spilled from doors, some dragging wagons or hopping on bikes, others carrying bags or boxes from which trailed fabric of all sorts.
    Everything in the lot was mass confusion for several minutes until Mr. Hunter, a college age young man who was respected by every child in the neighborhood, got everyone’s attention. After that, Brad was able to assign numbers to the various “floats,” and the work of decorating them and dressing up began. There was much laughter over some of the floats, much borrowing of garments, a seemingly constant request for safety pins, and much running back to houses to get thing forgotten or needed.
    “Mr. Hunter,” Brad asked, when everyone was busy, “since this is supposed to be a ‘Macy’s Parade,’ and they always end theirs with a Santa Claus, do you think we can too?”
    With a laugh, Mr. Hunter shrugged. “We can try. We’d have to find a red coat though, unless someone has a Santa suit.”
    “I don’t know of anyone who does. But I’ll ask the kids.” And Brad ran off. He didn’t believe in Santa and knew most of the other kids didn’t either, but the big parade they were copying always had a Santa at the end, and it just wouldn’t be the same without one. There were no Santa suits, but he learned he could get a pair of red snow pants, a red hoodie and a Santa hat. “I still need a black belt, white gloves and black boots,” he panted, running back to Mr. Hunter who had three-year-old Ryan on his shoulders.
    “I can get a black belt for you and you should be able to find some black boots.” He turned to his sister. “Hey, Elise, do you have any white gloves Santa can wear?”
    “Sure. If you’ll keep Trenton with you, Cherry and I’ll run and get them.”
    “And grab my black belt from the closet, will you? Oh, and see if you can locate any black boots,” Mr. Hunter called after her. Then he turned to Brad. “What is Santa going to ride in?”

What would you make "Santa" ride in?

Have you ever made a parade?

Have you ever had a holiday without electricity?

My Best T - Part 5

Happy Thanksgiving, FFFs!
I hope you are all enjoying Black Friday. :P Who first came up with the idea to have great sales the day after Thanksgiving? And who named the day "Black Friday"?

What have I done this past week? I did extra cleaning. You know, those things that get done once a year. I suppose they would be "spring cleaning" jobs only we seem to do them just before we decorate for Christmas. (Oh, now I can put on the Christmas music! :D ) A friend came over and spent several hours on Tuesday. That was fun since I haven't seen her for months. My grandparents came Wednesday and that is when we had our Thanksgiving Feast. My brother, Sis-in-law and the kiddos came over and we had a wonderful day. The weather was perfect so the kids got to play outside. They rode bikes before we ate, and Pickle Puss and Goofball discovered that they can just about ride their bikes without training wheels! I'm sure Funny Boy won't be far behind. And of course Doodle Bug loves to climb on the trike and sit there until you push him. ;)
We got some family pictures taken after we ate and then the kids got to play in the leaves. We have a lot of trees in the yard and a huge swing. When other friends come over, they love to rake the leaves into a huge pile and then jump off the swing into them. Well, on Wednesday, the kiddos got to try it. They loved it! Doodle Bug rolled, jumped, laughed and had a wonderful time in those leaves even if he was half asleep. At one point he sat down, I covered him most of the way up and he put his little head down like he was going to go to sleep. :) The older three enjoyed them just as much. It took Funny Boy a little while to get up enough courage to actually jump off the swing, but then he really liked it.
Yesterday, Thanksgiving, was a quieter day. No little ones. My grandpa, mom and I opened 40+ boxes and sorted the things to be ready for Light of Faith's Black Friday sale.
Today we'll help pull things for orders. So, if you ordered from Light of Faith and ordered anything of the Melissa & Doug toys, puzzles or craft things, chances are good that I helped pull your order. :)

As far as writing, I've gotten some done. Not as much as sometimes, but I have been busy. Grandparents leave this afternoon, so I might get to write this evening. We'll see. Tomorrow one of my Heart-Sisters is coming over and will spend the night, so I won't be writing then. :) Decorating starts tomorrow! Another Heart-Sis and their parents come on Sunday along with my brother and his family. I'll try to get some pictures of the end results. :)
Until then, I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoy this last part of

My Best Thanksgiving

    We were back on the road again. I really hoped we wouldn’t have any more trouble because I wanted to get to Grandma and Grandpa’s. Besides, Jason and Vicki were growing rather grumpy from being in the van so long. Carol started us singing and we sang every song we could think of from “When the Saints Go Marching In,” to “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” to “Jesus Loves Me” to “Yellow Rose of Texas.” We were hoarse and hungry when we finally stopped. Since we had expected to be at Grandma’s for supper, we hadn’t packed anything. That meant we had to stop and pick up Taco Bell. We almost never ate out, so that was a treat.
    Lee ate quickly and then drove so Dad could eat. However, when it began to grow dark, they switched again. Mom found a classical radio station to listen to and everyone settled down. We all had our pillows with us and I propped mine up so I could lean back and watch the stars until eventually I fell asleep.
    I only half woke up when we arrived at Grandma’s around midnight and stumbled upstairs to bed. We always slept in the same rooms when we came so no one had to be told where to go. This time I didn’t have to share a bed with Jason.

    The tantalizing smell of cinnamon rolls mingling with whiffs of roasting turkey roused me in the morning. Ginger was the only other one up besides Grandma and Grandpa when I came down to the kitchen.
    Grandma greeted me with a hug. “Reagan Rowe, you’ve grown at least two inches since I saw you last,” she exclaimed, holding me off and looking me up and down.
    “But he’s as skinny as a rail like he’s always been,” Grandpa laughed, hugging me next. “Don’t they feed you anything down in Texas?” Grandpa loved to tease. “Here Grandma,” he said, “feed this beanstalk before he gets so thin he just disappears.”
    And so the day began. Grandma’s cinnamon rolls were the best I’ve had even to this day and they were the perfect start to the day.
    Around ten, my aunts, uncles and cousins started arriving, each family bringing something to add to our mid-afternoon meal. While we waited for the hour for feasting to finally arrive, the cousins dispersed here and there to play, visit and enjoy being together. My family was the only one from out of state, so it it was always special when we came. But not only was I the middle child, I was also the middle cousin, and more often than not I’d be more inclined to wander alone then join a game of Monopoly, Careers or Uno. That day was no different.
    Grabbing my camera, I pulled on my heavy jacket, for the sky was overcast and the wind nippy, and went outside. It had been dark out when we had arrived the night before so I hadn’t noticed the wagon in the side yard. Grandpa had this old wagon that he used just for fun things like hay rides or in parades or to go on picnics and things like that, and it was usually stored in the barn, but that day it was out. I wandered over.

The wheels had been painted a golden yellow recently and the back of the wagon was piled with orange pumpkins and yellow and green squash. Hay bales were set about the wagon with buckets of Grandma’s mums here and there with a few more pumpkins and squash scattered about while golden brown cornstalks, gathered together, were leaning against the wagon. A large bow of orange and black held together cornstalks entwined with autumn leaves. This hung from the back of the wagon. It was lovely. I knew there would be family pictures taken there later, but right then I didn’t want any people in the picture. I wanted to capture it just the way it was.
    The large bell hanging just outside the kitchen door began to ring loudly announcing the feast we had all been waiting for. There was a mad scramble for the side door (We weren’t allowed to use the kitchen door.), and coats, jackets and boots were hurriedly pulled off and tossed aside. We’d pick them up later.
    In the large dining room were two long tables. One was for the younger cousins and the other was for the older folks. As usual, I headed over to the younger table, but Grandpa stopped me.
    “No, Ray, you aren’t a child any more. You join us here.”
    I couldn’t find any words but looked from Grandpa to Dad. Did he really mean it? Dad was smiling.
    “Yes, Ray, you proved yourself on this trip and you can be considered one of the older ones now.”
    Still not finding my voice, I just smiled. Sitting at the grown-up’s table was an honor and I knew what things I’d say I was thankful for.
    Before Grandma and the older girl cousins brings out the food, each person has five kernels of dried corn placed on their plate. Then one of the cousins quotes the poem “Five Kernels of Corn.” It’s a poem about the first winter in America when the pilgrims only had enough food to give each person five kernels of corn for a meal. After the poem is finished, a basket is passed around and each person drops his corn in and says five things he is thankful for.
    When it was my turn I dropped my corn in and said, “I’m thankful I got to help Lee pack the trailer, for a dust storm to make me appreciate the lovely weather here, police officers who are always ready to help, for the best Thanksgiving ever and,” I paused and glanced about the room at all my relatives and family. “And I’m thankful for the memories I’ll never forget of our trip, this day and everyone here!”
    This was Thanksgiving. A full, rich harvest, plenty to eat, a family to share it with and knowing I was growing up. I thought back over the trip from Texas to Virginia and all our delays. That dust storm had caused me to appreciate the fresh, crisp air about me like I had never done before. And the flat tire, the nights crowded into hotel rooms, hours and hours stuck in the van together, that is what memories are made from. Memories are things to be thankful for. Memories to hold in your heart forever, to pull out again and relive year after year. Memories of a Thanksgiving I’ll always remember.

Did you enjoy this story?

Come back next week for the start of "A Christmas Disaster."

What kind of things would you like me to post in December?

Poems, really short stories, recipes, book reviews, pictures, . . . ?

My Best T - Part 4

A Fantastic Friday to all my Faithful Friday Fiction Fans!
I'm loving this chilly weather! The leaves are just about all off the trees, the sun is coming up and the sky is clear. I can hear the chirps and twitters of birds out on the bird feeders as well as the traffic on Broadway. I've often wondered what it would be like to live so far out in the country that you don't hear the sounds of traffic each morning and evening (and all during the day).

This week was much more relaxing than the weeks have been. :) I've gotten to read which is so delightful. I had my last writing classes of the year on Wednesday. Yesterday I checked most of the papers and figured out grades for two classes. Mom and I have been cleaning out, organizing, rearranging and getting rid of things. Several rooms look so much better! And today I'm going to be doing those extra cleaning things that seldom get done, like cleaning the ceiling fans and lights, washing screens and things like that.

Writing: Ah yes. I have written. In fact, I finished the Christmas story I was working on and it is now on my proofer's desk. Then, inspired by a calendar picture that none of my older students chose, I began yet another Christmas story. I'm hoping to keep this one under 5,000 words. My last one was 7,000 words long! Yeah I know, that means 7 times to post it, so pay attention on the 30th. I'd like to get back in to some of my other longer stories, but not right now.

Here is the next part of the Thanksgiving story. I hope you all enjoy it.

My Best Thanksgiving - Part 4

    “Well, as to that, I’m not sure if they could see any better’n I can, but if some young person wants to try, I’ll not object, will you Peggy?”
    Mrs. Peggy shook her head. “I’d feel better if it was someone else and that’s a fact.”
    “All right. Someone will be here in a minute. You ready, Ray?”
    I had pulled down those goggles, pulled up my bandana and nodded. I said a quick good bye to the old couple and then followed Lee back out into the dust.
    I don’t care if someone did say the wind was abating; it didn’t seem like it at all, as I was practically blown across the road. Together Dad, Lee and I made our way back to the side door on the van and climbed in.
    We were all coughing, but Dad and Lee were doing it the worst. Carol and Ginger quickly helped untie our bandanas while Mom opened bottles of water for each of us. That water sure tasted good, but it took a long time before all the grittiness was gone from my mouth.
    Mom insisted she drive and Dad sank into the passenger seat still coughing some.
    “You’re dirty!” Jason observed from the back.
    I think we knew that. All I wanted then was a hot shower, and I’m sure Dad and Lee longed for that even more than I did. After all, they had been out in the storm a lot longer than I had.
    Slowly Mom started off. She doesn’t usually like to drive the van when we are pulling the trailer, but this time she knew Dad was exhausted.

    We stopped at a truck stop so the three of us could shower and change while Mom and the girls and Jason got the van cleaned up. The outside didn’t really matter, but the inside where we had sat was filthy.
    Clean clothes had never felt better. Lee said he actually felt human again.

    That night was spent in a hotel. We had two rooms, one for the girls and one for Mom and Dad and us three boys. I shared a bed with Jason. At least until I woke up freezing in the middle of the night. Jason had taken all the covers and had rolled so much in them that I couldn’t pull any back. He had also decided to sleep with his feet in my ribs. Finally I grabbed my pillow and, finding the extra blanket Lee hadn’t wanted for his roll-a-way, lay down in the little space between the bed and the wall.
    I slept fine there but Mom got frightened in the morning because she didn’t see me and thought I had walked in my sleep.

    Our second day of travel went much smoother than the first. Dad and Lee took turns driving. I used some of my paper to write down the license plates we saw. Carol used a few pieces to play games of tic-tac-toe with Emmy, and Ginger used some to draw pictures on and write down the story Vicki dictated to her. I wish I still had a copy of Vicki’s story because it was all about the dust storm and I remember it was rather good for a seven-year-old.

    Wednesday morning Dad called Grandma and Grandpa to tell them we’d be much later than we had thought because of the delays. He said he didn’t know when we’d get in.
    The trees along the way were gorgeous: flaming red, golden yellow, deep green and rustic brown. The sky was a deep blue with a few scattered clouds piled here and there. We made a game of imagining what the clouds looked like and then creating a story to go with them. When we stopped for breaks the air was brisk and invigorating. You know how it is when you have to ride in the car for hours, you want to run and explore. Well, since we were already later than we had hoped to be, Dad kept our breaks short but saw to it that we ran each time we got out of the van. We finished listening to the book on tape that we had brought and turned on the music.
    It was mid afternoon when our next delay happened. Dad was driving and Mom was in the front too. Everyone else had been sleeping for a while when the van began to bump and jolt.
    “Honey,” Mom said, “I think you’d better pull over.”
    Dad had already slowed down and pulled off on the shoulder. It was a busy highway, so he turned his flashers on and got out on Mom’s side of the road.
    A minute later he put his head in and announced, “Flat tire. Lee, how hard is it going to be to get the spare?
    “Not long. I put it in the back of the trailer on the side.”
    The younger three started to beg to get out and Mom sent Carol and Ginger to take them into the empty field to run off their energy. Jason especially needed to run. I stayed around to help get the tire out of the trailer. A police car pulled up behind us and then put some cones out to make the traffic move to the other lane since the flat was on the driver’s side.
    Dad and Lee had some hard work getting the tire changed. The officer and I had some time to talk, and he even let me listen to some of the calls coming in over his radio and explained some things. Finally the tire was changed and the flat tire loaded in the trailer. Then Dad sent me to find Mom and the others. (Some time during the changing of the tire, Mom had strolled off across the field with the others.) It sure felt great to run.

Will you be back next week for the final part of this story?

My Best T - Part 3

Good Morning FFFs,
I'm home again and I'm tired. We slept in this morning, so I don't have much time to write. There were lots of late nights and early mornings and very busy days at AGC, but it was a great group. It was also the largest camp we've had. Even if we didn't win, we made a difference in the polls and turned out more voters in Jasper County that usual.

Now that AGC is over, I'll be getting back into writing, teaching my last writing classes next week and working on some other projects that I'd had to put on hold until after the elections. We have to clean the house today! It needs it.

I hope you enjoy the next part of this Thanksgiving story.

My Best Thanksgiving

Part - 3

    “Dad!” Lee exclaimed suddenly, “There’s a car over there with flashing lights.”
    Sure enough, as we crept closer, we could see a car with its flashers on pulled over on the opposite side of the road. I pressed my face to the window wondering why they had stopped.
    “Dad, they have a flat tire! We have to help them. It’s some older people!” I had seen an older man trying to make his way to the back of the car. Probably to get a spare tire.
    “Ray’s right,” Carol added. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”
    Dad didn’t say anything until he had pulled the van and trailer far enough ahead so that there was plenty of room for traffic to pass by and had turned his flashers on. “Lee, Ray, get something to tie over your nose and mouth.”
    I was surprised to find myself once again included with Lee. Quickly I pulled out my handkerchief, folded it in a triangle and let Ginger tie it about my face.
    “I wish we had safety glasses,” Dad said to Mom as he tied his handkerchief about his own face.
    “I think we have one pair in the emergency kit,” Mom replied, opening the glove compartment and pulling out the kit. She was right. One pair of safety glasses was stashed there.
    “I have my swimming glasses,” Vicki piped up from the back seat.
    “Why do you have swimming goggles?” Carol asked, laughing.
    “Case we go swimming.” Vicki’s voice was incredulous.
    “See if you can wear them, Ray,” Dad instructed and the goggles were passed up to me. They were a little snug, but they would work. Now Lee was the only one without eye protection of some sort.
    That’s when I had an idea.
    “Don’t we have some packing tape?” I asked, ripping out two pages from my notebook.
    Ginger pulled a box from under the seat and produced the tape. She caught on to what I was going to do and hurriedly helped me.
    “What are you doing, Ray?” Dad asked.
    “Making Lee some glasses.”
    In moments they were ready. True, they looked rather like those square 3-D glasses you get to read comic books or something, but instead of colored plastic in the middle, Ginger had put packing tape on the front and the back. Lee looked really funny when he put them on, but he said he could see.
    Dad instructed everyone else to stay in the van and to keep the windows shut. Then, using the side door on the right, we quickly climbed out and made our way back down the road.
    The wind was strong, but I didn’t realize just how strong until we rounded the back corner of the trailer. I could hardly keep my eyes open enough to see anything even though I had on Vicki’s goggles, for the dust was blowing so hard that my eyes just closed instinctively. Since there was no traffic, at least none close enough for us to see anyway, we staggered across the road, bending almost double just to make headway against the wind. Lee kept a hold on my jacket and helped me along. Even with our bandanas over our mouths and noses, the dust got in and I started coughing some.
    We reached the car and heard really bad coughing coming from the back. There was the man, an elderly man, bent over the open trunk of his car, coughing and coughing.
    “Ray!” Dad had to shout to be heard. “Help him back inside the car, get in with him and give him some water.” He shoved a water bottle into my jacket pocket.
    The man seemed more than willing to get back in the car, and I climbed in the back and shut the door. The instant relief from the dust and wind was wonderful and I pulled off the goggles and my handkerchief.
    “Here,” I gasped, coughing a little and clearing my throat, which felt dry, and handing the water to the older man. “Have some water. It should help.”
    The man’s hand shook as he raised the bottle and took a drink.
    There was a gritty, grimy feeling in my mouth, and I longed for some water too, but knew the man needed it more than I did.
    “Horace, are you okay?” It was the little, old lady in the passenger seat who asked the question.
    After another long drink of water, a vigorous blowing of his nose and several deep throat clearings, the man was able to reply. “Yep, thanks to this young fella. But we need to get that tire changed.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I put in, afraid he might again venture out into the dust storm, “My dad and brother are working on it.”
    The older couple, Horace and Peggy, fell to talking and asking questions so that it was a little while before I notice the red and blue flashing lights before us on the road and more behind us. From where I was, I couldn’t see if the vehicles were police cars or what, only the eery flashing colors. I wondered how long we would be stuck out there and how long the storm would last.
    Eventually someone knocked on my door, opened it and slid in. I couldn’t tell who it was except for the paper glasses he wore, for his face, his hands, in fact everything on him was black. He coughed some and then said, “Your tire is changed and the police are going to see that you make it safely home. They said the storm seems to be lessening. Do you need someone to drive your car?”
    “Well, as to that, I’m not sure if they could see any better’n I can, but if some young person wants to try, I’ll not object, will you Peggy?”
    Mrs. Peggy shook her head. “I’d feel better if it was someone else and that’s a fact.”
    “All right. Someone will be here in a minute. You ready, Ray?”

Comments or Questions?

Will you be back next week?

My Best T - Part 2

Hello FFFs,
I'm writing this a week before you'll read it because when you do read it I'll be much too busy to post. :) AGC will be in full force. Who knows which team I'll be with. (I'm Staff) And we'll be doing lots and lots of lit drops, phone calls and sign waving! Some of my regular readers will be with us. :) I wish the rest of you could come too, but you can pray for us and if you are of age to vote, DON'T FORGET! If you aren't old enough to vote, remind your parents. And if you live in Missouri, please, please, support Todd Akin in the polls!

My Best Thanksgiving - Part 2

    After we’d dressed and had our quiet time with our Bibles, Lee and I headed downstairs to help Dad load the trailer. He wasn’t up.
    “Come on, Ray,” Lee whispered, jerking his head towards the door, “we can pack it.”
    “Just us?” I asked. I wasn’t sure we could do it. Not after looking at all the piles of things we had to pack.
    Lee didn’t have any doubts. “I usually pack most of it anyway,” he told me. “Dad just brings things out.”
    I guess I hadn’t ever thought about that fact. It was rather fun helping pack the trailer. It was dark out still, so we had to turn the porch light on and set up one of our large flashlights so Lee could see the back of the trailer.
    We were about half way done when Mom came out on the porch with her sweater on. “Wow, you guys sure work quickly,” she exclaimed. “Dad was so tired this morning that he slept through his alarm.”
    “That’s okay,” I said. “Is he still sleeping?”
    Mom nodded. “I was going to wake him but thought I’d see how things were going first. I heard you guys come down.”
    “Ray,” Lee called from inside the trailer, “where’s the next things?” Coming to the door he looked out. “Oh, good morning, Mom. Dad still sleeping?”
    Again, Mom nodded.
    “Let him sleep. He has to drive today.”

    By the time Dad woke up some thirty minutes later, we had the trailer all loaded and were only waiting on the last things that went in the van. Mom and the older girls had breakfast packed and I couldn’t wait to eat. They made these great boxes for each person, rather like a carry-out meal from McDonalds only better, with hot cinnamon-raisin biscuits, tater-tots, dried apples and, for those of us who wanted it, juice. I always loved eating in the car on road trips.
    Amazingly, we left the house ten minutes early, but we had to go around the block because Emmy had forgotten her bag for the van.
    At last we were on the road. This time for real. Dad said that if we’d forgotten anything else, we’d just have to do without it. At that Mom looked back at us and asked, “Does everyone have shoes and socks on?”
    We all did. I remember one trip where I had gone out to the van in bare feet and it wasn’t until we stopped at a gas station that we realized that I had no shoes. Dad wasn’t too happy about stopping at a store to buy shoes for me. Ever since then I’ve been extra careful to wear shoes when we leave on trips.

    Since we lived in west Texas and had to drive all the way to the middle of Virginia, it made for a long trip. But I enjoyed road trips. I still do. I like watching the scenery change, looking for license plates (one time we saw all fifty states, except Rhode Island, and five Canadian provinces.), listening to books on tape or better yet, listening to Lee read books aloud. He’s a great reader.
    But I must get back to the story.
    I had been sleeping for a little while after breakfast when I was awakened by hearing talk about a detour and a storm. Sleepily I opened my eyes and sat up. There was no sign of construction but I could see a dark sky up ahead. Now, I’ve always been fascinated by storms so I decided to stay awake and watch. Glancing around I noticed that Lee, Carol and Mom were sleeping. The younger three were in the very back and were busy with whatever they had brought. Ginger, sitting behind the driver’s seat with me, was leaning forward and talking with Dad.
    “That doesn’t look like a regular storm, Dad,” she was saying.
    “You’re right, it looks different,” Dad agreed.
    I leaned around so I could see out the front better too. For a while we were quiet, watching the dark mass before us. It was growing closer. Suddenly a gust of wind shook the van.
    “Wow!” I exclaimed. “That wind is strong.”
    Dad was slowing the van down somewhat and didn’t reply.
    “There’s another detour sign, Dad,” Ginger pointed out. We must have turned onto a detour before I was fully awake.
    The wind was blowing stronger now and it was growing darker. The others woke up and Dad slowed even more. With our bigger van and our trailer, the wind really shook it when we went too fast. We began to drive into the dark cloud. But it was strange. There was no rain, no thunder or lightning, but still it was dark and things were blowing.
    “What’s going on, Dad?” I asked, watching some tumble weeds race across the road before us. The lights of oncoming traffic appeared like two eerily glowing eyes approaching from the midst of a mystic vapor.
    “I think it’s a dust storm,” Dad answered, making sure the vents on the van were closed.
    “Well, there hasn’t been much rain for a while,” Lee put in, leaning forward.
    “Imagine trying to walk through it!” Carol exclaimed. “Or living in a log house right now.” She always thought of things like that. Perhaps it came from reading so much. I like to read too, but I never think of those things.

    On we drove through the storm of dust which swept and swirled around, hiding nearby objects, blocking out the sky and slowing traffic to a crawl while changing each vehicle to the same color: dirty grey. Tumbleweeds, trash and small branches were flung across the road or smacked into the side of the van or trailer. We could hardly see more than a few yards in any direction. Carefully, cautiously, Dad continued to crawl forward. In the van, all was silent.
    “Dad!” Lee exclaimed suddenly, “There’s a car over there with flashing lights.”

Come back next week.

Thoughts or Comments now?

My Best T - Part 1

Good Morning FFFs,
There sure was a change in the weather yesterday! We went from having the windows open and it being breezy and near 70 degrees to shutting windows because it was raining, windy and had dropped to the 50s before noon. But I love the chilliness of this weather! I was tired of wearing short sleeves. I wanted long sleeves, sweaters, knee socks and slippers. :)

I had quite a week. In some ways it was more relaxing than I thought it would be, but it is still going by too quickly. I did a lot of finishing. :) I finished a table runner and napkin set I was making for someone. Sorry, it is hard to see the hand quilting in this picture.

My nephew had his 3rd birthday party on Sunday and since he LOVES trains, he had a train party. :)
I also graded 22 papers for someone, checked several of my own students' papers, and was going to have my last writing class for this year, but was asked to postpone it until after AGC. I didn't mind. That gave me a little more time to get something else done that has been on my list of "to do" things for a long time. I finally got my driver's license. Yeah, yeah, I know. I could have had it a LONG time ago. Over a dozen years ago if I had wanted. The thing was, however, I wasn't interested. :) Not really. Not until a few years ago when I wished I had it. And since everyone in the family was so busy, it took me a while to get enough practice in. It was my grandpa who really got me going. But now that's done!

I've been writing in the evenings. I actually started on a Christmas story. I think you'll enjoy it once I get it finished.  But first things first. You have a Thanksgiving story that comes first. Well, they aren't connected, but since Thanksgiving comes before Christmas, I thought you should start with that story.

On another note, next week will be the start of American Government Camp (AGC)! So, I'll be very busy from Tuesday until Wednesday, Nov. 7th. But I'm going to get the next part of the Thanksgiving story scheduled to post so you can read it even if I'm running around doing lit-drops, sign waving and being political. :) And if you think of it, we'd appreciate prayers. There are about 36 students
And now, enjoy the first part of

My Best Thanksgiving

    Isn’t it strange how some events remain so clearly fixed in your memory that it seems as though they happened yesterday or last week when in actuality they took place ten, twenty or even forty years ago? I have a few memories that are like that but the one I remember the most was the Thanksgiving I was eleven.
    It began like most of our vacation trips did, with a lot of confusion, noise and busyness. But what else would you expect with a family of nine? Dad had wanted to leave by seven-thirty Monday morning, but Sunday night, even though we stayed up really late trying to get things ready, it didn’t look like it would work. We were all grumpy and needed to go to bed. The usual bed time for the younger three was eight but they were still up at ten! Not even the older three stay up that late usually. Finally Dad gave a whistle and we all hurried into the kitchen.
    “All right, kids,” he said. “This is not working. You are all tired and grumpy. Does everyone have their personal things packed? Things to do in the car and anything you wanted to take along to play with?”
    Emmy, Vicki and Jason nodded their heads. I did too. That had been the easy stuff to pack. I packed a few books to read, my crossword book, camera, Bible and a blank notebook. You never know when a piece of notebook paper will come in handy. I had also grabbed a few pens and pencils.
    Dad was talking again. “Good! Jason, Emmy and Vicki, get your clothes on for tomorrow and go to bed. I want you three in bed in five minutes. Understand?”
    “Yes, Daddy,” they chorused and raced off.
    “Carol, Ginger,” Dad turned to my oldest sisters, “are your suitcases packed?”
    “Almost,” Carol replied. “We just have to add the last few things in the morning.”
    “And I have what I’m taking packed, too, Dad,” Ginger added.
    “Good.” Glancing about the room with a slight frown, Dad next addressed Lee and me. Lee’s the oldest of us kids. He was seventeen. Carol was next at fifteen and Ginger was fourteen. As I said before, I was eleven. My name is Reagan, but I’m called Ray most of the time. I was the middle child and didn’t have anyone close to me in age. The younger three were eight, seven and six, with Emmy the oldest and Jason the last. I had a hard time figuring out just where I fit in, for I wasn’t often considered one of the older ones but the younger ones were a bit too young to be good companions. It didn’t usually bother me much. I guess I was used to being a loner. So when Dad said my name along with Lee’s, I was surprised!
    “I want you boys to get the other suitcases. Leave the girls’, and bring the others down here to the kitchen table.”
    “Even if they aren’t packed yet?” Lee asked.
    “Especially if they aren’t packed.”
    We hurried off. I dashed upstairs and grabbed mine first. It wasn’t packed at all because I’d no sooner start to work on it when I’d get called to do something else. I snatched up Jason’s as well, then hurried down the stairs passing Lee on the way. In no time flat we had all of them on the table in a line. The older girls and Mom kept theirs.
    I’m not very good at packing suitcases because I always forget something. But this way was easy. Dad would tell us how many of what thing to get and Lee and I would dash off and bring them back and just dump them in the right suitcase. Once we had everything, Dad left us to pack them while he went to tell the younger three good-night.
    After a little while, just as we were zipping up the last suitcase, Mom came out of her room looking really tired.
    “Sit down and rest, Mom,” Lee said, pulling out a chair.
    Mom sat down but shook her head. “I don’t have time to rest. There is still so much to do. We haven’t even started on the kitchen stuff, sleeping bags, blankets, coats—” she sighed. Glancing at the table with its row of suitcases she asked, “What’s that?”
    “All the suitcases except yours and the older girls’,” I told her. “Dad had us pack them.”
    I was wondering what we were supposed to do next, but Dad came in then and ended any wondering.
    “Janet,” he said to Mom, “I just sent Carol and Ginger to bed. They do better early in the morning and they can finish their things then. The younger three are in bed and that is where you are going now.”
    Mom snorted. “Not if you still want to leave by seven-thirty.”
    Dad grinned. There seemed to be nothing he liked better than a challenge like that. “You just wait and see. I’ve got the two helpers I need and you are going to bed.” He pulled her out of the chair, put an arm around her and kissed her nose. “Ray, go to the garage and get out sleeping bags for each of us. Lee, bring the coolers in and start packing the food box.”
    That was the start of it. Mom did go to bed and just Dad, Lee and I were up. I didn’t realize how much it took for us to go on a two week vacation nor how quickly we could get things ready when the younger three were in bed. It was eleven-thirty when Dad glanced around the front room. There were stacks and piles everywhere, but we knew exactly what was in each pile and could load it quickly in the morning.
    “Good work, Sons. Thanks,” Dad said before sending us to bed. We would load the trailer in the morning.

    Lee’s alarm was going off when I woke up. It was four-thirty. I didn’t really want to get up since I’d gone to bed so late, but knowing I could sleep in the van later, I managed to crawl out of bed, blinking as Lee switched on the light. The three of us boys shared a room, but Jason is such a heavy sleeper that we could turn lights on and even talk and he wouldn’t wake up until around seven each morning.

To be continued next week.

Any thoughts so far?