One final walk-through

Audrey's shoes were by Betsey Johnson

What you may not yet know is what inspired Mike and Audrey's wedding theme.

In the early part of May of 2024, before they were even engaged, Mike took Audrey and Dagny to Europe. No; not just the three of them.

Mike's mother, Judi, went along, and his three adult children, none of whom live in South Carolina, met them in Paris.

The trip had been planned for a long time -- long before Mike and Audrey met on January 31, 2023.

Audrey's stationery suite

It was essentially meant to be a family trip, as Mike's wife and the children's mother had passed away in the summer of 2020 and the group had been to Paris together in the past, when the first Mrs. Erni was alive.

Mike had arranged three different lodging plans for himself, his mother, and his children. He paid for the trip for everyone.

He had reserved a room for himself at the Hyatt Paris Madeleine and a room for his mother at a completely different hotel.

His children were billeted at a comfortable Airbnb.

The pearls have been in Mike's family for many years

His reasoning was that, at the end of a long day of sightseeing, they could all go to their spaces and relax without being constantly in one another's pockets.

When Audrey became a character in the cast, Mike invited her and Dagny to share in the trip, in order to spend time with and get to know his family.

He gave up his room at the Hyatt Paris Madeleine for them and stayed in the Airbnb with his children.

During that trip, they visited Versailles, the palace of Louis XIV and later, the home of Louis XVI and his wife, Marie Antoinette.

He wore Polo Red; she wore YSL Mon Paris

You know how they ended up: at the guillotine.

From Wikipedia: In 1783, the palace was the site of the signing of the last two of the three treaties of the Peace of Paris (1783), which ended the American Revolutionary War.

So, the palace and gardens at Versailles are impressive and full of history from both sides of the pond, and therefore made a great impression on Audrey.

She came away from there dreaming of a wedding and reception that was not only French-themed, but heavily influenced by Marie Antoinette's memory.

Audrey wanted low-profile rings; diamonds and sapphires set in platinum

It was for that reason that she wanted the bridesmaids' dresses to be of French blue (a color that one could argue is called dusty blue or slate blue in America), with red accents.

Because that looks French. I think you will agree that it really does.

Originally she wanted French blue dresses with red sashes, but after some research we came to the realization that the easiest way to make the French-blue-and-red thing happen was for the girls to wear red velvet sandals with the blue dresses.

And it had an undeniable charm, and was perhaps a tad bit unusual, and did the trick.

Hydrangeas in her bouquet echoed the French blue

Another thing we did which turned out to be somewhat of a stroke of genius -- if I do say so myself (because they were my idea) -- was the cardboard chandeliers.

I purchased them on Etsy -- four in total -- and TG painted all of the cardboard pieces gold.

The Monday before the wedding, Erica met me at the church and we worked for several hours assembling the chandeliers (it was not difficult) and outfitting them with battery-operated fairy lights.

One hung over the cake table, one hung over the photo booth, and one hung over the gift table at the reception.

You can see the chandelier in the lobby behind them

The fourth chandelier hung in the lobby of the church, and if you look closely in the photo where TG is walking Audrey down the aisle, you can see that one twinkling behind them.

Audrey's dress was meant to evoke the opulence of the French royalty of the pre-revolution era, and also pay homage to the gardens at Versailles.

She said of her dress that when she wore it, it felt indestructible. She'd worn it for her pre-bridal shoot at the Governor's Mansion, in October, and wore it for several hours before the wedding and several more hours after.

It looked delicate but the dress was sturdy and comfortable to wear -- as much as any formal wedding gown can be. She said she loved wearing it and that made me so happy. Because it cost more than she had budgeted for that expense, and TG and I helped to pay for it.

Audrey still accuses herself of walking too fast

We girls -- Audrey's sisters, Stephanie and Erica, her niece Allissa, her daughter Dagny, and me -- gave Audrey a small personal shower about a month before the wedding.

I chose as the theme all-out Marie Antoinette. There were the cards with ribbon that you see in a few of these photos -- they were actually gift tags -- and, not pictured, an ornate stand on which the mini cupcakes and treats were displayed.

We gave the girls, as part of their bridesmaids' gifts, Marie Antoinette tote bags, and ornate teacups with saucers, and a delicate lace oval-shaped doily with pink roses embroidered into the netting.

And I think we imbued the wedding with enough of the Marie Antoinette and French-in-general vibe that it was felt and it was recognized.

Let's make this a quick getaway

I think we succeeded. Even if things went wrong, we cannot and will not say that we failed.

And I will tell you here in case you have not heard me say it before (and when would you have?) -- I do not have another wedding in me. So it's a good thing that all three of my daughters are married.

Our granddaughter Allissa will be graduating from high school in the spring, and Stephanie has asked me to design her graduate's table for the after-graduation party at the school.

So I have a project to look forward to, but although it is no less important, the scale is nowhere near as large as a wedding.

I think she is giving him a coquettish look

This concludes our look-back at November of 2024, and the wedding that is now securely in the books.

So, onward to Thanksgiving and then Christmas, and we're all going to be busy so I am glad that our wedding reminiscence is done.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy Weekend

Let's talk about last November

Everything was ready that could be made ready

Oh look ... it's the hotly anticipated wedding post. The newlyweds have already celebrated their first anniversary, so let's not waste any more time.

November 8, 2024, was an overcast, warm, muggy day. I was up early and went out to my hairdresser's salon before arriving at the church at around ten.

I think the wedding time was six o'clock. It was a Friday evening.

In a perfect world, this would not have been an overly busy day for the mother of the bride. But as we do not inhabit a perfect world, it was an extremely busy day for me.

Cousins Allissa, Dagny, Ember, and Rhett

In fact it was basically nonstop -- and yes, as I mentioned in this post about the wedding from a year ago, I did have a lot of help. 

Well wait. It was nonstop until around three, which was the time that picture-taking began. Actually it had been going on since late morning, but for subjects which did not include the wedding party.

Typing that last part made me go and search for a half hour for a tranche of photos that include Audrey's shoes, her perfume, Mike's cologne, their rings, a program, and other assorted memorabilia of the day.

But I know where to find them and I'll post them later in the week.

First Look

Believe me when I say, it was all gorgeous and you would have liked it. 

It was just that there was so much to do. And a great deal of it was of the last-minute variety, so it felt nonstop right up until the time when it felt more or less done, and I was forced to stop.

What I have not told you -- at least I don't think I told you in the post from a year ago but if I did, sorry -- is that on the night before, when I got dressed for the rehearsal dinner and put on my shoes, right away I had a problem.

The shoes were not high-heeled and yes I had tried them on and did not notice any issues regarding comfort.

Me and my girl

But on the night before the wedding, probably because my feet had been overworked for two straight days, within a few dozen steps, the shoes shredded the tops of a couple of my toes. Both feet.

Right away upon getting dressed, I knew that I was in trouble. I found some Band Aids and did my best to cover the raw toes, but the only real remedy at that point would have been to stop walking.

Which was not an option for at least another twenty-seven-or-so hours.

The rehearsal dinner venue was across a big parking lot from the church, and I had to traverse that a few times for this reason and that, and trust me it did not help the situation.

Audrey and Dagny and the dress

The thing you have to try to envision is that not only is the church property large, but once you're in the main building, there is a long long long hallway between the sanctuary and the space where the reception was held.

And I walked it countless times, mostly in comfortable slides, but in the end I was walking it more times than I would have wished, in fancy dress shoes.

Which is why, on the wedding day, when it was time to refresh my hair and makeup and put on my dress and shoes and be ready for pictures (because Mike and Audrey wanted to take almost all of the photos beforehand), I had no choice but to wear the shoes.

No, not the same shoes as I wore to the rehearsal dinner. This was the pair that went with my MotB dress, and the heel was higher and although they were mules and the back was open, they were closed at the toe.

Let's take a wee break

And there were big stiff bows that lay across each foot at an angle, and on one of my feet the end of the bow almost immediately began rubbing a hole in the top of that foot.

You can see a Band Aid in some of these pictures. It did not help. Much.

The thing you have to know about my feet is that they are the opposite of wide. They are skinny and have no meat on them. Certainly not on the top. Skin is thin there; it's easy to disturb it and once you do, it will hurt if something keeps rubbing it.

Erica was helping me get dressed and she carefully bandaged my sore toes and did all that she could do in that regard, but from the moment I put my shoes on, it was agony.

Andrew and Audrey

And by that I mean, every single step was so painful that I knew it was going to be a long night. I almost instantly began calculating how long I would have to wear those shoes, and I nearly despaired because I was looking at a minimum of seven hours.

I know what you're thinking -- girl! Put on bedroom slippers the moment the ceremony is over! No one will hold it against you! Everyone will understand!

But I couldn't. My dress did not support that, and besides, you don't walk and stand the same in bedroom slippers as you do in proper heels. Even non-towering ones.

I was locked in until the last dog died and it is not an exaggeration to say that I was desperate.

The bride and her baby

(I will interject here that if I am invited to your daughter's wedding, I will ask your shoe size and the color of your dress and I will bring along the sparkliest, most elegant flats for you to wear when your feet give out. That is a promise.)

So, in the afternoon there was some dead time while the main part of the wedding party went outside to a field across from the church to take some shots, and I waited inside because I could not do the walking and my hair could not do the humidity.

In due time people began arriving. The lobby of the church is fairly large and it began filling with happy babbling wedding guests.

Some dear dear dear friends of TG's and mine came towards me, and then another friend and another, and you know what that's like. It means SO MUCH that they are there, it's almost overwhelming in the moment.

Honeymooning in Paris, beside the Seine

(Do not EVER make the mistake of underestimating the power of your personal presence. If it's welcome, that is, haha. When you are there to support someone, it means more to them than you could ever know unless you have been in the same position in similar circumstances.)

Our friends Bob and Mari were there from Michigan. Our friend Jan flew in from New Jersey. Although we have always stayed in touch, I think it had been at least thirty-five years since we'd seen her in person. 

My dear local friend Marsha was there. And then there were the family members who came from Texas and Michigan and Ohio and California.

My little brother Shawn, from Galveston, did not tell me he was coming. He just showed up with his lovely daughter Hannah, and TG came over to me and said did you know Shawn was coming and I said NO and looked over and there he was!

Rascal.

Me and Henry -- and Shawn and Hannah

(And no, I do not have a picture of us together that night. In the picture of me with Henry, you can see Shawn's face just behind Henry's back and Hannah, wearing green and with legs for days, over to my right.)

Amidst all the hubbub of going from one person to the next and greeting and hugging and crying and exclaiming and generally being overjoyed, the lobby all the while becoming more and more crowded and loud, and the wedding hour approaching, the problems began.

I mean, if my sore feet had been the worst that happened, we would all be laughing about this now.

But when I tell you what I have to tell you, although I think I can predict what you will say -- J the P! Relax! Something always goes wrong at weddings! In the end it doesn't matter! No one noticed but you! It's not what people remember! -- I can say back to you, yes but people DID notice and it DID matter and it IS what some people will remember.

Dagny with the Mademoiselles

(I am stubborn that way. And I am also right.)

Especially Audrey and me -- who were crying about it again just the other day as we drove home from Knoxville where we had been helping out with Ember and Guy because Andrew and Brittany were up against it with their schooling and jobs -- who relive it from time to time, and yes it still hurts just as badly as on that wedding day.

(And I will admit that it was not so much any ONE thing as it was everything in the aggregate, with one aspect of what went wrong being so heartbreaking that I will probably not live long enough to get over it.)

The first big thing that happened was that one of our ushers, a young man hand-picked by Audrey and who had promised to work along with one of his friends, also hand-picked by Audrey, to get the nearly two hundred guests seated, sought me out at about five thirty and said he had to go to a basketball game and could not help us.

Audrey and Allissa

Now, looking back I don't understand why I did not say to him, but you're here now and now is the time that the guests need seating. Do you have to leave immediately? What time is your game? Because maybe he could have spared me thirty minutes. We will never know. At any rate, he left.

But he had already pressganged another friend into standing in for him, and that young man was willing to help and assured me that he would see the job through.

I was interrupted in dealing with that problem by one of the two men who would be manning the sound booth for us. He was holding a wedding program and a lapel mic.

He pointed to the name Felix Mendelssohn towards the bottom of the order of ceremony. Will this person be needing a mic? he wanted to know. And no, I am not kidding. I thought HE was kidding but he was not kidding either.

The groom and the girls

I assured him that Mr. Mendelssohn, who shuffled off this mortal coil in 1847, would not be needing a microphone.

By now the guests were being seated and I was hovering anxiously -- as one does -- at the doors to the sanctuary, scanning the scene, when I noticed that the ENTIRE SECOND ROW on the side where TG and I (and our daughter-in-law Brittany) were supposed to be seated in a few minutes, was FULL of my relatives.

I mean they were sandwiched in there like sardines from pillar to post and there was not a single available inch of pew for TG and I to sit on and watch our daughter get married.

NO I did not put signs on the pews. I didn't think I had to; the young men who were supposed to serve as ushers had done it before and knew to keep that pew empty for the parents of the bride, just as the one across the aisle is kept empty for the parents of the groom.

Ember was the flower girl

The young man who had agreed to substitute for the one who had a last-minute athletic event that I assume he'd had no knowledge of when he'd agreed to be an usher (but I'll let it go now), saw my despair and although I do not know how he did it, he managed to clear that pew.

It helped that those on the pew included my sister and her grown children, and they feared they should not be seated in that pew but the less experienced usher had led them there and they'd sat down anyway, and they figured out that they had to move.

At any rate, it got done and that was the first crisis averted.

You'll see in the photos I've included that Henry had arrived -- for those who do not know, Henry was married to my late mother for the last thirty-seven years of her life -- and when I greeted him, I reminded him that he was walking me down the aisle.

Only one would make it down the aisle

So imagine the depth and breadth of my chagrin when I looked down towards the front after the stuffed-pew disaster and saw that Henry was seated in a different pew with some other of our relatives from Greenville (the South Carolina upstate).

WHAT is Henry doing down there, sitting? I exclaimed to someone. I don't even remember who it was. They probably thought I was crazy. But Henry was retrieved from the audience and brought back out to the lobby, confused and in a daze. 

He did not even understand what had taken place, and no, Henry does not suffer from dementia or anything like that. He is simply old. God bless him; he was doing his best but REALLY Henry? Hahaha give me a heart attack. It would be easier.

But he sweetly waited there as I asked him, to walk me down. What would be next?

At the symphony in London

Turns out that what was next was, the music began playing that would accompany the pastors and the groom and his gentlemen as they came out to stand and await the rest of the wedding party and, ultimately, the bride.

It was the Brooklyn Duo playing a breathtaking cover of Can't Help Falling in Love.

I had, the night before, gone over with the gentlemen not once, not twice, but several times, exactly what their musical cue would be. And yet, said cue came and went, and the men did not appear.

Well. Finally they DID appear, and no real harm was done, and it was then time for Mike's mother, Judi, to proceed down the aisle to her seat, on the arm of her grandson, Mike's son Peter.

We had not seen Jan in decades

I have included at the top of this post a picture of the empty church with the front and the pews all decorated, and the runner in place for the entrance of the bridesmaids and bride.

You will notice upon viewing that photo that I had tied two lengths of tulle ribbon, looped around the pew on each side of the aisle, into a bow at the end closest to the lobby.

Signifying, no one walk on this runner until the mothers of the bride and groom are being taken to their seats.

Obviously my intention was for someone -- oh, I don't know; the wedding coordinator, perhaps? -- to UNTIE that bow after the guests were seated and just before the wedding was to begin.

My four babies

OK so now, picture in your mind's eye Mike's mother, Judi, a charming but neither small nor sprightly lady well into her eighties, proceeding to that point on the arm of her grandson Peter.

And the bow has NOT been untied, and as they go forward the slight give of the tulle against his leg attracts Peter's attention, and he looks down and quickly sees what's going on and nimbly tugs at one of the tails of the tulle bow and it sort of comes undone but they are still walking the whole time.

And Judi is wearing a street-length dress, and the remnants of the tulle bow wafting down becomes entangled on the lower part of her right leg, and she just keeps going, and eventually she is dragging a long piece of tulle from her ankle all the way to her seat.

The two pastors who stood and watched this mini-drama unfold managed to keep straight faces, but I will never know how.

TG and me with Andrew, Stephanie, Audrey, Erica

And I was watching, horrified, on the arm of the feeble Henry, waiting my turn to be seated. Eventually the tulle-festooned Judi was safe in her seat and Peter went up to stand beside his dad.

And it was my turn.

It was a long way down that aisle. My feet felt like blocks of stone, except those stone blocks contained ten trillion nerve endings and they were all crying out in pain.

Something was not right about the music; it sounded muffled, and there would be too much of the song left after I reached my seat and settled into it.

Arriving to a rainy Paris

But, in for a penny in for a pound. We kept going and reached that now-vacant (except for Brittany) second pew, and I sat, and hoped that the problems were over.

But they were not.

Because the next thing I heard was three-year-old Rhett, all dressed in a tiny tux with a smart red bow tie, WAILING from the lobby. It was a genuine meltdown. He would not be walking down beside Ember and sitting on the black iron bench beneath the lamppost, in front of the groomsmen.

Everyone heard Rhett and I guess there was a sympathetic titter or two, but the wedding was underway so we had no choice but to roll with it.

Mrs. Erni enjoying fresh-made Parisian Madeleines

(At this point I should tell you that until I had grandchildren, I was staunchly against children being in weddings. Ah well. We live and learn. At least that's what we say.)

I should also tell you that it would be impossible to estimate how many hours I sat in the months leading up to the wedding, planning how each song would represent each stage of the beautiful ceremony.

It would be so magical and everyone would be entranced, and they would never forget how perfectly every step that the girls took had been matched to the lush, romantic tunes Audrey and I had chosen.

Except, as the strains of the Brooklyn Duo playing  La Vie en Rose began -- the bridesmaids' processional -- and I was anticipating, shortly, seeing Dagny float past me on her way to the platform, the music suddenly stopped.

Dagny had her own meltdown as Rhett slept

It just stopped and there was silence. No bridesmaids had begun down the aisle yet; there had not been time.

Then the music for Audrey's processional began.

Here I should assure you that there was nothing difficult about what I had asked the sound person to do.

All that was required was to press PLAY and let THREE SONGS play in sequence, until the end of the bridal processional. Nine minutes. Three songs all in a row on my Spotify playlist. Easy peasy.

But no. The bridesmaids' music started and WAS STOPPED before any bridesmaids could go. Then the bride's music started, but it wasn't time for her to go.

Then, just as inexplicably, the bride's processional music stopped and the bridesmaids' music began again.

My sister comforted her

This time it was allowed to play to the end, and the girls all got into place, and then Audrey's song started and she came down the aisle on the arm of her father, but by that time I was shell shocked.

I barely remember the actual wedding but that's pretty normal; for the main players it is all usually a blur.

But when it was over and the wedding party had marched out to Mendelssohn's Weddng March -- that's Felix Mendelssohn without a mic -- I was frozen, immobile, unwilling to get back onto my feet.

As in, TG and I were supposed to spring up and follow the last members of the party, and then Peter would have gone back down and retrieved his grandmother, Mike's mother, to join us all in the lobby preparing to go down the long long long hall to the reception.

But the last couple walked by and I didn't move. It wasn't until the pastor was telling everyone what came next, and giving instructions and preparing to pray for the meal, that I nudged TG and we got up and walked out.

The Mademoiselles waited to distribute treats

SO. STRANGE. I cannot explain it so don't ask. I was not in my right mind. I don't know what became of Judi, but she did show up in the line of wedding party members to be introduced at the reception, and there was no tulle wafting from her ankle at that time.

Meanwhile Rhett had fallen asleep -- unconscious, more like -- in the arms of a stalwart friend in the lobby, who cradled the little guy and let him rest. Turned out Rhett had not had a nap that day and according to his mother, the meltdown was more or less inevitable. 

I can accept that.

And by that time the worst was over and although I could barely walk without looking as though I needed assistance, no one offered to assist me -- hahahaa -- so I just kept going. Not sure how but I do know that I managed to stay on those feet and I may have faltered but I did not fall.

Of course we were overjoyed for Mike and Audrey. They were married and so happy. What a miracle that entire romance and wedding was, and what a blessing.

All of us except for Melanie and Elliot

We had a lovely Paris-themed reception and I heard comments that everyone was impressed by the attention to detail. And since I am nothing if not detail-oriented, I took those comments as great compliments.

One detail was that we enlisted the help of two mademoiselles to dress in black dresses with white collars and wear red berets, and go around the room carrying basketsful of Donsuemor Madeleines, traditional shell-shaped French cakes, to all of the guests.

Already at each place there were small glassine bags containing a croissant and a tiny jar of French-made jam, and miniature spoon to spread your jam onto your croissant, if you could not wait for your turn to the buffet.

The food was delicious. The church's chef had prepared everything so carefully, and there were tiny Eiffel Tower clips holding up hand-calligraphed signs in front of each chafing dish, with the names of the foods in French.

My brother-in-law, Pierre-Philippe, French by birth and who speaks only halting English despite having been married to my sister, an American, for forty-eight years, gave a welcome address to the guests, which he read first in French, and then in English with his charming accent.

Rhett revived for the reception

Then everyone fell to feasting and fellowshipping, and there was so much talking and laughing, and we don't even drink or dance so if you can imagine a high level of excitement and fun without that, people just enjoying being together and being buoyed by the romance and beauty of the occasion, then you will have an idea of what it was like to be there.

Then it was time for TG to make a little speech, and some tears were shed, and then Mike and Audrey cut their cake and the confection was consumed (I got not one single bite of cake; by the time I got there, only crumbs remained), and eventually the newlyweds left, and we all waved pretty ribbon-and-lace streamers as they ran to the car.

I wish I could find those pictures too but I know where to get them and I'll share them later this week.

There is more I could add about some of the glitches but restraint being the better part of valor, I will not share all that is in my heart and mind.

Suffice it to say that it was a memorable and meaningful occasion. It had substance and significance, and for that I am grateful because the older I get, the more I fear missed opportunities.

The happy couple

I do not think we missed any part of our opportunities surrounding that event, to give it the thought and care and love and weight that it deserved.

Mike and Audrey toured London and Paris and even hopped over to Istanbul for a few days, on their two-week honeymoon which upon their return they described as idyllic.

I got sunburnt on my honeymoon, definitely stateside, no flying involved, so I was happy for them that their trip was so special.

They seem to be happily married. They laugh a lot. What more could we ask for?

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

What we did on the way home

The grave at Forest Home Cemetery, Forest Park, Illinois

I must preface this blog post with an apology.

The pirate does not usually do that, so listen up.

I'm painfully aware that I owe you a post about Audrey's wedding. I promised my cherished reader Amanda Bennett that it would be delivered no later than Audrey and Mike's first anniversary, which was last Saturday.

For having reneged on that promise, I am honestly sorry. However.

By way of explanation, I was called out of town on a somewhat last-minute basis, which encompassed all of last week, and although it was for a happy reason, I was nonetheless so involved in what was going on during that trip, that writing a blog post about anything was impossible.

Our Lissy at Marshall Park, Charlotte, North Carolina

No sooner had we returned from that trip than I got sick. As in, I came down with a cold that began with a scratchy throat and got worse every day.

(I should say here that I have had much worse colds; as you'll see in a moment, I was able to function through most of it. So as colds go it was a rather lame one, but I'm not as young as I used to be and even minor illnesses are like slogging through waist-deep mud.)

I am semi-happy to report that I'm now in the strangle-tickle-cough-hack-sneeze-repeat stage of the cold -- and by sneeze I mean the kind that practically knock you off your feet, after which you're obliged to blow yoiur nose -- with a box of tissues at my side in whichever location I settle, and nights of sleep interrupted and miserable by said inevitable and annoying strangle-tickle-hack-sneeze routine.

Despite this, TG took me to Charlotte on this past Tuesday, where we met our Stephanie with her children, because it being Veterans Day the kids were out of school, and Allissa wanted me to take her senior pictures.

We had planned this for a long time but what we did not foresee was, One, it would be during a cold snap -- and by that I mean actual temperatures in the mid forties with wind chill putting it solidly into the thirties -- and Two, I would be sick with a cold.

Allissa with her treasured Bible

(I actually did not tell them that I was sick with a cold, and they did not pick up on it. I was hoping the night before and even the morning of the shoot, that Stephanie and Allissa would realize that it was too chilly and windy to go forward. But they were determined to proceed, and so we did.)

(And as I said, I've had much worse colds and if I'd been too uncomfortable to take the pictures, I would have said so. I bundled up and was perfectly fine in that regard. It was Allissa, with bare legs and wearing a dress with no coat, who suffered.)

But we got some lovely shots of a subject who is both lovely and sweet, and now it's done, so it was worth it. Although I will say, we plan to take some more shots at Thanksgiving, because it was impossible for Allissa to change outfits and we want to give her more pictures to choose from.

So here we are nearly one week after the anniversary, and I beg your forgiveness if I make you wait a few more days for the promised anniversary/wedding post.

Allissa photographed at The Green, Charlotte, North Carolina

You will have it by Monday.

And so let us proceed with the subject at hand: What we did on the way home.

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In the days leading up to our trip to Chicago in late September, in connection with her school work, Dagny had been reading a biography.

It was of the great evangelist whose heyday took place in the first part of the twentieth century: William Ashley Sunday (1862-1935), known to all as Billy Sunday.

The piece of information that caught her interest was the location of Billy Sunday's grave.

Dagny was so thrilled when she sighted the deer

She looked on the map and saw that it was very near Chicago.

I took it a step further and learned that he -- along with his wife and three of their four children -- are interred at Forest Home Cemetery in Forest Park, Illinois, about a twenty-minute drive from the city.

So it was decided that on our way out of town, headed again for Lexington, Kentucky, where we would spend the night before going all the way home the next day, we would pay our respects at Billy Sunday's grave.

When we arrived at the cemetery, as is often the case when one visits larger burial grounds, we got turned around.

As in, TG let Dagny and me off to wander for a spell while he went to the office in search of a map which would lead us to Billy's grave.

It shouldn't have been difficult; in many cases Find a Grave tells one the exact coordinates of a grave.

Geese living their best lives

You just have to get oriented and head for that spot.

In this case, I knew that the Sunday grave was located at Section 32, Lot 106. In a cemetery where everything is numbered, this should not have presented a great challenge.

However.

Dagny and I kept coming up against two problems: One, the graves where we were searching (which we thought was the right place) did not seem to be the right age to have originated circa 1935.

Two, although the sections certainly were numbered, we would get right up to where the next one should be 32, only to find that no matter which way we turned, the numbers went in another direction altogether.

We did have a great time wandering though, as it was a gracious weather day, and we saw deer who were lounging and munching and not the least bit alarmed by us, because deer love cemeteries and they seem to understand that people wander there.

Made you look

A gaggle of geese were making themselves at home there too, and observing wildlife is always both relaxing and stimulating.

Also we saw a tree whose trunk had been overtaken by thorns, and I haven't done any research but if you know what that is about, please let me know in the comments.

In due time TG returned to fetch us and all became clear as to why Dagny and I had been unable to locate the Sunday grave.

We had turned in to Forest Home Cemetery in the wrong place and were in the wrong part of it, so much so that we had to go back out onto the road and drive down a bit, to the correct gate.

Dagny and I hopped back aboard and in no time we were drawing nigh to the sacred spot we sought.

Meanwhile in the office, the cemetery employee had told TG that Billy Sunday gets, if not a steady stream, then a respectably frequent number of visitors to his resting place.

A thorny situation

He and his family are by no means forgotten, neglected, or ignored.

I was glad to know that, because it is a special place indeed.

For all of my Christian life, which began when I was saved in the summer of 1971, I have heard preachers refer to the ministry of Billy Sunday, and of the great influence he had on the world.

According to Shakespeare all comparisons are odious, but if one were inclined to compare Billy Sunday to a person whose name and ministry are more recognizable as affecting the second half of the twentieth century, it would be Billy Graham.

And I only use that comparison to indicate the scope of his reach and the truly amazing variety of opportunities Billy Sunday had, to preach the gospel to untold numbers of people.

Dagny at the Sundays' gravesite

He was somewhat of a phenomenon, gifted of God and blessed of God. Despite his shortcomings, God saw fit to use him.

May it be said of all of us.

At any rate, to visit his grave was a great honor.

Still, when we came upon the grave, it was a sight that caused us to come up short.

If one were to picture the most peaceful, beautiful, verdant, quiet place to rest, with one of the most simple yet evocative monuments you could dream of, the Sunday grave would fulfill that vision.

TG and I pay our respects

Billy and his wife Helen Amelia Thompson, known in life as "Ma Sunday", are both there.

And so are their three sons: George, William Jr., and Paul.

The Sundays' only daughter, Helen Edith Sunday Haines, died in 1932, before either of her parents, at the age of forty-two. She is buried in Sturgis, Michigan.

Son George Marquis Sunday also predecased both of his parents, dying in 1933 at the age of forty. 

Son William Ashley Sunday Jr. passed away three years after his father, in 1938, at the age of thirty-six.

Son Paul Thompson Sunday also passed at the age of thirty-six, in 1944.

A sight to behold

Ma Sunday outlived her husband and all four of her babies. I hope she had some sweet years with her grandchildren after those sorrows.

May they all rest in peace.

On the Sundays' monument are inscribed these words:

I Have Fought A Good Fight
I Have Finished My Course
I Have Kept the Faith
II Tim 4:7

Amen.

Reluctant to leave, but having already lingered longer than we intended, we pulled away and drove eight hours to our beds for the night.

And the next day, we reached home and our own beds, for which we were most grateful.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Thursday

What we did while we were there

Dagny dressed and ready for game one of two

TG, Dagny, and I arrived in Chicago in the mid afternoon and had just enough time after settling into our room and changing into our Cubs swag, to get to Wrigley Field.

Before leaving, we did go up one floor to the Regency Club, which is a lounge for guests with special access.

(Our Mike had secured this perk for us because he has a friend who was nice enough to share his Hyatt Globalist status for our two-night stay.)

Dagny beneath the iconic marquee

That got us the privilege of going up to the lounge and getting coffee and snacks whenever we wanted.

After a quick nosh, we set out for the ball park.

This involved walking several blocks to pick up the Red Line train, which takes you to a station across the street from Wrigley.

On Michigan Avenue, Trump Tower in the background

It was that time of day when there are so many people wanting to ride the trains, that you are squished just inside the doors and have to stand and hang on to a strap or bar for the entire trip.

Which, with all the stops, takes about a half hour. Maybe a smidge less.

With Papaw at the Chicago River

They open the doors to the Friendly Confines ninety minutes before game time. We like to be among the first through the gate.

TG goes immediately to a gift/fan store inside the ballpark, to buy his Official Scorecard. It costs two dollars and comes with a pencil bearing the iconic Cubs logo.

Two beautiful sights: Dagny and the Wrigley Building

Throughout the game he will make a note of every play made by both teams.

Next up, Dagny and I had to cruise through concessions and pick up our dinner.

She chose a hot dog, fries, and a bottle of blue Gatorade. I chose a cheeseburger, fries, and a large fountain soft drink in a souvenir cup.

The ring Dagny chose as a souvenir of her trip

Total? Sixty-five dollars. TG decided to go hungry.

Next we morphed into mountain goats and trudged up the many long ramps to the upper deck where our seats were located.

(Not only are these seats cheaper, but we love the vantage point of being up high and looking down on the field of play.)

Dagny at the iconic century-old Tribune Tower

It is, however, strenuous exercise getting all the way up there. And then there are the super-steep steps you have to climb once you reach your section, to get to your seat.

It's a workout.

We would be attending games two nights in a row, so on this first night we got situated in our seats and ate our expensive fast-food meals.

Dagny at Millennium Park fountain

In due time the game began. That night, our Cubs lost. 

Somewhat disappointing but like I said, we'd be there the next night too. 

Going down the ramps to ground level was much easier. But you move at a glacial pace to get back to the train platform, because everyone is trying to do the same thing at the same time.

She has been to the bean

Eventually we reached our stop and walked several blocks back to the hotel.

The next morning we enjoyed our Globalist perk again by having a sumptuous buffet breakfast in the huge lobby restaurant with lots of glass and fountains for that expansive open-air feel.

We sat drinking coffee and sampling various breakfast items, taking our time and discussing what we wanted to do that day.

Tourists taking selfies

The weather was beautiful. It was decided that we would walk south on Michigan Avenue and take Dagny as far down as Buckingham Fountain.

Along the way we would see the Art Institute of Chicago with its lions guarding the outside, and Millennium Park with its Cloud Gate sculpture (colloquially known as The Bean), and the Crown Fountain, and other urban glories (and oddities).

The north end lion: on the prowl

But once out on the street, we realized that we had to walk one block north in order for Dagny to have the best view of Trump Tower, the Tribune Tower (which once housed the newspaper but is now luxury apartments), the Wrigley Building, and the Chicago River.

There was a market consisting of maybe fifteen tents set up in the plaza outside the Tribune Tower. Turns out it's only there on Wednesdays from May through October.

The south end lion: in an attitude of defiance

Dagny and I were riveted by a display of sterling silver rings. We had to call her mother to get Audrey's permission for Dagny to buy one, and she made a stunning selection.

After taking our fill of pictures in those locations, we began walking south.

At the fancy fountain that anchors one end of Millennium Park, Dagny posed at the edge of the the pool and leaned in to feel the coolness of the water.

Little young girl, big old fountain

Farther inside the park, she marveled at the massive silver reflective surface of the bean, and we took a number of photos there.

We moseyed on down the avenue until we reached the Art Institute and Dagny posed by each of the two lions whose massive presences have, since 1894, flanked the stunning façade of the museum.

Then we continued south and eventually turned east towards the lake, to Buckingham Fountain.

The Red Line: hang on or fall down

There was a stiff breeze off of Lake Michigan, and the highest towering jet of water was spraying everyone standing to west and south of the fountain.

So we kept our distance from that, but Dagny did pose at the verdigris Art Deco railing that surrounds the fountain and its gargoyle-filled pool.

Then it was time to march back north on Michigan Avenue until we turned and went west to State Street, where Dagny and I wanted to do a spot of shopping at the Burlington Coat Factory and TJ Maxx.

My favorite view of the stadium's exterior

I needed some leggings for the game since it was going to turn cooler than it had been the night before. Dagny wanted to replace a large tote she'd brought along on the trip, the strap of which had broken when we arrived at the hotel the day before.

TG patiently followed us around as we found the things we needed, and then we continued on to the hotel.

Once there we agreed that we all required a break and some sustenance, so we grabbed our devices and went up one floor to the Regency Club, where we sampled many snacks and soft drinks and coffees, and relaxed in comfy chairs in the windows looking out at the city, for about an hour and a half.

Wrigley Rooftops: bleacher seats across the street

Rested and having eaten enough that there would be no need to spend another sixty-five dollars on food at the ball park, we returned to the room and got ready for the game.

This time we left early enough that the train cars were not as crowded as the last time.

TG and Dagny still chose to stand, but I had a seat.

Meeting Ben Zobrist was a major league treat

Once at the ball park we gained access to Gallagher Way since we had game tickets.

This is a park-like area just outside the Wrigley Field gates where fans can gather and sit and relax at tables, or play corn hole if they want, and watch various baseball-related things on the huge screen.

At one point a young man approached our table and asked if we knew that Ben Zobrist was about twenty-five yards away, under a tent that had been set up for him to promote his Champion Forward foundation.

Ben even signed Dagny's hat

A former Chicago Cub, Ben was named Most Valuable Player for the 2016 season -- the year that the Cubs won the World Series.

We loved watching him play back in the day, so it was thrilling to walk over there and after waiting in line for only a few minutes, meet Ben and have our picture taken with him.

Then it was time to wait a few more minutes to enter the ball park. While TG went to the fan store to fetch his scorecard and pencil, Dagny and I went to the ladies' room and put on a few extra layers against the coming dark and cool of the night game.

Later on it would read: CUBS WIN!

Then once again we made the trudge up the long ramps to our seats, which were closer and better ones on this night.

TG and Dagny walked back down then, and stood for at least forty-five minutes near the Cubs dugout, hoping to meet a few of the players. Towards game time, Dagny did get a few smiles and waves from some friendly Cubs.

We were warm and cozy despite the cool breeze

Then the game started and it turned out to be a fantastic one, exciting and action packed, and resulting in a Cubs win over the New York Mets, 10-3.

We got to fly our big W flag (for Win, not Weber, haha) that I take with me to every game, and sing the song.

It is such a blast to sing the song. Dagny was thrilled to have witnessed a win, and we were so happy for her.

Final Score: Cubs 10, New York Mets 3

Once all that we could do there had been done, we made our way back down the ramps and onto the street thronged with happy fans, and to the train, and back to our hotel.

The next morning we again enjoyed a scrumptious breakfast buffet in the lobby restaurant, before finishing up our packing and setting out for another mini-adventure before heading back to Lexington, Kentucky, for the night.

Next time I'll tell about what we did on the way there.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

What we did on the way

Dagny at Buc-ee's in Richmond, Kentucky

Two weeks ago, TG, I, and Dagny set out for the Midwest.

Road trip.

Our final destination was the great city of Chicago, where we would do a tad bit of sightseeing (as Dagny had never been there) and take in not one but two late-season baseball games at Wrigley Field.

Dagny in the plaza in front of Rupp Arena

Our Cubbies are currently in the playoffs and of course we are hoping for the best. There's nothing quite like October baseball.

The first day saw us traveling about seven hours, to Lexington, Kentucky. Our hotel was attached to Rupp Arena, where the University of Kentucky Wildcats play basketball.

It began raining as we arrived, but that didn't keep us from brandishing umbrellas and walking to a place called The Goose for dinner. It was warm outside despite the precipitation.

On day two we crossed the Indiana state line

TG enjoyed a burger while Dagny and I shared a pizza. Then we walked back to our hotel and spent a relaxing evening watching Shark Tank and playing word games on our devices.

The next morning we headed for Chicago, gaining an hour along the way into the Central time zone.

You may or may not remember this but TG and I met in Northwest Indiana in the mid-seventies, when I was a Bible college student and he was working as a teacher and coach.

Becky, me, and Kathy

After we married in the summer of 1979, we lived in "The Region" -- otherwise known as the Chicagoland area -- for another twelve years.

And so it is that perhaps the best friend I have ever known in this life, still lives there. Her name is Kathy.

She is widowed now, having lost her beloved husband -- one of TG's best friends -- to Covid in 2021.

Dagny in front of what was our front door when her mother was born

Kathy's only son, David, lives right next door in the duplex that Kathy now owns.

What's interesting about the duplex in which Kathy occupies the left side and David and his family occupy the right, is that it was, many years ago, owned by TG's late parents.

In fact, Kathy and her husband bought the conjoined domiciles from my in-laws, along about the mid-nineties, after we had moved to Knoxville.

Dagny with my beloved friend Kathy

Because in 1980, a few weeks after our Stephanie was born, we moved into the right side of the duplex.

A few years later, Kathy and her family moved in on the left side. Kathy and I were already good friends but we became forever friends during those years.

Each side of the duplex has three floors (one being a basement with windows at yard level), with two bedrooms and one and one-half baths.

You are looking at a wise and wonderful woman

We lived there (on the right) until we bought our first house in 1986. Both Audrey and Erica were brought home there as newborns.

We moved to a house a mile or so away, when Erica was six months old. We lived there when our Andrew was born.

Kathy is an avid gardener and works every day during growing season to keep her flowers lush.

Dagny and Becky struck up an instant friendship

She has made a number of improvements to the duplex and it's got a great deal of curb appeal.

So we swung by there. I had gotten in touch with Kathy a week beforehand, to let her know that we'd stop in at around two in the afternoon. 

Her eldest daughter, Becky, another of my most cherished friends, was there with her and that was an unexpected treat as I had not seen Becky in decades.

There was love all around

The weather was gorgeous and we did not have much time, so we stood around in the yard and then sat at a pretty table on the side of the house where Kathy had put out some snacks for us, and did a spot of catching up.

(The last time we stopped by to see Kathy was when we went to Chicago in August of 2019, when her husband was still alive.)

We have been friends for forty years

It was a too-short visit but Kathy and Becky enjoyed meeting Dagny and she loved meeting them, and we took some pictures and all assured one another (not for the first time and I hope not the last) that each of us loves the other forever, no matter what.

Then we took Dagny by the grade school where her mother and her Aunt Stephanie attended for the first several years of their educations, until we moved to Knoxville.

Dagny on the campus of her mother's elementary school

And we also took her by the small apartment building where TG and I lived for a little over a year in a ground-floor unit after we were married, and to the house we bought in 1986 when Erica was a baby.

I was sad to see that that house, which I loved and which was kept shipshape in our day, has been allowed to deteriorate. The present homeowners are not taking care of it.

TG knocked on the door but no one answered, although a dog barked inside.

Dagny and me in front of our long-ago house in Schererville, Indiana

You can't go back. It's perilous to try but we wanted Dagny to see that part of her mother's history.

Then we jumped back into the car and drove less than an hour, to Chicago.

Next time, I'll tell you what we did while we were there.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Bean there

If the Lone Ranger was a can of beans

Late last spring, I discovered Walmart Plus.

It arose out of TG being out of town for several days, and me being too lazy to go to the store.

(TG is the kind of husband who gladly goes to the store for me, and yes I let him, although I do a great deal of the grocery shopping too.)

(But I don't always feel like applying mascara to go to the store, and no I will not go without mascara.)

So it was that I tried out the thing where you order your kitchen staples online and they bring it right to your door.

For a nominal fee, and a tip for the driver, neither of which bother me.

I have not looked back. It's just too easy.

Some humorous/perplexing moments have arisen, however.

Like, the time I ordrered a bag of Fancy Feast cat kibble and, although I know it's right there on the shelf in the pet food aisle of the store, they insisted on shipping it separately.

It was delivered the same day as the rest of my order, only it came via a different car and driver, and -- what a bonus -- in the package along with the Fancy Feast was a big box of Huggies Pull-Ups.

The beans were well cushioned for their arrival

Which I neither ordered, paid for, nor need.

Someone ordered, paid for, and needed them, though -- I suppose -- and that someone was out of luck.

I gave them to Erica for when she begins training Elliot a/k/a Skippy.

Another time, I received two unasked-for packets of taco seasoning along with the stuff I did ask for.

Then there are the times that I do NOT get what I ordered, paid for, and needed.

Like the time about one-third of my order was missing. I had to go on the app and put checkmarks beside those items, and there was an immediate refund.

But still. That means I had to re-order those things and pay another tip. C'mon, man!

The other day, only one item was missing from my order: my Wright Hickory Thick Cut Bacon. I love that stuff and so does TG. It's Bacon the Wright Way.

I have not yet reordered that but have simply lived without it. Yes I got my refund.

But I found it amusing when recently stocking up on chili-making supplies should the cool fall weather actually arrive and we be struck with a craving for chili, when the Walmart app said that one can of Bush's Chili Beans in Medium Sauce would be shipped separately.

? ? ? ? ?

With all that padding they could have added a few dozen eggs

Okay, but just one can of beans? Shipping all alone?

And sure enough, a few days later a box showed up on the doorstep.

A box big enough to hold at least eight cans of those beans.

But inside, a lonely can of beans, with a bunch of air pillows in the box for padding.

Because you and I both know how fragile a can of beans can be.

I found it ridiculous but then, what in our world is not at least slightly ridiculous these days?

Not much.

Also I thought I would add, my extra-simple chili recipe* got even better when I discovered a few years ago that buying name-brand chili ready tomatoes and chili hot beans, as opposed to generic, makes a big difference.

In the flavor of the chili, I mean. It's noticeable. Since then I buy only Hunt's Seasoned Diced Tomatoes in Sauce for Mild Chili and Bush's Red Beans in Mild Chili Sauce for my chili.

*For a large quantity of hearty chili (you can make a lot and freeze half of it for another day), brown three pounds of lean ground beef. Add to your slow cooker or Crock Pot  three cans each of the Hunt's chili tomatoes and Bush's chili beans, and a packet of chili seasoning.

It was worth waiting for

Mix in the browned meat and let that come to temperature and simmer on low for a few hours.

Naturally you can amend that recipe for a smaller crowd (like just the two of you) by browning only one pound of ground round (what I use; no draining required), and one can each of the tomatoes and the beans.

Add, to taste, chili seasoning that you buy in a canister instead of using a packet.

(In fact it's more economical to use the canister seasoning instead of a packet, all of the time.)

Serve with corn chips, sour cream, shredded cheddar cheese, and banana pepper rings. Or you can go with cornbread muffins on the side.

Make a lot and invite the crowd. On the first cool day. Which will arrive in due time.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

If you are able

Thought-provoking, pointed, and poignant

When we were in Knoxville three weeks ago, we walked around the World's Fair Park. It was a gorgeous weather day and we enjoyed being outside.

Eventually we wandered to the East Tennessee Veterans Memorial at the edge of the park.

I was struck by one of the engraved monoliths containing a poem written by Major Michael Davis O'Donnell at Dak To, Vietnam, on January 1, 1970.

Major O'Donnell would be killed in action in Cambodia a few weeks later, on March 24, 1970.

The poem touched my heart that day, and I sent a picture of it to my girls.

Charlie Kirk had only a few weeks more to live, too, on that late August day. And today as we continue to mourn the loss of a great American, this poem is fitting, I think.

Because we are in a war; the war of right versus wrong. Good versus evil. The eternal struggle in which we will be engaged until our Lord returns.

Charlie was a warrior and like Major O'Donnell, he died for his country.

He was nothing if not a gentle hero. But fierce in defense of God and of truth. Which are one and the same.

God bless America and confound her enemies both foreign and domestic.

Especially domestic.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday

News from our August: birthdays plus horses, dogs, crows, and a cat

Let's face it: the fall season is upon us

And tidbits from our early September too, come to think of it.

In mid-August I invited my friend Marsha over for a mini birthday celebration. Hers.

my dear little friend Marsha and her birthday cupcake

It was a Thursday late afternoon, since she has Fridays off and can relax after work on Thursday. I cannot remember what I served us for a light meal, but I did have a cupcake for her.

Of course I got her a balloon too, and presents, without which it's not really a birthday.

I got her the prettiest balloon I could find

Marsha is engaged to be married and will be a beautiful bride next May. She is working hard to make everything happen on time.

Towards the end of August, TG and I took a trip to Knoxville for our grandson Guy's second birthday.

Mysterious brick gate at Market Square in Knoxville

Upon arrival in downtown Knoxville on Sunday evening and checking in to our hotel, we walked in Market Square and got a light supper, then strolled on Gay Street until dark.

In a half-acre grassy area across the street from the iconic Tennessee Theatre, we saw two mounted police officers.

Phil and Buzz on a late summer evening in Knoxville

We walked over and were invited to commune with the horses, whose names were Phil and Buzz.

We were not in town for Guy's party, which had taken place earlier that day, but we were able to hang out with him and Andrew the whole next day, Monday, and it was pretty special.

Either Phil or Buzz. Either way, nice horse.

We walked in Knoxville's World's Fair Park, took some pictures at the War Memorial there, and Guy played in the playground.

Brittany is in nursing school, so we were not able to see her during our visit. But in addition to spending the day with Andrew and Guy, we had some park time with Ember after she got out of kindergarten for the day, and later all went out to supper.

Either Phil or Buzz. Either way, quality equine unit.

The next morning, Tuesday, Andrew was able to come to our hotel and have coffee with us at the Starbucks downstairs, there on Gay Street.

It was pretty great to see him.

I enjoyed coffee after not breaking my nose

Later that day we drove home and I was glad to get there because I tripped and fell in our hotel room that morning, landing -- how this happened I will never know -- on my nose. 

I didn't break it, which has to be some kind of minor miracle.

Baby Guy, at the park, two years and one day old

But I had a headache and a swollen nose and fear of getting black eyes, and in general felt fairly weak and tired by the time we reached home that evening.

(I did not develop black eyes, but rather just a faint greenish discoloration on both sides of my nose.)

Ember at the park after a long day at kindergarten

(Easily covered with makeup.)

My nose is still sore, three weeks later. I must learn to stay on my feet.

Random photo of my heroic granddog Sibyl Porter, a/k/a Sibi

My friend Sara in Virginia called me one day a few weeks ago. We had a lot of catching up to do since we had not talked in a while.

A few days later there was a good-sized box on my porch, from her. What could this be, I wondered.

Ember and Guy dressed for church on September seventh

Turns out it was a trove of crow-themed gifts. Because one, Sara operates two wildly successful antique stalls and has deep inventory, and two, she knows how much I love crows. And ravens.

Corvidae, as it were.

You've heard of throw pillows? These are crow throws.

There were two needlepoint pillows, plus a primitive crow on a canvas with its own easel, and a distressed wooden crow up on a dowel anchored in a wooden base.

This was thrilling and I have had such a good time with those crows.

Random photo of my treasured feline unit, Sweetness

Then it was Labor Day, and on that day it's our custom to celebrate our Stephanie's birthday. 

She turned forty-five this year. We had a nice meal with Stephanie and Joel plus the Chericas and the Maudags, and then a big birthday cake, and presents.

Dagny and Rizzo during a recent Cubs game

The weather had already turned gorgeous, and it has remained super nice, although still moderately hot.

We had a few cool-ish days in late August and I was lighting scented candles and switching up the decor and eager for autumn.

Stephanie's birthday cake

I still am, and it's closer than ever.

Summer is on the wane.

Our Skippy and his Uncle Joel on Labor Day

Another trip is coming up, and I can't wait to tell you all about that at its conclusion.

Let Freedom Ring: Andrew and Guy

Meanwhile we are all grieving the loss of true American Hero Charlie Kirk, and praying for his family.

God bless and help the United States of America, and confound her enemies both foreign and domestic.

Especially domestic.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday