Crowned heads of the Carolinas

Joel and Allissa before the ceremony

January has been jarring, so far.

After Henry's short illness, culminating in his homegoing, and our Melanie's illness -- which is ongoing -- we've craved some good news.

And late last week, some happy happenings occurred.

It's uncharacteristic for our area to be threatened with a winter storm of any magnitude, and yet that's the reality that greeted us in the early part of the week.

Ember and Guy enjoyed some snowfall in East Tennessee

In fact, the predictions were so dire that we were convinced we'd be under a nine-inch layer of ice by Saturday afternoon. Power out for days, if not weeks. Freezing to death. Eating our pets before it was all over.

TG will openly make fun of me if I buy into any part of the panic, so the only thing I asked of him was to make sure we had enough propane to cook on the gas grill, should the projected power outages take place.

He smirked but did take the tank to be refilled -- if that's indeed what one does; I really do not know -- only to return home with his smirk wiped off his face because there was no propane to be found within fifty miles.

Joel and Stephanie gave Allissa a corsage

Seems others had the same idea as me. (I never claimed to be a beacon of original thought. It just made sense to me that if the power winked out, I would need my grill in order to boil water for coffee or heat up a can of soup.)

(By the way, the power stayed on throughout our tenth-of-an-inch ice event. We had stocked up on storm snacks. The pets were safe.)

(Yes, the sidewalks and decks and perhaps even some streets, were slick on Sunday. Church services were canceled and we did not attempt to go anywhere and as I said, the lights stayed on so we were warm and happy.)

(The kids sent pictures of their kids enjoying what wintry precipitation they received on Sunday. Dagny's photo looks like something out of a Stephen King novel.)

This was me on Sunday

But, not being able to accurately predict the weather, we did not know any of that last Friday, when out of an abundance of caution, we decided to celebrate TG's Sunday birthday two days early.

It was arranged that we -- TG, me, the Chericas, and the Maudags, party of nine -- would meet at El Jimador for dinner at about six thirty.

We'd never, any of us, been to El Jimador before. I chose the venue and I freely admit that I was hoping to recreate the smash-hit Mexican feast we enjoyed in Greenville on January 14th, the night before Henry's funeral.

TG was surprised by all the attention, but rolled with it

(It almost did not happen on that night in Greenville; we originally chose Red Robin, where you get a gourmet burger and bottomless fries.)

(Like any of us over the age of eleven need to be consuming endless amounts of fries.)

But it was a bust. After allowing us to wait for over twenty minutes, the "hostess" admitted that our chances of getting a table for seven and being served sometime before midnight, were on a par with the likelihood of me prancing around the restaurant waving the Jolly Roger while chanting six seven.

Allissa is known for her semi-regal poise

Which, I assure you, will happen when they are serving icy-cold, refreshing beverages in the bad place.

At any rate, we quickly regrouped and ended up at La Parrilla, where we were treated to ambiance, food, and service which was just about as excellent as those three desirable dining-out possibilities could ever hope to be, all at the same time.

(Trust me: if you are ever in Greenville, South Carolina, at mealtime and you like Mexican? Go straight to La Parrilla. It's not a bad drive for us; maybe an hour and fifteen minutes. We may go there again just because we can.)

Dagny got in on the hat-wearing fun

So yes, choosing El Jimador for TG's birthday party was my idea because I was hoping to approximate that experience.

And El Jimador was good. Not great -- not La Parrilla -- but good. The ambience and service were eight out of ten; the food, seven out of ten. Not a lineup of tens, but no one was complaining. And we were together.

I'd brought the balloons without which we do not consider it a birthday party, so the servers knew that there was a birthday person present, and I'd told them it was the elder statesman at our table.

We ate and we watched and celebrated

And so it was that after the chips and salsa and enchiladas and nachos grande and chimichangas and quesadillas had been consumed, we were surrounded by clapping, cheering staff members who lustily sang Happy Birthday to Señor Weber.

This was after someone had clapped a small sombrero on his head, which he wore throughout the serenading process, before Dagny modeled it.

Then they served him a plate of luxurious whipped cream-topped and cinnamon-dusted sopapillas, which he shared with the grandkids.

TG's balloons floated above the festivities

Erica had made brownies and we were headed to our house next to enjoy those with ice cream and coffee and watching TG open his presents, so we had the dessert thing covered.

And so it was that we settled up and drove the ten minutes to our abode, where the gifts were arrayed and the brownies and ice cream served and eaten with abandon.

Then there was the equally exciting part of the evening.

Allissa posed with her little brother Andrew

Our Allissa -- second grandchild, about to turn eighteen in April -- was up for Homecoming Queen at her school.

Lissy is a senior at Tabernacle Christian School in Hickory, North Carolina.

Normally TG and I would have made an attempt to be present on such an important occasion, but it is a nearly three-hour drive, and the whole thing would not be over until after nine o'clock, and then would have been the drive home, and we're getting too old to contemplate three-hour drives getting us home later than midnight.

He was such a good sport

It's convenient that if you go to YouTube and search for Tabernacle Christian School, you can watch as events unfold.

So we propped my Macbook high on a box atop the table, and all watched from South Carolina while the ceremony was taking place in North Carolina.

Eventually Allissa was indeed crowned Homecoming Queen 2026, and she looked so beautiful and we were thrilled. Stephanie began sending pictures to my phone.

Congratulations to Lissy on her coronation

When we see them again in person, TG can share with Allissa what it was like to be fêted by all and adorned with festive head coverings on a cold January night in the Carolinas. The señor and the senior.

I communicated with Allissa the next day, to congratulate her and assure her that we had all been there in spirit, to share in her achievement. She is truly a lovely young woman, and a leader.

The pirate has never been crowned anything -- you? If so, tell me about it in the comments.

Dagny lurked on her ice-slicked street on Sunday

And that is all for now except to add, we are once again under a Winter Storm Watch for this weekend.

This time, the breathless prediction is for several INCHES -- INCHES, I tell you! --  of snow, accompanied by bitterly plummeting temperatures.

Ah. We shall see, and we shall be prepared with propane. 

Warm-and-safe wishes to you wherever you are, from the pirate, until the day break, and the shadows flee away.

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Happy Thursday

I still say funeral

Henry's son-in-law, Steve, watches at the door of the hearse

It's all memorial services now; they don't use the word funeral much anymore.

But I do.

This obsession with euphemisms is becoming tiresome. Just call it what it is. It's a funeral.

I have a recipe called Funeral Potatoes and you cannot believe the uneasy laughter -- or outright chuckling -- that ensues whenever I say it.

But that's the name of the recipe. It's called that because it's so good, it will gladden the heart of any mourner who puts a pile of it on their plate, or a bite into their mouth.

I was under the impression that I had found the recipe in a cookbook entitled Food To Die For, given to me for Christmas by my daughter Stephanie in 2010.

Cousins Rhett and Ember made the most of a funeral situation

However, having got the cookbook down off the shelf and searched through it for the Funeral Potatoes recipe, and not finding it there, I've concluded that I must've come by it some other way.

But the recipe is all over the internet. Sometimes it's called Crack Potatoes but I'm not about to cave to the trend and start calling it that.

At any rate, in the Pirate's book, a funeral is a funeral is a funeral. 

And this past Thursday, we had a funeral for our Henry.

One wears black and tries not to laugh too loudly, although I find that funerals are a place of uncommon hilarity. Not sure why; I think it may be because the days leading up to a funeral are fraught with so much stress, that the actual day can come as a relief.

Dagny wore it first ... to my mother's funeral in 2020

You have accepted the death and done the myriad things, large and small, and seen to all of the details, and, as we said to one another several times throughout the day, It's almost over.

We were tired.

TG and I, plus Audrey and Dagny in their car, and Andrew and Ember and Guy coming from the other direction, all arrived in Greenville last Wednesday evening.

We checked into our hotels and went out to supper, enjoying a wonderful meal at La Parrilla. 

Back snug in our rooms -- for the temperatures were dropping and it would be bitterly cold the next day -- we tried to rest.

I was awake for most of the night but it was to be expected.

Henry in happier but lonelier days

But back to that cold weather forecast. We weren't twenty minutes down the road on Wednesday afternoon when TG announced that he'd forgotten his shoes at home.

By shoes, he meant his black dress (church) shoes. He wasn't barefoot.

Oh dear, I sighed. Are you going back? Or do you plan to go shopping in Greenville and buy a new pair?

I'm not going back, he said. And I'm not buying a new pair.

Me and my baby brother Shawn

Silence.

Then what? I said.

I'm going to see if Audrey can swing by and pick them up, he said.

Audrey would be several hours behind us but she already had a busy day. I called her.

Many things there were to be considered

She said she'd be glad to go by and pick up her dad's shoes. Sigh of relief.

About a half hour (give or take) after that, I began worrying that I was not going to be warm enough the next day, especially at the graveside.

I'd brought a long-sleeved black dress and my mink vest, and leather gloves.

And that was all.

Who was telling who what, we will never know

I called Audrey back. I asked whether, when she swung by the house on the way out of town to pick up her dad's shoes, she could also grab my full-length black velvet coat.

She said sure and I breathed yet another sigh of relief because that coat is warm and, looking at the forecast for Greenville being a high in the thirties the next day, even with bright sun, I knew I would need my coat.

It had not occurred to me to bring it. So I thanked TG for forgetting his shoes, and he thought that was so funny.

At any rate we got over to the church the next morning a little before ten. Family visitation began at eleven but I had to set up the memorabilia tables.

Audrey, Erica, and Dagny visiting with Rae Ellen

We'd brought some things from home, and we'd also gone out to my mother and Henry's house on Wednesday to pick up more things from Henry's children, who were staying there while they worked to process all of the things that are left after the end of not one but two long lives.

It didn't take long to put out the pictures and books and other things we'd deemed appropriate for folks to look at while they waited in the receiving line, which turned out to be not so much a formal line, as simply all of us milling around in what the church there calls the Fireplace Room.

Henry was there, looking sharp, and for about an hour or so, everyone crowded in to condole with us and pay their respects until time for the ... ahem ... funeral.

Ember is six and Rhett is four, so they were in the room there with all of us. Elliot and Guy, being two-year-olds, were playing down the hall in the nursery.

Henry's girls, hugging it out

It was the first funeral for each of them -- or at least, the first funeral that either of them will have any chance of remembering later -- and they were making some shrewd and observant remarks.

At one point, Ember was telling Rhett (or maybe it was the other way around) that Henry's soul was not with his body anymore. Can't argue with that.

Out of the mouths of babes.

Ember was wearing the black dress that Dagny wore to my mother's funeral five-plus years ago.

Chad, TG, and Steve await the progression of events

(Audrey pointed that out to Erica and Andrew and me later, when we were all looking at the pictures.)

Kay's and my little brother Shawn flew in from Galveston, Texas, to be with us.

The last time I saw Shawn was at our mother's funeral. I guess that's where we are now, in life: every wedding and every funeral turns into a de facto family reunion.

(And we reminded one another that, next time, it's likely to be a funeral/reunion for one of us. We're next! The next generation to go. Our children will perform these same sacred duties for us, and it won't be long.)

My brother-in-law Philippe greets Beth and Rae Ellen

Our Melanie was so ill that Stephanie and Joel and their family could not travel. Stephanie was heartbroken but there was nothing to be done. They need your prayers.

Henry had five children: four daughters and a son. Rae Ellen, Jane, Beth Ann, Laura, and John. His son was not able to attend the funeral, but the four girls, and one of their husbands, were there.

John and his four sisters are precious each in their own way, and we love them. The girls were heartbroken to be saying goodbye to their dad. They did all for him that they could, and he loved them too.

They lost their mother in 1981, when they were all still so young.

Henry lasted four days in assisted living

It was amusing to hear them (not at the funeral, but the day before and even a week before, when we saw them at their dad's house) talk about who was Dad's favorite and who was getting what, and so forth.

Henry's children are the quintessential close-bonded siblings. I've never known them not to be there for one another.

Eventually it was time for the service. Don't you love that moment when the family all file in to take their seats in the front pews? I am into the ceremony of that, but one feels self-conscious.

My niece Gena's husband, Damon, was close to Henry because Damon is good at troubleshooting tech problems, and lives only a few miles away from Henry.

Audrey and Erica and the children visited him two weeks ago

Many was the time that Henry reached out to Damon for help with a computer or TV issue.

So it was that Damon gave a wonderful -- and funny, and touching -- testimony of what Henry meant to him. We laughed and we cried.

It was all tears later when our Andrew sang My Saviour First of All. He made it to the last verse before emotions overcame him and he had to ask everyone to sing it with (and for) him.

It was perfect, though painful. But it was real, and that's what counts. He has sung at all four of his grandparents' funerals.

These are weighty matters, cousin

Once the funeral service was concluded and Henry was placed in the hearse for his last ride, we were grateful for the opportunity to stretch our legs before regrouping for the trip to the cemetery in Travelers Rest.

A tent with three sides had been set up for us, which offered some relief from the cold wind. The same pastor who preached my mother's funeral in October of 2020, said some words over our Henry.

He kept it brief due to the cold, but it was good and at the end we all sang How Great Thou Art before again being allowed to stretch and mill around for a bit before the next event of the day.

That event was the meal that had been prepared for our family and was ready to be served back at the church.

Andrew and TG helped to carry Grandpa

This is done for every funeral of this sizable church's membership, organized and executed by ladies in the deceased person's Sunday School class.

The meal was delicious and we had a great time talking and reminiscing.

Elliot enjoyed hitching a ride with my nephew Michael, who, due to a severe case of Guillain-Barré Syndrome over fifteen years ago, gets around in a motorized wheelchair.

No sooner would Michael set Elliot onto the floor, thinking they were done, than Skippy would say: Again.

And they would do it again.

Leaving Grandma and Grandpa's house for the last time

After the meal, we all went back out to our mother's and Henry's house for the last time.

I had already been and gone and had taken everything that was left to me, and that Henry's girls said I was welcome to take, of my mother's.

But my children had been invited to come too and each of them went away with something that will be a reminder to them of their last set of grandparents to move off the scene.

And that was sad, in the way it is when a house becomes a mere shell of what it once was. My mother kept a beautiful and well-appointed home, and Henry kept it clean and orderly -- and even did most of the yard work himself -- until perhaps the last six months.

Walking away from the site of many memories

No mean feat for a man in his nineties, but then Henry was fighting trim, and spry nearly until the end.

The day was closing then, and it was hard to go, but we did go. The house will be put on the market and another family will buy it and soon they will be living there, and I'll never have occasion to darken the door again.

My mother used to be sitting in her recliner as I arrived, and she'd look over to the storm door -- her pretty, shiny door that she was so proud of when she got it -- and smile real big and jump up to come and let me in.

Never again. As we said several times that day: It's the end of an era.

My sister's family sent this wreath for the Dykstra family

But we "... sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.

For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him. For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep.

For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord.

Wherefore comfort one another with these words. (I Thessalonians 4:13-18)

So that is all for now ... and we will rejoice in the truth until the day break, and the shadows flee away.

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Happy Tuesday

Farewell for now, Henry Dykstra

Henry Dykstra in his boyhood

Our Henry is gone.

He passed from this life into life everlasting on Friday, January 9, 2026, in the early evening.

He was married to my mother from 1983 until her homegoing in 2020. He was the only grandpa on our side, that my children and my sister's children ever knew.

Henry had four lovely daughters and one son, all of whom are loved by our family. They are truly wonderful folks, which, as I have told them, speaks to their careful rearing by their parents, who dearly loved them.

And it is a testament to the grace of God in all of our lives.

TG and I traveled to Greenville last Saturday. Too late to say goodbye in person, which made us sad, but Henry stole away with precious little warning.

Henry's daughters were on their way home when the situation turned dire, but my sister Kay and a few of her children who live locally, were there when Henry slipped away. It was peaceful.

Which is merciful. 

I'll say more about Henry later but now we're planning a funeral and tomorrow we'll be going up to Greenville again, to all be together.

Until then I leave you this link to Henry's Find A Grave page, which I began working on not long after I learned of his homegoing, and which I completed this morning.

The memorial part is his obituary, which I was honored to have been asked to write.

The service will be live-streamed here.

And so that is all fow now ... until the day break, and the shadows flee away.

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Happy Tuesday

People. Let's get along.

Uncanny likenessThere was a great deal of strangeness going on at the UPS store a few weeks ago.

I'd gone there to return something to Amazon. You can do that for free now. It's about a mile and a half from my house, and it's always a pleasant, quick transaction.

Hand over the stuff (you don't even have to wrap it), hold out your phone with the return QR code showing, and wait a few seconds.

And with a cheery thank you, you're on your way to the next errand.

On this day, it was cold and windy. As I approached the door to the storefront, there was a lady just ahead of me.

She was carrying something large, and as I got right up to the door, I realized that there was a line.

That's just never the case, and I was hoping that I could indeed get inside the door and close it behind me, because as I said, it was cold.

As it turned out, I was able to get inside -- just -- and as the door closed I realized that the real problem was developing right there in the store.

Because two females -- both middle aged, one white, one Asian -- were having a noisy confrontation.

Ugh I so wish I'd been there at the beginning of the kerfuffle -- because the Pirate can be so helpful in such situations -- but what I was able to pick up was, the white lady had accused the Asian lady of being rude to her.

Baby Guy on Christmas morning in East Tennessee

It doesn't cost a penny to be nice! she shouted.

Who do you think you are, the President? the Asian lady responded.

You slammed the door in my face! That's just rude! the white lady countered.

So you think you're someone special? the Asian lady demanded to know.

Believe it or not, no one was using their phone to record this fascinating exchange. Everyone in line was staring straight ahead, silently, as though nothing untoward was taking place.

But since it was taking place in front of me, I had to watch it unfold.

Rhett with his Sweet Love in church Sunday before last

And I was praying, Please God, don't let anyone start throwing punches.

And no one did. The Asian lady (who was on her way out) recognized futility as it stared her in the face, decided (wisely) to call it a day, and left in a considerable huff.

I don't know who had the last word.

The white lady with anger issues, still in line, even with her back to me registered intense agitation. She was half coughing, shaking her head back and forth, and sort of twitching her shoulder up and down.

Like at any moment, she was going to blow. Maybe turn around and go after Madame Fang.

Oh mercy, I thought.

My granddog Sybil Ann Porter on Christmas morning

But then, as if a switch had been flipped to the off position, she relaxed. She leaned forward to the person (another lady) in line ahead of her, and began vocalizing in dulcet, conspiratorial tones about something or other.

I couldn't tell what she was saying but her message (to all and sundry in the awkwardly quiet line) was obvious: I am the nice person here. That other lady, she was the mean one. She's the one you should be judging.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Peace on earth, good will to other UPS customers.

Right.

So then the person in front of the confrontational lady had her turn at the counter, and then the lady herself had her turn, and that left one person in front of me. 

That person was called up to be waited upon, and I was left standing about eight feet from the lady who had been going ten rounds with the Asian lady when I walked in.

Audrey's Christmas decor included this terrarium

She had plopped up onto the scale a box that, if taken at face value, contained an air fryer.

The top of the box had been opened.

I heard her say to the cashier, We opened it to look at it but we didn't take it out, and so it needs to be taped back shut. It was a hundred nineteen dollars.

The cashier did not react but just asked where the package would be going.

The white lady who claimed to have had the door slammed rudely in her face started giving an address but then she had to repeat it and I noticed that the cashier had what looked like a hearing aid in her ear, and it was obvious that she had not gotten all of the information.

So the lady who was not having a great day, repeated the information a few more times until even I knew the address by heart.

We attended Christmas Eve service at First Presbyterian downtown

It was in Greenville, South Carolina.

That's where my mother lived, and where Henry still lives, as well as where my sister and several of her children and grandchildren live.

We get up to Greenville about a half dozen times a year; you can be there in significantly less than two hours.

Anyway the lady with the quick temper and loud voice had finally finished reciting the address of where she wanted the air fryer to go, and had moved on to stating her wish that it be delivered "to him" the next day.

The cashier, unflapped, never took her eyes from her screen. Tappity tap tap on her keyboard.

Then she said: For it to be delivered tomorrow will be one thirty-nine.

Dagny and me on December 28th

The lady who was prone to flip out leaned forward at the waist, her chest touching the flaps of the air fryer box, and enunciated in elevated volume: One. Hundred. THIRTY. NINE. DOLLARS???

The cashier never looked up. 

That's if you want it delivered in the afternoon, she said. If you want it delivered in the morning, it will be one seventy-six.

Lady with the short fuse refused to engage. She was fishing in her purse. She produced two twenties and waved them around as though they were magic wands.

I was hoping that forty dollars would take care of it, she asserted.

Lady what dream world do you live in? I wondered, but only in my head.

My Tennessee grands impersonating little angels, only yesterday

The cashier did not take the bait and did not even give those twenties the time of day. You could almost hear her thinking: As if.

Still consulting her screen and tapping on her keyboard, she said, For delivery next Monday it will be eighty two dollars. For delivery on Tuesday will be fifty six dollars.

(I think this was on a Thursday.)

Lady with anger management issues stuffed the twenties back into her purse.

I'll take the one thirty-nine, she said. Just so he has it sometime tomorrow.

? ? ? ? ?

The air fryer cost one nineteen! I'd just heard her say so!

I took this on December 20th ... overall, South Carolina is peaceful

I turned around and looked at the lady waiting in line behind me.

Her eyebrows went up. Way up. And she didn't even know about the immature verbal altercation that air fryer lady had been in, not ten minutes earlier! She hadn't been in the store yet because I was just inside the door!

I said to the lady with only half of the information: She could have been halfway to Greenville by now.

Right? the lady said back to me. Just get in your car and drive there and leave it on his porch. You'll be back home by suppertime!

Or, I said, Zelle him a hundred twenty bucks and tell him, drive around to the Walmart and get you an air fryer!

The lady behind me and I both rolled our eyes. Oh well, we agreed. Bless her heart. (which, where I live, doesn't mean what it sounds like.)

Baby Guy at the park last Saturday

And then it was my turn and since I always like to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem, I hustled over to the waiting cashier and within ten seconds, I was on my way to the next errand.

People! Use your brains! Think! 

One: If someone seems as though they are or were being rude to you, it was probably not intentional!

Two: Even if it was intentional, so what? Forgive and move on. It saves so much time and agony.

A young husband and father was shot to death in a Target parking lot over the weekend. Over a parking space.

I rest my case.

When I got home and told TG about the scene at the UPS store, he said, You should have offered to drive the air fryer to Greenville for a hundred dollars. She would have saved thirty-nine dollars and you could have had tea with your sister before coming home a hundred bucks richer.

I thought -- Why didn't I think of that??? 

But I didn't, and I am sorry that I didn't.

I sent this to my kids on New Year's Day

Anyway since I did not take pictures of the nonsense that went on at the UPS store, I've included a few recent photos that I thought you might like.

Audrey and Erica took their children and went to Greenville just today -- no air fryer to deliver -- to visit Henry, who only yesterday got settled into an assisted living facility not a mile from the cemetery where my mother is buried, and where his own grave beside hers is already paid for.

Henry is in failing health and is not likely to get better. TG and I are going to see him on Saturday.

Dagny posed with me on the Sunday between Christmas and New Year's, and at eleven years old is beginning to look as though she skipped twelve, thirteen, and fourteen, and went straight to age fifteen.

Rhett is devoted to his mother and even calls her Sweet Love. I heard him do it the other day, while we were out to eat at Cracker Barrel. May I have a drink of your water, Sweet Love? he said.

Ember and Guy, our Tennessee grandchildren, are thriving and we hope to see them again soon.

Elliot A/K/A Skippy at my mother's grave today

Melanie in North Carolina, our disabled granddaughter who turned twenty-one a few weeks ago, has also been extremely sick and has had several hospital visits and a few overnight stays.

Her parents, our daughter Stephanie and son-in-law Joel, are working every day to get her the help she needs. It's a sad situation and we need your prayers.

Are you as busy as we have been? Every year I think it will be different, and every year it is not.

But we will keep soldiering on, until the day break and the shadows flee away.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Barking almonds and other news

Merry Christmas, Darlings

We are having a busy Christmas season.

Something tells me that you are too, but I'll go first.

It's funny because this year's was what you might call a short Christmas season; there were exactly four weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Not a single almond -- barking or otherwise -- is present in this product

In accordance with that time frame, I got out ahead of everything. I worked at it like it was my job. Which, in fact, it was. It is.

Ninety percent of my Christmas gifts were purchased, wrapped, and situated under and around the tree before Thanksgiving.

On the day after Thanksgiving, I replaced my autumn wreath with my Christmas wreath. It lights up on a timer so I just let it glow there throughout the season.

I made this easy Crock Pot Candy today

I removed everything orange and brown and yellow from the decoration scene and replaced it with green and red and gold.

My regular coffee mugs were switched out for my Christmas mugs. Fall-scented candles were replaced with Christmasy candles.

And once all of that was done, I turned my attention to what we would be eating for the holidays.

I wore my mink vest to the Presbyterian Christmas party

I made list after list. The grocery orders came in tranches: the first wave was basic groceries but the second wave, I went to the Walmart in person to get.

Next, a Trader Joe's opened up about three miles from my house. The girls and I were there on opening day -- December 12th -- and I bought some more Christmas gifts and groceries there.

More lists were compiled: things I needed to make for gifts, for friends at church and for friends outside of church, and for neighbors.

On Black Friday we did our usual photo shoot ... Stephanie and family

(I had already made cranberry sauce and apple butter -- several times -- and bread to give to folks at Thanksgiving, so it was more or less of a continuation of that, for Christmas.)

Lists of what we'd have for our traditional Christmas Eve buffet, this year being held at Audrey's house.

Lists of what we'll have for Christmas dinner.

Loaves of homemade bread for the neighbors

Lists of all of the many treats I will be making for those two occasions, plus gifts for the aforementioned church/non church friends, and neighbors.

At any rate, the last four weeks have involved a great deal of planning, list making, buying, preparing, wrapping, giving, cooking, and so forth.

(Preparing my Christmas cards took an entire day. My list needed lots of work, and I sent out one hundred fifty-five cards. To do that, and do it right, takes time.)

Uncut and under wraps: Carmelitas

(The day after Thanksgiving, we did the traditional all-families Christmas card shoots. In addition to the Mike and Audrey and Dagny subjects, we had Stephanie and her family.)

(The Chericas could not make it that day so we got a shot of them for their card, on December 7th when we attended a Christmas program at Florence Baptist Temple in Florence, South Carolina.)

(Also, Allissa wanted a second shoot for her senior pictures, and we took those on Black Friday. They turned out even better than the ones from the first shoot).

Allissa wanted a second shot at senior pictures

All of that was a lot of work. But still, other stuff was going on without any sign of slowing or stopping.

On the second of December, we partied with the Presbyterians. Columbia's historic First Presbyterian Church -- established 1795 -- is a delightful place to visit and make friends. The girls and I have been there for several events in recent months.

December second was the day they held their Christmas Cheer party for ladies, in the late morning with a light lunch format. There were sandwiches and endless sweet treats, plus hot chocolate, tea, and coffee.

TG and me and the Chericas and Maudags, last Sunday

TG got me a ranch mink vest for an early Christmas gift (I bought it from a wonderful seller on eBay; it's vintage and was inexpensive but looks expensive) and I wore it on that day because unlike this week, which is flip-flop weather in South Carolina, it was nippy around the first of the month.

(A few weeks ago, my sister turned seventy. TG and I went to Greenville for the day. I made Southern Living's Poppy Seed Chicken recipe to pop into the oven when we got there, plus a special meal for Henry, who can no longer eat salt, and my sister's birthday and Christmas gifts.)

(Henry, my mother's widower, age 93, was extremely sick and there was a great deal of concern, but he seems to be doing much better. I'll go back and see him again next week.)

Fresh-baked banana breads for the neighbors

(Our Melanie turned twenty-one on Sunday. It was her golden birthday. All of us traveled to North Carolina on Friday and spent the night in hotels, so as to be there for her birthday party and for our Christmas with Stephanie and her family, who as I write are in Pennsylvania for their Christmas with Joel's family.)

(Melanie, who is disabled, has also been extremely sick for several weeks. She is on the mend and is almost back to normal but it has been a harrowing experience for her, for her parents, for her siblings, and for all of us.)

I had seen a reel on Instagram about the aforementioned Poppy Seed Chicken, and all I can say about that is, you should make it. Soon.

Melanie was feeling better for her party

I'd also seen a reel about making Crock Pot Candy, something I've never done before but which looked incredibly easy and good, so I decided to do it.

One of the ingredients listed in the recipe was Almond Bark.

I'd never seen or bought that product before so I was excited to use it. It just sounded so interesting and delicious.

She had a brief hospital stay last week

When I got to the Walmart on that day that I broke my recent habit of having Walmart deliver all of my groceries, and drove over there to get them myself, I noticed that my package of Almond Bark was the last one on the shelf.

I was relieved when I reached up into what appeared to be an empty box module on the shelf and saw in the shadows, at the very back one lonely slab of what was labeled in huge letters ALMOND BARK.

But it was not until I got home and inspected the heavy, chunky package -- which just today, I dropped on my foot, and trust me you don't want to be doing that -- I realized that it was not almond bark at all.

She will graduate in May

It is chocolate candy coating. And that's all it is. There is not a single thing related to almonds in that package.

It's Make Your Own ALMOND BARK Chocolate Candy Coating.

Have you ever heard of anything so outlandish? The package proclaims loudly that it contains Almond Bark. That it IS Almond Bark.

I call them the Maudags -- Mike, Audrey, Dagny

EVERYONE who uses this in recipes online states that one of the ingredients is Almond Bark.

But it's not Almond Bark. It is Chocolate Candy Coating that you could use to Make Your Own ALMOND BARK.

IF you wanted to.

We girls on December 2, 2025

Which I do not, because one, I do not have an almond and two, if I did, I would not be inclined to make it bark.

Barking almonds is one thing that I definitely do not need, and never will. Simply not appealing.

I did use the Make Your Own Almond Bark Chocolate Candy Coating to make Crock Pot Candy -- which involves said so-called almond bark, semi-sweet chocolate chip morsels, creamy peanut butter, and dry roasted peanuts.

The Chericas in Florence, SC, on December 7th

The pirate is not one of those people who wraps gifts in a box that says it's one thing when in fact, on the inside is something else.

So I don't appreciate being led to believe that I am buying almond bark when in fact I am not.

I have so many other funny stories to tell you, but they will have to wait until after Christmas.

At First Presbyterian, they served red velvet cheese ball

Today I made Carmelita Bars, Butterscotch No-Bakes, Andes Mint Ritz Cookies, four loaves of fresh bread, six small loaves of banana nut bread, and the aforesaid Crock Pot Candy.

Tomorrow I plan to make Christmas Crack, Natchez Cookies, Candied Pecans, Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies, and Pretzel Bark.

I'd like to make Chocolate Sprinkle Cookies but I'm not sure I will have time.

Andes Mint Ritz Cookies

Have you noticed that everything you make calls for basically the same ingredients, but comes out to be something unique when you are done?

I have a tower of brown sugar (both light and dark), pecans, almond slices (the non-barking kind), walnuts, oatmeal, semi-sweet chocolate chips, milk chocolate chips, caramel melts, Heath bits 'o brickle, coconut, sprinkles, nonpareils, and sanding/finishing sugars, along with flour, white sugar, vanilla extract, vanilla bean paste, cinnamon, eggs, heavy cream, and flaky salt.

Then there are the crackers: Honey Maid Grahams, saltines, Ritz and knockoff Ritz -- along with pretzels and corn chips (for the queso dip I am making for the Christmas buffet). I haven't even rattled off the myriad canned goods, to include pineapple, yams, green beans, Rotel, et cetera.)

Melly celebrated her golden birthday: 21 on the 21st

These same ingredients will yield countless different treats, each of which will delight and amaze.

On Wednesday, in preparation for Christmas Day, in addition to the Queso Dip for that night's buffet, I am making Sara's Pecan Pie (my friend Sara's recipe -- excellent and so easy; email me if you need it) and a Cranberry Tart in my new tart pan with the removable bottom.

For Christmas Dinner we are having baked ham, Broccoli Casserole, Ruth's Chris Sweet Potato Casserole, Slow Cooker Creamed Corn, mashed potatoes, green beans, Ambrosia (the kind with fresh oranges and grapefruit, pineapple tidbits, maraschino cherries, coconut, mini marshmallows, and chopped pecans), Rhodes Rolls, and assorted soft drinks, teas, and coffees.

It was my first time to make butterscotch no-bakes

It's shaping up to be epic. 

I have so much more to tell you but it will have to wait until after Christmas.

And I hope yours is perfectly lovely, or if not reaching that height, at least passably tolerable.

Centerpiece at the First Presbyterian Ladies' Christmas Tea

I have a new favorite saying: ... until the shadows flee away. (Song of Solomon 2:17 KJV).

We will keep striving, keep working, keep believing, keep loving, keep praising, keep helping, keep looking up, until the day breaks, and the shadows flee away.

Until almonds bark.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday :: Merry Christmas

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 December 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