A Dozen

Hey, Antique Mommy, Sean’s tally marks of 6 would come in handy for this meme. 🙂


1. Please share one middle school memory. It can be good, bad, ugly, funny. Pictures or words, I don’t care, just share.
Fall night, Jr. High football game, in the stands with MaryLinda and Clay. Clay wanted to know who I liked. I wouldn’t tell him. Mary Linda said, “He’s on the side lines wearing a pink shirt.” There was only ONE person on the side lines wearing a pink shirt. I dumped my Sprite on her head. She threw her Coke in my face. We were still in each others’ weddings. . .we are still friends today.

2. What’s your favorite Beatles song? “Yesterday”

3. If I asked you to describe your most comfortable outfit, what would it be? my cotton night gowns. . .for home only

4. Would you rather host a party or be a guest?
Host. The end.

5. Do you think we will move completely from traditional books to digital ones, and if we do, are you OK with that?
I do not think we will EVER move completely away from traditional books OR the need to learn to write by hand. Despite what anyone may say, these are part of how humans express themselves. . .there has always been some form of written/drawn communication and always someone to read it. Technology is faster, but not infallible. There are things you can do with a book and a pen and a piece of paper that cannot be done on a computer screen. We are already losing more than a generation’s worth of correspondence by using e-mail. . .faster. . .reaches more. . .but gone with the touch of a button. And I still have ALL the letters that MaryLinda up there sent to me in Jr. High, High School, and College.

6. Do you learn best by reading, listening or experiencing? All three. I am multi-sensory. I guess I lean more toward visual. . .which includes reading.

7. If you are (or when you were) single, what is the kiss of death for you concerning the opposite sex? (That is, what is one trait or behavior or habit or anything at all that immediately turns you off from considering that person a potential match for you?)

no sense of humor. . .or didn’t get MY sense of humor

8. Snacks. Salty or sweet?


9. Look around you in a four foot radius. What object is around you that you didn’t realize was there or forgot was there? How long has it been there?

Pair of dirty socks (mine). . .no idea–but I will take them to the laundry room if I don’t forget.

10. What is your favorite Tom Cruise movie?

Top Gun I guess. I THINK I watched some of Risky Business on HBO back in the day, but I don’t remember much of it. I also saw Far and Away–but Top Gun is the one I remember from college.

11. You buy a bottle of shampoo and discover that you don’t like what it does to your hair at all. What do you do with that full bottle?

Move it back and forth and forth and back in my cabinet until I throw it away in a fit of frustration one day. . .although it sometimes doubles as body wash. I’ve HEARD the hair conditioner you don’t like is GREAT for shaving your legs.

12. Your favorite Fall comfort food? (Last week it was beverage.)

Corn chowder. No doubt.


From the classroom: I just have to say. . .

I teach a 2nd period class of 6th graders. Some 6th graders take to middle school like a duck to water. They are ALL ABOUT the organization and the locker and the schedule changing and the map of the building and the planning of locker breaks and potty breaks. All. A. ‘Bout. It. All.

Some—meh—not so mature. Papers billowing in their wake as they race—nearly tardy AGAIN to the classroom that is two doors away from their last classroom because they went to the restroom and then their locker and nowtheyarenearlytardyohno-ohno.

Then there are some who just have the occasional Monday. And today, that happened to Maria. I have actually KNOWN Maria since she was in Victoria’s 2nd grade class. She was one that would fight to sit at the front of the floor packed with 2nd graders when I would go to read to them on Friday afternoons. I went to read Geronimo Stilton nearly EVERY Friday afternoon to Victoria’s second grade class. And now I teach many of them—or at least see them in the hallway on a regular basis. They remember me, and they remember Geronimo Stilton.

Maria left her pencil bag in my room 2nd period. Now I am a HUGE proponent of the pencil-bag-with-metal-grommets-that-lives-in-your-binder type pencil bag. It HOOKS. Into your binder. It STAYS THERE. Yet there are many, many, many much CUTER pencil bags that you are just supposed to carry with you. I find these free-wheeling pencil bags in my classroom a lot—or in the hallway—or in the bathroom stall. They DON’T stay put. They roam. Or are left behind.

Maria’s was merely left behind. We were in a rush at the end of class, she had spent most of it outside my door with others who had not completed the work they were assigned over the weekend because they also didn’t complete it last week. They are kids who really SHOULDN’T be in a level one reading class—but because of changes in our district’s determination of level one—they are. So. Maria’s stress level was a little high. She is a basic reader, and was asked to complete work that is on her level to a little too difficult for her at an advanced rate. This I cannot change. It’s the nature of the level one class, and by policy, I cannot change the pace or “rigor” (how I HATE the advent of that word in the rounds of education vernacular as of late) of that class—even for sweet, gentle, lisping Maria.

I teach a 3rd period class of 7th and 8th grade dyslexia students. They also struggle. There are only 11 of them in the room, and the things they are being asked to do are not difficult—it’s more drill and practice to cement skills they need to aid in their reading for the rest of their lives. They have been in the dyslexia program a long time, so they do, in fact, know the drill. Today I had them split up a deck of vocabulary cards and a deck of missing letter cards and work on them in pairs. Then they switched with someone else and worked on the other half. I let them choose a spot in the room. There were two students sitting over where Maria sits in class during this activity. After that, I had the 7th graders come to one side of the room to do a lesson while the 8th graders did some “drill bit” practice in pairs. Again—two students (different ones) sitting where Maria sits–and 2 others also on that side of the room. A total of 4 7th/8th graders where Maria sits and 2 8th graders NEAR where Maria sits. I know them all. Taught two of them in 6th grade. . .and now again.

After 3rd period, Maria came into my room. “Mrs. Langley, have you seen a pencil bag?” “No, honey, I haven’t. . .wait—there is one over on the floor where you sit.” HUGE RELIEF on Maria’s face. Her item was found. Cue angels singing and ethereal light from heaven.

Then she opened it.

At least the person who stole her stuff had the decency to leave her house key. I guess that’s something. Right? They didn’t leave her stranded outside her door after she got off the bus waiting for her mom to arrive at 6:00 when Maria gets home at 4:00. How polite of them to be considerate of her while they were stealing all of her pens and pencils and map colors and B.E.S.T. tickets (our school reward program.) They also left her cute bag with the puppies and her name on it. Oh—and her “cut in line pass” for lunch since her name was written on it in ink. At least they didn’t tear that sucker up and leave it on the floor for the custodian to vacuum. That’s something.

Thing is—Maria should have kept up with her stuff. She should have. I know that. I get that. She will learn a lesson today. BUT—the BIGGER thing is that no one should have TOUCHED HER STUFF except to put it on the chalk tray at the front of my room with all of the OTHER left-behind items that collect there on a daily basis. What is so hard about leaving other people’s stuff alone? Why can’t we dispel or dispense with the attitude of “finders keepers” or “what’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine?” Why should—when I go to talk to a peer about it—it be Maria’s fault? Which one of us has not forgotten or left something even when we WERE paying attention? Why should we, as a society, automatically assume that someone will take our things? Why have we settled for this notion? Am I the only one who is naive enough to find this disturbing despite the fact that I know it to be true?

Well. . .I’m just not sure what the answer is to any of these questions. I have a purple, grommeted pencil bag that I will fill with pens, pencils, and map colors to give to Maria. I will tell her to use it rather than her cute, puppy one. I will gently remind her to keep up with her things. I will e-mail her teachers to see if they will give her some B.E.S.T. tickets since hers got stolen and are probably now in a trash can because her name was on all of them. I will talk to my class of 7th and 8th graders tomorrow—I might even read them this—and hope that it makes a difference. That is what teaching is—just HOPING that one thing will make a difference to somebody on some day and change their behavior, and therefore their life, for the better. At least. . .that’s what *I* think teaching is.

In defense of a Bull and his Daisies

There is a WONDERFUL book by Jeanne Birdsall called, The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy. I pulled it off a book cart in the library of my “old” school about four years ago now. . .could it have been that long???. . .RIGHT after it was published. Our wonderful librarian always snatched up new books to have for the beginning of the next school year, and she always let ME take them home for a test drive over the summer. This one was a favorite from the moment I laid eyes on it. In this case, you CAN judge a book by its cover–it was beautiful.

From all appearances, it was going to be a girly story about girly girls. And it is about girls. . .mostly. . .but they are girls that have a dog named Hound who eats “in haste and repents at leisure”–normally by barfing all over one of the girls’ shoes. The most feminine LOOKING of the Penderwick sisters turns out to be the tomboy with a temper to boot. The entire book is a wonderful family-safe tale that snaps with sly humor.

At the time I read it, Victoria was 7 and a little young for it, so I kept on recommending it to my 6th graders and while I was busy doing that, Victoria grew up. My friend Rhonda asked nearly a year ago if Victoria had read it. And she had not. So Rhonda sent her a copy and Victoria devoured it just like I had. Last week, I pulled it off the shelf as a bed time story for the kids. I knew Thad might not read it on his own, but I could front load it a bit to make him interested. He has loved it. Especially the barfing dog.

So, the other night we get to a part in the story when Skye has put her foot in her mouth, thereby defiling the Penderwick Family Honor. Three of the four sisters end up taking a walk with the the Very Interesting Boy (whom Skye impugned) to “clear the air.” The youngest Penderwick, Batty, has wandered off and not been missed by the sisters who are listening to the Very Interesting Boy tell them a story about a horrid bull that lives behind the gate in front of which they are standing. . .

“Jeffrey told Jane to put her eye to one of these knotholes and look through to the other side. “It’s just a field,” said Jane. “There should be a bull over there, ” said Jeffrey. “Nope, no bull.” “Let me look.” Jane moved aside to make room for Jeffrey. You’re right. I don’t see him, either,” he said. “He must be in the barn today.”

Skye tapped her foot impatiently. The truth was, she thought, there was no bull. That boy was just trying to impress Jane.

“He gored a man right in this very field,” said Jeffrey, looking back at Jane. “Oh!” gasped Jane. “Did the man die?” “Almost. . .Cagney told me all about it. The man’s guts fell out of his stomach and it took three doctors to stitch him back up again. Some people signed a petition to have the bull shot, but the police said it was the man’s own fault, because he was trespassing in the bull’s field. . .”

. . .Stay close to your sisters, Rosalind had told Batty, and Batty had stayed pretty close while they were all walking, but when Jeffrey stopped at the gate, Batty drifted away and hid behind a bush. . .Batty peeked out from behind the bush. Jeffrey and her sisters were leaving. She knew she should follow them, but first she wanted to see what was on the other side of that gate (she had been too far away to hear about the man-goring bull). (At this point, Thad began saying , “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.” under his breath.) She crept out from behind the bush and over to the gate and put her eye to a knothole.

What she saw was a field full of clover and daisies, with a barn over on the other side. Now, Batty knew all about horses and their needs. There was a horse farm near the Penderwicks’ home in Cameron, where Mr. Penderwick often took Batty to feed carrots to her favorites. . .and while she didn’t see any actual horses through the knothole, she figured it didn’t mean there weren’t any.”

. . .Batty carefully flopped to the ground, and wriggled under the gate. . .Alas, no horses, not even a shy one. . .Oh well, she would pick daisies instead. . .She headed toward the largest clump of daisies and bent to her task. All was at peace while Batty picked flowers and hummed a song about kangaroos. Above, the birds wheeled cheerfully across the sky. Below, the worms slid happily through the soil. In between, the summer breeze softly ruffled the clover and daisies. But soon the peace was disturbed. Across the field from Batty, the barn door swung open as if shoved by something very strong. And here it came, strong, yes, and big and black. The king of the field, the bull, sauntered out into the sunshine and proudly surveyed his realm.”

About this time the sisters realize that Batty is missing. Much frantic searching ensues. It is also at this time that very evident worry is all over Thad’s face, so I say, “Maybe this bull is like Ferdinand.” And Thad says, “Well, there ARE flowers in the field.”

“Jane turned around to look at the field. “Oh, there he is! He must have just come out of the barn.” “Isn’t he big?” said Jeffrey. “Huge!”. . .and then Jane started to scream.

Batty was watching a purple-and-orange bug when Jane screamed. . .Batty recognized the scream as Jane’s, and as Jane had a habit of screaming, more often than Skye, for example, Batty wasn’t worried. However, she did look up from the bug. A bull is so much larger than a bug that at first Batty didn’t understand what she was seeing. She looked back down at the bug, who had by now safely scuttled up another daisy stem, then looked back up again, hoping the black monster would be gone. Not only was it still there, it had come a step closer. It was only fifteen feet away. “Nice horsie,” said Batty hopefully.

Now, this bull had never actually gored anyone. It was true that once a tourist had sneaked into the field and dropped his expensive camera in front of the bull, who, quite rightly, stepped on it and smashed it to pieces. But that hadn’t been enough of a story for anyone. The first person who told it added a part about the bull scratching the tourist’s leg, and the second person who told it turned the scratch into a gouge and so on, until by the time Cagney repeated the story to Jeffrey, the poor tourist had a gaping stomach wound. When Jeffrey told Jane, he hadn’t exaggerated all that much, just changing one doctor to three.

And here my sweet, sensitive son, in an effort to ease his own fears and to make sure the bull was not completely maligned himself says, “SO he isn’t really a MEAN bull, he just doesn’t like photography.”

I laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed and then I laughed some more. Just the thought of a bull hating–NOT a photographer, mind you, but the entire FIELD of photography was too much for me. And if you want to find out what happens to Batty (in an effort to ease MY conscience about typing so much of this book into the computer), you will have to read the book. I promise you will love it.

*40* Things about Sarah (and some about me too)

(Forgive the whacked out spacing of the pictures. . .they were all there this morning, then I sent them into cyberspace. . .and they were my bane the rest of the day. Enjoy ’em anyway.)

Sarah and I have been friends for a long time. This is not the first blog entry to start with those words. But it’s true. It’s 34 years worth of true, and today Sarah turns 40.

Sarah's wedding: How we looked.

Sarah's wedding: How we looked.

Sarah's wedding: How we felt.

Sarah's wedding: How we felt.

Sitting atop my 1976 Lincoln Contiental in front of Sarah's house with Michelle

Sitting atop my 1976 Lincoln Contiental in front of Sarah's house with Michelle

Now, I turned 40 about 6 weeks ago, so this is not a casting of the proverbial stone–or icing flower as the case may be. But I thought I would give you 40 things about Sarah. I may not know her BETTER than anyone else, because there are large chunks of the past 22 years that I’ve not been physically around to see, but I certainly have known her LONGER than any of the people she is in regular contact with other than her parents and brother (hey Kevin). I now give you. . . Sarah. . .

1. loves words. . .all words. . .big ones, little ones, unusual ones, quirky ones, funny ones. Loves ’em.

2. ate enough banana Laffy Taffy to keep her orthodontist (I ALSO know him. . .and his wife and kids) in business for several years.

3. and I got into REALLY big trouble by staying out until after midnight when we were in high school. We were, actually, sitting in the pitch black parking lot of our high school campus talking about some boys. That makes it no better. It’s just where we were.

4. and I did NOT get into big trouble for jumping the railroad tracks on Finks Hideaway Rd. in her brother’s CRX (sorry Kevin), because God sent his angels to keep us from wrecking it (sorry Mike) so we never got caught.

5. managed to drive said CRX while I changed clothes in the passengers seat (a feat in and of itself mind you) which leads me to

6. is a very, very good driver.

7. can sign (that is S-I-G-N. . .as in “sign language”) entire songs WHILE holding the gear shift of a manual transmission car–such as a Honda (name your model).

8. is also very, very smart. Very. Very.

9. spent several summers working with handicapped kids at a Lion’s camp.

10. climbed a mountain in Colorado MORE than once on Wilderness Trek.

11. is a lifeguard and could save you if you were drowning.

12. spent many hours with me in Mrs. Rosie’s swimming pool in Bastrop getting a tan and talking about those same boys–and others–up in #3.

13. sat by me in band–we both played the clarinet–on occasion when Christy Barker and I would duke it out over who was first chair. NORMALLY it was Christy.

14. served as my “matron” of honor. (I beat her to 40, but she beat me to the altar.) I got to be her “maid.”

15. watched in amazement as I managed to hit myself in the face with the passenger seat of my car.

16. spent a lot of time laughing at me–but not nearly as much as I laughed at myself.

17. was in chorus and wore a “Super Pickle” dress (me too).

18. never played a sport but was manager for the Lady Eagles basketball team.

19. took dance for a really long time.

20. had a cute dog named Rocky who used to clickety-clickety on his clackety toes across the floor.

21. is NOT a morning person despite the fact that she now gets up at the crack of dawn.

22. has lots of really great ideas. (See #8).

23. breaks into spontaneous song–and dance–for no apparent reason.

24. endured/listened to/commiserated with my teenaged/college aged angst.

25. thinks I always look the same–no matter the weight gain or loss, hair cut, clothing items, new wrinkles, or gray hair. This is a sign of true friendship.

26. came with my mother and sister to get me after I had been in Montana for a summer my Jr. year in college. When Momma asked what I wanted her to bring when she came to Searcy to get me I said, “My birthday cake and Sarah.” (I turned 21 the next day.)

27. and I would have REALLY benefited–rather our PARENTS would have benefited–from all of the snazzy calling plans now available. (We DID get in trouble more than once for long distance phone bills.)

28. wrote lots and lots and lots of letters and notes to me–and I wrote back. Still have ’em–and the ones from Mary Linda too.

29. was the first non-family member I called the night my Daddy died.

30. introduced me to her future husband for the first time when I came to visit her in Abilene. (Hi Troy).

31. let me hold and feed and change and dress her brand new baby girl when she was just a few days old. (Hi Ashley).

32. “accidentally” told me she was expecting her second baby when she one day casually asked me what I thought of the name “Riley.” (Hi Riley).

33. and she did not get mad at me when I told her how jealous I was that she was pregnant and not me.

34. can cut through the garbage of a situation and get to the heart of the matter like no one else I know.

35. attended Ouachita Christian School–all the way from elementary to graduation–and was voted Miss O.C.S. by the student body her senior year.

36. has a thing for baskets. . .and shoes. . .and nail polish. . .and bows.

37. probably developed a twitch when I misspelled several words and called Kevin’s CRX a CRV (we own a CRV NOW) in the first, first post, but would NEVER tell me in a million years and will laugh at me for trying to make this post perfect all stinkin’ day long.

38. loves her family.

39. loves her friends–one of which I am blessed to be.

40. loves her God.

There is much more that the confidentialty contract we sealed long ago with some Diet Coke and a few secrets won’t let me say, but we will get to see each other in two weeks (!!! First time in a year and a half–last time we got to spend all of about one hour together.) and have some Johnny’s pizza and laugh until we’re exhausted. Until then–Happy Birthday, Sayruh. You know I love ya more ‘n my luggage. (And I AM pleasant. . .) And forgive me for some of these pictures. Most of them are WONDERMOUS, but some were necessary for illustration don’t ya know.

We had been pretending to be the leaping reindeer that Sarah's mom had on the wall in the dining room. . .one can only assume Sarah wasn't through being a reindeer.

We had been pretending to be the leaping reindeer that Sarah's mom had on the wall in the dining room. . .one can only assume Sarah wasn't through being a reindeer.

Same night as the reindeer incident--New Years Eve, 1987. Don't remember what was up wiht the Post its.

Same night as the reindeer incident--New Years Eve, 1987. Don't remember what was up with the Post its.

As God would have it, we sat next to each other for our first grade class picture. Peep Sarah's knee socks. I had INSISTED on wearing panty hose that day.

As God would have it, we sat next to each other for our first grade class picture. Peep Sarah's knee socks. I had INSISTED on wearing panty hose that day.

Rerun of us with Timms, May, 1987

Rerun of us with Timms, May, 1987

Not Sarah BUT Sarah's grandmother, Maxine--my dear, dear friend.

Not Sarah BUT Sarah's grandmother, Maxine--my dear, dear friend.

We went on a trip to Pensacola after I graduated from College--Five Flag Motel Cheapest Rates Gulf Side.

We went on a trip to Pensacola after I graduated from College--Five Flag Motel Cheapest Rates Gulf Side.

We were enamored with the tiki-faced palm tree--the hotel was destroyed in hurricane Ivan.

We were enamored with the tiki-faced palm tree--the hotel was destroyed in hurricane Ivan.

With our duplex mate Julie in Abilene, 1991

With our duplex mate Julie in Abilene, 1991

February, 1990 with our friend Brandon

February, 1990 with our friend Brandon

Christmas, 1987 sitting in my Momma's rocking chair in our house at the annual Christmas party.

Christmas, 1987 sitting in my Momma's rocking chair in our house at the annual Christmas party.

Bad picture--but there is Sarah to my right, and Christy in 1st chair, and me in the middle.

Bad picture--but there is Sarah to my right, and Christy in 1st chair, and me in the middle.

Jr. year in high school--probably spring?

Jr. year in high school--probably spring?

Graduation night with our (very tall) friend Mark

Graduation night with our (very tall) friend Mark

Sarah and Christy giving me The Look on the way either to or from Nashville.

Sarah and Christy giving me The Look on the way either to or from Nashville.

Mixed Dozen from 2nd Cup of Coffee

Head on over to Linda’s place and answer these for yourself. . .

1. Which is worse: a long, boring meeting or standing in a return/exchange line after Christmas?

a long boring meeting. . .you are expected to pay attention, whereas in the line after Christmas, you can people watch or chat on the phone or totally zone out

2. Except for maybe Rosie O’Donnell or Ann Coulter, nobody likes confrontation, yet we all have to deal with it. When you feel cornered and defensive, do you “bite back” or become passive aggressive?

I tend to use humor to try to deflect the confrontation. If that doesn’t work, and I get mad, then I cry. I don’t cry to make the confrontation go away. I cry because God in His infinite wisdom made sure I would. It is a LOUD, NASTY SOUNDING, GASPING cry if I open my yap, so I keep it closed, thereby also keeping my foot out of said yap.

3. Do you know anything about your genealogical background? (What country, culture, ties to prominent historical figures, or other stuff.)

American Indian, German, Southern, go figure

4. What is the quickest way a person can endear him/herself to you?

Laugh with me

5. Cake, pie, cookies, or ice cream? (Note there is no “all of the above” option. You must choose one. Feel free to elaborate on flavor or memories tied to this dessert.) If you’d like, you can share a recipe, but you certainly don’t have to.

Cake. My Granny’s homemade yellow cake with homemade cooked fudge frosting. I’d give you the recipe, but it died with her. She always made it from memory, and no one ever thought to have her write it down.

6. Females: Do you regularly change your handbag to coordinate with your outfit?

No, but my Granny up there did, and I LOVED it. She had some that were my favorites, and I could play with them when she wasn’t using them. I won all the way around. They all smelled like Merle Norman face powder. She also changed her bathroom curtains (white with different colored balled fringe) and towels with the seasons. No lie.

7. Are you task-oriented or relationship-oriented?


8. IHOP, Bob Evans or Cracker Barrel?

Cracker Barrel but hardly ever get to go

9. Have you ever left a movie in progress in a theater? Why?

“Pet Sematary.” I went to see it in college to make a boy happy and to be with him, and I wish. . .to this day. . . that I’d not even stayed as long as I did. (Which was to the part after the funeral when the dad goes back to sit in the cemetery.) I also wish I’d been wise enough to know that I would NEVER be able to make that boy happy. At least I learned my lesson.

10. What is one area of life in which you would like to develop more discipline or organization?


11. Was middle school fun or painful?

Fun, fun, fun. . .except, of course, for the parts that were painful.

12. What is your favorite Fall beverage?



So. I am not the most graceful person around. I make no apologies OR excuses. But, today I bought a bike.

I LIVED on my bike when I was a kid. . .I had a light blue banana seat to start with, then moved up to a red Schwinn cruiser when I was in jr. high. I rode up the hill to my friend’s house, around the yard, along a trail in the woods, and to the convenience store at the end of the road. I. was. on. that. bike. But I haven’t touched one since I got out of college pretty much. Now that we have a lovely circular bike track. . .I mean driveway. . .and a black-topped road with VERY little traffic, Tony and I decided we wanted to ride bikes with the kids.

These bikes will not win any awards for snazziness or speed, but boy, oh boy, did we EVER have some fun riding them this afternoon. Mine is sort of a cerulean blue. . .lovely. . .but she needs a name. And a basket. I’ll take a picture of our very own Cruisers soon, but I borrowed someone else’s picture to show you what they look like.

These belong to somebody else, but they are what ours look like.

These belong to somebody else, but they are what ours look like.

Weekend Photos

Heather approaching 8 months.

Heather approaching 8 months.

Play hard, yawn harder

Play hard, yawn harder

Heather and Uncle Tony

Heather and Uncle Tony

Ah. . .the Bluebell (K)Country (K)Cone

Ah. . .the Bluebell (K)Country (K)Cone

Perfecting the art of braking as opposed to baling.

Perfecting the art of braking as opposed to baling.

Bed is now by window. . .

Bed is now by window. . .

Baker's Rack/Bookshelf/holder 'o stuff

Baker's Rack/Bookshelf/holder 'o stuff

Sewing Table--obviously no sewing going on right now.

Sewing Table--obviously no sewing going on right now.