Ben And Joanie

         I only thought I screwed up two weeks ago! Last week I made a really, really, big goof.

         When I made my daily call to my mother on Sunday, I talked about some of the things I was working on for that week's letter blog; flowers, and bugs, and that kinda stuff.

         On Monday, when I next talk to her, she said, "Peggy, I didn't get your letter."

         "You didn't! You should have. I sent it last night."

         "Nope. Nothing here."

         "Okay, Momma, I'll send it again."

         A short time later my oldest, much adored sister, Patti, texted me. I didn't get your letter either.

         I don't know what's going on, I text back, then got on my computer and resent the letter blog to both of them.

         Maybe it didn't send, Patti suggested.

         It sent because I always send it to myself and BCC everyone else and it's in my inbox, I replied.

         In between texts with my sister, I sent out an email note asking if there was anyone else who didn't get it.

         Check the addresses and see if mine and Mom's is on there, Patti replied.

         I went to my Sent folder and checked. Guess what? I text back to Patti. You're gonna laugh. I only said that because I did. I only sent it to myself!

         Then a whole bunch of you let me know you didn't get it either.   

         I guess I was distracted.

         This past week has been such an exciting week! Oh my gosh! I hardly know where to begin!

         "At the beginning, Peg. That's the only place to start," you say.

         I know, right!

         I was chatting with Joan, one of the ladies in my exercise class, on FaceBook last weekend.

         "Ben gets out of the shower and says he feels 20 pounds lighter. I said I need to take one of those kinda showers. LOL." Ben is her husband.

         "Me too!"

         The conversation progressed and Joan was telling me that she was just plain worn out.

         "Why?" I asked.

         "We had a cookout with 18 adults and 12 kids yesterday then a camp out for the kids last night."

         "It sounds like you have to go back to work to rest up!"

         "Yepper and that's the plan. Ben is taking down the other two sheds and cleaning up this week so it's going to be a busy week. So far he has no help and I can't take the whole week off work. I can take maybe two half days."

         "Joan, my friend, if you need help, you know what to do!"

         "Peg, I know what you're going to say. You're gonna say, 'Ask!' right?" you guess.

         Close, but no. "Pray about it," I told her. Then — silly me! — I say a prayer for her. "Heavenly Father, Joan is tired and needs a little help to get things done at her house. I pray You wrap Your loving arms of rest and comfort around her and give her a good night's sleep tonight that she may be rested and ready to do Your will in the morning. I pray also, our mighty and gracious Father, that you send someone to help Ben in getting those sheds down and to do it in a safe manner that no one gets hurt. I pray all of this in Jesus' name. Amen."

         Joan replied, "Amen. Thank you so much sister."

         It wasn't more than a minute or two later that it hits me. "You could help."

         "Awww, man! I don't really want to!" Me says to Myself.

         "You and Mike could go over and help Ben tear down the sheds. You're a good fetcher and toter."

         "I am! But Mike's back can't take it. He does it at our house because he has to."

         "Maybe you'll find a treasure..."

         "Really? Now you're resorting to bribery?"

         Nonetheless, I got back on FaceBook messenger. "When is Ben getting the dumpster?" I wasn't committing though!

         "Tomorrow," Joanie answers. "I was going to ask Lamar at church if he was willing to help Ben again, but I forgot. I think Ben is going to call him tomorrow."

         Monday rolls around and when the Kipps stop on their morning walk, I patiently wait for Lamar to mention he was going to help Ben tear down his sheds, then I would volunteer to help too. He didn't, so I didn't.

         Whew! Dodged that bullet.

         But it nagged me all day. You could help you could help you could help  you could help.

         Tuesday. The Kipps stop and I didn't wait for Lamar to bring it up. "Did Ben call you?"

         "No. Why?"

         "He was going to ask you to help tear down some sheds."

         "If he needs help maybe you should call him," Rosie suggests to Lamar.

         "Okay. I will."

         A little later Joan posts this on FaceBook: My husband is cleaning out the shed and these were in there. Some people use these for crafty stuff. Free to whoever might like to have them. There are several of each kind.

         I've been looking for old windows for a long time but never found any I wanted to pay the money for — and here they were for free!

         Everyone was all over this posting, Joan had more people want them then she had windows to give away! But I got my reply in early enough that she said she would set a couple aside for me.

         "Well, Peg, as long as you have to go pick up your windows, you might just as well help," Myself says to Me.

         I called Joan and got directions to her house. As I was changing into work clothes and work boots, I got to wondering if Lamar would help too. I called. "Are you busy?"

         He hesitated, "Ah, not really."

         "I'm going over to Ben and Joanie's to help tear down the sheds. Do you wanna go?"

         "How soon are you going?" Lamar asked.

         He didn't know I was making travel coffee and about ready to walk out the door. "How soon can you be ready?"

         "I have to get boots on... Five minutes?"

         "See you then!"

         On the ride over, Lamar told me what the hesitation was about. "I was just sitting there thinking about going for a run and I couldn't decide if I wanted to go this way," with his right hand he motioned right, "or this way," and with his left hand he motioned left.

         "Well thank goodness I called when I did!" I have a feeling if it'd been much later I would have missed him.

         Joan and her husband Ben live in the house that Rosie grew up in. How cool is that! These old sheds have been here for as long as Rosie can remember.

         "Carl was the kind of man that if it needed a new floor, he put a new floor over the old floor. He never tore the old one out," Lamar said as he tore the floor up and found another floor beneath it.

         We got the shed down to the bare bones, I stood back and took pictures as Ben and Lamar pushed the shed over. Then we got to work pulling the roof apart and carrying everything to the dumpster.

         At the end of the day, as we sat in the shade, drinking cold water, and chatting, Ben said, "I'll get the other shed cleaned out tomorrow."

         "What are you doing tomorrow?" I asked Lamar.

         "I'm busy."

         "Oh. Well I..." I started to say that I wasn't doing anything and I could help, but Lamar must have sensed that that's what I was going to say because he chimed in.

         "And so are you."

         At first I was confused, "Oh. That's right. I'd forgotten."

         "What are you doing Thursday?" Lamar asked Ben. "I could help then." Bless his heart. He didn't volunteer me.

         "Me too!" I piped up.

         And it was all set up for us to come Thursday morning to help with the demolition of the other shed.

         Wednesday the Lubys had a date with the Kipps.

         Vincent's is an Italian place on the main street of Towanda. There was only one time Mike and I had tried to go in there for lunch. We park and get the whole way to the door; my hand is on the handle to pull it open even, when we see the sign, SORRY NO CREDIT CARDS. We don't carry cash so we went somewhere else.

         "Lamar and I would like to take you out to Vincent's for lunch in celebration of Mike's birthday," Rosie said the week before.

         "Okay, but only if we come back here for cake and ice cream," I said.

         Lamar and Rosie picked us up and gave us a nice, leisurely ride through the country, on roads we'd never been on before. We went to Towanda by way of Liberty Corners and that road takes you out by the Towanda airport. 

       As we neared the airport we see emergency vehicles like this one pulled off the road in a few places and wondered what was going on. It was later that we learned there had been a small airplane crash in the woods near where we passed by. And yes, the pilot was killed.

         Sorry. I'm sorry to interject that bit of sadness in an otherwise fantabulous day, but unfortunately, people die every day. Many of them never know it's their last day on this earth. Let it be a reminder to us that we must be ready, every minute of every day, to stand before our Lord.

         Lunch at Vincent's was good, the company was even better. Mike had lasagna, I had a personal pizza and took enough home for three more meals. Lamar had a Stromboli that was absolutely HUGE and gave him two more meals. Rosie had her favorite, a hamburger, and made two meals of that.

         "Have you ever been to the Old Jail Museum?" Lamar asked.

         "No. Have you?"

         "No, but Rosie looked it up and it should be open today."

         Back in the car, after a quick trip through the local thrift store, Lamar drives a couple of streets over and parks beside the old jail. We walked around to the front and found it was chained off. A sign saying ENTRANCE IN REAR was hanging from it. We ended up walking three quarters of the way around before we found the entrance!

         "Please sign our visitor's book," a young gal at the front desk asked, and of course, we did.

         "Do you want to walk around by yourself or would you like a guided tour?" she asked.

         Everyone asked everyone else and no one cared. When I was asked, I was honest. "I usually prefer a guided tour. You learn things you otherwise wouldn't know, but whatever everyone else wants to do is fine by me."

         Lamar turned to the gal, "A guided tour," he answered.

         Heather was our tour guide and she did an awesome job of giving us the highlights of the jail museum. She was also very patient as we goofed around a little taking pictures.

         "Let me take your picture," Lamar said.

        I handed him my camera, walked inside the cell used for solitary confinement, and slid my wrist into the shackle.

         Rosie caught up to us and went through the low doorway and into the cell.

         "Rosie, put your wrist in the shackle and let me take your picture," I said.

         Rosie, ever a good sport, did as I bid, slipped her hand in and opened her mouth in a silent scream. I laughed. I'd made the same face but Lamar wasn't quick enough on the button to capture it.

         The museum is just chock full of all kinds of antiques and they have a room dedicated to the military and another room that they use for rotating or changing displays.

         My favorite part of the whole tour?

         The piano in the men's room.

         Lamar took a different route back to our mountain home and I enjoyed our ride through the country just about as much as anything else that day.

         At home, I stuffed the leftovers in the fridge, pulled the ice cream from the freezer, and started carrying stuff to the patio; cake, paper plates, spoons, forks, napkins.

         "What kind of cake did you make?" you wonder.

         I made a chocolate cake that is very moist and has a cup of coffee in the batter. Then I made two kinds of frosting, Lamar's favorite, peanut butter, and Mike's favorite, buttercream. 

         Oh my gosh! Let me tell you what happened when I was making buttercream frosting.

         I decided to do a trial run on the buttercream the night before because I've yet to find a recipe that Mike likes as well as he likes the buttercream in the Wal*Mart bakery.

         Yeah. Go figure.

         So the recipe says to mix softened butter with the vanilla and powdered sugar, then slowly add milk until it's frosting consistency.

         I did that... or rather, I was doing that when I broke the mixer. The gears stripped, the beaters got all tangled up with each other and made a heck of a racket. CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK! I shut the mixer off. Untangled the beaters, put them back in and right away they were out of line. "CLACK-CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!" they complained again.

         "How are you going to make the cake tomorrow?" Mike asked.

         "I've got another mixer," I told him.

         A long time ago, probably thirteen or fourteen years ago now, I was wishing for an old hand mixer. I was making some old-time recipes and the mixer I had over-beat the batters. Patti, my oldest sister, surprised me with a mixer she'd bought when she was in college.

         "It's hard to beat those old mixers, they last forever," Rosie said when I told her the story. "I had one that I used for thirty years before I had to throw it away and get a new one."

         This mixer is from the early 1970's and still works great. So Patti, you saved the day! I still love the mixer and thank you for the wonderful gift you gave me so many years ago. Heck, it'll probably still be working long after I'm gone!

  

         Thursday, when Lamar and I showed up to help Ben, he showed us some of the treasures he had found.

         "I don't think Carl threw anything away," Lamar said.       

         As we started tearing the shed apart, I found some treasures of a different sort.

         This handsome guy is actually a girl. She's a female Dark Fishing Spider. The only web this spider spins is a nursery web, otherwise she just waits for large insects to come within striking distance, then she simply overpowers her dinner.

         "Why do they call it a Fishing Spider?" you ask.

         Spiders in this genus have been reported to catch small fish and insects from the water as they walk on the surface. This particular species is more often found in wooded areas, is very shy, and runs from people. If they do bite, it's no more severe than a bee sting.

         I think this guy is a Black House Spider. I think he was faking me out, wanting me to think he was dead, but he wasn't.

         And we saw lots of these guys.

         "They're just garter snakes," Ben said. "They won't hurt nothing. I picked one up earlier and tossed it in the weeds."

         "I don't care. I still don't like snakes," Joan said, and she stayed far away from every place where we spotted them — and in this old shed, we saw a bunch!

         Carl's philosophy about floors carried over to roofs too. I think we tore at least three layers off and look at all the nails!

         "It's a good piece of wood," Ben said, "but I'm not pulling all those nails! Throw it away!"

         Lamar laughed. "Sometimes I look at the stuff Carl did and I wonder, 'Carl, what were you thinking?'"

         A little later, near the end of the job, Ben was getting a sense of the kinds of things I like to photograph. "There's an old iron wheel back here with the trees growing up through it. I'm going to cut the trees down and get the wheel out for Joan to put in her garden."

         "Oh, cool! I have to get a picture of that!"

        As Lamar and I were getting ready to leave, Joanie came up with an old window frame from some place or another. "We should take everyone's picture in the frame," she said.

         "What a great idea!" I exclaimed. And we had what Joanie called a 'redneck' photo shoot.

         I took a picture of Lamar and Joan and then I gave her the camera.

         "Hat on or off?" I asked.

         "We'll do one of each," Joan said.

         I heard the camera click, reached up, took my hat off, and at the same time Lamar put his hat back on. It tickled me and I laughed and laughed!

         We had a hard time getting a picture of Joanie with her guys because they wanted to finish unloading the truck into the dumpster. But persistence paid off and I got a shot of Joan with Ben 

then her with her son Jimmy.

 

         When I got home I dropped my sunhat on the top of the chiminea that lives on our patio. When I next go out, I see the wind had blown it down.

         "Spitfire! Get off my hat!" But he didn't care. It was his hat now.

         I have a bunch of photos I shot through the week to show you, but we'll have to save them for next time.

         Let's call this one done!