Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Our Boy is half way around the world plus 2

Lane landed in Japan, almost exactly half way round the world from Arkansas, sometime Friday or Saturday, depending on which side of the Pacific you were standing on.

Okinawa, Japan is 14 hours ahead of Arkansas
11:06 AM Wednesday, in Arkansas is
1:06 AM Thursday, in Okinawa Prefecture, Japan
George has been talking to him on facebook. I want to ask him what tomorrow will bring.  He is already there, tomorrow that is.


Monday, July 27, 2015

Hot, Hot, Hot

It is so hot I am not even trying to walk tonight.  Last week I walked 26 miles total, but 14 of that was on Sat and Sun, early in the morning.  I think today was the  hottest day we have.

George took the kids to the community pool at BRV this evening.  I hope they appreciate him doing that.  I appreciate it because  he is going to grab burgers on the way home so I do not have to cook.  I had a chicken sandwich with charity chicken I brought home from work.  I had slices of  Helen's tomato with it.  The tomato was delicious.

Saturday we bought material for curtains for Hannah at the discount material place Helen found with hints from Ruth at Church.  They are very pretty and only cost $3 total.  And, Aunt Helen made them so it was really easy.

Monday, July 20, 2015

One of Our Own

I wrote this poem in 2004 on the death of the only solider that I knew personally to die in the  Iraq war.  I worked with Sgt. Collier on night shift here at the plant.  I am reposting in memory of Staff Sgt. David Wyatt of Russellville, remembered by our Erin.

                           One of Our Own

At first the news is distant and vague, like many others…

-          Another soldier gone

-          Dead in a far off land

But to us, this one is different,

                A familiar face on the news

-          He is a Local Boy

-          One of Our Own…


Another citizen soldier sent off long ago, with best wishes and Prayers...

-          to that distant place

-          never ever to return

But to us, this one is different from the others

                Not a stranger from another town

-          He is a Local Boy

-          One of Our Own…


But in our hearts we know…

To Some One, Some Place

Each and Every One

-          Is a Local Boy

-          One of Our Own…

In memory of our own, Sgt. Russell L. Collier

killed in Taji, Iraq October 3, 2004.



October 5, 2004

Fleta Aday


Catching UP

Having not posted all week, I am even slower than Helen.


We got back from vacation in good order Monday night around 10.  We stopped in Siloam and had KFC with the kids daddy.  It had been a month since he had seen them, being in school for two weeks in LR prior to our vacation.  Next vacation we are eating more at KFC and less at hamburger joints.  I do not care if I never have another fast burger.


It has been really hot. I walked 4 miles to the red barn on Wed, Thur and Friday starting about 6:30 in the evening.  Four miles is the most I can do in the hot evening, and at that I cannot make the mile in 20 minutes I was before July.  Saturday and Sunday, I went at 6 or so in the morning and got in 6 miles each day.


Helen’s white bloom that she says smells like lilac is poison sumac.  I thought that was what it was, but did not remember the white bloom.  After the white bloom dries, the blooms turn red / brown as in the other undoubtedly more familiar photo.


We went yesterday and bought lumber for George to start on our goat shed.  I had in mind a 10X20 or so slanted roof building.  George is planning a 20X40  gable roofed building.  He is building it so that is what we are going with, for now at least.  We will have a goat mansion, if he gets it completed.


I went back to work Thursday.  It has not been as bad as I thought it might be with 2 weeks of work piled up, probably because I just sit down beside the piles and do something that interests me.

The End

Monday, July 13, 2015


Sent via the Samsung Galaxy S® 5 mini, an AT&T 4G LTE smartphone

Just call us the rainmakers

We have made rain in the desert all along our journey.

It rained on us in the mountains from the Arches to Bryce Canyon.

It rained on us at Bryce Canyon.

On rained on us in the desert up by Holbrook.

It rained on us at the painted desert.

It poured rain on us a half dozen times between Holbrook and Santa Rosa, all desert.

And It was raining on us coming into Santa Rosa.

We are headed home as soon as I get the kids up.  George says we might stay in a motel tonight, but I am sure once  he hits Tulsa, we will go on home.