At first blush, we have a shot of a lovely girl in Nashville.

But if we look closer we see the casualness of Nashville tourism.

A romantic carriage ride with a modern, uh, cowboy and his German Shepherd.

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You have to enjoy a passionate, blissful clinch at the end of a marriage ceremony. Thanks, Ben and Kara!

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Here is the sign that I mentioned in my last post. Really, what does it mean?

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We just returned from a five-day road trip. The ultimate goal was a family wedding, which was a huge success. I’ll blog more about that later.

I think we put about 2,000 miles on the old mini-van. It had 156,000+ miles when we left. Now the odometer says 158,330. We stayed in cool and wild places, ate adventuresome food, and met colorful people.

Some of my favorite experiences were the signs. There were towns like Ellijay and Dahlonega in Georgia, and streets with the name “Grizzle” in them.

My family enjoyed taking notice of signs that were odd or incorrect. At one of our hotels, the large banner outside read, FREE “HOT” BREAKFAST. Why “hot” was in quotation marks, we could not discern. The temperature of breakfast was very warm. Perhaps that breakfast offered some culturally popular aspect that we could not understand. It was just biscuits and gravy, sausage and eggs… I may have a picture of that sign to post later.

Here is another favorite. I cannot tell you the times I would like to have purchased a B-flat sustained seventh chord, but it was NOT in the box…

Sorry, I took the picture with my meager cell phone. The box reads “Used Guitar Chords” and inside are, well, cords, of various types.

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My father worked for American Motors Cars when I was born. That means we drove around in a Nash, a Rambler, a Matador, and an Ambassador. When I took my driver’s test, I borrowed a family friend’s blue Gremlin with a white stripe, and when I got married, I drove away in a aqua Pacer. The demise of AMC was no big deal to some, but to me, it was the end of an era.

I found this picture of a model of the Rambler station wagon that we owned, and colorized it (OK, sloppily) to match my memory. Yes, I *was* going for a pearly pink roof. It was plum colored with a pearlized roof. Odd, I know. We drove to Florida from Pennsylvania in this car, stopping only to put mosquito netting on the windows so we could nap with the windows down. The front seat’s back was one piece and folded back, and I had to sleep on that part. I kept rolling into my cousin Terry who was sleeping on the seat under the steering wheel.

The best thing about station wagons in the 60s and 70s was not sleeping when the car was parked, though. It was sleeping in the cargo area while the car hummed and vibrated over miles of highway. The rhythms would rock me to sleep like a baby.

I thought of this post when I read seashull’s post about her friends’ cool car (http://www.xanga.com/seashull/668689340/item.html ) ! Cars are romantic, IMHO. My grandfather, a mechanic of humble means, used to restore antique cars, including Model A’s, but that is another post.

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A dear friend sent me these posies this week. She shouldn’t have, but she did, and I am enjoying them!

When I set my laptop on my kitchen counter today (yes, a googled recipe), it hit my newer flip phone and turned on the camera. I had no idea the camera would work when the phone was closed. Serendipitous discoveries are so satisfying. Of course I had to test it out….Testing, testing, testing. Ah, lovely shot, eh?

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Here is T’s newest video of his mission work in France. FYI, “pas de publicité” means “no solicitation” in French (and S.V.P. means “s’il vous plait”–if you please). French families are very private and don’t appreciate uninvited visitors or pamphlets. Sometimes the church’s newsletters are returned with stern notes about the rudeness of putting material in mailboxes. He films one such note. Can you find it?
 
As usual, it is easier to film sightseeing activity than hands-on ministry, so T warns that this video is not representative of his blood, sweat and tears. 

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From my childhood, I remember my extended family playing four for-all-ages games in the backyard: barney ball (a sort of baseball made of socks hit with your fist), croquet, horse shoes, and bocce.

My parents own a couple sweet bocce sets. Their particular sets have brightly colored plastic balls with weights in the center for ballast. The case can be carried anywhere, and the game can be played on any relatively flat lawn. Here we enjoyed a game in a newer park that offers bocce courts. We taught new friend Ben how to play, and he caught on a bit too fast. 

The idea of the game is to throw out the “pauline” or as some call it, the “jack”: the little white ball. Then, everyone sees how close they can bowl their balls. In each round, only the closest person gets one point or two, depending on how many balls he has next to the pauline. The fun is bowling your ball accurately enough to knock someone else’s away from the pauline, while giving yourself better position. Such fun involves the balls “kissing,” which is where the name, as I understand it, comes from. The game is based on an ancient Roman game; bocce is from the Italian word for kiss.

When the game is close, measuring is required. L is using the tape measure that my dad carries conveniently in his pocket everyday. Such a handy dad.

I didn’t win.
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We took in a show with Edison Glass, a family favorite. The mission team that has been at our church went, too, which made for more company while we sifted through the weaker local warm-up bands.

The Working Title and Colors in the Air are touring with Edison and were, surprisingly, rich in creativity and tunes.

The downside was the venue. Garfield Artworks is a long hall with little ventilation, no a/c, one big ceiling fan, and no backstage. All the bands’ gear lines up along the walls near the stage like dumb security guards. The band members were sweating by the bucket. We didn’t have the nerve to ask for an encore because they played with their whole heart and soul for the main playlist and were melting before our eyes.

Edison Glass, with their layered vocals and almost-classical movements, belted my favorite song, When All We Have Is Taken/Comfort:

If I’m unable …when you are calling
If I’m unable
If I’m unable …when you are calling

If I’m unable

When all we have is taken
All we have is taken now

Take my affliction
I’m cured with your comfort
Take my affliction
Take my depression
I’m cured with your comfort
Take my depression

Will you learn fire burns?
When all we have is taken
I’m falling to grace again
When all we have is taken
Take it all, take it
now, I surrender…
Hallelujah

We stood as a front row of sorts, and D took dozens of amazing pics. You can see K’s face in one. Lead singers Joshua Silverberg and Josh Morin were gracious to chat with us before the concert…outside on the sidewalk. They were down-to-earth and didn’t make their tours sound glamorous. They miss their families, sleep at kind strangers’ homes, and drive and drive and drive. The encouraging news is that the Long Island-based band is playing with some big mainstream bands in the coming months in NYC.

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At Vacation Bible School, K loved Michelle and Michelle loved K.

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