Sharing Hope, Bologna, and Wide Open Spaces

Alright y'all! I'm taking a detour away from cottage talk, and will now begin to pour myself into endless accounts of the goings on around here. The mere thought of having to read it might have already caused sickness and internal uneasiness to ensue, but bear with me, please. 

This is way cheaper than therapy, and frankly, I need to share this stuff. Besides, the baby daddy (we'll call him Brad) is at a car race, the children are occupied, and mama's ready to ramble!

Recently, we had the opportunity to join other families from our church for a mission trip to Manchester, Kentucky. And let me just say, what a beautiful place to have had the chance to serve! 

Then there was the dark, winding tunnel carved right out of the mountain. 

Such a claustrophobic treat for all of us!

Some of our youngest missionaries wore themselves slap out trying to pass the time.

And after six hours of playing "I Spy" nearly everything on the open road, Kathryn and Marissa had to close their peepers for a while.

And missed seeing London - Kentucky, of course!

After much anticipation and snack consumption, we reached our destination! Manchester Baptist Church

This is our whole crew doing some myth bustin' of sorts. The locals said this convenient store served THE BEST peanut butter milkshakes and we had to put our taste buds to the test. The results were soon in. They passed! I could just about set out on foot from NC to KY for one of those tasty milkshakes - stopping for frequent rests, of course.

We did settle down to the business at hand, of sharing HOPE. 
And FAITH. 
And LOVE.

So we suited up...

Hooked up with two of the most passionate people for Jesus we'd ever met...

Made sure every hair was in place...

 
Turned up the bottle...

In this case, it was leftover VBS punch.


And got ready to get our JOY ON!


 From the very least... 

to these...

whose eyes instantly stole our hearts...

and whose stories we hope to NEVER forget...

we
simply
LOVED.


And played a little, rather, a LOT of Upward too!

And we ATE.


And some were brave enough to try the area delicacy, 
pickled bologna and crackers. 

Um, I'm good, thanks.

And just when we thought we were there TO BLESS,
we WERE BLESSED TOO!

Have you ever been HOPE for someone? 
Have you ever served as the hands and feet of Jesus?

What an awesome, humbling, life-changing honor it was indeed.

And in the words of my Emma, "When we goin' back?"

Beautiful Bungalows

If you or I'd had the privilege of building a bungalow in the early to mid 1900's, chances are it would've come from Sears . Now we think of Craftsman tools and Kenmore appliances when we think of Sears, but back then, you could order a kit to build the bungalow of your dreams. This one could be purchased for a mere $1,247. It was a big investment for the time.

 For some, myself included, the appeal of the bungalow is very much alive and well, and it's making a comeback among builders. There is something about the craftsman details that STILL make my heart take notice!

Even modular home builders, whose plans usually emphasize the wide width of their models...

are opting for these classic details, and situating them on the more narrow gable ends instead.

Saussy Burbank continues to build complete communities with these in mind.

 What details, you ask? Well, to the eye that isn't cottage, bungalow, and craftsman addicted, these details might escape you as you're driving along. Take the style of these columns, for instance.

 Shed dormers like this one

Vertical siding

 Wide and sometimes multiple gables

Overhang brackets

Exposed rafter tails

None of these are new ideas. They are what separate a house from a bungalow or cottage. 

It's refreshing to see them when we visit the beach too.

Well, there you have it. The classical bungalow, whose appeal I'm glad to see others appreciate. If only we could still buy their kits and without breaking the bank. Sigh...

 I'll try and be content with my little craftsman inspired, cottage in the woods, but I can't promise I won't covet the others I pass by :)

At the Clothesline

I'll admit it. I like to hang clothes out on a line to dry, and always have. There. I said it. I really do, though. I feel accomplished after I've gathered in a basket, full of warm, sun-dried clothes and linens. 

 Now, don't get me wrong. There is NO ONE who's more thankful than I am, to have a washing machine and dryer. I don't feel a bit left out that I missed the entire wringer washer era. Good heavens, NO! 

I'm quite aware of the pampered generation in which I live. I'm just pleased to have a choice to dry naturally if the opportunity presents itself.


What once was commonplace for nearly every home around to have a clothesline, almost became obsolete when life got busy and people started keeping to themselves. 

They're making a comeback though, with more focus being placed on "going green" these days. Imagine that! I was green before it was in to be green! 

A fellow blogger, Granny Mountain, had this to say about her grandparents' line.


"That line dried their clothes for the 30 years they lived in that house. It was a familiar site when you would pull into the yard to see it loaded down with white sheets, colorful striped terry towels, and patchwork quilts. Grandma's clothesline was like her house, neat and tidy. Shirts would join hands by color, whites then blues. Dresses would line up next to others of like kind, one sleeve attached to the next. Towels, then washcloths. Sheets on one whole line, off by themselves to whip dry in the hot breeze."

And here's Erma Bombeck, giving insight on the subject of clotheslines herself. Read this column published March 4, 1986.

Erma Bombeck
on 
Creeping Privacy Paranoia

Sounds like something out of the spring nursery catalog, doesn't it? Actually it's a name I made up for a trend that has already hit the cities and may eventually invade the countryside. It's a concentrated effort to seek privacy from the rest of the world. I'm not sure when it started, but the front porch was one of its first victims. Remember front porches? They had a swing that squeaked and metal chairs that rusted and always needed painting. Everybody in the neighborhood used to sit out there after dinner and sometimes they talked back and forth to one another. Nothing important. The weather. How the grass would have to be cut before the weekend. How the next one up could get the lemonade. And then the front yards got smaller and smaller and the front porch was phased out to a pot of dead flowers and a doorbell you couldn't hear in the back yard. The back yard became Disneyland with a barbecue, jungle gym, patio, lounges, sandbox and vegetable garden.

It was only a matter of time before the clothesline marred the scene and had to go. And with it went a part of Americana that will never have such an impact on American families. The clothesline was a meeting place of women. They caught up on the events of the day, shared, dumped on one another and clung together. The clothesline was the original newspaper of the community. By reading the clothes you could tell who was toilet trained , who was not, who came home on leave, who had guests, who got something new, who cleaned house, who did not, who had sick children, who was out of work, who was going on vacation, who was entertaining, and who'd overslept.

There didn't seem to be anything from neighbors they needed anymore. Large freezers held a storehouse of food supplies that you might have "borrowed" in earlier times. Unlisted phone numbers protected you from bothersome calls, and when you went outside to cut the grass or take a walk, there were headphones to isolate you from "hellos."

Creeping Privacy Paranoia got a toehold in society when we no longer needed humans to run our elevators, get our groceries, take us to a fitting room or assist us with withdrawals at the bank. I'm as much a carrier of Creeping Privacy Paranoia as anyone else. I've traded communication for bumper stickers, sociability for technology and accessibility for "Wheel of Fortune." What brought all this on was the other Sunday I was walking through the neighborhood and realized behind every wall were lounge chairs with no one lounging in them, barbecue grills with nothing cooking on them and locks on gates where no one wanted in.

I used to talk to myself. I don't even do that anymore. Maybe we're becoming too private ~ EB

Well, we'll talk later. Laundry awaits...

Short and Sweet

Here's a short, sweet post about my equally short, sweet chair makeover.

 I nearly stole it at $2.50!

I liked the scale, color, and texture detail of this sweet little thing.

And I always appreciate a removable seat like this one. 

 It always make recovering so easy. 

Ta-Da! 

30 minutes, start to finish! 

A perfect spot to sit and put on our shoes. 

That is, if we don't throw our backs while lowering ourselves down!