Follow Me ...

Too bad butlers don't have "follow" buttons.


I don't know what I've done (I'm sure it was me) but I've lost my "Follower" button on Blogger and can't seem to get it back. Even clicking on the Add A Gadget button in the Layout section doesn't help. It's not even listed as an option.

Dang.

Aw well. Onward and upward. I hope other bloggers can still follow me, but, like Scarlett, I'll worry about that later.

How do you like my new blogger header? Hubby snapped that of me while we where walking home on our country dirt road today. The building in the distance is the Mill Creek Primitive Baptist Church. I thought it looked almost, well, prophetic. I'm walking home and looking Home. *smile* Huh? Get it? Guess ya had to be there ... *giggle*

Our little vegetable garden is coming along nicely.

The above photo is from March 30th.

And below is the one from today:

"Give my creation LIIIIIFE!"


I can't wait to be munching down on fresh Zucchini, Yellow Squash Ford Hook Limas and the like. Even the Giant Zinnia's are doing well. I'm so pleased.

One of the joys of country living is one has to be pretty self sufficient. If something goes wrong, you have to deal with it. I don't mind this but sometimes it's a bit of a bother. Today the points on the well pump decided that this would be a good day to no longer function. GREAT! (not) *lol* Thankfully, it's no big problem. Our Go-To-Guy for the well repairs saved our bacon in no time.

A few dollars spent later, we're back in business. Hubby did try to repair it himself (he's so smart) but well pumps use special parts and we still would have needed our rescuer. Thank you Lord for people with these special skills.

And this was an absolutely lovely Spring day. And what could be wrong with that!? *smile*

"This is the day the LORD has made.

We will rejoice and be glad in it."

NLT [Psalm 118:24]

 

 



Part Twelve: Saturday Matinees or How I Learned to Love Dubbed Japanese Monster Movies (Phew)

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. Since we have no children, he has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Saturday Matinees or How I Learned to Love Dubbed Japanese Monster Movies (Phew)

by Steven R. Hudson

There is only so much fun that three boys can have on hot summer days. The Mealer boys and I had picked the last of the season's Blackberries. We had caught Water Snakes and tadpoles down at the creek and gone skinny dipping with the other neighborhood boys at the forest pond. A new drainage canal had being dug through the woods behind Center Park and we had rolled down the giant earth mounds left by the excavation machines as we played "King of the Mountain",  coming home so dirty that I was made to strip off my shorts and wash down with a garden hose before being allowed inside. We needed a new activity and our moms came through for us.

I guess moms need a break from the tedium of housework and child care and what better way than to drop off your kids at the Arlington Theater for a Saturday matinee triple feature. While the kids enjoy the movies, mom can shop to her heart's content at Woolworths without having to listen to the whinings of bored children.

So Saturday became movie day that summer. Our moms would drop us off at the little theater on Arlington Road, a dollar bill in our pockets. Admission was only 25 cents which left enough for a large Coke, popcorn and a candy bar. Ike was president and things were cheap in 1959 and '60. Corny science fiction and cheesy monster movies were the common fare at these kid centered matinees with a weekly serial western thrown in to keep you coming back for more. The marquee showed the day's exciting lineup. "Mole People", "The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms", "Earth Versus Flying Saucers", "The Blob", but my favorites were the Japanese flicks like "Mothra", "Rodan" and "Godzilla". The dubbing in the Asian movies was always entertaining in itself, the mix of Japanese names and dubbed American voices and slang, "Wow Ichimura, that was a close call man".

The matinee I best remember is the one we never got to see, the one I named the "Raisinets Incident". The incident started innocently enough. We paid our

admission and headed straight for the snack bar as we always did. We had each bought a box of chocolate covered raisins called Raisinets along with our staples, Cokes and popcorn. It was not long into the first feature when one of us said something (can't remember who) funny and that started us giggling which, strangely enough led to us tossing Raisinets at one another. Suddenly a low voice behind us said, "You three boys come with me." Busted! We were thrown out on the street and into the summer heat. It would be many hours before our moms would be by to pick us up. We wandered up and down the sidewalk, gazed into store fronts and killed the time as best we could. After a time that seemed like eternity our moms finally came to take us home. "How was the movie" they asked. "It was pretty good" we answered.

Two Minutes With The Bible ~ Boldness Today

Boldness Today

by Pastor Cornelius R. Stam

Berean Bible Society

Printer Friendly Version

Some may suppose that it would require little boldness today to proclaim grace in all its purity. Who is ever persecuted now, at least in free, enlightened lands, for preaching God’s grace? Ah, but do not be deceived. Satan was no less active in his opposition to the truth when Constantine exalted the professing Church to prominence than when his predecessors persecuted the Church and sent its members to death by fire and sword. Indeed, the devil was doubtless more successful in Constantine’s day than he had been when persecution raged.

Does any believer in the Word of God suppose that Satan has relented in his opposition to the truth today, just because men, at least in this land, are not burned at the stake or thrown to the lions? Do not be misled. Satan’s enmity against God and against His Word continues undiminished. His hatred of “the gospel of the grace of God,” is as bitter, and his opposition to it as determined as it ever was. But well does he know that the constant discouragements connected with being in the minority often succeed in silencing those who would stand against physical persecution.

Today Satan uses the new evangelicalism with its highly- organized, highly-financed campaigns — and its woeful lack of doctrinal and dispensational teaching of the Word — to neutralize the saints. Multitudes are attracted to these neo-evangelical extravaganzas, at which the participants are for the most part performers, and those who stand for the truth often feel very small as compared to the vast unthinking majority. But let us never forget that God uses “things that are not” to accomplish His work (See I Cor. 1: 26-29).

Let us, who know and love the truth, then, determine by God’s grace that nothing shall make us unfaithful to our glorious commission; that, whatever the cost, we shall faithfully and boldly proclaim to others the unadulterated gospel of the grace of God, “the preaching of Jesus Christ, according to the revelation of the mystery.”

---

To the Reader:
Some of our Two Minutes articles were written many years ago by Pastor C. R. Stam for publication in newspapers. When many of these articles were later compiled in book form, Pastor Stam wrote this word of explanation in the Preface:

"It should be borne in mind that the newspaper column, Two Minutes With the Bible, has now been published for many years, so that local, national and international events are discussed as if they occurred only recently. Rather than rewrite or date such articles, we have left them just as they were when first published. This, we felt, would add to the interest, especially since our readers understand that they first appeared as newspaper articles."

To this we would add that the same is true for the articles written by others that we continue to add, on a regular basis, to the Two Minutes library. We hope that you'll agree that while some of the references in these articles are dated, the spiritual truths taught therein are timeless.

Georgia Springtime Flowers

The one (there's only one) bad thing about being retired is I keep forgetting what day it is. So, instead of a Throwback Thursday post, how about some pretty Spring flowers from around our property.

Cherokee Rose

Georgia State Flower

 

Wisteria

We've spent the day working around the yard clearing trees, picking up debris, all that 'fun' stuff that goes with property management. So, for a treat, we plan to ride our motorcycles to a Barbeque joint this evening to meet with our local Swamp Runners Group. It's a friendly little group with like-minded Christian riders. We make plans to ride en masse to a predestined Restaurant or event on the weekend. And, notably, this will be my first night ride ever. Yes, I promise to be careful. Night riding can be very dangerous.

What are your plans for the evening?

Two Wheeled Musing

The weather was perfect for two wheels: slight wind, hazy enough to tone down the bright sunshine, and 70 degree temperatures. Can life be any more perfect? Me thinks not!

First to Baxley to lunch at Captain Joe's Seafood.

After a scrumptious meal of fish sandwich and a turkey burger, the trusty steeds carried us to a drug store to purchase a birthday card for our brother-in-law. Cards always brighten my day, so, I assume it's a joy for others. I hope so.  

After insuring aforesaid birthday greetings was safely winging it's way to beloved brother-in-law, we took the long way around the barn home through the Bacon County countryside. Bacon county has some of the most interesting motorcycle roads in southeast Georgia. We had so much fun that we put more than 120 miles on the bikes.

It was truly a good day.

What was your day like?

Los Angeles Times Quote Of The Day

Source: Wikipedia

 

I'm so fed up with the Moonbat Democrats that keep getting re-elected to Congress and the obviously out-of-touch populace that keep voting for them. However, I am starting to smell blood in the water concerning these very same re-elections.

        Quote of the day by Dianne Feinstein

 

Dianne Feinstein: "All vets are mentally ill in some way and government should prevent them from owning firearms."

 

Yep, she really said it on Thursday in a meeting in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee and the quote below from the LA Times is priceless. Sometimes even the L.A. Times gets it right.

 

Kurt Nimmo: "Senator Feinstein insults all U.S. Veterans as she flays about in a vain attempt to save her anti-firearms bill."

 

Quote of the Day from the Los Angeles Times:

 

"Frankly, I don't know what it is about California, but we seem to have a strange urge to elect really obnoxious women to high office. I'm not bragging, you understand, but no other state, including Maine, even comes close. When it comes to sending left-wing dingbats to Washington, we're Number One. There's no getting around the fact that the last time anyone saw the likes of Barbara Boxer, Dianne Feinstein, Maxine Waters, and Nancy Pelosi, they were stirring a cauldron when the curtain went up on 'Macbeth'. The four of them are like jackasses who happen to possess the gift of blab. You don't know if you should condemn them for their stupidity or simply marvel at their ability to form words."

 

Columnist Burt Prelutsky,

Los Angeles Times

This really made my day. It's looking very encouraging for a clean sweep in the Senate next November.

 

 

Part Eleven: Catching Supper at Little Jetties

As I stated in his first post, once weekly I plan to feature a guest writer, my husband. Since we have no children, he has been painstakingly writing down the stories of his childhood to share them with his then 9 year old niece. I wanted her to know what kind of childhood her beloved Uncle was able to enjoy. While enjoying them myself I thought these are so much fun to read, why not share them? So here are the short missives of his memories of growing up in wilds of Florida during the 1950's and 1960's. They're packed with misadventures, romance, and all the confusing things that can happen in our youth. Even though his hometown of Jacksonville is a big city with over a million residents now, during his childhood it was several small communities surrounded by countryside.

This is his story.

(Please note: None of the photos in this post are from our files. They are all from the internet.)

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Catching Supper at Little Jetties

by Steven R. Hudson

As I mentioned before, we are a family of fisherman and many of our happiest times revolved around weekend fishing trips. We could not afford the luxury of a boat but fortunately there were many great fishing spots that could be accessed from shore in Duval County. One of Dad's favorites was the Little Jetties as they were locally known. This was just off the Old Mayport Rd. at the confluence of the Intracoastal Waterway and the St. Johns River. Huge granite boulders had been placed here to prevent erosion and protect the river and waterway channels. On any pleasant weekend anglers would gather here upon the great rocks and cast their lines. Fishing from the rocks could be dangerous. The boulders were irregularly shaped and slippery. When you reached the top you could look down on the barnacle encrusted submersed embankment as it disappeared into the dark river water. I remember how eerily beautiful it all seemed. When I was younger I would spend most of my time chasing Fiddler Crabs on the muddy tidal flat behind the jetty or trying to catch tiny fish trapped in the many small pools left by an ebbing tide. When I was older Dad would let me fish with him on the rocks. It was glorious being high on the jetty wall with the wind from the nearby sea in our faces and the constant chatter of gulls overhead; my little brother chasing fish in the tidal pools behind us as I had once done.

Surf fishing at Mickler's Landing was another favored pass time. You could drive out onto the beach there from A1A and at low tide, drive on the hard packed sand as far as you wished. We had a most memorable weekend at Mickler's when I was ten. The Mealers joined us for an overnight surf fishing trip. A makeshift camp of beach blankets and folding chairs was set up on the beach above the high tide mark. Our moms had prepared enough sandwiches, snacks and drinks for the weekend. The only clothes we brought were the bathing suits we wore for it was summer and the night would be warm but made comfortable by a breeze off the Atlantic. Our dads got out their fishing rods and tackle boxes and walked along near the surf, looking for that "spot" where there was sure to be fish. We boys were sent on a mission to find Sand "Fleas", a mud dwelling crustacean that is excellent

bait for Pompano. After we had gathered enough Sand Fleas to satisfy our dads, we began exploring the sand dunes. They were remarkable in the evening light, starkly white against the dark Blue-Jack Oaks and Cabbage Palms that grew on their backsides and out to A1A. The dune tops were adorned with Sea Oats that swayed softly with the ocean breeze and White Morning Glories grew along the footpaths that led way to the beach. Later that night we laid on our backs in the wet sand and gazed up in wonder at the Milky Way and millions of stars that were now so easily seen against a black sky, unsullied by pollution from city lights. We scraped away wet sand and watched in amazement at the flash of tiny phosphorescent organisms hidden there and all the while the surf pounded relentlessly against the shore. Late in the evening a pickup truck drove up to our camp site. There were two men in the truck and our moms were frightened. They told us boys to run down the beach and fetch our dads. When our dads came up they walked over to the truck and we could hear angry words being exchanged. Thankfully, the two men drove away after this verbal outburst and we did not see them again. Morning came and it was time to pack up our stuff and head for home. It had been a great weekend even though the fishing had been poor. My friends and I were sad to leave. It had all been such fun.