A Book We Should All Have On Our Shelves

Perils of the World: Survey of World History And The Classic Struggles of Mankind Hardcover

Author: A. Brum Fulmer

    About the Author

Brum Fulmer was born in Lawsonville, Georgia, in 1982. He entered Dekalb Technical College at age 13 and graduated with a B.A. at age 15. He received his master's at 18 From Abraham Baldwin Agricultural College, and was appointed proctor of the college. He Continued his education at the University of Georgia earning a degree in soil sciences.  He continued there, finishing with a PhD in Agricultural Taxonomy.  He became Professor of Taxonomy at age 36. An expert in Audio Book Production, Reading And Technique, he was appointed to Audible.com's Board of Directors in 2042. He wrote much literature, of which his Perils remains the most famous. When he died in 2083, Prof. Gaute Brown Jr. held a magnificent state funeral for him and had him buried on North Campus. Brown took great pains to make sure the writings and library of Brum Fulmer were preserved.

Product Details

• Paperback: 960 pages
• Publisher: Master Books; imprint (March 1, 2097)
• Language: English
• ISBN-10: 9780890515105
• ISBN-13: 978-0890515105
• ASIN: 0890515107
• Product Dimensions: 1.9 x 8.3 x 10.7 inches
• Shipping Weight: 4.6 pounds
• Average Customer Review:
• Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #157,215 in Books
• #97 in Books > History > Ancient 

Editorial Reviews

Review

A most remarkable and outstanding piece of literature. A must-have for any lover of knowledge and history, which would include the perils that have challenged man down through the ages. -- Roger Howerton, Acquisitions Editor, New Leaf Press and Master Books, October 21, 2003 --This text refers to the Hardcover edition.

Reporter and Acclaimed Reviewer Of Books, Ole' Mr. Fulmer.  In a private interview with Mr. Fulmer yesterday, we learned that he has traveled the world, observing the lives and lifestyles of many cultures. He has served in undercover missions across the globe to study mankind and analyze the workings of the human mind. Though it is only one of the many hats he wears, Mr. Fulmer continues to give insight, not only on Books but on his own observations of Life In General at A Closer Look.
Please schedule A Conversation of Thought with Mr. C.E. Fulmer for a richer outlook on life and books.
to schedule, please call 770.787.4039

 ~ //\\//\\//\\//\\ ~

The e-mail above is one I received a few days ago, with the note:

…."Here's a book we should all have on our shelves…"

The boys are always floating down The Amazon on their raft in search of some sort of treasures or other. Chris, especially goes frequently to the Amazon and receives all manner of mysterious looking brown packages that he says he picked up along his adventures.
He must have been rafting a few days ago, for I was part of a group who received this e-mail concerning a book he'd found on The Amazon.

   Mama had to stay home from church yesterday,  because she was sick.  She was lying on the couch as all of us came in from from Sunday morning service. A round of "Hey Mama, feeling better? Get some sleep? Do you have the fevers? " was said several times as various kids walked in the door.
"Yes, some better. Thanks, darlin.  No, no fever right now, just tired. Yes, I've slept lots, thank goodness."
"Hey Hun, you feelin' better?" Daddy asked as he came in the door.
"Yes, dear, some.  How was church?"
"Well, they didn't stone me so it must have been fair." said Daddy as he put down his books.
"What'd'ya preach on?"
"Bible and the pulpit," he said, pulling loose the fashionable noose around his neck and unbuttoning the top of his collar.  He said that in his silly voice and his eyes flashed a sparkle as we fired back in smiling groans, "Oh daaaddddyy…."
The general distress of the kitchen was what to make and someone hollered from that direction, "What are we supposed to be fixin' for lunch??"
 Mama's Sunday dinners are like none other, complete with every good thing; but since she was not well, it fell to the hands of the kids and Daddy to scare up a meal. Anne suggested cabbage heads for all of us to share. Daddy was more in mind of wings, or soup and sandwiches.
In the end it was a hodge podge of grilled cheese, mine and Dawn's first batch of caramel popcorn, soup, raw cabbage, nachos, cereal and collard leaves from the garden.  As we set about constructing this  meal some how the matter of Abe and books came into the general ruckus of mismatched conversation.
One snippet that rose above the rest of the clatter began the following exchange:
"Didn't you know there was a man named A. Brum Fulmer who wrote a book called " Perils of the World?" said Chris, peering over the shoulders of girls who were fixing lunch and reaching between them to the platters of food to take some.  A general exclamation of "WHAT?" followed, but especially by Mama, who said,
 "I think that's just crazy that someone with that same name would write a book called 'Perils of The World'. "
{As a helpful side note, Abrum is responsible for much of our stranger vocabulary, and over the past year, the word "Perilous" has come to play a considerable part in our speech.}

"Mama, you read that e-mail about the book I recommended?" asked Chris.
"Ah, no, hun. Well, I skimmed over it."
"You should read it again, carefully," said Chris, taking a chip.  Daddy took four slices of bread and cut  two slabs of cheese to put between each pair for his grilled cheese sandwich and mine and said,
"Well, you know, there was a Chris Fullmer in Swan Valley, Idaho, but he spelled his name with two L's. "
Mama had pulled her computer to the arm of the couch and was absorbed in the e-mail. Soon she was smiling and then she was laughing and after a fair amount of laughing with no explanation, several pairs of curious feet pattered over to the couch and hovered around the screen. We were laughing too after reading it. I especially like that A. Brum lived until he was One hundred and One. I thought that was very fitting and generous of the author to include.
"Chris, did you make this up?" asked Mama, smiling.
"Me, make it up?" Chris was tilting his head back and grinning mischievously as he popped an olive in his mouth.
"Oh, Christopher, you sly thing. You DID make it up! It looks just like an amazon article though!"
The boys should know, if anyone does, what a book description and review on Amazon looks like; they've ordered enough of them to be experts on the matter.

The idea of some mysterious A.Brum Fulmer and the Reporter who supplied the information on him, was enough to set my imagination spinning, so I drug the boys outside with the sweetest of requests to humor me.  They did - those excellent chums. Champs of a sport they are. It was a lovely Sunday afternoon to be outside and I will say that it was a rather fun project. All the photos were taken outside with no flash - all natural light. Dawn was my undercover reporter/assistant who helped me with the reflector.
I was pleased with the results.  Not only was it enjoyable to experiment with channeling the natural light and testing its powers with the aid of the reflector, but also getting to spend time with two fellows that I think are pretty down-right good-looking.
Wish Jeremy hadn't had to go back.  He would have made the perfect addition to our party.
Also, Milly's birthday is coming up in just a few days, and as there was no reason not to, I included a couple of the upcoming birthday girl.

^Dawn and Brum and  the Trusty reflector.  Oh what a difference in the world they make! 

^  gotta love a man with a pair of boots  ^

^it was much too soft in the garden to take photos with shoes on^

^we've made good use of daddy's old hat. it's seen many years of wear.^

 ^this is what I see and hear coming into a room. don't ask me. I have no idea, it's just milly and dawn being milly and dawnish.

i tried not to cry and so did she. but when i wrapped her up in a hug neither of us could help the tears that came down our cheeks.  it takes a lot of strength to leave the safest place a girl knows and the people that you love to walk back into the world. here we have a quiet place away from the current that constantly pulls downward and the wind that beats without relenting against heart and spirit and mind.

yesterday was especially sad because A.G was sick and tired already and seeing her have to leave and go back to books and late nights and early mornings without sleep and stress and being alone was a hard thing to take. 

"man, change and separation stinks, a.g." i'd told her. 

"i know, ray. but it helps us grow and we become better people by it. it hurts and is sad, but why have people done it throughout all history?…because even though we love our lives we can't stay stagnant. change brings growth and we need that."

Jay's left. Anne's left. I guess they've both taken a little of our hearts with them too.  Still, I remember what Mama says.
"Every day is an adventure, and little moments are worth celebrating. Take time to stop and smell the roses and when you feel sad, think and plan and pray and do for someone else besides yourself.  It's the best aid for the blues, and you'll find yourself happier and more cheery in no time."

home is a good place to be

"D'you get a hair cut, Brille?"
"Oh Abrum, you noticed!!!"
Chris looked up from his seat at the table as I flourished over to where Abe was sitting on the couch.  In typical fashion he was absorbed in reading an article.  I did a jig, partly in celebration of his keen observation and partly to see if I could  amuse him enough to get a smile out of him. I did get the smile and he said,
"Go on, kid, you're a nut."
"Tell me, Brumly, how could you tell?"  I sat on the cushion and looked inquiringly at him.
 "Well, they generally iron out your hair real good at those places once they've lopped off the hair."
"Dried it. Blow dried it," I told him. "It always makes my hair straight."

This morning Mama made breakfast. Her buttermilk biscuits and thick slices of bacon and daddy's fried eggs, gravy, homemade jellies and jams and - oh lands. It's good. The best part though was having ten people sitting around our table. Ten people that were very glad to be home and together. Daddy says we don't value peace like we ought to until we don't have it, or we see people who don't have it. Then we tend to be thankful again.  I want to be thankful for that peace all the time. Peace between God and me and between the people I love.  Daddy says it can't be taken for granted. We strive for it every day and hold it Precious and Valuable in our lives; we pray for it and live it, even when it's not easy to retain.
 I hope I can do that more.
That old septic tank, poor thing. It's been its lot in life to deal with the hard blows we give it. Well, it decided it'd had enough this weekend. So it stopped. Just plumb quit working, at least for a while. Thus, we washed dishes outside tonight. Anne handed me the water hose while she toted dishes in and out of the house. Jay came too with pots, whistling "Got A Whale of a Tale to Tell Ya Lads" and opening the door for Chris who toted more dishes in and more dishes out.

{Legend = Melody}
"I don't know why I've always liked putting things up my nose," Dawn said as we cleaned up the table tonight. "I just always have. Even when I was really little."
"Would you like having a nose ring, do you think, Dawn?" Chris asked.
"No.  There's a thought that Legend  put into my head not too long ago, that if you took the ring out and needed to blow your nose then the hole where the ring is would be like a whale when it blows water. That decided the issues of nose rings for me."
Chris' dark beard was spread all across his face in a large grin and his eyes weren't showing very much because they squint almost to closing when he laughs.

          ~ ^^ poor ole' Maple. may very well be the last spring she's with us, good ole' tree.^^~

        ^^ A.G and I are going to recreate Senior Photos with these new and improved poses. ^^

 ^the girls put a diaper on Jean Val Jean on account of the rain and him having been dropped into a puddle. by the way, these puddles have been around as long as our house and all of us have been alive. every rain they appear in our yard, and every rain we appear in them.

                             ^^ Jay's last night to be home…Gonna miss that boy.^^

"Loud sounds pups make," was 1. Across, Chris said. Merry and Jay huddled on the floor beside him as he read off clues for the crossword puzzle.
"Yips," I say from the couch between writing in the journal. Someone else offers "Yaps".
"Yep, Chris says. I think it's yaps. "Much trouble or confusion," he says.
From her room where Mama is in bed she says "Ado".
"Ah good one, Mama. That works.  I tell you what, ain't nothin' like a crossword puzzle to make you feel dumb."
"Man, I tell you what! I can't stand those things," said Daddy. "Make me see how daft I am right quick."
Something light rubbed my face as I was writing and something sounding like a cat was right at my ear. I turned and saw Jeremy in a white wig looking very much like a colonial redneck in a full cammo suit and that wig.  He spoke chinese about Oolong tea and sipped a little from his clay mug.
"Reads fast," Chris said.
"Pigs," Daddy rumbled from his chair.  Merry looked up at him like he was teasing and laughed.
"Oh Daddy, you're funny."
" Not enough space for rabbits, so it'd have to be pigs."
Merry looked very confused. "What daddy? Neither of those can read."
Now Daddy was the one who looked confused and said
"Well…he did say Breeds Fast, right?"
Merry's "Reads Fast" back to daddy was nearly swallowed in the burst of laughing that followed.  Daddy's face was his deep, hard laughing color again and, well, very few eyes of us were showing at all.

of my little dawn

Isaiah 40 has been a beautiful passage to me this week, presenting itself more boldly than ever I remembered it before.  I've read it over and over…again, it's that force of God that is forever protecting His little ones from those who would destroy them, and showing Himself a bold, fierce and gentle Father.  Some of my favorites…

40/10 − 11 

'Behold, the Lord God will come with strong hand, and his arm shall rule for Him: behold, his reward is with Him, and His work before Him.  He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom and shall gently lead those that are with young.'

This passage was applied to my mind today in a sweet way.  I was looking through old photos/documents {i wish i could say "in my attic, among some old leather cases and thick, dusty trunks…" but alas! it was all this villain-ish, virtual age} and found this picture of Dawn.  

It's a fine photo. Pretty clear. Kind of childishly sweet. But the thing that got me was remembering taking it, and realizing that the reason it was waist up was because at that time she was sitting in a wheel chair.  That seems so distant, most times, yet, during that dark season no one had the comfort of knowing she'd ever be healed.  The question of her ever walking, playing, sitting cross-legged to play a game or getting in bed by herself was besides the point.  We were simply trying to face the fact that she couldn't walk, that the pain she dealt with on a daily basis was unimaginable and the cause was as vague and unknown as the cure.  How gently God has gathered His children to Himself, though…He is merciful, gracious, kind.  He would have been the same, had He seen fit not to heal Moriah, but, oh His kindness in doing so!  We found out a month or so that the virus she'd been attacked with, also affected thousands of other people. 1/3 of those people recovered fully, 1/3 have relapses and chronic back trouble and 1/3 of the people affected never recover.

  Surely, He is gracious in mercy.  How can I deny that, when I see Dawn, healthy, strong {as an ox, I might add - she has the fortitude of a native}, full of vigor, life, bright imagination, a will so strong as to impress and even at times embarrass her piers and elders to shame?  

Thankful to this great God, this Mighty One who has 'renewed strength like the eagles' so that my sweet Dawn can 'run and not be weary...' and 'walk and not faint.'

a good day's end

         "Rose!" Dawn shouts to Merry, whom she calls 'Rosamond', "I'm going to take a shower, and by the time I get out, you had better have made those chocolate chip cookies!"  But then she runs to Merria and puts an arm around her neck and says winkingly "I'z jest kiddn, kid.  We love you…now make us some good little cookies, Rosamond…"

It's old carpet and blue and very walked and sat and wrestled and laid on.  I sat on it, back to a doorframe and watched her play.  She's tough and short and spunky, and I love her. I love watching her play.  It's a doorway to her very soul, I think. D Formsma bakes cookies too, and the most steamy, crusty-on-the - outside- soft- on-the inside - kind of bread you ever tasted. And cinnamon rolls. But this day she was out of the kitchen and at the piano, just for me, and I felt as special as I should have at this token of kindness. She introduced to me Franz Liszt and his  "Three Concert Etudes S.144 No.3 "Un Sospiro".  I've never forgotten him since.

  It's not just the piece. It's the way she plays it that made all the hot wet things come splashing on my cheek and hands.  I love it now, for many reasons, and have listened to it over and over again today.

  Good old home. I'm glad to be back after a summer of traveling.  I love traveling, but you know, it's good to walk in and be home and to see and hear all the things of home that make it what it is…The smell, the creaky benches, the way the front door slams, the way the back door stays open because no one remembers to shut it; the faucet that, even though it's new, has now followed in the footsteps of its Elder Faucet and keeps sliding down and turning off, most inconveniently; the lantana that has bushed over the very mailbox and stretches itself in all directions, oblivious to its eccentricity and merely absorbing all the beautiful sunshine it can manage; the way the purple bathroom trashcan is forever being turned catty-cornered then straight again, and how the rug never stays in one place, because some like it by the toilet, others by the tub, others by the sink; the sunflower in the back yard that we watched and waited for, and is now here, tall and gangly; the way the school room fan bangs when it's on high and how the books keep trying to fall out of the bottom of the piano bench, because it's so full; the back closets - the closets at all - and how they have too much, and ever room for more; the oven with a broken handle, the teapot that gets turned on without any water; the perpetual pot of coffee; the crickets outside the windows at night and the way the summer light comes through the kitchen window in the evening…home is a wonderful place, nor would it be without its little imperfections. 

 Tonight at prayer it struck me again what an unworthy recipient of all my Father's goodness I am. 

Does He not daily, even moment by moment open the windows of heaven to pour out His kindnesses on my life and family?  Daddy took my hand and squeezed it in his big calloused one as I sat on the side of his chair {I declare, one day that chair is going to have a panic attack and fall apart}.  Everybody went around and prayed.  That quiet evening restfulness.  Our family with that Great and Kind Friend who is always with us.  I like the way daddy's stomach rises and falls under my hand when he's holding it and the way he keeps holding it, even when mine gets hot like it does, and I like how the whippoorwill who lives in the front yard's evergreen tree seems to know the right time to sing his sweet, melancholy summer song. 

Merria just came and gave me a thumb full of chocolate chip cookie dough.

"Without chocolate chips, just for you," she says. 

All in all, I'd say that's a Good Day's End.

Tuesday Musings

He says to pick up where I am. So I do, because he says.

                                                                                                     Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Daddy sounds positively like a pirate when he sings in the shower.  

Getting ready for school this morning, Anna Gette scurried into my room and said,

"Rey-Moose, your room always smells like what I imagine an Israelite room to smell like."

"Oh really?" 

"Yeah," as she spread on lotion.  "With all the oils and such.  Tootles, Rey."  And away she scampered to carry all her portable property to the car.  Anna Gette carries more portable property to school with her than anyone I know.  Today we made 4 trips to the car loading it down, nook and cranny.  As always, she had two coffee cups and two straws and celery by her side. 

Chris' text to me yesterday: 'Just wanna say i think you're a swell sister and friend.  Let's get a boat and raincoats and wait for the water to rise enough that we can float away into the Hundred Acre Wood."

  Sweet Brother. 

It's dark and wet and dreary again this morning, but the coffee is perking and the early grey light even has some promise of goodness.  I can hear Mama and Daddy laughing in the living room.  Daddy's laugh in the morning is more like a great rolling thunder, low and rumbling.  He is fitly called Papa Bear.

 Last night Dawn stood at the foot of my bed in her usual place, rubbing my feet, the dear soul.  It had been a while since I'd been here to take part in this evening ritual of foot rubs and deep thoughts by Dawn. 

"Of all my fears when I was a little kid," she said, her long, golden brown hair tumbling over her shoulders and shadowing her bright, sober eyes, "Because, you know,  every kid has fears - of all my fears - my greatest fear was growing up.  I used to pitch tantrums in Mama's room and scream and kick my legs, I feared it so much.  I think I was more afraid of growing up than I was of the dark."

Oh, Childhood, you were a wonder and a terrible thing to leave. 

What is it that we fear so much in leaving it?  And what is it that we so long for when it's gone?

  For days like this Abe says to take it by the horns and make it what you want it to be.  'Roll with the punches or get rolled on', he reminds me of the old  adage, 'But in any case, shake off dull sloth, and gird up your loins, kid.'

Dawn is my 

daily inspiration. 

Don't ask why if 

you don't know.

For answers, please make your reservation for 

Thoughts With Dawn.

Call 770.787.4039 

and someone should answer the Land Line.

reflections of a sunday eve

'Honey, just remember to abide in the Vine no matter what comes…We abide in Him and Him in us - that's all we need.'

I can't tell you the number of times I've called Grandmama or laid looking at the ceiling next to her on Granddaddy's side of the bed or stood in the kitchen against the counter or on the stool and have heard just what I needed to hear.  We haven't necessarily even been talking about "my problems", just Life, and experiences, and Uncle Dave, Mama and Aunt Judy when they were little, Dr. So and So who was the best Doctor in town, or about the Great Depression and how Mamaw Voisy kept the floors swept and the house clean, even if they only stayed a day or two or a week…

  Grandmama is one of those unforgettable people…Sturdy, feisty, gentle, small.  You would hardly guess the Warrior beneath her cheerful smile and kind hands.  But she is.  She is one of the Greatest Prayer Warriors I know or have ever known, and she never ceases to make me wonder.  So much wisdom is stored in that life and such a wonderful nurturing spirit, you can't help but feel more alive after having talked with her or spent any time listening and being with her.

  So she tells me this week, 'abide in the vine…we have sufficient grace as we need it…don't fear what's not here yet.  You're still afraid of it because God hasn't given you the grace you need to go through it, and you may never have that grace because you may never need to go through it…But if He does lead you through it, He'll take your fear and give you grace instead.'

This seems to be a theme of late…Abide in the Vine and in the Word…Do this so that my 'joy might be full'…I hope I may.  I guess the full meaning of that comes with searching and trying to do it to the best of my knowledge, but I hope to that extent I might do so.

   It has been a wonderfully blustery, clear, cold, vibrant day, full of so many people I love. I cannot imagine loving any group of people more than my church family…They are so dear.

::Happy Sunday Afternoon::

 
 

Tonight is so blessedly clear and shiny.  Chris and I saw a shooting star on the way home. It fell long and bright over a large field and disappeared behind a line of dark pines.

Dawn shuffles in, red-eyed and wet-haired. 

'Goodnight, lil' Broge', she says. 

'Goodnight, Dawn.'

Goodnight,

 folks.

Tuesday is for Cowboys, Indians and Cornbread

 The Teachers of SCC, and the Lowly Minions.

"TIME FOR DEVO!!!" Dawn yelled on our end of the house.  I love our family devotions.  It's the best way I could think of to end a day.  Everybody has been going to school or work, soccer practice or have {like me}  been sitting in The Cave all day working on digital files to send (as Daddy would say) to the "World Wide Web".  Devotion ties all the loose ends together and we get to shove all the other things from the day out of our minds.  We get to laugh and tell each other bits about our day and whoever is the early bird gets to lay their head on Mama's lap, where she strokes and massages it.  Mama gives some of the best head massages. Dawn sits on the couch in soccer clothes, her face still painted from Cowboy and Indian Day at SCC and tells us about the girl on her team who makes strange noises with her mouth and about Bryson, who has curly blond hair and helps her on offense.  Anne stretches on the floor, her wet hair piled on her head, stuck through with a pen.  Merry's head is in Mama's lap, my head in Milly's.  Daddy's undertones make me sleepy at night. So low and rumbly.  I love it when he prays for us all by name.  Gives me almost a thrill in thinking that God is looking at my life in that moment of prayer, considering, loving and praying for me too.

  We were talking about Merry's Fellow tonight.  She had crawled onto Daddy's chair with him as is our fashion to do when he's sitting in it.  Milly worried,
"He still hasn't made Mayla mad enough to really see her bad side…"
"Yeah," confirmed Dawn, "He hasn't seen anything yet."
"I mean," Milly said, "He's made her a little mad, but not enough."
Daddy said, "He's seen the good side but make her mad and - " and with this he made his cat noise, clawing the air and grabbing Merry's leg."
"Boy, I can't wait 'til my guy sees my bad side," I said. "That's going to be fun, fun, fun."
"Aw," said Dawn, " You don't have to worry about it with Gabe so much.  You just leave her alone for a while and wait until she gets in a happy mood, then tell her she's been in a bad mood.  Or just scare her when she's in a bad mood and that'll fix it."
 {Dawn says this out of times of merciless experience when I have been victim to her scare schemes and have been "scared" as she says, "Into a Good Mood", but the reality is that I laugh so badly I can't help it, even if I'm not happy about it.}
"What about me?" Asked Merry to Dawn.  "What'you do about me when I'm in a bad mood?"
"I just stay out of your way." said Dawn.
Daddy chuckled, Dawn dribbled her ball in the living room and Milly told me that elbows have the oddest smell.  They all have the same smell, and it's an oddly Elbowish smell.  She examined mine.  "Well, Mildrow Wilson?  What do you say?"  She said mine was no exception.

Today was SCC and as it was First Tuesday it meant Pot Luck and Dress Up. Let me tell you, coming home from work to Mama's mashed potatoes, pork loin, green beans, home grown cream corn peas and cornbread was a treat to the soul.




                      ^ Sunfire the Mighty Warrior of her indian tribe, and Sunfire's Sister's Baby,  ^

whom Sunfire was caring for since her sister died.

Cowboys and Indians.

  .Sunfire.

p.s. let not your heart be troubled: daddy's got bacon in the freezer.

.Local Scalpings. 

for more info please dial

770.787.4039.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy October First Everybody!!!
  I have to say, besides it not being nippy and chilly and blue, it was a perfect day to kick October off with.  Grey and downy and drippy all day long, I want to hug days like this. Kiss them and pinch their cheeks, they are so endearing.   The school kids had play practice today, then came to our house to hang out.

  Ah!!! But daft me!!! We had supper at church last evening, and after services I did what I always do: I walked out of the building over to the lunch room and ate supper. without picking up my purse/Bible/notebook. Unless I'm very good, I generally forget I've done that, and have to go back and retrieve my stuff after the doors have been locked. Well, it was raining, of course, but right as we were leaving, I realized I hadn't gotten my stuff. I wasn't worried so much about my purse as I was a certain book that was beside it: my journal.  I need my journal, folks.  It is an essential part of my sanity and thought process. To be without it, is to be wretched. Took the keys, ran in, {didn't turn on the lights} felt on our pew for my stuff - didn't feel it, ran back out, jumped in the car and asked if anyone else had gotten it. No. Daddy jumped out, ran in, {turned on the lights} and brought out my purse. But my journal/Bible/notebook were still in there. I felt a sinking and slapping sensation across the face of my better judgement. AH! This is what I dread. And always try to make NOT happen. As it is, I've been scrounging for scraps of paper to write on and wondering why I didn't just turn on the lights.  P.s. my new moleskine from Chris is red. That's adventurous, isn't it? It's a cherry red. It's a flamboyant red.

excerpt from an old one::

Sunday, July 15, 2012

'I have so many pressure points nowadays, it's strange.  I just laid down and my eyebrows pressed that book and it was an odd pressure point." Merry was - is - lying across my stomach and Milly was lying across my legs, one head burrowed in the blankets.  She raised her head and said,

"I've had some pressure points too…Not a lot; the main one is when I floss, that tooth hits a nerve in my collar bone."

 This trio never fails to make me smile.

as it was raining, a.g. and i had to be a little innovative with our workout set up tonight.

did we feel hick?

yes.

did we feel redneck?

yes.

did we still do it?

you bet. 

~~~~~~  

a.g. fixed my hair into an Anne Shirley do-up. But she says teasing is the key.  she teased it so much, it went crazy. { love that a.g. is laughing so hard here she's almost crying. love that she can make me laugh more than any other person alive.}

'i don't want starbursts or marble halls…i just want a camel and needle, and 

gilbert blythe'

{do we pass, do you think, as fitting A. of G.G. characters?}

full moon, mama's home, world is right, life is good.

just the way an early morning should be enjoyed.





::note::

milly = my term for melody

margaret = melody's term for Dawn
broge= dawn's term for me.

maher is our cat 

whose full name is

 Mahershalalhashbaz Spurgeon 

and

 who also

may have worms and

 who, furthermore, we have 
suspected of dying on us for some time now.

~~~~

This day {thank God} ends nearly a week of the Grey Submarine being emptied of some of its key ingredients: Merry, Mama and Melody.  Amazing what a hole one person can make in a family, let alone three!!!  Don't get me wrong, the remainder has survived considerably well: we had coffee brewing all week, Clyde and Sherri work to do, baked pumpkin cupcakes, went shopping {kroger, not clothes} and settled into our routine of threesomeness. But this is sure, there is just not the same atmosphere when Mama's not home. It's as true as all get out that she's the heart and life and vibrance of this home.

We don't get cell phones around here when we're infants.  We usually don't get them in our teens. We get them when the circumstances fall out that way.  The circumstances fell out that way for Anne and me to get ours last year, so we got them. Along with them, the fabled texting. That first night Mama, Daddy, Anne and I all sat in the living room sending texts to each other and laughing.   As it is, the other three girls use A.G and my phone interchangeably. Milly was coming home on the trip today and from Mama's phone she said:
"Is Marge around?  Is she able to be communicated with?"  Took the phone to Dawn who was shinnied up a tree.
 'Ah, Broge," she tilted her head and squinted her eyes, "Do I have to take that?  I'd have to get down and I've only been up a minute."
"Milly says she wants to talk to you.  So she swung down, took the phone, and when I got it back there was this conversation:

Milly:: Did anything come from Anthro for Mama?
Dawn:: Yes but I don,t know why were doing this infurnal texting bussieness
Milly:: Cause i didnt want to ask in front of the girls cause we're in the car. Can you put the box beside my chest and put the old cup in my top drawer?
Dawn:: ohta, anything else?
Milly:: you're a pal margaret thanks see you on a few hours. Are y'all going to 6 flag today?
Dawn:: Nope
Milly:: Ok has Maher died?
Dawn:: No
Milly:: Are the people coming tonight?
Milly:: Im glad Maher's not dead
Dawn:: I don,t know
Milly:: Ok see you in a while
Dawn:: Sure can I get back in me tree now?
Milly: Certainly Margaret go right ahead!

Anne and I read over Dawn's shoulder and Anne said matter of factly,
"Maher has been happy this week!"
"No he hasn't! He's been so dismal. Have you heard his meow lately? It's so raspy and he can barely croak one out."
Yes, Maher was dismal, and so were we, to some extent; but the fam's home, and this means that the world is set right again.

noah!!!

.take a lesson from this little man on the right way to eat a pumpkin spice cupcake.

^check out daddy's cauldron of chili…Ah!!! so good. nobody makes it like he does. 

and classic bro j telling fireman stories :)

happy night, happy bellies, happy people,

goodnight folks.