We awoke to grey clouds and thunder in the distance. Let me rewrite that. Ashlyn woke up at her normal 7am because she doesn’t know how good it is to sleep in on vacation. Since I’m the best wife in the world I get up with her because I want Hubby to get much needed sleep. The sky was still grey and the thunder was still rolling when everyone else woke up. Before breakfast was over we were treated to a great rain shower. There’s something about watching rain fall on the lake. It’s very peaceful, even if the wind is whipping about.
The rain didn’t last long and I got to go to a French yard sale. There is a French couple that found their way into the Ozarks almost two decades ago. As the well-known saying goes (tweaked a bit to fit this situation): you can take the Frenchman out of Paris, but you can’t take Paris out of the Frenchman. Their accents are still very thick. She has an art studio in her house. They press their own apples to make apple cider. They have a chicken house out back where they used to raise chickens, rabbits, and a peacock until the raccoons got the chickens and the fox got the peacock. Well, maybe you can take a little bit of Paris out of the Frenchman. They were super nice too, so come to think of it, they were Arkansawians (what have we decided that word would be?) with French accents. It was a pleasure to stumble my way through conversations with them. They, like everyone else I’ve attempted to speak French or German with, are very gracious and flattering to my face. I can only imagine the snickering and fun making that happen afterwards. Kind of like the Griswalds who show up at the door of their “relatives” in Germany, make absolute fools of themselves and leave hugging and kissing their hosts–never to find out they were at the wrong house the whole time. The people I try to converse with probably leave the experience wondering what in the world just happened. And how could I butcher their language so badly. And next time, if there were to be a next time, they would set me straight. ha.
We left the yard sale with loads of “vintage” fabric that I plan on playing with to get some good practice with my serger. I’m taking lessons now and plan on turning that baby out. We headed into Branson to a pretty awesome fabric store where I got some great new fabric for burp cloths. Be looking for some new additions on the Sew Petit website.
After leaving that store we headed down the main stretch for a little while and what to my wandering eyes should appear (I swear I’ve said that in a post before) but the OUTLET MALL (one of several in the general Branson area, if you’re keeping tabs)!! What could be better on a relaxing vacation than living on the lake and then shopping at an outlet mall? Really, what? Armed with the blessing of my husband I head to the children’s stores to stock up on clothes for Ashlyn. You would think the poor girl runs around neked (southern for naked) with how I go on and on to Reagan about how we have to buy Ashlyn all these clothes and we’re buying none for her because her closet is already bulging. For some reason she believes this. It really is true though. Ashlyn doesn’t run around neked because I dress her in the same seven outfits every week. I swear that’s what it seems like. I do feel a tinge of guilt for buying all these clothes when the average salary for most people in this area is below poverty.
Off topic: the juxtaposition of lifestyles around here is quite amazing. Around the Branson area you’ve got many wealthy people coming in to settle the area. It’s absolutely gorgeous out here. And once you’ve retired really what else is there to do except go watch daily shows bedecked with all the sequins in the world and then go home to your condo on the lake? The folks that dun been livin heuh fo most of they lives live in trailers with a car lot fulluh cars in they frunt yahds. I haven’t quite grasped what to make of the economic situation for most of the people out here. For the record my family does not live in either a condo or a trailer.
While the girls were getting their shopping on in the Las Vegas of the South the guys were entertaining She That Shall Not Be Taken Into Public If Civility Is To Be Kept. Everyday Ashlyn gets closer and closer to being two. I believe somehow she knows that many kids experience “terrible twos” and she’s relishing her future job. In fact, she’s in training right now and proving to be very good at pitching a fit. She’s an expert at reaching up and snatching Reagan’s long, beautiful hair. She’s also on par with the best at flailing her arms and legs around when picked up if she doesn’t desire to be picked up. Please pray for us. Where was I? Du and Dad actually had a good time with her. They played with her inside. Then they swung her on the swing. Then they took her on a golf cart ride. Then they swung her on the swing. Then she took a nap. Then they swung her on the swing. Do you get where I’m going with this? OH, they also got to watch some golf somewhere in there. I think we had a better time, but I’d never tell them that. Oh! And they had dinner waiting on us when we got home. I could do this everyday.
I forgot to mention a couple of things yesterday. Almost as soon as our truck had pulled into the driveway Reagan was already manipulating her way into a tractor ride. The tractor is hooked up with a flatbed trailer. Of course it’s not to haul kids around, but what else could it be for when the grandkids are in town? Both girls thoroughly enjoyed it as did the neighbor’s dog who jumped on to tag along.
Also, while we were fishing yesterday we managed to come back a little bit lighter than when we left. While I was casting, expert caster that I am, I managed to sling the jig, sinker, and probably a bobber too right off into the far distant water. This isn’t the first mishap I’ve had with fishing poles (ask me about the time when I was young that involves fishing line and another boat’s motor). Fortunately Dad backed up my excuse that the string was just too flimsy. He proved it himself while trying to tie me on another setup. Old string. Good for nothin. Another pole I tried to use just wouldn’t cast at all. Du even told me “you have to hold the button down when you cast”. “No I don’t” I said, “it’s the fishing line, it sucks”. Once again Dad proved me right. That stupid pole wouldn’t cast for anything. So he ended up letting Reagan throw it overboard, to let it sink and live with the fishies where it belongs. BTW, you don’t have to hold the button down when you’re casting. Love you honey! I actually have no room to talk though. No matter how we cast our lines, he’s caught fish in this lake and I haven’t caught a single one.
All in all, another very good day. A cross-continental cultural experience, great shopping deals, dinner waiting for us when we got home, and another full day of swinging for Ashy.
Animals we came into contact with or close proximity to: beaucoup birds (like how I threw that in?), a dog, a cat, numerous turtles crossing the road (someone needs to make up a joke about that), a dead armadillo, and Bucky the tame deer.
Tomorrow: church and lunch at the ever-famous Sleepy’s!