Lisa n Tom (n James n Joseph)

Lisa writes: Little sister Debbie in Missouri made me a birthday card. This was digitally printed like a photograph, then mailed as a postcard. Click to enlarge. Cute, huh? P.S. On my mission in the Dominican Republic (in 1992-93), we thought we were hot stuff because we had fax machines.

Lisa writes: Happy birthday to me! Tom earned his excellent birthdayable credentials this morning by producing not one but two excellent birthday gifts. Exhibit A: A handsome new button-front blouse for me to wear with absolutely everything. A very valuable wardrobe addition. Exhibit B: A bat house. Sing it with me! "Duh duh duh duh duh duh duh BAT HOUSE! BAT HOUSE! Bat house." Why would I want a bat house? Good heavens, man, can you ask? Why would I NOT want a bat house? Bats eat 100s of mosquitos every night. Right now, 100s of mosquitoes eat ME every night. Turn-about is fair play. So, why would I want a bat house? In a word: revenge.

Lisa writes: And now even my parents are having more fun than you are! Where were you last weekend? Here's where they were. (Click to enlarge) St. Thomas, Virgin Islands, making friends with this guy: Mom fed him the hibiscus flower out of her hair. He chomped it all down, including the stem, with big chunks of red flower hanging out of his mouth. Speaking of hair, there was great discussion about what this guy (and lots of other guys in similar uniforms) had under their hats. Mom couldn't believe it was all dreadlocks. Which is ironic if you've seen how much hair my mom has. I think the more pressing discussion should be about whether this hair/hood/hat configuration meets OSHA standards. "Hey, mon!" They had a great time, doing what they do. Dad, taking in the view after driving up to the top of a mountain in a rented Jeep 4x4, with a sandwich in hand. And in cheek, it looks like. Mom, testing the waterproofness of yet another cell phone. (None of them has pas...

Lisa writes: Mount Rushmore , South Dakota. Me, in midrift-baring ensemble, Dad, baby Christi, and Lori. I know that looks like a pack of cigarettes she's holding, but I can assure you it's not. Pretty sure, anyway, unless my memory of 1977 is much, much mistaken. Did you know it was originally planned to carve the presidents from head to waist, but they ran out of money? Also, they were supposed to add Susan B. Anthony, but ran into the same problem.

Lisa writes: Christi's kids are having more fun than you. Here's Madison on some sort of artificial boogie boarding contraption called the FlowRider. Christi writes, "...watch the upper right of the screen about halfway through...it's Christian going over face first...it cracks me up (:" (32 seconds)

Lisa writes: Monday (Hurray for Labor Day!), we had lunch with Tom's old junior high and high school friend, Peter and his wife Denene. He is a nurse and EMT in Roanoke. We got fancied up and they took us to the swankest place in town, the Roanoke Hotel. This is where all the fancy-schmancy railroad barrons used to hang out. We were careful to keep up to the local standards. And behave ourselves.

Lisa writes: Then a bit farther up the road to stay the night at Kris' mom's house in Roanoke. These are the guard dogs: B'Elanna and Anya. Here's B'Elanna chewing Tom's arm off. Joanne and the happy travellers.

Lisa writes: And then we meet up with high school friend Kris in Bristol to meet her herd. She's a research assistant at Virginia Intermount College . She graduated with a degree in Equine Studies and now studies ... equines. She knows all their names and personalities and digestive patterns. This one horse, Kencyn, kept walking circles around Tom, sort of leaning in him. Tom didn't have any snacks or anything. The horse just seemed to want to be his buddy. I asked Kris, Knower-of-All-Things-Horsey, what this behavior meant. Kris watched him for a minute, then said, "No idea."

Lisa writes: Stopped in Harriman, TN for gas and Taco Bell. And some folk wisdom.

Lisa writes: Hey, my old high school. The tiny plaque at the top of the sign says, "This sign created and donated by the Construction Crafts Club of the Class of 1988." Not a club I was a member of (or knew existed), but it makes my heart swell with pride none the less. Standing in front of the sign, this is what I'm facing -- houses. Lots and lots of houses as far as the eye can see. Back in 1988, this was lots and lots of corn, as far as the eye could see, and heaven help you if your parents forgot whose turn it was to pick you up from school that day. It was a looooong walk home.

Clarksville is home to Austin Peay [pronounced like the little green vegetable] State University . Let's go Peay!

Lisa writes: And now [sigh] this is what a 20 year high school reunion looks like. It's like a high school dance, except everybody is old and they're serving the booze inside the building instead of sneaking it in the parking lot. Click to see us rocking out with our bad selves in excruciating detail.)

Lisa writes: Here's our house! We lived here from 1986 to 1989. I think the shutters used to be gray... Mom and Dad paid $70,000 for this 4-bedroom, 2-bath, 2-car garage house in 1986. It was almost brand new; we were the second owners, but the previous owners were only there a short time. The lawn hadn't even grown in and the trees were just sticks. They sold the house three years later for the bank balance. The whole area was pretty depressed and there were a lot of houses on the market. The new owners remembered my parents' last name. (Check out the gargantuan bush on the right!) I looked it up on Zillow.com yesterday. It's currently appraised at $145,000.

Lisa writes: Looking from downtown toward the Cumberland river. Just to the left of this building, we saw a very intense ground hog. Look at his face: isn't he intense? (Click to see him intenser.)

Lisa writes: They're doing a lot of renovation downtown. They are trying to cutesify it. There's lots of history, I think. I don't know what it is. I have a vague recollection that Clarksville was captured and re-captured like five times during the Civil War. I can also still sing all of the lyrics to the specially-commissioned 200-year anniversary song from 1987: "Clarksville -- Moving on!" "There's a town in Tennessee called CLARKSviiiiiiiille / She's been around 200 years / Queen city of the Cumberland / Friendly city with a helping hand / She's a city with a future bright and cleeeeeeeear...." (I can go on, believe me.) Here's The Roxy Theater, celebrating its 26th year of community theater. Quite an accomplishment, really. Mom caught her napkin on fire from the tealight during a show once. I think this place deserves from credit just for surviving my family. "So come along and sing our song of CLARKSviiilllllllle / It's a...

Lisa writes: Now we're touring downtown Clarksville. Here at the antique store, we have a lovely display of genuine antique moonshine jugs! Title of this photo: "An Awkward Dinner Party."

Lisa writes: Here's Barb and one of their SIX dogs. They are all very polite and well-adjusted. I think having 65 acres to run around on is good for dog's mental health. ... even though all the running didn't prevent this particular toy poodle-mix from plumping up the size of a loaf of bread. Family -- Imagine Buttons (the toy poodle across the street) as a blowfish. Don, Barb, J.C. the lab, Lisa, and Tom. Note for the unfamiliar: This man is a dentist with a staff of 35 people. And a tractor. He's been a dentist for a long time. He just bought the tractor. To roll hay. The first two rolls rolled into the pond. His grown kids thought this was pretty funny.

Lisa writes: We headed back to Clarksville, TN for my 20 year high school reunion. That's Northeast Class of 1988, ya'll. Saturday morning, we visited Don and Barb Jones at their new house out in the country. Here are the goats you are automatically issued when you move out to the country. It's like a law. This is a sheep. A sheep is just a fuzzy goat, from what I can tell. (You can see I have never lived in the country nor been issued any goats.)

Tom writes: I am the proud owner of a pair of goat pants. They are the latest rage. Last weekend we went to Lisa's 20th high school reunion in Clarksville, TN. While we were in town, we visited Barbara and Don Jones, family friends from when Lisa's family lived in Tennessee. Now they live on a farm of sorts, with cute goats that will come up and nibble on your clothes. Barb reassured us that they didn't bite, so no worries. I even took this picture of one of them while it was being friendly with me. Goats are like mosquitos - they don't stay away long after you shoo them off. As we walked away, I noticed that my pants were damp from the friendliness and upon examination found that I was the proud owner of a new pair of goat pants. Want some?

Lisa writes: Traditional wedding anniversary gifts. 1 year: Paper 2 year: Cotton 3 year: Leather 4 year: Flowers 5 year: Wood 6 year: Candy 7 year: Copper 8 year: Bronze 9 year: Pottery 10 year: Tin

Lisa writes: Christi's family is having more fun than yours. She writes, "Christian was the only one to actually let go of the rope on Saturday. Note the first words out of his mouth when he pops up out of the water." (11 seconds)