This is Miller with a baseball shirt. 
I am a parade afficiando. Parades are like icing on cake, the sweetest part of summer and holidays and childhood memories.
I take my children to parades, knowing they're secretly hoping for candy throwers.
We're near Ironton, the location of the longest, continuous Memorial Day Parade in the country. The tributes to soldiers was very touching. Some were families remembering those whom they had lost.
Of course every parade has Shriners, and I share these only to demonstrate how different the Hillbilly version is from other Shriners across the country. Yes, that is a very large pair of underwear.
But when the politicians came through, and other elected officials, you could have heard a pin drop. Gone was the spontaneous cheering and clapping. It was uncomfortable to watch them drive by, conspicuous of the lack of interest.
Of course the old cars came, as well as the churches (who handed out cold bottles of water with scripture about living water - a great tradition!), horses and bands.
(Sawyer borrowing the bushes.) 
Myra, a doctor's wife, whose phone never stops ringing, and who shares her husband with the community whether or not he's working, and everything else she has with everybody else.
Charlotte, in constant pain from rheumatoid arthritis, but who spends her days serving others. The amazing lady who housed my husband for eight months, instead of three days, never taking any money.
Me. And Hillary Weeks, an amazing singer, mother, and another lady full of compassion and service to others, even when life is not easy. These are the women I spent my weekend with. I was sent to Time Out for Women, as a surprise by Zach and Alana, probably mostly Alana. It was fabulous, I feel renewed, revived, and am much nicer. How come going to time out can do that for you? Does it only work on Moms?
I attended a funeral this week. It's always touching to hear taps being played, and especially nice to see the youth serving their community so this can happen.
The funeral culture out here is a litle different than anywhere else I've lived, which includes six other states from coast to coast. The grave decorations are very elaborate and this time of the year are very available. As the funeral procession is driving down the road, every other car on the road parks and turns their car off. No one moves, out of respect for the dead, until the procession is done.
My friend, Joyce (right) lost her father last Sunday. He was 91, a World War II vet, and a pillar in the community.
The local Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) displayed his rifle, hat and boots in a missing soldier formation while they honored him with a gun salute.
I didn't know Joyce's father, but I came away extremely touched because of his service to our country, his continuing service to his community, and the fact that our World War II vets are getting fewer and always older. These men stood the whole time. You could tell this was difficulty for them, but they fought against gravity and age and stayed true to the course.
This is one of our disgustingly dirty rugs. We can't claim all the credit for the stains as the owners ate in their dining room and we don't. A lot of the stains started popping up after we'd been here a week or two and walked on the carpet. I've tried a lot of ways to get the carpets clean and keep them clean, but I learned something new yesterday: carpet shampoos have oil in them, I suppose for conditioning purposes, or a gimmick, and the oil attracts residue to your carpets so you have to keep cleaning them. Have you ever noticed that? 
Someone Jarrod works with told him to try OxyClean on the spots, and vinegar in the basin, with hot water. That's it. Can we say we've never been bluer? I will still purchase rug protectant, as I know that helps with the heavy traffic areas, but I'm grateful my security deposit won't be used to replace their rugs. Any other carpet secrets?
The video totally explains this picture. When you can only hear the birds, go looking for Sawyer.
This is the pit crew: Elder Mataele, Tanner, Bro. Spence, Hunter and Elder Hunter. They used good, old fashioned boy scout techniques to burn wet wood: kerosene.
This is the pig arriving from the slaughterhouse. It's been freshly processed, scalded, and wrapped. The pig was so pink it reminded us of Wilbur being bathed in buttermilk for the county fair.
This is the fire pit with the rest of the wood. After the wood burned down the rocks from the river were added. When they got hot enough the pig was put into the pit to cook.
The pig was a lot longer than expected, so it was cut up to fit into the pit. It was wrapped in tin foil (verses banana leaves), and laid on the chicken wire to make pulling it out of the pit a lot easier.
Aloha! I think we're almost ready to start! Wearing Nana's muumuu made the day extra special. There were six open-air tents that were set up, to shelter from rain or sun, and tables that sat four underneath them. They were all right next to each other so it was like one big tent. Fresh flowers were the centerpieces.
Six hours later the pig is ready to be unearthed. There was carpet on top of the pit, to keep the steam inside.
This is the empty pit, with only ashes and rocks left.
This shows two of the three front tents, and the end of the line for food.
Here is Hunter making grape icees for everyone. He hand cranked out 30 pounds of ice cup by cup.
Tanner helping to unwrap, carve, and transport the pig.
Cooper doing the hula hoop style.
The Mazons! Our angels that took care of Jarrod for 8 months!
I was having a pretty good pity party. But as I reflected on what's happened this week, I had a great Mother's Day. I found my wedding ring. It's really nice to be married again! I had to work the snack shack at the baseball fields Friday night, and a huge thunderstorm arrived and cancelled all the games. My duty was done. And there was my husband to escort me to my car in the storm. I know how much he loves and cares about me. I had the missionaries ask if they could make their Mother's Day phone call from here. One to Hawaii and one to Utah. I made cinnamon rolls and fried dough during their phone calls. I hope someday a mother would do the same for my sons. In three years I hope to being a twelve year stretch of sons calling home from missions on Mother's Day.
Jarrod's gift to me was all the Cubscout and Scout mother's pins I was missing. There were ten for me to put on my scout necklaces. I was touched. I usually have an inkling of an idea what he's up to, or if money has been spent. I did not expect anything (no money missing=he sold a book back to the bookstore) and never thought of this. It was a great idea! I'm still missing two square Webelos badges, the store here only has the Boy Scout pins, but there are many more years. What caught you off guard this year?
This week has been a week of honors. Tanner was inducted into the National Honor Society.
Here it's a club of service, promoting character, leadership, service and scholarship. I think he'll enjoy having a group to hang out with.
Hunter was inducted into the National Junior Honor Society. Same principles, more service.
Sawyer and Miller were thankful they served refreshments (Sawyer's speech teacher is the lady on the far left). I look forward to this time of the year when the awards are handed out. It's a nice reward for hard work and recognition for being different. Congratulations, boys!
The professor that Jarrod replaced, and who is now wintering in Florida, called and asked if the boys wanted to earn some money mowing. Jarrod enthusiastically agreed (notice the steep incline of the driveway!).
Our mower died the next day. So convenient! Hence, we had to borrow a lawn mower to get the job done (thank goodness for the Bishop and his wife!). But, I'm a little uncomfortable borrowing the lawn mower, and a lot more uncomfortable with my boys borrowing it. So I did the mowing. (Hanging onto the fence rail so I don't fall down the lawn.)
Living in Huntington, WV has made us conscious of the weight issues in this area. It was dubbed the fatest city in America. I have drawn my own conclusions as to why. They don't mow their yards. Anybody that does mow would be really skinny. It's sooooooooo difficult to push the mower up the hills and pull it back up if you mow over the edge of the cliff. We, Sawyer and I, have found out the hard way. 
But, because we borrowed the lawn mower when the Bishop's garage was broken into, the thieves had one less lawn mower to take. For this we are all very grateful! And, we got another letter in the mail requesting more services.
