Now that's saying something! I  grew up in a household where church was a place you went on Christmas and Easter. I mean come on, we got the cutest outfits to wear, so we had to have some place to show them off!!! And that's pretty much what I thought of church. Not that we didn't attend other times, but mostly only when my grandparents ( mom's parents) came to visit us. I knew church was something we "should" do, b/c I heard my mom talk about it a lot! But Dad didn't want to go. Our family activity on Sundays was to go for a drive. I loved going for drives. You never knew where you'd end up and my dad was famous for taking the back roads. Oh, there was so much more to see than the highway. Plus we would pack a picnic and try to find a state or county park to visit. Actually, it was more like a feast. Mom always cooked bacon and eggs with lots of trimmings. Yum! And Dad always said "food just tastes better when it's cooked outside."

Now you have to understand-as a little girl these Sunday drives were precious to me because my dad had a problem with alcohol and a bad temper. So Sunday was the one and only day where he wasn't drinking or angry. He would be patient and teach us girls ( he had no boys) how to fish. We even had our own tackle boxes and rods and reels. I would pretend to be brave when it came to baiting my hook with the worms because my dad would be happy.  But that was my most unfavorite part. Yuck! Then we would go down to the stream and sit back and fish. It would be so quiet and the stream would be nice and cold. Dad would point out all kinds of things. The frog on the bank., the turtles on the log sunning themselves, a lazy water snake swimming by, gar fish, shiners...the list is endless. Yes, Sundays were precious to me.

Well this is way long enough...I'll pick it up tomorrow!

Blessings,

Kathy