Let's see.  What has been going on Up and Down the Gravel. The company is
all gone.  Things have seemed quite quiet in some ways, but life continues.

Uncle Jim is driving his own car again.  It has been awhile, and there have
been several issues, but hopefully they are resolved, at least for a bit.  Hattie
had a letter in the mailbox today address from G'ma Opal (though I suspect
Uncle Jim had a hand in delivering it...I recognize his handwriting.)  In the
envelope was a homemade card that Hattie had given to G'ma a number of
years ago.  Uncle Jim is thoughtful like that.  It is now safely filed away in
our Special Letter's File.

Mike and Debby are on a whirlwind tour of their various kids houses so that
they can celebrate Christmas with each of them and then be back here to
celebrate it with us.

Papa Bob's sawmill is on the bunk.  He has spent several days working to
repair it.  The last I heard he said something about their being gas in the
oil...or oil in the gas.  Anyway, he may need to take the engine to a shop
at Poplar Bluff.  That reminds me, tonight I learned from him the difference
between a motor and an engine.  A motor is electric, and an engine runs on some
type of fuel.

Tyler is building a hay feeding lean-to on the back of our shed.  The hardest
part of building anything is getting it squared up.  One of The Rattlesnake Boys
was helping us build our woodshed years ago and to square it up he said,
"3+4=5".  That was his hillbilly way of putting the Pythagorean Theorem to
good use.

Kent and I have sometimes spent days trying to get a building square.  I am sure
we almost divorced over squaring up our barn.  Anyway, between the three
of us, Kent, Tyler, and me, we were able to get the new hay-feeding lean-to
close enough to square to work.

Our friend, Doug, gave me a good line this past week.  He said, "Laurie, if
you ever want to get out of doing something, just say, 'I'm so sorry, but my
avacados will be ripe between 8 and 8:15 tomorrow night.'"  It is so funny
because it is so true.  Avacados are not ripe, not ripe, not ripe, ripe ( for about
15 minutes and perfect to work up), and then too ripe, too ripe, too ripe.

One more funny.  During deer season Bill, Stacey, and the kids were here.
Wilbur was looking at the deer mounts on our wall.  We were talking about
them, and he said, "Deer dead?"  "Yes, Wilbur the deer are dead."  "Deer
died on the cross?"  "No, Wilbur, not on the cross!"