My grandson, Brock. 5 mos.
Happy Holidays ~ Babs
Steven, Lauren and Brock. He's in there somewhere.
2. My family "back home." I wish we saw each other more.
3. My faith. It is always with me.
4. My health and the doctors who help me stay healthy. Dr. B., you are the best!
5. Crayolas, colored pens, glue, stickers and paper. I still love to cut, paste, stamp and glue.
6. The sunrise. "May the great mystery make sunrise in your heart." ~ Old Indian Saying Every morning on my way to work it's interesting to see the sun rise. On foggy days like this past week, it plays hide-n-seek with the clouds.
7. A good book and my fireplace. And then the good book that becomes a great movie.
8. The scent of my home and the coziness of my bed. My home is my safe haven.
9. Pink roses, my favorite!
10. Photos that capture so many moments, places, memories AND the friends who take them and share them with me.
11. Computers...and they keep getting cheaper, lighter and faster. Love my new screaming fast HP! Thank you, my HP son, for making the right one arrive here!
12. Mani's and Pedi's...thank you , Jenny.
13. My newly acquired taste for red wine, especially Conconan 2005. It's sooo smooth.
14. Baseball. It's the Sign of Spring.
15. Small mistakes. "Mistakes are a fact of life. It's the response to the error that counts." ~ Nikki Giovanni
16. Online bill pay. Though it is fun to see the little 5x7 envelopes arrive at work.
17. My "binky" for tired shoulders.
18. I'm grateful for Spellcheck...now if I can just master Excel!
19. The smell of new shoes, the look of new shoes, just NEW SHOES!
20. Matinee movies and eating movie popcorn WHEN the movie begins!
21. Chunky peanut butter. Smooth peanut butter. Organic, of course.
22. The smell of a new baby. I Love You Brock... Nana.
23. Falling into bed after a long productive day. "A well-spent day means happy sleep." ~Leonardo Da Vinci
24. Handwritten thank you cards. "Thou that hast given so much to me, give me one thing more, a grateful heart." ~George Herbert
25. My inner peace. "It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness." ~ C H Spurgeon
26. Oatmeal and brown sugar on Sunday mornings.
27. A "smize" from a little brown eyed girl, named Myla, who smiles at you with big beautiful brown eyes that gaze at you, hence; "Smize". At age two she warms your heart with those beautiful eyes and makes you proud with every new word and adventure. Myla's sweet kisses are treasured.
28. My happiness. "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." ~Abraham Lincoln
29. My hairdryer. Whatever did we do without them. Maybe no swimming, PAnn?
30. My dependable, sturdy, reliable Yukon. We've seen so much together.
31. My iPhone. How did I ever function without it?
33. My feelings, my emotions, my heart. "Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf. ~Jonatan Martensson.
34. My friends, near and far though it has taken me many years to learn the value of a good girlfriend...I've got it now and "it's a good thing." My friend, my neighbor...love you, Sharon. And my neighbors on Farmtown, too. It's been fun to reconnect with friends from my past on FaceBook because they have re-entered my present.
35. I'm grateful for headlights in my driveway...it means someone special is here to visit. Black vehicles have extra special meaning...
As I spend my Thanksgiving Day, I will take notice of all the abundance in my life, the good things in my life...the things that make my life run smoothly and how many small miracles happen throughout the day... a baby's laughter, extended families who love each other and create Hallmark moments, laughter and good food. I want to feel that moment of gratitude on Thanksgiving Day for the basic fact that one more time, the sun has risen, it brightens my day and it will hold me tight...safe and warm like a big hug. As Princess Diana said "Hugs are free, you can never have too many."
May All The Good Things In Your Life Be in Abundance! Happy Thanksgiving.
~ BABS
It's a new role for me...this role of Nana. I've always felt my role in my family, usually that of "lead role" since I am the oldest of four children. It's a role that brings about a mask to a large extent. For the people I love and those that pass through my daily life, I've worn a mask for a long time and I'm wondering if the mask can now come off...now that I'm a Nana. Being the oldest of four, I always felt a bit of pressure about being the "good girl", the pleaser, doing the right thing and solving problems. Being a problem solver has helped me so much in my career (well, most of the time) but, unfortunately, on a personal level people really don't want their problems solved...they just want you to listen, be supportive and let them know you care. I'm learning that lesson late in life. This scenario plays out in a work situation, as well as with friends and family. Sometimes I have the mask on so tight and wear it so well noone seems to notice. But deep down, I know I am not free to simply be who I really want to be; hence, frequently I feel invisible. There is nothing inherently wrong with wearing a mask or playing a role. It's a natural part of any social dynamic and it can even be creative and fun. However, it becomes a problem when I feel I have no choice but to wear the mask and it's certainly a challenge if I feel I am without it. Do any of us know who we really are—a special beam of individual light—and have identified ourselves completely with a role. We may be the dutiful, caring daughter who keeps her parents’ dysfunctional marriage intact. We may be the dutiful wife who enables her husband to continue on a destructive path. We may be the cheerful daughter to a deeply depressed mother. Whatever the case, knowing the motivation behind the performance—the function of the mask—can help to cover the true face and identity. In my opinion, anytime we find ourselves behind a mask, it is an indication we are entangled in a dysfunctional dynamic in which our true self cannot be seen. Perhaps we've been placed in this situation for the purpose of our own healing and, in some cases, the healing of others. From this perspective, life can be seen as a series of situations that call us to remove our masks—gently, and with great compassion for all concerned—to reveal the beauty underneath. The role of Nana seems natural and easy for me and I see no need for a mask in my Nana role. Perhaps it is because this little guy expects nothing of his Nana, doesn't know my background of trials and errors and just latches his little finger to mine. As it's been quoted: "The moment they placed you in my arms, you were forever in my heart." Definitely for this precious one...no mask needed!
Somehow the trees and flowers know that change is on the way. Routine is the ritual and nourishment for my soul...like the rain and sun Mother Nature provides. Cold- blooded All American Girl that I am, in anticipation of a temperature change and not liking that change at all...I'm a sun-baby, I turned off my air conditioner and no, I didn't open any windows. I was perfectly comfortable at 5 a.m., snug as a bug, as my grandmother would say, at 78 degrees in my house and that didn't bother me a bit. I'm under my comfy, it's raining outside and all is well with the world. 
Not one to doze back to sleep, I did reflect a few moments to listen to the rain pouring down on the lawns, like a long shower, leaving all the plants happy in their thirst quenched stupor. We had 4-5" of rain the week before so it was definitely a case of "watch what you wish for." There were flash flood warnings on the radio and alerts of more rain to come. Sunrise was upon me and I knew the day would bring about rejuvination and newness and there was definitely a change of plans. Well, rain or shine I knew I had to get to the AT&T store to change out a phone that the Coach ran over at the baseball field...cells phones and riding mowers do not go together well! 
I like that about new days...Things may change whether I like it or not, and friends may leave, but LiFe doesn't StOp for AnYbOdY! A clean start, a new slate, a new day to color on my canvas, though my days don't change much from day-to-day. Not even on the week-ends. Today I was ready to move ahead, take on the world, tackle my "to do list" as it waited patiently for me on the counter downstairs where I put it to bed every night, not thinking about it until I pick it up when I'm heading out the door. At 5 a.m. week-days, I'm energetic and enthusiastic...if only that energy and enthusiasm would stay with me all day. What a gift that would be. Nope, here comes the rain...scratch the list...new plans. Today is a day where being "rigidly flexible" as I have been described, is a good thing. An Indian Summer Day in South Texas with the sun shining after the rains and back in the 90's wouldn't surprise me a bit. I hope not, for the lawns' sake, the roses and even the trees that will shed their beautiful leaves in preparation for a nice long winter's nap.
I frequently ask "why didn't I plant all evergreens", especially as I clean leaves out of the pool. 
Here you see...roses looking BaD! Flowers ThIrStY! WEEDS, WEEDS, WEEDS! Ugh!
Most Thursday afternoons I have the same conversation with my trusty lawn helper that I've had for 13 years: "Why isn't there some device we can use to shake all the leaves off at once and be over with this anyway?" He just laughs and goes on about the business of mowing with music plugged in his ears. No, this morning was a tease...by Mother Nature of the chilly days ahead. Chilly and Beverly...two words that do not go together. Most days you'll find me with a sweater wrapped around my neck. 
Some people think I'm going for a "look." Wrong...it's for cold stores where I shop, movies and restaurants or on a trip. See Albuquerque in August above...sweater, just in case! A quick over the head goes the sweater and off goes any "look." It's not a look, it's just a little nurturing of my chilly bones to make a quick stop in a cold French cafe a little more cozy when sitting by the fireplace sipping a nice wine. 
Above: Traveling in the Sonoma Valley, CA., in the Fall at the Sauvignon vineyards with a sweater. A beautiful place to visit. http://www.sonomacounty.com/ The Case Ranch Inn, Forestville, CA. The bed and breakfast with hot tub: www.bedandbreakfast.com/california-forestville-case-ranch-inn Another story, another day about "chilly" in California in the Fall.
Yes, Fall is arriving in South Texas. It's the changing of the guard as Summer teasingly slips away, Autumn is at our doorstep 
and here arrives the Master Artist Himself...with all the brilliant colors He has to brush our world with. I love the colors of Fall, especially orange. I admit I like orange and black since they were my high school colors (I know, I know..."yuk"...but they were ours) but it's in the Fall that the little orange pumpkins arrive in the church parking lots and children wander up and down the rows looking for that perfect pumpkin to carve. In keeping with tradition, I'll pull out my crafty, not real- from- the- pumpkin patch, pumpkins, for the porch, PLUS one more this year for Brock and up goes the Autumn wreath. 
Thus begins another chapter, another season to watch unfold...wondering...do people mirror the trees I see change? Do people go through their own seasons and change? I know I do... even not liking change... but accepting it as best I can. I've watched the trees I planted over 12 years ago root their way over and around rock, growing tall, cracking rocks and all in their effort to establish their roots and grow, in order to change with the seasons. Aren't we the same? Always searching for creative ways to go over and around the obstacles we hit in our journey of life?
CATCH A FALLING LEAF AND MAKE AN AUTUMM WISH...HAPPY AUTUMN, HAPPY FALL, GOOD BYE SUMMER...
The sun comes up behind this little post office (more times this summer than we San Antonians would like) on Hwy. 181 and Farm Road 81 near Indian Crossing on the San Antonio River. The post office was established in 1898 and it's population peaked in the early 1950's to 175 but in 1990 the town composed largely of Czech, German and Polish descent reported a population of 135 and it has remained that number to present.
Don't you just love this quaint little post office address, 123 Main, Tuleta, TX. I think it's blue wooden siding and aluminum window coverings should place it in nomination for one of the more "down home" post offices. If there was a coffee shop nearby I can attest that it would stay busy all day long. It took me 15 minutes before the daily flow to pick up the mail slowed enough to get a frontal photo without a car out front. Tuleta is on State Highway 181 twelve miles north of Beeville in north Bee County. It was founded by Peter Unzicker, a Mennonite minister, who brought a colony of Mennonites from Cullom, Illinois, in 1906. Unzicker, a German, purchased 54½ acres of land from the Chittum-Miller ranch for the townsite, which was named for J. M. Chittum's daughter. The San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway was built across the ranch in 1881. The depot opened in Tuleta in 1906; the following year the post office opened. The Mennonite church, built that year, was used for school on weekdays. In 1910 Amanda Stoltzfus organized the Tuleta Agriculture High School, the first of its kind in Texas; its faculty came from such prestigious institutions as Smith College and the University of Wisconsin. Mrs. Stoltzfus, the principal, offered instruction in sewing and cooking for girls and manual training and agriculture for boys. The school had dormitories for boarders. Tuleta once had three churches-Mennonite, Presbyterian, and Baptist-of which only the Baptist remained in 1990. Among the early businesses were Stoltzfus Mercantile Company and Gin, Unzicker Grocery and Grist Mill, Dirks Brothers Lumber Yard and Garage, Speer's Coffee Shop, the Rapp Hotel, and the Hall Hotel. Oil and gas were discovered west of Tuleta in 1929, when the population was 150. Several oil companies were still in operation in 1990, as were a grocery store, a water well service, and a community center. In 1989 its population was 189. In 1990 it was ninety-eight. The population reached 292 in 2000.
I travel from Beeville, TX to Angleton, TX occasionally and pass this more modern, brick and mortar post office. It hasn't always been quite this styled but has a colorful history. Edna is located on Hwy. 59, otherwise known as The Houston Hwy. Edna is exactly 100 miles (160 km) south-west of Houston, Texas and 120 miles (190 km) north-east of Corpus Christi, Texas.
Edna, the county seat of Jackson County, was established in 1882 when the New York, Texas and Mexican Railway line was built from Rosenberg to Victoria and bypassed Texana, Texas then the county seat. Construction of the railroad began in September 1881. Edna was laid out on land owned by Mrs. Lucy Flournoy, who conveyed right-of-way and a half interest in the townsite to the railroad, which was promoted and built by Italian Count Joseph Telfener. The town was named for a daughter of the count. The NYT&M, nicknamed the "Macaroni," was constructed by Italian laborers, most of whom were brought from Lombardy by Telfener. After completion of the road, the majority of the crew remained in the area and established homes. The first train arrived on July 4, 1882; the first merchant was Gideon Egg, who moved his general merchandise store from Texana in 1882, and the first child born in the new community was Edna Louise Traylor.
In an election of January 22, 1883, residents voted to make Edna the county seat in place of Texana. The contract for a new courthouse was awarded on February 11, 1884. A post office opened in 1886.
As the story goes, the history of Normanna can be told in a pecan shell. The area had been a Mexican land grant back in 1831. In 1874 it was named Walton Station after Sheriff D.A.T. Walton. Norwegian immigrants moved into the area in 1893, and formed the nucleus of their colony just 2 miles from Walton. When the postal authorities rejected the application for a post office under the name Walton, Normanna was submitted and accepted.The name loosely translates as "the place of Norsemen" but closer to the true meaning is "far North." Seeing that's where they were from, the name was appropriate. Families descended from the original Norwegian settlers still live in the area. Normanna has a museum in a building that has served as ranch headquarters, a hotel and a residence.
Pettus is at the junction of U.S. Highway 181 and Farm Road 623, fourteen miles north of Beeville in northern Bee County. It was called Dry Medio from its first settlement in the 1850s until the Civil War, when it came to be called Pettus City in honor of John F. Pettus, one of the most prominent of the area's early settlers. In 1886 J. S. Hodges sold a right-of-way to the San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway and donated local streets. By 1914 the town had a reported population of 250 and five general stores, Baptist and Christian churches, a cotton gin, a blacksmith, a lumberyard, and a physician. Oil was discovered near the town in 1929, and in 1933 Pettus reported 300 residents and eighteen businesses. In 1990 it had an estimated population of 400 and thirteen businesses. The population grew to 608 by 2000. This is a friendly little post office located across from the very local Dairy Queen and everyone that walks in seems to know everyone that walks out. At least thats my observation from waiting a bit to take a photo absent of any cars! A little trivia for Fancy Nancy of Pettus, TX. There are 6 more males than females in the fair town of Pettus, TX.
Here I am wondering where the nearest sheriff is "just in case." Actually, if I didn't make it to Angleton by 8:00 a.m. on the scheduled morning, I think the crew of Dawn, Carole, Cheryl and Mary Helen, led by Jammie, would be out on the highway tracking me down! Now, a little about Berclair, TX.
STEVEN & LAUREN SEBESTA, new parents. 
My mom and me...she had all the Indian features...me, not so many. That Mother's Day, like so many before, she was surrounded by friends and family that loved her, including my two sons, but I was in LaGrande, Oregon… way in the mountains on business. Her first born, independent and far from home chasing a dream…but that’s how she wanted me…believing I could do anything I dreamed. When I left her that week in the hospital, I flew to Oregon believing she was going to surgery, would be fine and out of pain when I returned. But neither my beliefs, nor her talented surgeons, could fix her broken heart. It was Mom’s time to be with her Lord and Saviour. At her services 5 days later, I told all her friends and family what a "worry wart" she was. They chuckled because they knew. I told them she didn't think anybody would be there that day... and as I looked around at standing room only, with the room filled with beautiful flowers, I read this poem for her:
about to make his debut 7.4.09
gee, I hope he likes baseball….so many things to smile about there are too many to name. Perhaps Janellie and I have grown up, matured, and are beginning to let go and make room for these new chapters in our lives.
Changing and letting go has been a slow process and I have been known to be “in time out” from friends and family, but it’s because I don’t want to be held hostage by my past…clinging to it like a child behind his mother’s apron. When I go into “time out” it’s usually from a relationship that didn’t work out, or a disappointment I feel I’ve caused, but…I do this little chant to try to bring me back to the moment: It’s good to be merry and wise, It’s good to be honest and true, but it’s best to be off with the old, before you’re on with the new.
Just one of my little “isms” I live by. How can I go forward in life with all the good I know is in store, if I keep holding hands with stuff from my past? A business friend told me: “Mistakes are but a rung on the ladder in the education of experience.” Ken was a professional baseball player and it was one of his coaches that threw this at him like a 90+ mph pitch and while I had to think about it a bit, I “get it.” If I cling to my past mistakes, or just hold good thoughts clenched like they can never happen again, they will keep my mind cluttered…unable to let new thoughts and experience happen. No, I must be out with the old to let the new in. Yes, I am working on "Letting Go to Let Happen. It’s okay for me to hold on to my memories but I prefer to draw on them as a reserve to let newcomers peek into my heart and soul, see where I have been while I continue in forward motion … growing and changing.
I know I am a continuing work of “change” and want to continue to grow and change though most of my friends know I find the process difficult. But I will continue to work on my becoming more flexible so my mind and my heart is open for good times and good feelings. If I dwell on my mistakes and don’t open my heart for new experiences, love and kindness, as well as acknowledge that I’m going to make mistakes, I’m going to become “stuck.” Stuck in a world of just coasting along, going through life not feeling all there is to feel, or experiencing the joy that life has to offer. My son, Sam, gave me an award that hangs in my home. It’s an “I Love You Award to a Very Special Person that he wrote when he was 12 years old. While I enjoy my collection of Mediterranean prints by Howard Behrens, http://www.chooseart.net/howard_behrens.html Sam’s art and words of kindness help encourage me. I want to be the person my Mom, my family and friends have all helped me to be and that I know can be even better. I didn't arrive here alone...there was a lot of help along the way.
It looked like it was growing out of the driveway. I definitely think it tops my list of bouganvilla's. 
It's been a long winter, with little rain and now the wind is blowing pollen everywhere. It's a miracle that anything wants to bloom as harsh as the weather has been or should I say anti-specific. It really doesn't want to be cold, nor hot, definitely not wet, but yet, the flowers bloom. My first pink rose of 2009. Belinda's Dream http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/cemap/rosebelinda/rosebelinda.html
Coming home last night the sky was blue but the winds were blowing so hard my roses were scattering their petals across the drive like it was snowing. But because I did my feeding, the buds are popping out all over in a beautiful array of pink. Light pink, hot pink...my favorite rose. Even my trees are budding with the wind whipping them. I've nested here at 11227 since 1997 and planted almost every tree. The builder did make a stab at a few (now long gone shrubs, but no trees, except for the grouping in the front). This beautiful tree was less than 12 inches tall when I brought it home and it took a whole week-end to dig through the rock to get it in the ground. I never thought it would stand so proud or grow and flourish as it has.
Even now, 12 year later, when I dig in my flower beds, rocks are still buried beneath the soil...no that would be rock/sand and are to be dealt with. I've dug every flower bed, pulled every weed and mulched every bed. An orthopaedic surgeon here in SA,TX can attest to surgically repairing a really torn rotator cuff that tugged and pulled at 40 lb. bags of mulch (200 bags to be exact). When he asked my son, Sam "what does your Mom do that she tore this shoulder up so bad?" Sam's response: "Whatever she wants to but I think she was spreading mulch." There were so many bags that planting season...the year after repair surgery I couldn't tolerate the smell that permeated so many of our small nurseries and big box stores with their new shipments of mulch and peat moss. I would take another route into the store and there was no mulching 11227 that year. And doesn't everybody love the fresh smell of grass and mulch at the start of spring...I know I do. Now, I'm not saying I've done the mowing and edging at 11227 because that would take away from the kindly fellow that magically appears every Thursday between April 1 and October 1 since 1997. In all these years he's missed only one Thursday of making sure my lawn welcomes me home as manicured as this hot Texas sun will allow, given water restrictions from lack of rainfall. http://www.edwardsaquifer.net/ But, as a community, I think we make a big effort to preserve our Aquifer and I know I watch out for those "water cops." The dirt digging, weeding and pruning are my chores but once I get the energy going, I love to garden. I'm proud to say that my trees are all standing tall as though they are ready to march right through summer despite a tepid winter and little rainfall. 
Everything is blooming now and we've had a bit of rain. Everything seems so new ...there is nothing quite as pleasant except maybe a walk in the evening hours or watching your adult "kiddo" mow his baseball field where you can hear the trees rustle, the birds chirping around and the bees harmonizing with life as they drift among the flowers. Of course, Coach is asking: "Can I mow over this, what about this?" That would be negative to the bluebonnets that blanket the field behind his outfield! 
It's worth all the scooping of blooms when it's 105 degress on a hot San Antonio day and you can take a quick dip with intermittent gardening not to count enjoying a cool salad with the fruits of your labor...folks, meet Tommy the Tomato. I do admit to being in a bit of competition with a friend and we count blooms with every conversation. All in fun...seeing if the results of our hard work live up to expectations. With three tomato plants, I expect a full harvest but with my neighbor's tree trying to hang out over the fence, it's branches like some muscle man arms, it may impede my tomato's best efforts...just too much shade. Tommy may be moving to a new location in the near future! 
My Art Room is where many memories reside through my photos, my mother's rubber stamp collection and where I bring life to my memories through photos, scrapbooking, cardmaking and any thing I can find to keep hands busy, bring a smile through a gift, and keep my heart happy.
Geographically, home is Texas City, Tx where I was born, grew up, and lived with my parents and my sisters and brother in Small House. It was brand new when my parents bought it ...I was about 13 and they were so proud of it. It was where I was scolded a little and praised a lot. My family contributed so much to my life and my memories, and I love keeping the memories alive through my stories and photos. My mother was a very young mother (17) when I was born and we were probably more like sisters than mother-daughter. I think we taught each other about motherhood and the memories I have with my sisters and brother, that I absorbed through every day adventures and challenges, were lessons well learned, later well used and became the foundation of my values when I became a mother. Of course, I realize it was my mother's memories as a young woman that led her to a different style of parenting with me...a little harder on me than I would have liked, but I was rewarded with a unique sense of self, a good, healthy dose of self-esteem (you think) a great deal of independence and the ability to love unconditionally. There was a lot of love in Small House and I know so well how difficult it must have been, especially with just one bathroom and 4 kiddos. Something that is unheard of now...one bathroom. If my boys think I am a "Mom story teller" they should only have heard half of her stories and memories.
I came into this world telling my Mom "we've got places to go, things to do and people to see." She knew I wanted my independence early on and I always took a lot of pride in Small House, digging and planting, and the contribution I made as the oldest of four, which was mostly babysitting and housecleaning, which I do no more. Never. Someone else's job! So...I came by my bossiness and independence naturally and then it was home grown from there. Mom was usually up for whatever hobby or sport was interesting me at the time but I wanted my own place and my own space the day I graduated from High School. That I did...moving out of Small House with one bathroom. Boy, were there a couple of bathroom door bangings that only a sister and brother could get into fighting over a bathroom. I've always been a bathroom hog and a closet slob but the rest of any home I've lived in has screamed neatness or so I'm told. Seems to be a fear with most people (except my boys) when they come to my home...but organizing is one of my virtues that haunts me frequently. I sure hope it doesn't take away from the warmth but rather is just a memory of when I used to organize my spices. Not something I got from my mother but from her mother and my Dad. He taught me to keep the garage the cleanest because he said it was what we would see first. True enough, few people ever walk through my front door after the initial visit...from then on it's the backdoor coming into my garage... that still needs more organization!
Photos of his home - he has quite a green thumb but he and his neighbors, Susan, Sandy, Ulrech and Julie work hard to make their townhomes quite a showplace.
Here is Sue who I've known since we were 10 and 11 with her niece, Kristen, Tracie's big sister, "Sissy" as she is called by many of us, Mommy to Sydney and Blake, beautiful wife, a wonderful school teacher and about to be aunt to little Jack. Visiting Texas City brought back a lot of memories and while most of them are good memories, it's really true (at least for me) "you can't go home. 
and 10 years, a lot of memories left at Big House, and a divorce later, the boys and I moved into "Little House" that now appears to be decorated with a brand new mailbox! 
I loved both houses just the same, each with their own personality and memories...skateboarding into the swimming pool while I wasn't watching (bad Stevo), kayaking in the Bay (Doug's idea but Sam was a good sport), dune buggy riding, 4-wheeling on the lot next door of Big House, jogging routes, ski trips and many, many baseball games and school activities combined with a lot of holidays, friends and family.
Texas City High School appears much smaller due to photographer download error! 
