<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:18:33.979-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Highways and Biways</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>12</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-6535103452719298325</id><published>2008-07-11T18:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T18:16:25.533-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Childhood Chant</title><content type='html'>Have you ever seen a purple cow.  I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;haven't&lt;/span&gt; either.  But I'll tell you right now I'd rather see than be one.  Have a great day&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-6535103452719298325?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/6535103452719298325/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=6535103452719298325' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/6535103452719298325'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/6535103452719298325'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/childhood-chant.html' title='Childhood Chant'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-4895125973895820435</id><published>2008-07-05T16:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T16:31:26.355-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do you know Bob Hendrick?</title><content type='html'>Bob Hendrick better known as Mr. Bob is a 90 year old wonder that has made his home in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Murrells&lt;/span&gt; Inlet for over 25 years.  Before that he was busy raising his family in Conway.  But let me give you just a little of what I know about this wonderful man.  He landed at the beaches of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Normandy&lt;/span&gt; during WWII.  He went through a lot that I can not even begin to tell you.  But during one long march that covered several months, he marched so long without removing his boots that when he got to camp, his shoes and socks were cut off.  They sent him to the hospital where they told him he would loose both feet.  There was no way they could be saved.  But by working with the doctors, he got well enough they could send him stateside.  During WWII there were trains the troops were put on called hospital trains.  He said he was on the train from New York to Florida and the medics worked on his feet every day.  He did not loose his feet and he has made his life one of service to his family, friends, and community.&lt;br /&gt;This is the man that is at every &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Shriner's&lt;/span&gt; Convention and he is also the man that started the first July 4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; boat parade.  If you don't know him just stop in &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Murrells&lt;/span&gt; Inlet almost any where and they will tell you why Bob Hendrick is the man Georgetown County voted to name the July4&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; Boat Parade "Bob Hendrick Day".  I have only know Mr. bob and his family for a few years, but I can assure you they have been wonderful,caring and giving years.  They have become family to me all because I had the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;privilege&lt;/span&gt; of meeting the great man himself.  Look around and you will find some one that &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;influenced&lt;/span&gt; you as he has my husband and myself.  Keep your eyes open.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-4895125973895820435?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4895125973895820435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=4895125973895820435' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/4895125973895820435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/4895125973895820435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/07/do-you-knnow-bob-hendrick.html' title='Do you know Bob Hendrick?'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-7776792448291721021</id><published>2008-06-30T13:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T13:41:28.222-07:00</updated><title type='text'>HOW DO YOU COPE WITH STRESS?</title><content type='html'>Me, I go into a trance.  Then I go into the white room that I keep in the back of my mind.  The door opens slowly and I sort of float into the whiteness, then the door closes.  In the upper right corner is a black box.  That is the place I am going.  I float up to set in the box and chill out.  If the stress is going on around me I know it is there and am involved, but I am away, also.  When I set this room up years ago, the black box had a door and I would go inside and close the door, but there was a very stressful time that I almost got locked inside the box.  When I got out I removed the door and just use the box to set in now.   When people realize I am not there in mind, just in body, they start calling me to get my attention.  The best thing I can remember someone saying is "Earth to Jo, come in Jo".   Anything people say that includes my name gets me back.  Then I can cope, but I always know the room is there when I need it.  It beats the heck out of pills.  This is how I cope.   Stay up and I will see you soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-7776792448291721021?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/7776792448291721021/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=7776792448291721021' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/7776792448291721021'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/7776792448291721021'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/how-do-you-cope-with-stress.html' title='HOW DO YOU COPE WITH STRESS?'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-2702401770951356616</id><published>2008-06-24T15:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T15:33:31.764-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Krestens Shower</title><content type='html'>On Saturday My daughter, two grand daughters and myself gave Kresten a Bridal Shower in grand style.  Kresten, as many of you know, is engaged to marry my grandson, Bobby Altman.  Should I say more?  No, I don't think so.  Any how back to this bridal "shower.  The theme we picked was "PUT OUT THE FIRE IN BOBBY'S AND KRESTEN'S BATHROOM AND KITCHEN"  complete with a bridal veil made of a fire hat and long veil (it kept falling from her head), paper peppers, a cake with hot peppers and fire engines, red decorations, and table clothes with fire engines.  There was a houseful of women, from grand moms to my great grand daughter, about to turn one. She had as much fun as we did.  We chowed down on some great food and got reacquainted with some old friends.  Then it was time to open the presents.&lt;br /&gt;They got a wonderful amount of bath and kitchen things; but the&lt;br /&gt;best thing of all was the fire truck pinata.  The girls would go over and drop somethings in and leave smiling.  It was her last present and if you can not imagine the contents, welllll I will let you wonder, but her face was the prettiest pink color you can imagine.  All said and done we had a great day.  Y'all stay sweet now, ya hear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-2702401770951356616?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/2702401770951356616/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=2702401770951356616' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/2702401770951356616'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/2702401770951356616'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/krestens-shower.html' title='Krestens Shower'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-5670138507543922062</id><published>2008-06-11T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T15:17:45.051-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Obey your Mother</title><content type='html'>One of my well visited times with my Mother is some of the few times I misbehaved.  My Mom did not like to loose face about the behavior of her children.  And we did not misbehave if she was around, although she still found out.  I guess I remember most is getting restless in Church and moving around too much.  If she was not sitting beside me she would get up and set beside me, put her arm around my shoulder, put her lips close to my ear and whisper to me "I love you and you know I do, but you will not embarrass me."  I knew I was in trouble because the entire time she was whispering sweet nothings in my ear she was pinching me in my side.  If I did not seem to want to calm down she pinched harder and twisted.  She treated all three of us that way and that is why I said I did not misbehave much.  To other people she was loving us (which she really did) but to us we knew to sit down shut up and behave.  We talk about those times now and she gets a little red faced and says "you did not misbehave, did you".  No we did not, absolutely not.  She is 85 now and we still obey her with lots of love from all sides.  Obey your Mom or Dad as the fact may be and give them the love and praise they deserve. See you next time. Jo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-5670138507543922062?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/5670138507543922062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=5670138507543922062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/5670138507543922062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/5670138507543922062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/06/obey-your-mother.html' title='Obey your Mother'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-4263459030441907513</id><published>2008-05-31T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T18:00:07.351-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The things people fear</title><content type='html'>When I was a child one of my moms cousins had a child that got cancer.  At that time cancer was a death sentence.  Not only that but people thought it was contagious.  Now if you will, think about this little girl that knew she was very sick [she was confined to bed] and the families that came to visit would not let the children play with her.  We were allowed to go to her door to say hey [the big word at that time] then sent away.  The parents stayed in her room talking with her mother, but we were not allowed to.  Was that fair?  No it was not and I set myself out to do something about it.  This was my best friend.  When the adults left the room one day we were there,  I slipped in her room and we were talking about the things we would do when she got well.  I heard the adults returning and hid behind her bed.  It was our secret and she dropped her hand and I held it as long as we stayed.  Well you would not believe the commotion when my mom got ready to leave and could not find me.  After they searched for a "little" while, I came out of her room.  My mom grabbed me and asked how long I was in the room.  When I told her, she had to sit down.  After we got home, she told me the little girl had cancer and was dying and that it was contagious and I would  probably die too.  Scared, I was petrified but as time went on I lived so I guess cancer was not contagious.  The little girl died pretty soon but her mom told my mom all she could talk about the day Jo came to play.  You know what is funny, I remember the story but can not remember her name.  I think it was Carolyn.  You guys have a great week and don't sweat the little stuff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-4263459030441907513?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/4263459030441907513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=4263459030441907513' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/4263459030441907513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/4263459030441907513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/05/things-people-fear.html' title='The things people fear'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-8364251185710263563</id><published>2008-05-18T14:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-18T15:03:20.507-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All of the old folks</title><content type='html'>Today I went to my Mothers family Reunion.  This is something we have every year. The only ones there from my grandfathers side we me, my granddaughter and two of my cousins .  As I came up to the house, I was searching for the older members of the family that rocked in the rocking chairs and visited with us as we came up.  They did not leave the porch and we did not feel that the day was complete until we spent time with them.  The porch crowd kept getting smaller and smaller which failed to register on me until today.  There were only two men on the porch.  My husband went to the girl that sets the Reunion up to help pay for our share (they furnish the plates, cups, etc.  But they also BBQ a hog (Andre you would have been in hog heaven)  and cook a lot of food.  His wife died in the last year and he told his daughter not to take the money.  This is the tradition he wanted to pay for until he dies.&lt;br /&gt;As we talked and visited among ourselves we realizes that after he dies, it will be up to our generation to continue the dinners.  I wonder if we will make the effort.  Something to ponder on.  Oh yea and who gets the chance to sit on the porch, because we are a big family.&lt;br /&gt;Keep the faith and watch out for your old folks.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-8364251185710263563?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8364251185710263563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=8364251185710263563' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/8364251185710263563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/8364251185710263563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/05/all-of-old-folks.html' title='All of the old folks'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-3552484440673928062</id><published>2008-05-07T17:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-07T17:28:38.060-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What if the world turned upside down</title><content type='html'>If the world turned upside down, we would have sun at night and moon in the day time.  We would get up, play in the dirt before breakfast, all at what used to be night.  We would go out and make our [usually day time rounds] at night.  We would come home take a shower and do our night time routine in the morning.  Think about it.  Going out for dinner at 9:00AM, then perhaps take in a movie or go dancing.  Then home for bed at 1:00PM.  Before we know it, we will walk backwards and feel this is normal.  Try running backwards.  Sounds like fun.  People say look up we look down,  look down we look up; turn around we sit down; sit down we walk backwards.  Oh yea, I forgot we sleep outdoors standing up.  There would be no use for buildings because we don't use them.  Green grass and beautiful trees, at night.  Stars and a big beautiful moon in the day.  Gee my head is spinning.  I can not stay in this nightmare any longer.  Time to get up and get a big cup of coffee. and start my day in the morning of a real day.&lt;br /&gt;Have a great day from me to you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-3552484440673928062?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3552484440673928062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=3552484440673928062' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3552484440673928062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3552484440673928062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/05/what-if-world-turned-upside-down.html' title='What if the world turned upside down'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-751221625813313629</id><published>2008-04-29T14:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-29T15:43:31.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>City life/Country life</title><content type='html'>This past Sunday my husband and I were driving through the country side of South Carolina.  Do you know there is a big difference between City dwellers and Country dwellers?  In most Cities we do not want our names out side of our dwelling.  We only put our house address on the door.   We try to keep our phone numbers  out of the phone book.  We put not one but two dead bolts on our doors.  We have a bugler alarms in most cases.  A lot of us do not even know our neighbors.&lt;br /&gt;Now this is what I noticed about country dwellers.  They have the house address on the mail boxes.  Not only that a lot of them put the sir name on the front lawn in a variety of ways.  Some are neat little signs [the so and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;S0s&lt;/span&gt; live here].   Some are cute [a wagon wheel with the name in metal].  Some are hand lettered signs, etc.  If country living is the way it was when I was younger, you know your neighbors, you visit or call them at least once a day. You usually belong to the same church.  In most cases the doors are unlocked.  Even if the owner is not home, you can, in some cases, find the door unlocked.   In other words, I feel the country dwellers feel safer in the communities they live in.&lt;br /&gt;More later.  God Bless&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-751221625813313629?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/751221625813313629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=751221625813313629' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/751221625813313629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/751221625813313629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/04/city-lifecountry-life.html' title='City life/Country life'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-3448537576409853638</id><published>2008-04-21T17:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T17:32:08.670-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Walking in the rain</title><content type='html'>On of my best memories of my childhood is walking in the rain. At first it was playing in the rain [you know the type of rain a gentle downpour, a farmers rain].  My two brothers would dare one or the other to run off the porch in the rain.  As the game progressed one of us would stay and walk with our face to the rain.  That was too much for the two left on the porch, we all ran out running around trying to catch the rain in our mouth.  The the puddles started to form; too tempting for us.  Down we went wrestling and getting really dirty, all of us.  It is a good thing we have a good Mom.  She would pretend she did not see us until the game got too rough or the rain got harder.   She would then run out, grab us up, and march us into the house.   Now comes the really fun part.  We did not have running water in the house, [hot water heater] what was that.  She made us stand on the porch in our wet, dirty clothes and took us one at a time to the pump for a bath, first the clothes, on our body then she undressed us, washed us, wrapped us in a sheet, gave us a hug and sent us in the house to get dry and in clean clothes.  As children we did not realize the work it took for her to keep us in clean clothes.  Wash day was a whole day in the yard boiling the clothes in a pot and running them through two rinse waters, all being wrung out by hand.  She was and is a wonderful Mom.  More on walking the rain next time.  Stay happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-3448537576409853638?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3448537576409853638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=3448537576409853638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3448537576409853638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3448537576409853638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/04/walking-in-rain.html' title='Walking in the rain'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-3002865828951070499</id><published>2008-04-19T18:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T18:47:48.155-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home and very tired</title><content type='html'>I am home from the create south  meeting and I could not wait to check ot some of the information.  I learned a lot and there is so much more to go through.  I am really tired now so it is off to bed for me. &lt;br /&gt;Wishing all of you the best.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-3002865828951070499?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/3002865828951070499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=3002865828951070499' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3002865828951070499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/3002865828951070499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/04/home-and-very-tired.html' title='Home and very tired'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2029943305271375557.post-8893503319873574572</id><published>2008-04-19T13:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-19T13:23:20.758-07:00</updated><title type='text'>CreateSouth</title><content type='html'>Today I was in a new situation. I met and listened to a number of interesting people. I think I learned a lot but I will fill you in later when my head gets straight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2029943305271375557-8893503319873574572?l=jocitygirl.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/feeds/8893503319873574572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2029943305271375557&amp;postID=8893503319873574572' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/8893503319873574572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2029943305271375557/posts/default/8893503319873574572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jocitygirl.blogspot.com/2008/04/createsouth.html' title='CreateSouth'/><author><name>Jo Hucks</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/01983213367487303361</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='21' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_y01I9LmJ8CI/SdK0xiitp5I/AAAAAAAAAGc/VA6ctm-iBnU/S220/IMG_0031.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
