A Dog And His Boy

One of the reasons I started this blog so many years ago was not only to tell tales of destruction for fun and profit, but to write down all the stories I've collected.  After 600 blog posts I've told quite a number of my stories, so I thought it was time to write one about someone else.  Namely, my Father.

It was the summer of 1957.  My Dad was almost ready to turn eight years old.  He lived in the backwoods of West Virginia, so with the exception of automobiles and a black and white television, life still closely resembled 1857 in some ways.  I can hear his voice saying, "Come on, it wasn't that bad!"

There aren't many pictures of my Dad from that age, and the ones that exist are in rough shape.  But the first time I saw a photograph of my Father from that age I immediately said, "You look exactly like Timmy from Lassie!"

As was the norm back in those days my family had rabbit hunting dogs, namely beagles.  Now my Dad was not allowed to hunt until he was sixteen, but he did take care of the dogs as well as other duties on the farm.  So even though he hadn't quite turned eight years old, the duty to build a doghouse for his dog Penny fell to him.

You have to remember the times.  My Dad didn't have access to power tools.  If he wanted to cut a 2X4 he had to cut it with a handsaw.  If he wanted to hold the wood together he had to either drive a nail with a hammer, or use a screwdriver to run the screw through the wood.  He didn't have a power drill to do the hard work. 

My Grandfather had access to a lot of scrap wood from whatever carpentry project he was working on at the time (namely houses and bridges.) That meant my Dad didn't have to chop down a tree or anything like that. But when it came to the actual work, my Dad put it all together with old timey hand work.

Just for comparison, if you know a seven year old (going on eight,) ask what have they done lately? Does it involve playing Pokémon? Does it involve watching TV? Or have they performed any old time carpentry lately?
So Dad finished building the doghouse for Penny.  He was proud of his hard work.  But dogs and especially beagles are finicky creatures.  Remember how Snoopy liked to sleep on top of his doghouse?

Well, Penny decided to dig a hole underneath the doghouse and sleep there.

That's right.  She completely avoided the nice living space that Dad had built, and dug right underneath the doghouse to create a little den.  Penny must have thought she had a little wolf in her.  Honestly though, if you've never encountered a hunting dog, they are a bit different than a house dog.  They have a bit more attitude and aggression than your cocker spaniel house dog.  

Most people, especially kids, would have been discouraged or mad.  But that's never really been my Dad's style.  He just had to laugh about it, and realized a beagle is going to do what a beagle wants to do.  If Penny wanted to sleep in her little den beneath the doghouse then he figured she had made up her mind to do so.  Nothing he could do would change that. 

Also, could you get mad at a face like this?

Nah, didn't think so.

What We Pass Down

After my Grandmother had passed away, now comes the morbid and confusing part.  What do we do with all her possessions.  When my Grandmother was alive she told me to take anything I wanted.  She even kept trying to give me a few things.  I don't really have the room to take anything. 

Grandma had a lot of vintage and depression glass, but I'm not a glass collector.  In fact, I bought her a piece of Fenton glass for her birthday a few years back.  I even wrote a blog about it back then.  Here it is:

http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/08/adrian-always-has-place-at-grandmas.html

Even though I don't collect glass I thought that Grandma would want me to have that little Fenton vase that I gave to her five years ago.  Everyone was in agreement, so it came home with me.

That was pretty much all I wanted.  I was helping Dad find his possessions from his Air Force days when I came across a knife.  Grandpa loved collecting knives.  In fact, when he passed away in 2006, I inherited a few of his knives.  However, this knife was different in that, it was a bayonet type knife.

I had my computer with me, and looked it up on the internet by it's markings.  It seems it's an USM4 bayonet that fits on the end of an M1 rifle.  I looked at the different makes, and it seems that this is the second generation of the knife.  This means it was issued for use in the Korean War and the early part of the Vietnam conflict. 

This website helped me out tremendously.

http://worldbayonets.com/Bayonet_Identification_Guide/United_States__Post-War_/us_post_war_2.html

Go down to where it says, "M4, Second Generation." 

This website confirmed that it was in the correct time period due to it being made by Camillus out of Camillus, N.Y. 

http://www.quanonline.com/military/military_reference/fighting_knives/m4history.php

Dad had a theory that this knife might have belonged to my Uncle "Bug," who is my Grandmother's brother.  He served in Korea.  However, Grandpa was into trading knives, and might have traded or bought it from a veteran he knew. 

This model of knife was made from 1954 to the late 1960's so there are a lot of them out there.  So with both Grandma and Grandpa passed away I have no idea how this knife ended up in their possession.  All I know is that Grandpa had a lot of knives he collected.  90% of them were the nice little folding pocketknives that only had a single or double blade. 

There was one giveaway that my Grandfather had handled this knife.  It was still in good condition, and it was dangerously sharp.  Grandpa liked to sharpen his knives until you could shave with them.  I could also see on this knife where the blade had been "dinged," and someone (my Grandfather) had sharpened and smoothed out the ding. 

So I will keep it with my possessions.  I will take care of it.  And it will make a nice little memory.  It seems that twice now my Grandfather has left a knife for me. 

Here's a nice picture of my Grandfather.  Small animals and children loved him.

A "Little Talk," For My Grandmother

Earlier today my family held my Grandmother's funeral service.  Afterwards we buried her at Franklin Cemetery in Branchland, W.V.  There is a lot going through my head, but I want to preserve what happened for those who weren't able to make the service.

A lot of friends and family weren't able to make the service due to health reasons.  Many of them are older, and have serious medical conditions.  They aren't able to drive very far, and the trip to West Virginia is pretty far for a lot of them.  For Dad and myself, the trip is 900 miles up and 900 miles back. 

Not to mention the temperatures have been dropping to below freezing, and not everyone can handle such extreme temperature drops.  Due to the weather West Virginia is experiencing this time of year, the roads can have rain, sleet, snow, and ice on them.  The roads are better than they used to be years ago, but the twists and turns around the mountains can be very tricky to maneuver.   

Even the people who couldn't or wouldn't drive can't book a flight this time of year.  Think about it.  It's the holiday season, and flights are booked solid until after the new year.  So let's be honest, there is never a good time to pass away, but there were so many factors that made it very difficult to attend my Grandmother's funeral service during this time of year. 

I know many friends and relatives wanted to attend, and couldn't.  Believe me, no one is upset that they couldn't attend due to so many conditions.  When I think of the people I would expect to be there, I have to remember that so many have passed away.  It is a blessing and a curse.  My Grandmother lived to 87 years of age, but she outlived so many of her friends and family.

The service was begun with an opening prayer by Pastor Lenny Romans.  My Grandmother's obituary was then read.  I was then asked to give my little talk.  My cousin Crystal followed with a speech of her own.  My cousin Melody then sang the full rendition of "Amazing Grace."  Then Lonnie "Tommy to his friends" Scraggs gave a speech.  Melody sang another song.  To close out the service, Pastor Lenny Romans gave his speech.  Overall, the service lasted about an hour and a half.

At Franklin Cemetery we gathered around where my Grandmother's casket would be buried.  Pastor Lenny Romans gave a small speech.  Afterwards, we were each able to take a rose from the arrangement that was placed on her coffin.

I wanted to have my speech/ eulogy/ little talk posted for those who weren't able to attend.  That way, they can know what was said, and how I feel about my Grandmother.  The following is what I spoke.

Hello.  My name is Adrian Ray Long.  Grandma Betty was simply, "Maw-maw" to me. 

Back in 2011 my gall bladder tried to kill me.  I had to have major surgery that left a hole in my stomach.  As a result I ended up being off of work for four months.  Once I had recovered enough that my stomach was healed, my Sister Melanie and I headed up to spend some vacation time in West Virginia with my Grandmother.

We had lots of fun.  Grandma, Melanie, and myself drove around took care of a lot of little things, visited a few people, and ate at Grandma’s second favorite restaurant, Bob Evans.  It was there that my Grandmother took on a real serious tone and told me, “When the time comes, I want you to speak.”  I have to admit, I was taken aback a little.  My Grandmother had never said something so serious and heavy to me before. 

I thought about that for a few days.  It was then a few days later that again, the three of us were eating in a restaurant like Bob Evans, that I had the courage to ask her.  I said, “Grandma, this is pretty heavy.  Speaking at your funeral?  What I am supposed to say?”  She told me that I could talk about anything I wanted.  I could speak about eating at the restaurant.  It didn’t matter as long as I spoke. 

And while I have spoken about the restaurant, I do want to say something that would be worthy of the woman that she was.  What I want to speak about today is defining moments.  There are many here that can speak of their memories of my Grandmother from the nineteen thirties to the present day.  I want to speak about the Grandmother I knew.  And I can’t speak about my Grandmother without speaking of my wonderful Grandfather Ray. 

I have many memories of my Grandfather.  But there is one memory of him that defines him to me.  He was holding a two week old kitten in the palm of his hand.  The kitten was very small.  If you’ve ever had to deal with the semi-feral cats in West Virginia, you know they aren’t that trusting of people.  Yet, this little kitten was on it back, in my Grandfather’s palm, letting my Grandfather pet its belly while it meowed happily.  That sums up the kind of man my Grandfather was.  Even the smallest and feeblest of creatures trusted and loved him.

The defining memory of my Grandmother is from when I was six.  It was my first time in the hospital, and I was getting my tonsils removed, adenoids taken out, and tubes put in my ears all at the same time.  It was rough.  But my Grandmother came down to Florida to help my Father out.  He told her, “I need help,” and she was there that day. 

When I woke up from surgery I couldn’t so much as talk, it was more like making a croaking sound.  I would try to talk to my Grandmother, and I couldn’t even understand myself.  You all know that she was deaf in one ear, but she still managed to understand me, even when I couldn’t understand myself.  In the toughest moment of my life up to that point, she was there beside me.  That was the best gift that a scared six year old could get.  

The wonderful thing about defining memories is that each of us has a different defining moment of another person.  Your defining moments of my Grandparents may have taken place before I was born.  I want you to share those memories.  Because they are gifts to be treasured, but also shared. 

My Grandparents had a lot of the same interests, but they were also very different.  However, I think their relationship could be described by the Ancient Chinese Philosophy of the Yin and the Yang.  It means that forces that are opposite or contrary can actually be complimentary to each other. 

Let me explain.  My Grandfather was a man of few words, but that’s okay because my Grandmother talked enough for both of them.  My Grandfather liked working in the garden, and my Grandmother liked telling him what to do in the garden.  Anything my Grandfather brought in from the garden, my Grandmother would cook and spice up.  As long as that spice was either salt, pepper, or sugar.  Sometimes vinegar.   My Grandfather very calm, cool, and collected.  He’s the one who had to keep my Grandmother from knocking someone’s head in during their younger days. 

It’s no secret that after the war my Grandfather had what they called a “lost weekend.”  That “lost weekend,” ended up lasting three years.  However, my Grandmother had a strength within her that helped my Grandfather get his life on track.  And as such, together, they were able to get their lives moving forward. 

My Grandmother tended to speak in absolutes.  As in, “This was the best sandwich, or that was the worst pain that’s ever been.”  So I know she won’t mind when I say she was the best Grandma that ever was.  And how could I disagree? 

I was able to have pie.  Lots of pie.  As a child she would listen to me when a lot of other adults would brush off a child.  She never forgot to send a birthday card.  She always told me, “Maw-maw loves you.”  She also let me win at playing cards when I was kid.  I know Dad is thinking, “She never did that for me.”

One absolute I can say is that, she never said a mean thing to me.  Never.  Not once.  That’s not to say we didn’t disagree about some things, but she was never mean, rude, or insulting.

Looking back at that day in Bob Evans, my Grandmother knew I was going to be giving this speech one day.  While I am sad, I am not angry.  My Grandmother had a heart attack about a year before I was born, and she lived.  She had another one, and she lived.  She’s had I think, 15 stints in her arteries as well as an oblation, and she lived.  She had cancer in her kidney.  They took her kidney out, and she lived.

She had a heart blockage on Thanksgiving a few years ago.  Dad held her in the back seat of my Ford Focus as I drove to the emergency room.  I have to admit, I was scared and ran a red light to turn into the ER when no one was coming.  I talked to her the whole way as my Boy Scout First Aid, Emergency Preparedness, and Lifesaving training had taught me so long ago.  Later on she told me she could hear every word I said, even if she couldn’t respond.  And I want you to think about that.  She could hear every word I said. 

I think back to that time I spent in the hospital as a kid, and how she was there for me.  In the toughest of times, I was glad I could be there to help her out just like she did for me.

I am not angry.  I am sad, but I am not angry.  There was a chance that I was never going to be able to have her in my life.  I feel fortunate that she has been in my life as long as she has. 

When my Grandfather passed away my Grandmother was at the edge of his coffin and said, “We were married over 50 years, but it just wasn’t enough.  It wasn’t enough time.”  I am reminded of John Mellencamp’s Grandmother who told him, “I have lived to 100 years old, but life is short, even in its longest days.” 

As I close out I ask you to talk to each other.  Keep the lines of communication open.  Do away with old grievances.  Tell each other you love one another.  And please, share your defining moment of my Grandmother with one another.  Share it with me.  Even if that defining moment is something as simple as eating lunch at a Bob Evans restaurant.  Thank you everyone.

I have to say, my speech was well received.  I had about forty people compliment me on my speech.  Someone very close to me said, "It was powerful."  I know my Grandmother would want me to "knock it out of the park."  She would want me to succeed.  And knowing the way my dear Grandmother spoke she would want me to, "Give the greatest speech that was ever told." 

The truth is I wanted to give her the best.  I wanted to do right by her.  After all that she and my Grandfather have done for me, it was the least I could do.  As I said in my speech, my Grandmother told me she wanted me to speak at her funeral back in 2011.  I'll admit, I have thought many times about what I would say, and how I could get it right.  My speech clocked in around ten minutes.  Believe it or not, I actually, "cut the fat."  I trimmed it down to best parts of what I had written.  I honestly could have spoken for half an hour. 

As I finish up this blog I will repeat what I said in my speech.  I am sad, but I am not angry.  I feel lucky to have had my Grandmother in my life as long as I had.  In contrast, I am reminded about what my Grandmother said about being married to my Grandfather.  It just wasn't enough time.  When I digest this all through my head I can only think, "I am sad, and there just wasn't enough time to spend with my Grandmother."

The Whitest Girl Coffee You Know, Part 2

You know, I have to admit it.  I love having fun with Starbucks baristas.  I've done it before, and I did it again.  To know what I am talking about, check out my first post about my Starbucks misadventures.

http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2016/08/the-whitest-girl-coffee-you-know.html

The day started out kind of mixed.  You see, it was day two of my Dad and I heading to West Virginia to attend my Grandmother's (his Mother) funeral service.  We had just crossed into West Virginia when Dad admitted he needed some coffee to keep the yawns and sleepiness at bay. 

We stopped into the Princeton travel plaza that had a Starbucks.  Dad just wanted plain black coffee.  I thought about what I wanted and that's when it came to me.  I didn't need coffee.  I needed "White Girl" coffee. 

I walk up to the barista, and I told her, "Imagine I was the whitest girl you knew.  My name would be Rebecca, (and this next part I said in my best Valley Girl) but all my friends call me Becky!  What drink would I order?"

So basically imagine that I would look like this.

Oh let's be honest, I would "totally" look like Amanda Seyfried.

Anyway, she thinks for about it for five seconds and says, "White mocha or pink ..."

"That's it!!!!"  I exclaimed!  "I want the white mocha on ice!"

She asked, "What size do you want?"

"I want the big one!  I don't know the name of it since I don't speak Italian, but I want the big one!"

To which she said, "Well, at least you knew it was Italian.  I had one woman who thought it was French." 

So she sets about making me the perfect white girl coffee.  She was very meticulous and careful about measuring every unit perfectly.  I think she was drawn to my spirit and as such, she wanted to make the most perfect white girl coffee that had ever been made.

She then asked, "Do you want whip cream on it?"

I responded with an enthusiastic, "Oh yes!  And if you have a cherry you can put it on top as well."

She looked me straight in the eye, and said, "I don't have cherries, ... but I do have strawberries."

My gaze met her gaze, and I said, "That's even better."

She told me in a matter of fact voice, "I didn't think you could make that coffee any more "white girl," but you did." 

I nodded in the fact that we were both on the same page.  We had only just met, but we knew each other so intimately, and it was all due to white girl coffee.

She handed me the wonderfully magical cup, and said, "Thank you sir."

I looked her in the eye and said, "Call me Becky."

About That Time Roxy First Heard Jackyl

For those who have read my blog from the beginning you know that Roxy (not her real name) was my girlfriend for about two years.  Since we broke up, I don't really tell any stories about her due to keeping private things private.  However, this is kind of funny so I don't mind telling it.

It was on our ill-fated voyage to West Virginia.  The trip up there took something like 22 hours.  Roxy had never had to sit in a vehicle that long, and was getting completely stir crazy.  Actually she was bordering on full blown, just give me an F-ing excuse, crazy.  Let's just say she didn't ride well.

Anyway, since we couldn't really get any rock stations in West Virginia, I had my I-pod playing.  It was then that this song came on:

That's right.  With chainsaw and guitars it must be, "The Lumberjack" by Jackyl.  She just looked at the radio with disgust and said, "Is this some sort of joke?" 

To which I replied.  "No, you've got to rock me, roll me, Jackyl me off!!!" 

It seems she had never heard of Jackyl before.  That, and using a chainsaw as a lead instrument. 

For those who want a good look at what Jackyl can do live, here's "Headed for Destruction" live from Woodstock 94'. 

If you want a band that just oozes Southern Rock, grab their first album.  There's not a bad song on it. 

For the record, Roxy did enjoy quite a lot of the music I sent her.  She didn't get to listen to the broad range of music that I did while growing up.  So she was always thankful when I would give her a mix CD.  On a side note, do you all remember making a mixtape for that person you liked?  I didn't get to do that, but once I got my computer set up I was the king of making mix CD's. 

Anyway, she was always thankful when I would make her a mix CD, or send her an MP3 via E-mail.  However, after driving for so long, and going stir crazy, she was just not in the mood for Jackyl.  And now we are no longer together, and I stand alone.

(For those that don't get the joke.  "I Stand Along" was Jackyl's biggest hit off their first album.)

Project 7, The Project To End All Projects

No, not really.  I hope this won't be the last of my projects.  But enough of my shtick.  I am starting a new project.  It is going to be a copy of a 1954 Les Paul Custom.  Here's what one looks like.

I would be making a few changes to it.  I will be making it mostly out of black walnut.  I will also be adding an archtop tailpiece out of it.  The neck will be a three piece walnut neck. 

Let me start at the beginning.  First, I acquired some black walnut in West Virginia.  Here it is in it's rough sawn form.

 

 

 

So I cleaned it up by running it though the planner/joiner.

 

 

 

It really cleans up nicely.  Once it gets some finish on it, it looks even better. 

 

So the next thing I did was join up the body pieces.

 

 

I then cleaned up the three pieces of walnut for the neck.  I then glued them together.

 

 

So I do have a few goals for this guitar.  Instead of painting it black like the Gibson version, I am going to dye it black.  That way it's still dark, but you can see the grain pop through.  I am also going to use gold hardware like the original.  I am still up in the air about what type of wood I will be using for the top.  However, I am trying to track down a certain piece of wood for it. 

 

The good news is that I will always add lots of pictures, and continue to update my blog.  I am really digging this project, so hopefully it will turn out pretty good.  Stay tuned!





Black Walnut Acquisition Day

So when I was in West Virginia on vacation, Dad and I went to see this guy about some wood.  It turns out the guy had bought out a barn of the stuff, and was selling it at very good/great prices. 

Wood buyers have very different wants when it comes to wood.  As a luthier, I am looking for very straight grained wood with no knots.  Wood turners want the pieces where a limb joins up with the body of a tree.  And some builders like highly figured wood with knots. 

However, for guitar building I can see why some builders will only take 1 in 100 pieces.  I went through this seller's entire stack of black walnut and came away with 5 pieces of wood.  When I bought the wood, it was still rough sawn, so I'm not sure how good it was going to be. 

Today I laid out the wood for planning.  Here's what I bought.

As you can see, it was kind of a crapshoot.  For $20 I couldn't complain.  I figured I had enough wood for one Les Paul type of guitar.  Here's what I got after I planned the wood.

Again, very clean grained wood, with no figure in it.  There are some places I will have to cut around, but I can say with certainty that I will be able to get one guitar out of it.  I know it looks very light colored in the pictures, but once I add water or finish to it, the wood will darken up.  This wood is extremely dry so I can start working on it right away. 

I will continue to update as my project progresses.  I know what I hope to do with this project, but we'll see how it actually turns out. 

Adrian: Zero Dollar Budget Director

I don't tend to talk too much about my band on here.  I tend to reserve my blog for my oddball thoughts.  However, a few things have happened which happen to make a very good blog, so I thought I would talk about them here.

First off, my band is an Americana band called, Possum Apple.  Here's the Reverbnation link:

http://www.reverbnation.com/possumapple

So I was just recently in West Virginia for vacation.  This was my inspiration for the song, "The Road."  Basically, the short story is that I was driving to West Virginia for my Grandfather's funeral, and as I was driving around a curve in the road at two in the morning there was a beagle lying right smack in the middle of the road.

Looking back, it was kind of funny, or the look he gave me was kind of funny.  It was like, "No one comes through here at two in the morning.  I should be allowed to lie here in the middle of the road without you coming through with your high beams on."

So I decided to make a video for my song, "The Road."  I'll let you watch it, and then I will comment on it.

Here's the direct link as Youtube and Blogger are giving me crap about putting in a direct video.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ipu-7MR2R0

So this is what I had to work with.

1.  A zero dollar budget.
2.  A camera that also records video.  Note:  I bought this for a good deal off Ebay.
3.  Having Dad drive around Lincoln County, West Virginia, and me shoot footage of the roads.
4.  A "borrowed" beagle.

Seriously, I was at the 4 Mile Church, and this beagle comes up to me out of nowhere.  I wanted a beagle for the video, but didn't have one.  I guess when you need something, the Goddess provides.  Anyway, she was a good beagle.  She knew a few tricks which made for awesome footage. 

For a first try for a video it came out pretty good.  I wasn't expecting anything too over the top, but I think I made it entertaining enough.

So most people tell me is the best song off of the album is, "Buffalo."  I wanted to do a video for it, but wasn't sure where I was going to get footage of buffalos in Florida.  Then it occurred to me what I should do.  A friend of mine made a video for a song of his strictly from public domain footage.  This was great for me.  Namely, I needed nature footage and old cowboy footage, and there is plenty of it in the public domain.  There was so much in fact, I really had to narrow it down since the song is only a bit over two minutes.

So I found some nature footage, but I also found some really funny old Western footage.  I'm really proud of what I came up with.

Again, the direct link to Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcP8KjIjIBo

My Dad got a kick out of it since he had seen all of the scenes from those old Westerns.  It brought back some old, funny memories.

Anyhow, I hope to make a few more once inspiration comes to me.  I've only got time right?

Vacation Day: The Arts and Crafts Festival at Ripley, W.V., Part 3

Well, at this point at the Arts and Crafts I was feeling pretty good.  I got to act like a kid, and play with the baby goats at the petting zoo.  Next, I wandered around some more.

There was this nice woman selling jewelry. I didn't care so much about that, but I did care about this old chest she was displaying her items on.  I took lots of pictures of it in case I wanted to build one like it.  Seriously, it looked older than my two Grandmas put together.

Oh, that guy who won the ribbon for one of his dulcimers?  He has some more for sale.

There was this stone carver who was just awesome.  But so where his prices.  I should have faked being a Free-Mason to him.

They had some neat spinning things.  The video I took of it was pretty neat.  Well, neat for a windy day I guess.

Here's a cello that a local West Virginian artisan made.

The longest serving U.S. Senator in history is Robert Byrd.  He was also known for his fiddle playing.  Here's a picture of his album and his fiddle.

Speaking of music.  There was this great Appalachian band playing traditional mountain music.  Here they are playing, "Blue Moon of Kentucky."

So that's my trip.  I wish I could have taken more pictures, but the family was wanting me to hurry it up so they could go back to Grandma's house.  I wish it hadn't of rained.  A lot of the vendors packed up or didn't show because of the rain.  But overall, I'm glad I went.

Vacation Day: The Arts and Crafts Festival at Ripley, W.V., Part 2

So let's continue on my journey at the Arts and Crafts Festival in Ripley, W.V.

That's a nice little ceramic plate.

Here's a stone angel.  It reminds me of the weeping angels from Doctor Who.

Here's a great collection of woodturned bowls from one woodturner.

I really liked the design and idea behind this painting.

Here's a collection of ceramics.

And then the funnest part.  The petting zoo.  I love goats.

And ducks.  I love the duckies.  Especially the ones that look like they are wearing shower caps.

They had quite a number of animals at the petting zoo.

That's it for part 2.  Stay tuned for part 3.