New Address!

Hey!

I have switched over to wordpress, so my blog can now be found at http://ashleynicolewillcox.wordpress.com
Visit there to find updated posts and pictures about Europe and further happenings of life here in Chicago:-)

May 29

Day 13

It’s midnight here at the beautiful Krystal Hotel in Prague. We arrived at about this time last night after a 7:00 concert in Brno. As we were unloading, Scott informed us that we should get everything off of the bus, as the bus driver was seriously concerned about the bus being broken into. This greatly worried me as to the location of our hotel, but as it was pitch black out, I couldn’t get a good look around.

But I must go back. I have forgotten to detail the events of the bus ride, which are worth noting. As I said, it was late, and we were all asleep when our bus began braking quickly and pulled off to the side of the road. I sat up and looked out the window to see a police car, lights flashing, leading our bus into a gas station. A buss began on the bus as to what might be going on We were driving through Slovakia, and I tried to remember if it was there that my parents had had problems with corrupt police or not. I had visions of us al being hauled off to jail.

“Everyone get your passport out,” someone said, and we all began rummaging through our things to find them. Of course, tonight was the first time on the entire trip that I didn’t actually have my passport on my person, so I began tearing through my backpack in search of it. At last I located it and felt safe. Someone reported from the front that the police man was talking to our Prague guide, who was translating to Slovak into English for chorale member Jean, whe then translated that into French for our bus driver. Word reached the top of the bus that we had incurred a 50 Euro fine for not having our trailer properly lit. We were not sure whether this interpretation came from since we later found out it had been an improperly paid toll. Sono we were bnack on the road to Prague.

So back at the Krsyal hotel in Prague. We walked up to the counter and said our room number and theyh handed us the key. Scott had told us that there was only one keyh per room and that every time we left we were to leave our key at the desk. Odd, but okay. So we carried our stuff to the elevator and went to the 11^th floor. Our room was unique. It had prickly carpet and floor-to-celing vinyl cupboards, walls, and doors to the shower room and WC. The cupboards all had locks and keys, but the keys didn’t work. This also disturbed me. There were multiple switches around the room that didn’t work. There was also a speaker over the door. But the most disturbing things was the fact that when we went into the city the next day, we handed them our key, and when we came back we simply told them our room number and they handed us the key. High security.

We had a concert downton tonight, and the church was going to provide us with our dinner, as usual. But when we got there, they had break and apples…that was it. Not enough to sustain for a two hour concert! A whisper soon went through the chorale that we would be ordering pizza after the concert. Whew. A funny thing about Europe is the general lack of food. When the churches feed us, it’s very minimal. In Switzerland we ate melted cheese over potateoes. The was the whole meal. In Hungary, bread and goulash. In the Czech Republic, suausage and potato salad. I gues they have their big meal at lunch here. My favorite foods thus far: the chicken gyro, the raspberry torte, the bread, the Turkish kebap, and the pizza we had last night.

Speaking of the pizza, back to our late night dinner.

Morning Mumblings

Grandma and Grandpa's neighbors are not my friends. I declared this to Grandpa as I stumbled into the Breakfast Room at about 8:13 this morning--which is 7:13 on my clock. After an eventful and very long drive from Chicago to Carmel, IN, Stephen and I had finally pulled into their tree lined driveway at about 12:40 am. I looked forward to sleeping in for the first time in weeks. Our weekend with Sister and Joey really took it out of me and I have still not recovered.

However, at about 8:01, I was rudely awakened by what sounded like a chain saw right outside my window. Discombobulated, I rolled over and tried to return to my slumber. But it was not to be. The chain saw was incessant and very loud, and I finally jumped out of bed to see what all the ruckus was about. It sounded as if someone was cutting down a tree right in front of our bedroom.

It was the neighbors. They have apparently been doing construction on their house for the last three years, and three men were standing in their driveway sawing something and making dust billow out over the Grandparents pool. Not cool. Frustrated that there was no way I was going to sleep through that, I found Grandpa at his computer and mumbled my complaints to him. Grandma soon joined us, followed by Stephen, and we were soon sitting down to a beautiful breakfast of Honey Nut Cheerios, fresh fruit and orange juice, sharing stories about our horrible drive in and hearing about the neighbors, the cousins, and new vacation options for the Grandparents.

Now that I'm awake, though, we are all going to "clean up" and go in our various directions. The boys are taking our very loud car to get it fixed, and the girls are going--where else? Shopping:-) Have to find a decent swimsuit so I can enjoy the pool this afternoon!

To Bike or not to Bike

I have long pondered the possibility of bringing my bike from Iowa and riding it around Chicago to and from work and whatnot. It would not only be quicker than walking, but it would be economical and great exercise. However, a few main things have kept me from doing this:

1. The wicked winter weather
2. I can't store the thing in my apartment, so I'd have to pay to have it stored elsewhere
3. Bikes (or parts of them) get stolen all the time, no matter how many safeguards you have
4. It is really dangerous in Chicago

This last point may be emphasized by some recent events. A biker was hit and killed outside our building a couple of weeks ago. Skip and Cassidy were out for a walk and witnessed the horrible aftermath of the crash. He was only 22.

I have had one friend who has hit a biker, and another friend who has been hit by a car while biking. And just yesterday, as I was returning from my internship, I was wondering why on earth traffic was so bad at that particular moment, when I heard sirens all around me and saw a fire engine pull up and stop in front of me. It was then that I noticed the man lying in the middle of the road and the bike beside him. I think he was okay in the end, but it reminded me of just how dangerous it is to bike the roads of Chicago.

But the question remains--is it the drivers who are dangerous, or the bikers themselves? After observing for almost three years, I have to say it is both. Drivers are impatient (especially taxis) and think they can whip around a turning car whenever they want without checking their mirrors. But bikers think they own the road on their small skinny two wheeled contraptions. Few wear a helmet and even fewer actually abide by the rules.

I drive every day this summer to and from my internship, and I have been so nervous about these bikers. I am constantly watching out for them, but they are so small and quick. One minute they're there, the next they're gone. One's driving at you, one beside you, and one crossing in the middle of the road. The next is weaving in and out of cars at a stoplight and crossing, though he should know he is considered a moving vehicle and should be abiding by the same laws as cars.

When a biker is hit, who is usually suspected first? The car driver. But the more I witness, the more concerned I become about these bikers putting their own lives at risk. If you are a driver, please be aware of bikers' presence and always check blind spots! If you are a biker, please remember you are not the only vehicle on the road and stick to the rules.

And so I continue to remain bikeless in Chicago. Maybe someday when I live in the country...:-)

Issues

Having some issues uploading photos for my Europe posts. More will follow.

May 23, 2008

Day 7

We've spent the day and night in Salzburg, Austria. Stephen and I split up for the day, and I went to the Sound of Music tour, and Stephen went up to the Salzburg Castle. I am really glad I went on the tour (I would have regretted it if I didn't), but it was expensive, and a little disappointing, and then I didn't get to go to the castle after all, and now I'm back, and I have no clue where Stephen is, and I'm starving. We got to see more of the Sound of Music film scenes outside the tour than we did on the tour! But I got a lot of good pictures.

All of us standing in front of the fountain where Julie Andrews "swishes" the water with her hand while singing "I Have Confidence"

Doe, a Deer

Rachel, Shira, and I attempting to do what seven people did for the movie

Somehow we all came down at the exact angle...

Authentic Apple Struedel The lane which Captain von Trapp and the barroness drive down. There should be some "local urchins" hanging from the trees:-)
Jessica and I outside the back and interior of the Von Trapp home (film version)

The Abbey where they married (for the film)





Unfortunately, the clouds were very thick and low today, so we couldn't see the beautiful mountains! They are finally breaking now and we can see them!

May 22, 2008

Day 6

We are in Lagenthal, Germany. We finally got to spend the night at a host home last night! They were SO sweet. They spoke and understood English fairly well. They had a two-year old and a five-year old. Their house was very interesting. I understand Ikea a lot more. Their house was narrow and storage space was not built in to the house. It was added in shelves, armoires, etc. But all were separate entities--no closets. They are coming to Chicago in September and we hope to have them over. Both concerts have gone very well. Last night at the end, they were clapping and I said "they are clapping very rhythmically" And David said "oh, that means 'sing one more'." That was their encore! So we sang 'Witness,' of course.

I love being in this group! It is so much a second family to me. I have never felt such a sense of belonging anywhere else.

I love Europe. I always knew I would, but I really do love it! (side note, they don't seem to sleep with sheets, here. How odd!).

May 21, 2008

Day 5

Things that fascinate us on this trip:

• having to pay for the "water closet"
• seeing people in fields picking things. By hand.
• everyone driving small compact cars
• most people being bilingual
• the amount of mopeds and bicycles in Geneva
• bicycles--and cars--driving on sidewalks
• pedestrians do NOT have the right of way
• the gracious and helpful people
• no screens on windows...why???
• the Alps
• no air conditioning
• the price of food...and gas
• Swiss chocolat
• seeing George Clooney in a windowfront in a watch advertisement
• tunnels so long that even Rachel can't hold her breath all the way through them
• the trees
• not having clothes dryers

Some things are awe-some, some things are "you've got to be kidding me!" It amazes me how indulgent our culture is. How much we expect--how much we take for granted. Things I've never thought about actually being a luxury--not a necessity. I expected to find some of these things in third world countries, but not here. But we really are so pampered as a whole--we don't even think about it.

May 20, 2008

Day 4


The most amazing day ever! I don't have time to detail it all here, but hopefully tomorrow. Where do I begin? Well, first, a bunch of guys were going around knocking on our doors trying to find American girls to party with--at one am last night! They accidentally got Mr. Ed and he gave them the what's up, then went down to the desk and reported them. Things should be quieter tonight:-)





We spent the day touring Geneva. We saw Calvin's Cathedral, chapel, chair, his Bible--I held a real Geneva Bible from 1589! We bought Swiss chocolate, sang downtown and invited people to come to our concert, had a Swiss lunch and hung out with Selma (one of the ladies from our host church). Then we climbed the towers of Calvin's Cathedral! Incredible! Then we got dressed and headed to the concert...amazing! NEVER had an experience like it! By quarter 'til, the massive cathedral, seating 1,000 people, was packed, and when we began, people had filled every seat (even ours), and were standing and sitting on the floor--for a two hour concert! The people were amazing--singing in the place was out of this world!!!!





At the end of the concert, our CDs were flying off the tables and people were handing us 100 francs and saying "keep the change"! Media photographers were there snapping thousands of pictures for who knows what. They fed us "first and second supper" in the side chapel-which was magnificent! It was fun to speak un petite peu French. I almost cried a couple of times when the words were so meaningful--singing The Elijah's "And let their hearts again be turned to thee" in what used to be a Reformed cathedral, now an Episcopalian meeting hall in a godless city. That was my prayer not only that evening, but for the rest of the tour.

The Reformation Wall

May 19, 2008

Day 3

I feel refreshed after a good night of sleep at the Etap hotel in Switzerland. At first I was worried I wouldn't sleep--my mind was racing! But after about 20 minutes I knocked out. I'm getting more adjusted, I think. It's so weird, though. It feels weird because it isn't weird! It's so similar--but yet not. I don't even know how to explain it. But the countryside is magnificent! There are trees everywhere and they look different than American trees. The little towns are splashed a long hillsides with their brown and red tile roofs. Ikeas are everywhere. Oh, I forgot to mention our buss--it's a massive double decker bus with a trailer behind it.

Downstairs there's a toilet (that we don't use), a coffee bar, and booths to sit at! (we just stalled going up a hill around a corner...) We're driving through a town. I'm getting a stiff neck from staring out the window. We're on our way to Geneva. I'm not sure what we'll see, but something no doubt. Then we're staying at a youth hostel.

...

I can't sleep. It's early morning, and I'm so tired, but unable to sleep. Tonight was amazing! We are in Geneva and for dinner we took a tram to a church where we had dinner. They had it decorated with all sorts of Swiss things--flags, cowbells, etc. and a woman was playing an accordion as we came in. We ate Roclette, an amazing Swiss cheese, which we melted and put over a hot potato, and our accordion player yodeled for us! It was wonderful! The people were so friendly. Tomorrow we will see the sights and sing in Calvin's Cathedral!

May 18, 2008

Day 2-sort of

We are sitting in the Frankfurt airport waiting for the rest of our group to arrive in, like 6 hours. It's so weird to hear all these different languages around me. I've been awake for almost 24 hours now, save a couple no-offs on our flights. I think that's definitely a record for me, especially considering I've never pulled an "all-nighter" before. We connected in the Heathrow, London airport. I love British people! They're so polite! But I decided I don't like double decker planes after all. After wanting to ride on one for years, I finally did, and their takeoff is much more...bumpy. I did not enjoy that at all. I think at least three of our group actually threw up. I tried to take in as much of London as I could from the airport and from the sky. *sigh* I wish we were going to London on this trip! Everything is SO expensive!

Europe Stories Forthcoming!

Hello all!

Stephen and I have returned safely from Europe and have many stores to share! Our Internet is down, so it will take a little longer than I'd like to actually get these stories and pictures up, but be assured, they are forthcoming--and some videos, too!

Thanks for all your thoughts and prayers!

Memories of Grandpa

Two years ago today, my grandpa went home to be with the Lord. I was reading Sister's reminiscent blog in memory of him and began thinking of all the great memories I had. Since many of them are different from hers, I thought I would post some of them.

Some of my favorite memories of our Grandparents Richardson include:
-Going over to their apartment in CR and playing with their "Herbie" car and toy dishes
-Birthday lunches with them at McDonald's or Taco Bell:-)
-Grandpa's witty jokes and spunky humor
-I think I asked him every time I saw him to do "There was an Old Lady who Swallowed a Fly"
-I remember when they stayed with us while Mom and Dad were in Papua New Guinea. We were about to go somewhere and Grandpa was sitting on Mom and Dad's bed putting on his shoes. He looked down at his shoe for awhile and finally said "I can't reach down to tie my shoe," at which point I gladly volunteered to do it for him:-)
-that was also the time they stayed with us and he had to spank me 'cause I'd been bad. It was so mortifying! And he spanked hard...
-I remember sitting at their table having lunch and asking Grandpa what the French word for this or that random item was:-)
-I never did know which eye to look at when I talked to him (one eye being lazy and all)!
-I loved that, as much as he began struggling with his Parkinson's, whenever he prayed or sang hymns, he had no trouble speaking or thinking clearly

So many good memories of a wonderful man!

Jerry Jenkins Responds

After a month of waiting to hear back from Jerry Jenkins about Friedrich's Bill, I gave up. I went ahead and sent the letter without his signature on it, rather disappointed that my attempts had failed, but more so that he hadn't even gotten back to me as he said he would.

But all of that changed yesterday.

Stephen went to get the mail and called me from his cell phone. "I have got big news," he said, excitedly.

"What??" I asked, hoping maybe someone gave us a million dollars.

"I just got the mail, and you have a large package of something--"

"That would be my Meleluca from Sister" I said, pleased it had come in. I was wondering if my new Sense and Sensibility had come in, too.

"--and you have a letter from The Jenkins Companies."

My heart practically stopped. The Jenkins Companies? The one I had been waiting for?! "Run home as fast as you can!" I said and quickly hung up to ponder what it could be.

By the time Stephen arrived home, I had convinced myself it was a letter explaining that he couldn't sign the Bill for some reason or another. But I secretly hoped it was the letter, signed by him!

Upon tearing it open, I found that it was indeed the letter.

But it was unsigned.

In confusion, I saw a note written in the right hand corner. This is how it read:

"Ashley- How did it go? What was the response? JJ"

Now I was even more confused. Why hadn't he signed the letter? If he hadn't--why was he asking how it went? What did this mean?! Perhaps he signed a copy and mailed it straight to Jeff?

I immediately picked up the phone and dialed our RS, Jeff. He answered on the third ring.

"Jeff, this is Ashley Nicole. Do you happen to have a letter from me?"

"Yes, it's actually on my desk right in front of me," he responded cheerily.

Pause. "Does it happen to have Jerry Jenkins signature on it?"

"Nooooo....do you have one with Jerry Jenkins signature on it?!" Jeff asked, his voice raising with interest.

I explained to him my predicament and that I had a note from Mr. Jenkins following up on the situation. Jeff sounded quite interested.

"Well, if you wanted to follow up with him on that and get back to me...I mean, if he meant to sign the letter, or wanted to...well, that might turn a lot of heads. His signature would carry a lot of weight, you know?"

Yes, I knew. I told him I'd get back to him.

I mulled it over for the rest of the day and called lots of important people to ask advice. I think my dad gave me the soundest advice. He should know, since he's pretty important himself. I will respond to Mr. Jenkins and ask Jeff to continue running my request through the process. Hopefully Mr. Jenkins made a phone call or wrote a letter to some higher-up to support my request and it will come out at that time.

I'll keep you posted.

The Unfortunate Water Faucet

In one of the many rest stops on the trip, I was attempting to wash my hands. Having come down with a severe cold, I was not "all there" in the head, so I was somewhat groggily shoving my hands under the automatic faucet. It was not very automatic, because it barely ever sensed me, even after many attempts to wave my hands around underneath it. When it finally turned on, a few drops came out, and that was about it.

Ready to give up, I turned toward the air dryer and waited my turn. There were quite a few people around (most of them choralers, people dreaded seeing us pull up), and I found that I couldn't actually move away from the faucet for lack of space, so I simply stayed there.

This did not go over well with the large, older woman in line behind me for the sink. "Excuse me," she said, somewhat forcefully as she shoved in for the sink.

"Oh, sorry," I mumbled, semi-coherently, and moved over a couple of inches.

I was zoning out when I heard the woman grunt, "What did you do, use all the water?"

I came back to reality to see her vain attempts at getting the water to turn on. I had mercy on her. "Oh...you kinda have to, like put your hands under it, and like move them around a lot--"

She broke in "Can you say one sentence without using the word 'like'?" she said, sarcastically, snickering.

I blinked. I wasn't even actually sure what I had said to her at all, my mind was a fog.

"Uhhh...I guess not" I mumbled in confusion.

"I'll give you five bucks if you can," she continued, smiling cynically.

It was now my turn for the air dryer, and I turned away to brush my hands under it and stumble out of the bathroom. A choraler patter my arm in sympathy at the woman's outburst, and another followed me out with exclamations of "what was her problem?!"

I suppose I do use the word "like" too often...especially when I'm sick.

The NYC Surprise

We were driving past NYC on the way to a concert in New Jersey, so we stopped in for some "free time." We were dropped off in Battery Park and told to be back on the bus in 90 minutes sharp. One minute later, and we would be lining Mr. Edmond's pockets with change.

Never having been to the City before, Stephen and I weren't quite sure what to do, out of the million possible options. However, our time constraint whittled down those options, and we settled for a quick MCA ride to Times Square and back.

On the subway, and Laura and I in front of Broadway

After wandering around Times Square for twenty minutes, we had both had enough. It was dirty, loud, crowded, and way over-stimulating. And besides, I wanted to at least see the Statue of Liberty from a distance before getting back on the bus.

So we headed back to Battery Park for a quick picture in front of the Lady. However, Stephen wanted to buy a souvenir "I Love New York" sweatshirt, and I found myself in need of a restroom.

If you know anything about big cities, you know it's next to impossible to find a restroom. However, there was a McDonald's across the street, and Stephen entrusted Chris with walking me there and making sure no one kidnapped me on the way.

We had about 15 minutes before we had to be back to the bus and, already having paid a fine for being two minutes late, I had no intention of doing that again. We practically ran in to the McDonald's and located the bathrooms. It just so happened that Chris needed to use it, too, so he found the guys', and I found the girls' (and yes, this is significant to the story).

I opened the door to the bathroom and found myself second in line for one of the two stalls. That bathroom was tiny. We stood there uncomfortably, waiting...when a large, older woman almost crushed me walking into the room. She looked around with wide eyes.

"Is that person still in here?" she asked, none too quietly, looking around suspiciously. "That person has been in here for a long time. Something is wrong. People shouldn't use the bathroom for this long. I have been waiting for a long time. Why is that person still in that stall?" and on and on until the other girl and I felt quite sorry for said person in stall. After commenting on how she'd been waiting outside for a very long time, we had mercy on her when the back stall opened up, and we allowed her to budge ahead and go in.

But no sooner had she stepped into that stall then she stepped back out. "I can't do it," she said, shaking her head adamantly. "I can't go in that stall. Something is wrong. That person has been in that other stall for a long time!" and she promptly left the room.

The other girl and I exchanged curious and amused glances, and she tentatively walked toward the last stall. She poked her head in, looked around, then looked back at me and shrugged her shoulders. Seemed safe to her.

It was at that moment that the front stall's toilet flushed, and I thought, finally, this poor person is finished using the bathroom. By this point, I was also concerned about making it to the bus on time.

I was not prepared for who stepped out of that stall, though. The door opened, and I looked up...into the eyes of...a man.

I must have looked at him with very wide eyes. He ducked his head and mumbled "sorry...I really had to go" and shuffled quickly out of the bathroom. The other women who had recently come in began gasping and exclaiming, and I tried to stifle my laughter as I bravely walked into the stall. After all, I didn't have time to wait for the other to open up.

I was still smothering smiles and laughter when I walked out of the bathroom to find Chris standing there, arms crossed, waiting. He jumped up when he saw me, shock and concern on his face. "A man....just walked out of there! Are you okay?! What was he doing in there?"

I hurried him toward the door, still trying not to laugh out loud, and assuring I'd tell him everything. As we walked out, two policemen passed us, on their way up to the bathroom.

We made it to Lady Liberty in time to get two fast pictures and run to the bus. We were thirty seconds early:-)

Murder, She Wrote

Instead of spending a million dollars on housing us at hotels every night for two weeks, we spent the nights in "host homes"--the homes of people in the church's where we performed (save a couple of times where we were in hotels). It was a new family every night, which was fun (and also exhausting!). We got to learn about so many different cultures, hear many stories of how people met, married, and came to know Christ. It was amazing, the common bond that perfect strangers have in Christ!

The funnest nights are when you get those...unique people:-) Our first couple was one such experience. We were staying in Tennessee, and this couple, around eighty years old, had the thickest southern accent I had heard in quite some time. They brought us into their home around 10pm that first Monday night of tour and were so excited to show us every detail in their large and bedecked home. They used to own an antique store, and their whole house was full of antiques! Their favorite thing to show us was their master bathroom (that was awkward), and their antique, secretive roll top table, which mysteriously and magically unrolled when they both pulled on the ends.

However, the most interesting thing that happened that night occurred when they were telling us about their four, grown children. Kelver (the man), had mentioned before that their youngest daughter had died, and they had moved to escape the bad memories.

They stopped in front of the wedding pictures of their children, explaining the life story behind each. I was beginning to droop with weariness. When they got to their youngest, Linda said, "and this is our youngest who is now gone."

Kelver took a long look at the picture then, "Yes...her husband unfortunately had her murdered."

I woke up quickly, waiting for them to expound. Since neither one offered more information, I let the subject drop. I must admit, I didn't believe them. I figured, at worst, they were the sad parents of a woman who had had an unhappy marriage and died suddenly and they blamed her husband. I was in for an unpleasant surprise.

As they finished up the tour, Linda spoke up again "Oh, Ashley Nicole" (you have to imagine the accent) "I wrote a book after our daughter was killed, about the healing of our family. I'll give you a copy." She went to the shelf, pulled out the book, and handed it to me.

It was entitled simply, Judy; the murder of our daughter, the healing of our family. Now I was starting to get curious. If she's published a book about it, there had to be something to the story.

We visited for awhile and then turned in for the night. I eagerly picked up the book and began scanning through it quickly to see if there really was truth to their claims. Unfortunately, there was. The short story is their daughter was indeed brutally murdered by her husband...and all for $250,000 in life insurance. He, of course, did not receive the money. He is serving a life sentence + 20 years without parole, in jail.

I didn't know that when I went to sleep that night, though. Needless to say, I was a little on edge.

East Coast Shenanigans

As many of you know, Stephen and I recently toured with the Moody Chorale in their annual Spring Break, two-week, whirlwind tour. And I do mean whirlwind...perhaps more like a tornado. Allow me to enlighten you.

We left at 7 AM, Saturday morning, March 9, We boarded a bus for the six-hour drive into Lousiville Kentucky. We made the trek in a large charter bus and an accompanying van. We were all a little apprehensive since it was said we were driving into a 12-inch snowstorm, and it had already started snowing in Chicago.

We were relieved, however, when the snow quickly died off, and our drive to Louisville was fairly uneventful. But when we got there, we were seriously disappointed to be met with the ten inches of snow that had falled on the unsuspecting (and unprepared) city the night before. I had been looking forward to green grass, sunshine, and warmer temperatures.

It was around 20 degrees as we carefully stepped off the bus over a puddle of slush and headed into a beautiful catherdral for that evening's event. It was a concert in honor of the highly esteemed Dr. Hustad, former Moody chorale director, writer, conductor, performer extraordinaire. It was his 90th birthday, and we were there to sing some of the beautiful songs he had written.

All in all, the evening was a success, and we were off to a good start. It's a good thing we didn't know then what lay in store for us. Here is a brief itenerary of the next few days:

Saturday: 7 am, on the bus in the bus for 6 hours, concert at 7pm
Sunday: concert at 9:30am, on the bus 3 hours, 7pm concert in Nashville, TN
Monday: 5:45 am, on the bus for a 7:30 breakfast concert at the Opryland Hotel, back on the bus for 4 hours, 7PM concert in Virginia
Tuesday: on the bus at 8 am, 8 hours in the bus, 6:30 concert in WV
Wednesday: on the bus at 8 am, 8 hours in the bus, 7:00PM concert in Williamsburg

This was the beggining of our tour. Needless to say, we were all so exhausted by day 4, that when we arrived early to a church, Mr. Edmonds (esteemed conductor, shown here)

would order us all to lie down in the empty sanctuary in pews for power naps.

Other places of interest we hit included, but are not limited to the following: New York City, Washington D.C., Falls Church, Maryland, New Jersey, and Ohio.

Further stories are detailed in more posts:-)

At one church, the pastor walked in to the sanctuary, then promptly walked back out. A friend was in the hall, and he commented to him in bewilderment "they're all in there...asleep!"

East Coast Trip Stories Coming Soon...

For those of you waiting to hear some great stories of our trip out east...you will not be disappointed. I've got some good ones. They will be coming this week and next--I promise! Complete with pictures...and anything else I can think of.

In Which I ask Jerry Jenkins to Sign My Bill

Ever since I lost little Friedrich, I have been constructing a plan to get him back. My plan is to be like the persistent in the Gospels and just keep hounding Student Development until they give in.

So far I have written a letter addressing the issue that parakeets are not really considered "pets" and should therefore be allowed in Jenkins Hall apartments. I'm calling it "Friedrich's Bill" and trying to get it passed. I've revised it about a dozen times and am finally ready to send it off--I just need one thing.

Pops suggested it might be handy to have a professor or advisor co-sign with me. You know, give me a little more credibility. I thought this sounded like a good plan. And then I got the e-mail inviting me to a writer's luncheon with famed author Jerry Jenkins. An idea popped into my head: what if I could actually get Jerry Jenkins himself to sign my bill? I mean, he bought the building for Moody and his name is on it...how could they say no if he signed it??

Butterflies began taking flight in my stomach at the very idea of asking him to sign it. But I knew what I had to do.

I wrote and re-wrote the letter, edited it more, asked more opinions, and finally printed it off with Jerry Jenkins' name at the bottom and a place for him to sign. This is ridiculous, I thought. He's never going to sign this. And I probably won't even get a moment alone with him to ask him anyway. But for Friedrich I had to at least try.

I left about 15 minutes early to turn in a paper for the class I would be missing, but because I had re-drafted the letter so many times, I was running out of time and booked it across campus. I walked in with a friend of mine, completely out of breath and ready to head upstairs to the luncheon when I saw him.

Not fifteen feet away stood Mr. Jerry Jenkins, staring out the window, apparently waiting for someone. My heart stopped. If you're going to do it, you better do it now! I thought, panicking at the very thought. I was still walking with my friend so I walked past him a bit, let her go, and stood stock still behind a pillar. I tried to calm my breathing, but it would not be calmed. The deskworker and couple of other people began giving me strange and concerned looks as I stood there indecisively. I realized I had forgotten my ID. They probably think I'm some sort of vagrant! I thought miserably. I had a mental argument with myself over the pros and cons and finally, without allowing myself to think about it any longer, I turned on my heel and walked resolutely up to Mr. Jenkins.

He turned as I approached him. I put on my professional voice and said "Mr. Jenkins?"

"Yes," He answered, smiling and extending his hand.

"I'm Ashley Willcox. I entered your writing contest and will be upstairs at the luncheon in just a few minutes, but I wondered if I could talk to you about something rather non-writing related?" My words were coming out in a torrent and I still continued to gasp for breath.

"Why, sure" He replied graciously. He thinks I'm insane, I thought encouragingly. I then began pleading my case. He nodded, commented "Hmm, birds, yes, okay" throughout my spiel, and when I was done with whatever it was that I said, I spoke the fateful words "And I was wondering if you would be willing to sign it for me?" Pathetic! You sound pathetic!

"Well, sure, may I look it over first?" He reached for his briefcase to find a pen.

"I actually have it with me," I stated, thrusting the letter out in front of me.

He took it from me and glanced over it. "May I take this?"

"Of course!" I said, probably too eagerly.

"Well sure, I'll just look at it and get back with you."

I beamed. "Thank you! I'll see you upstairs" I darted off quickly, not even looking at him again and ran upstairs. Whew. The deed was done. And it wasn't even that hard.

So there you have it. He may or may not sign my Bill, but he has it in his possession. And the bigger deal is...I did it. I actually got the nerve up to approach Jerry Jenkins and ask him to plead my case for my Friedrich. Let's just hope it works.

Masterpiece Theatre Disappoints

Most of you need not be informed of my obsession with Jane Austen's works. I have read all of them numerous times and seen almost every TV adaptation out there. Now, to my delight, there are a few new versions coming out.

PBS is doing a Jane Austen marathon of sorts, playing all the newest TV adaptations of her classic novels. For this purpose, Masterpiece Theater has produced new versions of Mansfield Park, Sense and Sensibility, and Northanger Abbey, among others. BBC produced a new, and much needed, adaptation of Persuasion, as well. They are airing on PBS every Sunday for the next couple of months. (I noticed that they didn't even attempt reproduce Pride & Prejudice that A&E, BBC did over ten years ago now. Can you improve on that?! I think not.)

I tuned in to see Masterpiece's Mansfield Park on Sunday night. Cass and I got comfortable on the couch, eating popcorn and crochetting my latest baby blanket. What I have seen thus far of Masterpiece Theatre (Jane Eyre, Northanger Abbey) have been quite impressive, so I had high hopes for Mansfield Park. At the very least, I believed they wouldn't butcher the storyline.

I was sorely disappointed.

Perhaps their most fatal error was trying to cram 412 pages of literary genius into less than 90 minutes. Or perhaps it was the fact that Fanny, the main character of Austen's novel, is something of a side character in this latest adaptation, with only a few screen appearances and even fewer speeches (certainly nowhere near Mr. Rushworth's "two and forty"). Or perhaps, even more aggravating, was their apparent lack of research into the social decorum of the day. Fanny and Edmund began waltzing at the end of the movie (a dance that had yet to become acceptable to most of society and would certainly never have been learned by these two). Lady Bertram wore a hat in her own home, and Fanny's hair was shoulder length and worn down the entire movie. Every feeling revolts!

Someone obviously didn't consult the Jane Austen Handbook. Or any historical source for that matter.

There was little to no character development, with people's personalities being stated rather than shown. Mix this with some bad acting and poor scripting and you have one TV adaptation I would not recommend, I am sorry to say.

My New Piano

I have long wished I had a piano in our small apartment. But there were always two major problems: the fact that our apartment is small (crackerbox could be a good way to define it), and the lack of funds to purchase said piano. My parents have two pianos in their house, one of them an upright player piano (you know, the super old kind that plays rolls by itself!) I love that piano and hope to someday have a home in which I can "store" it for my parents:-) However, Dad's condition is that it has to be on the ground level. He hates moving that thing. It weighs like a thousand libs, practically.

Anyway, so I really want a piano. Music soothes the soul, and I can't tell you how many times I have wanted to sit down and just play the piano to release tension or nerves. But alas, my two friends who used to have pianos in the building have moved. So I have been going up to Cassidy's place to play hers. But now that their baby is coming in only a few short weeks, they need the extra space. So they were going to put it under their bed (it's a Yamaha electronic). That would mean, once again, no piano for me to play on.

When Cassidy asked if maybe I wanted to keep it for them for awhile, I jumped at the chance! But there was still that problem of no room...So after weeks of talking, planning, and compromise, Stephen has finally allowed me to move some stuff around...and squeeze it into our living room.

While a little more crowded, I think it looks great! And I'm so excited to have a piano at my own disposal for the next year! Thanks Skip and Cassidy!

An Eventful Trip Home

As most of you probably know by now, we have returned to our little home in Chicago. After a week and a half away, I was more than ready to get home and get to work on the mass of trivial but important details that needed to be accomplished before school starts in two weeks.

Stephen and I departed the Quad Cities at about 4 pm Tuesday afternoon after dropping of little Friedrich, picking up James Davenport, and stopping back past the Willcox household to pick up the forgotten Nalgene bottle and iPod (can't leave that behind!). We had intended to drop in on Stephen's aunt and uncle in Port Byron with a little loaf of pumpkin bread and our Christmas card. Aunt Melinda was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, so it was even more important for us to see her.

It had snow quite significantly the day before, adding to the 12-15 inches already on the ground. Tuesday afternoon the winds had begun to pick up, and by the time we made it to Jim and Melinda's house, large drifts of snow had begun to form over their once plowed driveway. They live in the country, and their driveway is quite long. The drifts weren't too bad at first, and my little Mazda Protege was holding out well against them. But all too suddenly, in the fading light, we founded a bend in the driveway and drove straight into a huge drift. When I say huge, I mean quite subsantial. The drift itself was the entire length of the car, and when we found ourselves quite definitely stuck, Stephen opened the car door in to snow. The snow had drifted over two feet high, and our car wasn't going anywhere.

I took the wheel and the boys pushed. First from the back, and the from the front. But it was no use. Stephen says he's fairly certain we burned a quarter tank of gas just trying to get out. When it was quite apparent that we were not going to get out of this without help, we pulled on coats for the long, bitter walk to the house.

The wind was howling, and the windchill was well below zero. None of us had more than small shoes on, and we trudged through drifts up to our knees before we finally reached the house, frozen to the bone.

This is the part where I love being a girl. I stayed inside and warmed up with Melinda and Olivia and got to visit while the boys went back out and dug us out. An hour and a half later, we finally left.

"So much for 'dropping by,'" I said as we pulled out of the driveway.

It was now quite dark out as we turned once again towards Chicago on I-80. We soon encountered another problem: the moisture on the inside of the windows was freezing. I don't know if our car doors just don't quite seal well, or if it was just that cold out (perhaps a combination of both?), but it wasn't long before all Stephen could see was a little circle in front of him out the windshield.

James and I began feverishly scraping the ice off the windows with the ice scrapers. This helped for about 5 minutes, when we would repeat the process. Because we were desperately trying to get the windows to defrost (the defroster doesn't really work...), we had it on full defrost the entire time, so there was no floorboard heat. Since our feet were encased in snowy, wet shoes and socks, by the time we finally arrived in Chicago 2 1/2 hours later, my feet were bright red and I could only feel parts of them.

However, we are home safely and not intending to go anywhere for quite some time. I am much relieved. This snowy cold can go away any time it wants to.

Goodbye, Friedrich

This Christmas season was not without its sadness. After nearly two years of wondering if I was really allowed to have a bird in our apartment but being too afraid to ask, I finally succumbed to my conscience. The answer was not what I had hoped for. Alas, I am not allowed to keep my fine feathered friend, and so I sadly began looking for a temporary home for him.

After asking a half dozen people who enjoyed Friedrich and wanted one just like him, we were having a hard time finding people who were really able to keep the little guy until we get out of school (a year and a half). Finally, we found a friend who already has two parakeets that can give him a home for us. She lives back in Iowa, though, and so we brought Friedrich with us home and dropped him off with her. It was a sad day, and I tried not to think about it too much so I wouldn't cry. I succeeded. Mostly.

However, upon coming back to our apartment and spending the morning unpacking and putting away groceries, I began to miss him quite a bit. It's awful lonely in that apartment without him. He used to fill the quietness with his pretty whistles and warbles. Now there is just silence. I keep thinking I hear him chirp or grind his beak contentedly, and I begin to call out "Hey, Freed!"...but then I realize he's not there. Now there's just a large, empty spot on our computer desk, and it makes me awful lonely for him. I need to find something to put there. Suggestions?