HOLIDAYS OF THE PACK

MY THOUGHTS ARE TO HAVE CELEBRATIONS IN THIS CATEGORY. THIS IS THE PLACE FOR HOLIDAYS.

Number of posts : 995 Registration date : 2008-11-16

Happy Fourth of July

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

I hope everyone has a safe and happy 4th of July

Number of posts : 995 Registration date : 2008-11-16

CONSIDERING THAT OUR NATION SEEMS TO HAVE ABANDONED ALL REASON, AS WE APPROACH THE FOURTH OF JULY PAUSE AND WONDER WHAT OUR FOUNDING FATHERS WOULD SAY TO IF THEY COULD SEE WHAT WE'VE DONE TO THE NATION THEY SACRIFICED TO CREATE.

Have you ever wondered what happened to the 56 men

who signed the Declaration of Independence?

Five signers were captured by the British as traitors,

and tortured before they died.

Twelve had their homes ransacked and burned.

Two lost their sons serving in the Revolutionary Army;

another had two sons captured.

Nine of the 56 fought and died from wounds or

hardships of the Revolutionary War.

They signed and they pledged their lives, their fortunes,

and their sacred honor.

What kind of men were they?

Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists.

Eleven were merchants,

nine were farmers and large plantation owners;

men of means, well educated,

but they signed the Declaration of Independence

knowing full well that the penalty would be death if

they were captured.

Carter Braxton of Virginia, a wealthy planter and

trader, saw his ships swept from the seas by the

British Navy. He sold his home and properties to

pay his debts, and died in rags.

Thomas McKeam was so hounded by the British

that he was forced to move his family almost constantly.

He served in the Congress without pay, and his family

was kept in hiding. His possessions were taken from him,

and poverty was his reward.

Vandals or soldiers looted the properties of Dillery, Hall, Clymer,

Walton, Gwinnett, Heyward, Ruttledge, and Middleton.

At the battle of Yorktown, Thomas Nelson, Jr., noted that

the British General Cornwallis had taken over the Nelson

home for his headquarters. He quietly urged General

George Washington to open fire. The home was destroyed,

and Nelson died bankrupt.

Francis Lewis had his home and properties destroyed.

The enemy jailed his wife, and she died within a few months.

John Hart was driven from his wife's bedside as she was dying.

Their 13 children fled for their lives. His fields and his gristmill

were laid to waste. For more than a year he lived in forests

and caves, returning home to find his wife dead and his

children vanished.

So, take a few minutes while enjoying your 4th of July holiday and

silently thank these patriots. It's not much to ask for the price they paid.

Remember: freedom is never free!

I hope you will show your support by sending this to as many

people as you can, please. It's time we get the word out that patriotism

is NOT a sin, and the Fourth of July has more to it than beer,

picnics, and baseball games.

**sidenote**
My late uncle, ( Donald Hall ) is a direct descendant of the Hall that signed the Declaration of Independence

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

Hurray for the red white and blue

Thank you for posting that info Willow.
Very interesting to read.
Thank God for those men and women.

Number of posts : 995 Registration date : 2008-11-16

I love looking at fireworks.
Peace & (((hugs)))
Cori

Number of posts : 394 Age : 48 Registration date : 2008-11-24

happy 4th of July family,i love yall

HAPPY FOURTH PACK!!

HAVE A GREAT AND SAFE DAY.

HOLIDAYS OF THE PACK 0804_10008661475

Happy 4th of July my family. I love you. Take care & have a great day.

Peace & (((hugs)))
Cori

Number of posts : 995 Registration date : 2008-11-16

HAVE A SAFE & HAPPY 4TH OF JULY

be safe & well on this day
the birth of our nation

loving you all

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Guess I'm the first one here...soooooooooooooooo!

HOLIDAYS OF THE PACK Samhain-2

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Here's a recipe I found...

Soul cakes were traditionally baked as a gift for the spirits of the dead. In many European countries, the idea of "Souling" became an acceptable alternative for Christians. The cakes took many different names and shapes -- in some areas, they were simple shortbread, and in others they were baked as fruit-filled tarts. Still other regions made them of rice flour. Generally, a soul cake was made with whatever grain the community had available.
Difficulty: Easy
Time Required: 1 hour
Here's How:

1.

Pie Crust Soul Cakes

You'll need:
* A refrigerated roll-out pie crust
* 2 Tbs. melted butter
* 1 C mixed dried fruit
* 2 Tbs honey

Roll out the pie crust and cut it into circles. Use the circles to line a tin of muffin cups. Mix the butter, fruit and honey together. Scoop the fruit mixture into the pastry shells, and then bake for 15 minutes at 375 degrees. Allow to cool for about ten minutes before eating.

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Mulled wines are a traditional favorite, no matter what the occasion, but Halloween presents a terrific opportunity to introduce others to its appeal. The Banshee Mulled Wine recipe is a warm wine punch sure to clutch the palate of all Halloween gouls.
Prep Time: 0 hours, 05 minutes
Cook Time: 0 hours, 25 minutes
Ingredients:

* One bottle of red wine (suggestions: Cabernet Sauvignon, Zinfandel, Merlot or a Spanish red)
* One peeled and sliced orange (keep peel to add zest to taste into cooking pot)
* One peeled and sliced lemon (keep peel to add zest to taste in cooking pot)
* 1 tsp ground nutmeg
* 2 tsp ground ginger
* 5 whole cloves
* 3 cinnamon sticks
* 1/2 cup sugar (or honey can be substituted)
* 2/3 cup brandy or cognac
* 1/2 cup water

Preparation:
Combine all ingredients in either a large pot or a slow cooker. Gently warm the ingredients on low to medium heat (avoid boiling), for 20-25 minutes. Stir occasionally to make sure that the honey or sugar has completely dissolved. When the wine is steaming and the ingredients have blended well it is ready to serve. Ladle into mugs (leaving seasonings behind), garnish with a blood orange segment and perhaps black plastic, Halloween spiders and enjoy!

Way back in the deep woods there lived a scrawny old woman
who had a reputation for being the best conjuring woman in the Ozarks.
With her bedraggled black-and-gray hair,
funny eyes - one yellow and one green - and her crooked nose,
Old Betty was not a pretty picture,
but she was the best there was at fixing what ailed a man,
and that was all that counted.

Old Betty's house was full of herbs and roots
and bottles filled with conjuring medicine. The walls were lined
with strange books brimming with magical spells.
Old Betty was the only one living in the Hollow who knew how to read;
her granny, who was also a conjurer,
had taught her the skill as part of her magical training.

Just about the only friend Old Betty had was a tough,
mean, ugly old razorback hog that ran wild around her place.
It rooted so much in her kitchen garbage that all the leftover spells
started affecting it. Some folks swore up and down that the old razorback hog
sometimes walked upright like man. One fellow claimed he'd seen the pig
sitting in the rocker on Old Betty's porch, chattering away to her
while she stewed up some potions in the kitchen,
but everyone discounted that story on account of the fellow who told it
was a little too fond of moonshine.

"Raw Head" was the name Old Betty gave the razorback,
referring maybe to the way the ugly creature looked a bit like
some of the dead pigs come butchering time down in Hog-Scald Hollow.
The razorback didn't mind the funny name.
Raw Head kept following Old Betty around her little cabin
and rooting up the kitchen leftovers. He'd even walk to town
with her when she came to the local mercantile to sell her home remedies.

Well, folks in town got so used to seeing Raw Head and Old Betty around the town
that it looked mighty strange one day around hog-driving time
when Old Betty came to the mercantile without him.

"Where's Raw Head?" the owner asked as he accepted her basket
full of home-remedy potions. The liquid in the bottles swished
in an agitate manner as Old Betty said:
"I ain't seen him around today, and I'm mighty worried. You seen him here in town?"

"Nobody's seen him around today. They would've told me if they did,
" the mercantile owner said. "We'll keep a lookout fer you."

"That's mighty kind of you. If you see him, tell him to come home straightaway,
" Old Betty said. The mercantile owner nodded agreement as he handed over her weekly pay.

Old Betty fussed to herself all the way home.
It wasn't like Raw Head to disappear, especially not the day they went to town.
The man at the mercantile always saved the best scraps for the mean old razorback,
and Raw Head never missed a visit. When the old conjuring woman got home,
she mixed up a potion and poured it onto a flat plate.

"Where's that old hog got to?" she asked the liquid.
It clouded over and then a series of pictures formed.
First, Old Betty saw the good-for-nothing hunter that lived
on the next ridge sneaking around the forest, rounding up razorback hogs
that didn't belong to him. One of the hogs was Raw Head.
Then she saw him taking the hogs down to Hog-Scald Hollow,
where folks from the next town were slaughtering their razorbacks.
Then she saw her hog, Raw Head, slaughtered with the rest of the pigs
and hung up for gutting. The final picture in the liquid was
the pile of bloody bones that had once been her hog,
and his scraped-clean head lying with the other hogsheads in a pile.

Old Betty was infuriated by the death of her only friend.
It was murder to her, plain and simple.
Everyone in three counties knew that Raw Head was her friend,
and that lazy, hog-stealing, good-for-nothing hunter
on the ridge was going to pay for slaughtering him.

Now Old Betty tried to practice white conjuring most of the time,
but she knew the dark secrets too. She pulled out an old,
secret book her granny had given her and turned to the very last page.
She lit several candles and put them around the plate
containing the liquid picture of Raw Head and his bloody bones.
Then she began to chant:
"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

The light from the windows disappeared as if the sun had been snuffed out
like a candle. Dark clouds billowed into the clearing where
Old Betty's cabin stood, and the howl of dark spirits
could be heard in the wind that pummeled the treetops.

"Raw Head and Bloody Bones. Raw Head and Bloody Bones."

Betty continued the chant until a bolt of silver lightning
left the plate and streaked out threw the window,
heading in the direction of Hog-Scald Hollow.

When the silver light struck Raw Head's severed head,
which was piled on the hunter's wagon with the other hog heads,
it tumbled to the ground and rolled until it was touching the bloody bones
that had once inhabited its body. As the hunter's wagon rumbled away
toward the ridge where he lived, the enchanted Raw Head called out:
"Bloody bones, get up and dance!"

Immediately, the bloody bones reassembled themselves into the skeleton
of a razorback hog walking upright, as Raw Head had often done when he
was alone with Old Betty. The head hopped on top of his skeleton
and Raw Head went searching through the woods for weapons to use against the hunter.
He borrowed the sharp teeth of a dying panther,
the claws of a long-dead bear, and the tail from a rotting raccoon
and put them over his skinned head and bloody bones.

Then Raw Head headed up the track toward the ridge,
looking for the hunter who had slaughtered him.
Raw Head slipped passed the thief on the road and slid
into the barn where the hunter kept his horse and wagon.
Raw Head climbed up into the loft and waited for the hunter to come home.

It was dusk when the hunter drove into the barn and unhitched his horse.
The horse snorted in fear, sensing the presence of Raw Head in the loft.
Wondering what was disturbing his usually-calm horse,
the hunter looked around and saw a large pair of eyes staring
down at him from the darkness in the loft.

The hunter frowned, thinking it was one of the local kids fooling around in his barn.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big eyes fer?"
he snapped, thinking the kids were trying to scare him with some crazy mask.

"To see your grave," Raw Head rumbled very softly.
The hunter snorted irritably and put his horse into the stall.

"Very funny. Ha,ha," The hunter said.
When he came out of the stall, he saw Raw Head had crept forward a bit further.
Now his luminous yellow eyes and his bears claws could clearly be seen.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big claws fer?" he snapped. "You look ridiculous."

"To dig your grave…" Raw Head intoned softly,
his voice a deep rumble that raised the hairs on the back of the hunter's neck.
He stirred uneasily, not sure how the crazy kid in his loft
could have made such a scary sound. If it really was a crazy kid.

Feeling a little spooked, he hurried to the door and let himself out of the barn.
Raw Head slipped out of the loft and climbed down the side of the barn behind him.
With nary a rustle to reveal his presence, Raw Head raced through the trees
and up the path to a large, moonlight rock.
He hid in the shadow of the huge stone so that the only things showing
were his gleaming yellow eyes, his bear claws, and his raccoon tail.

When the hunter came level with the rock on the side of the path,
he gave a startled yelp. Staring at Raw Head, he gasped:
"You nearly knocked the heart right out of me, you crazy kid!
Land o' Goshen, what have you got that crazy tail fer?"

"To sweep your grave…" Raw Head boomed,
his enchanted voice echoing through the woods, getting louder and louder with each echo.
The hunter took to his heels and ran for his cabin.
He raced passed the old well-house, passed the wood pile,
over the rotting fence and into his yard.
But Raw Head was faster. When the hunter reached his porch,
Raw Head leapt from the shadows and loomed above him.
The hunter stared in terror up at Raw Head's gleaming yellow eyes
in the ugly razorback hogshead, his bloody bone skeleton
with its long bear claws, sweeping raccoon's tail and his gleaming sharp panther teeth.

"Land o' Goshen, what have you got those big teeth fer?"
he gasped desperately, stumbling backwards from the terrible figure before him.

"To eat you up, like you wanted to eat me!" Raw Head roared,
descending upon the good-for-nothing hunter.
The murdering thief gave one long scream in the moonlight.
Then there was silence, and the sound of crunching.

Nothing more was ever seen or heard of the lazy hunter
who lived on the ridge. His horse also disappeared that night.
But sometimes folks would see Raw Head roaming through the forest
in the company of his friend Old Betty.
And once a month, on the night of the full moon,
Raw Head would ride the hunter's horse through town,
wearing the old man's blue overalls over his bloody bones
with a hole cut-out for his raccoon tail.
In his bloody, bear-clawed hands, he carried his raw,
razorback hogshead, lifting it high against the full moon for everyone to see.
HOLIDAYS OF THE PACK 34q0fp0

ROFLMAO, THAT IS WONDERFUL!

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Number of posts : 455 Age : 56 Registration date : 2008-11-15

Cake anyone?

HOLIDAYS OF THE PACK Acakedecoratedforhalloween2

Number of posts : 64 Age : 59 Registration date : 2009-04-30

looking good so far
sending out love to one and all

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal,
in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started.
The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain.
At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy;
the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it.
There was a living air about the grieving angel,
as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren't careful.

It didn't take long for rumors to sweep through the town and surrounding countryside.
They said that the statue - nicknamed Black Aggie - was haunted by the spirit
of a mistreated wife who lay beneath her feet. The statue's eyes would glow red
at the stroke of midnight, and any living person who returned the statues gaze
would instantly be struck blind. Any pregnant woman who passed through her shadow
would miscarry. If you sat on her lap at night, the statue would come to life and crush
you to death in her dark embrace. If you spoke Black Aggie's name three times at midnight
in front of a dark mirror, the evil angel would appear and pull you down to hell.
They also said that spirits of the dead would rise from their graves on dark nights to gather around the statue at night.

People began visiting the cemetery just to see the statue,
and it was then that the local fraternity decided to make the statue of Grief
part of their initiation rites. "Black Aggie" sitting, where candidates for membership
had to spend the night crouched beneath the statue with their backs to the grave of General Agnus, became popular.

One dark night, two fraternity members accompanied new hopeful to the cemetery
and watched while he took his place underneath the creepy statue.
The clouds had obscured the moon that night, and the whole area surrounding
the dark statue was filled with a sense of anger and malice.
It felt as if a storm were brewing in that part of the cemetery,
and to their chagrin, the two fraternity members noticed that gray shadows
seemed to be clustering around the body of the frightened
fraternity candidate crouching in front of the statue.

What had been a funny initiation rite suddenly took on an air of danger.
One of the fraternity brothers stepped forward in alarm to call out to the initiate.
As he did, the statue above the boy stirred ominously.
The two fraternity brothers froze in shock as the shrouded head turned
toward the new candidate. They saw the gleam of glowing red eyes
beneath the concealing hood as the statue's arms reached out toward the cowering boy.

With shouts of alarm, the fraternity brothers leapt forward to rescue the new initiate.
But it was too late. The initiate gave one horrified yell,
and then his body disappeared into the embrace of the dark angel.
The fraternity brothers skidded to a halt as the statue thoughtfully rested
its glowing eyes upon them. With gasps of terror,
the boys fled from the cemetery before the statue could grab them too.

Hearing the screams, a night watchman hurried to the Agnus plot.
To his chagrin, he discovered the body of a young man lying at the foot of the statue.
The young man had apparently died of fright.

The disruption caused by the statue grew so acute that the Agnus family
finally donated it to the Smithsonian museum in Washington D.C..
The grieving angel sat for many years in storage there,
never again to plague the citizens visiting the Druid Hill Park Cemetery.

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