Randi

The Stranger

I was walkin'
down the road
when a Stranger passed me by;
Beat and bruised,
and crowned with thorns
with a pierced and bleeding side.

He walked that road for me...
He took my sins and set me free...
He walked that road for me...

Strangers pressing
in on Him,
surrounding on all sides.
Could this really
be the One:
the Savior from on high?

Some were crying,
some were cheering,
on the crowded streets.
"Father forgive them
for they know not
Who it is they beat!"

No grave nor death,
nor boulder large,
could keep Him down for long.
He is Jesus,
Son of God!
To Him I do belong!

Murraysville

"There IS no Murraysville in Tennessee! We looked everywhere!" -Randy
"Yes, thar is."
"Just out of curiosity, what was Jesus' mother's name?"
"Murray."

Pokerdots and Moonshine (rewritten to the tune of "Polkadots and Moonlight")

A country dance was being held in a garden
I felt a tap and heard a "Sir, would you like one?"
Suddenly I saw pokerdots and moonshine
all around a glass of wine

The music started and was I the perplexed one
I drained my glass and said "May I have a third one?"
In my starry eyes pokerdots and moonshine
all around that glass of wine

There were questions in the eyes of other dancers
as again I asked for one more
There were questions but my heart knew all the answers
it said per-haps just one more

Now here I join in with the poker and laughter
I hear the constant warning of "Please talk softer!"
Now too all my friends see pokerdots and moonshine
all around their glasses of wine

My country ranch was being sold at an auction
It seemed my troubles came all too often
But I know the cause - pokerdots and moonshine
made me lose this life of mine.

An Entry from my Journal: Trip to Argentina

Mwaha. My grandfather said that he wants me to take our dvd player, but I'm finding that my carry-on is a bit smaller than I reckoned with.
And darn. I forgot to eat breakfast. I get too excited and then don't eat... Or I subsist on salad... THAT'S been done before.
:-)

On the plane, I won't be sitting by Gabe; he's a few seats back.

He said something offensive a few minutes ago in a joking manner, and when I responded that I was happy that I didn't have to spend the next 12 hours sitting next to him on a plane, he said, "You're gonna WISH you were sitting next to me when some 300 pound guy sits next to you who reeks of body odor and won't stop hitting on you!" LOL

On looking for a pair of shorts for myself with Gabe trailing behind me in the store, we saw a mini skirt on the rack. He stopped, shocked, and said, "Oh look! A dust rag! People are paying money for those things?"
LOL

11:27pm. 7/18/07.
Passing through the Caribbean w/Cuba on the left and Belize on the right.

NOTE TO SELF: 12:11pm.
Push the bathroom door IN. Otherwise, you spend an eternity in the hallway in your pajamas looking like a fruitcake.

1:14am. 7/19/07.
Weee.... We're turning. I love planes!

1:15am. 7/19/07.
Frank Sinatra isn't nasal voiced, but he sounds kinda funky coming from the earphones of a guy two seats over...

1:24am. 7/19/07.
This is my third episode of House, and I love it.

2:03am. 7/19/07.
I hate planes.

8:12am. 7/19/07.
They're awesome during the day, though! You can see for miles.

8:42am. 7/19/07.
My watch says it's 6:42, but BA is two hours ahead. Going to be a gorgeous day. After all, they're serving fruit and COFFEE.

8:45am. 7/19/07.
I looked in the mirror and scared myself silly. Looked like a raccoon.

8:49am. 7/19/07.
Country music! You get your own tv and earphones and remote, and the tv has different shows you can watch, as well as audio, where you can listen to different stations. Nice. I'm listening to the Country music station right now and I believe it's Garth Brooks...
Nearing BA.
There is absolutely no where to put one's head on a 12 hour plane flight in very uncomfortable straight-backed, over-stuffed, overly-crowded seats. Gr. And gosh, my body says it would just now be adjusting to life, as I'd be drinking coffee and reading my Bible about now. lol

8:56pm. 7/19/07.
I hate Gretchen Wilson.

12:26pm. 7/19/07.
Our bus leaves for La Cumbre (from here in BA) at 10pm. We got ten hours to waste here! Gr.
The people are all interesting, and I think they're mostly nice. They've been quite helpful. Though.. they can't seem to GET the fact that I don't SPEAK SPANISH. Can you read the words that are comin' outa my mouth?! No Hablo Espanole!
This guy just came up and started asking me in Spanish some question about a building he was looking for or something... All I could do is smile and shake my head. And tell him I didn't speak Spanish. But we've already established how well THAT works!
Gabe is trying to figure out how long it will take to get to Le Cumbre, but we can't get a hold of our friend Esteban.

INTERNET SPOTTED.

2:52pm. 7/19/07.
Argentinians don't worry about matching, apparel-wise, and it's really ticking me off.
I think I'm doing pretty well, considering the fact that I got 2 hours of sleep last night!
Interesting. There was a huge group of people gathered on one side of the park as we passed, and upon closer inspection, we discovered that they were dancing and singing "Allelujah" over and over again. Quite a few of them had guitars and they were all in a huge circle, singing a Spanish worship song. So cool!

"Good morning, beautiful..." just came on the cd player. I love that song! If I close my eyes, it's like a peaceful refuge from the largest city in Argentina... Sigh.

6:57pm. 7/19/07.
Gabe and I got cold sitting outside in the park, so we went and got a cup of hot coffee. Yay! Cafe con leche. (Coffee with milk) However, I played my fiddle at the park for lots of people before we left and they took pics with their phones and stuff. My style is so different from theirs that I'm not sure if they liked it or just thought it was cool because it WAS different.
Now I can say I've played in BA!
Since Mr. Gabe and I have had so much time on our hands, we've fashion-watched.
Younger guys don't "do" hats. Though I did see one with a hat like Aaron's and did a double-take. Hats down here are for geesers. And guys like the classy-casual style: jean jackets, button-up shirts, designer jeans, and nice shoes. Except that they don't usually fix their hair or button their shirts or roll their jeans up so they don't get holes in them, so I call it the sloppy-casual look. Heh.
Girls like stripes; jeans that make you wonder how they got them on (possibly spray-paint?); rolled cuffs; high heels with jeans; faded clothing. They don't usually fix their hair either, just like the guys. Also, girls like leg wraps, kind of like polo wraps for horses! LOL And trench coats. Heeh.

I'm reading Mrs. Pollifax and the Lion Killer. I like this one.

What I like about this interesting culture is that they actually start milling around and running errands about at about 7 in the evening and are up 'til really late. Best part? They sleep late too. Everyone does!
(And I'm cheering them on.)

10:49pm. 7/19/07.
Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition! I mean, praise the Lord, we finally have a good bus and comfy seats!! YAY!!
Goodnight!

"Old ladies are the same the world over: sweet and incompetent!" -Gabe

8:54am. 7/20/07.
I don't get motion sickness easily, but GOSH this bus is making me miserable. If I ignore how I feel though, the country is very gorgeous! Cold, but golden brown with fallen leaves, and strangely enough, lots of evergreens.
The few houses we're passing are very European.

8:58am. 7/20/07.
We're in the mountains! Rather, on the edge of the mountains where snow perpetually exists. It's getting colder.

10:22am. 7/20/07.
Destination finally reached! Boy, is it cold here or WHAT! And I forgot my jacket jacket. I mean, I brought a jacket, but not a good one.
Uh, something else I forgot: in greeting, everyone kisses everyone's cheek. Which means I've got to kiss guy's cheeks and stuff, and that's just a bit of a qualm with me.

Besides that, the guys are so gentlemanly, I almost don't know what to do! They carry your bags, open doors, say ma'am, (in Spanish), wow!
LOL

FUNNY QUOTE: "Argentinian germs are very dangerous. I think we should make it a 3 second rule."
Gabe, when I dropped a cashew on the hotel floor.

Fiddle Camp Performance

As the audience sits forward in their uncomfortable seats, really looking to avoid pain, but appearing to be waiting impatiently for the show to start, Randy Elmore and Wes Westmoreland, III walk out in all their splendor of jeans, tennis shoes, and button up the front beach shirts.An elderly man in the row in front of us leans over to his wife and whispers:
"They HAD money, but they spent it all on clothes."

Would You Like to Play the Guitar?

Would you like to play the guitar?
Carry money home in a jar
From a coffeehouse or a bar,
Or would you rather get a job?


A job is the thing that makes you get out of bed
And work every day until you're dead.
Your back is achin' and your brain is numb
And you just can't wait until the weekend comes.
But if you don't want to starve or beg or rob
You're gonna have to get a job


Or would you like to play the guitar?
Drive for miles and miles in your car
And pretend that you're a big star?
Or would you rather book the gig?


The agent's the guy who takes his twenty percent.
What he says isn't always what he meant.
He'll clean you out in ways you never thought
Because he's good at business and he knows you're not.
And then he'll sue if you ever make it big
Cause he's the guy who booked the gig.


Or would you like to play the guitar
For a living ~ hardee-har-har!
I'll admit it's kind of bizarre.
Or would you rather be the wife?


The wife is the one who has to rescue our butts.
She's either a saint or else she's nuts.
She gets impatient and she gets annoyed
Cause she's the one who must remain employed.
And by the way if you want to wreck your life
Become a gittar player's wife


Cause all the monkeys aren't in the zoo.
They can be trained to play guitar too.
Some do a whole lot better than you.
But even if you don't go far
You could be worse off than you are.
At least you're playing your guitar.