Long Hollow

Ten Years Ago...

He noticed it when he used the rowing machine at the gym where he worked. A consistent pain or pressure that would start up after a few minutes and go away when he stopped rowing. Perhaps a pulled muscle? He was in the middle of building our new home, after all, and stretching and working those muscles to their limit.

But when the pain popped up again while working on the car one April morning ten years ago, he decided he should have it looked into. He'd read enough about heart attacks to hear that tiny warning voice whispering in his ear.

Our doctor's office said don't bother coming in, call an ambulance and get to the hospital right away.

We didn't call an ambulance. By then the pain had gone away, so we took time to shower and eat lunch before heading out the door. We had enough experience with hospitals to know we'd be there awhile. 

After hours and hours and test after test - he passed the stress test with flying colors - they declared his heart fine and sent us home. But come see me in two weeks, the cardiologist told him.

He did, and he told her how he could get that feeling back in his chest after just so many minutes on that rowing machine even though running on the treadmill did nothing.

So she scheduled an arteriogram which revealed an artery in the circumflex was 95% blocked, in a spot that doesn't show up on EKGs and stress tests. 

They popped in a stent and two days later he was back at work.

Thank you, God, for good cardiologists and modern medicine and stubborn husbands who listen to their bodies and aren't afraid to speak up.

Thank you, God, for these past ten years with my sweet husband. I pray we have at least ten more, but just in case, I'll try my best not to take a single one of them for granted.

Happy Anniversary, Tom!! Thank you for taking care of yourself!

 

"Lullaby" (Dixie Chicks)

They didn't have you where I come from
Never knew the best was yet to come
Life began when I saw your face
And I hear your laugh like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

I slip in bed when you're asleep
To hold you close and feel your breath on me
Tomorrow there'll be so much to do
So tonight I'll drift in a dream with you

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

As you wander through this troubled world
In search of all things beautiful
You can close your eyes when you're miles away
And hear my voice like a serenade

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough, is forever enough
How long do you want to be loved
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up
Is forever enough
Cause I'm never, never giving you up

 

Flowers for Leontien (and other Sweet!s)

June 3 will mark the 4th anniversary of my first blog post.

I started blogging because, as I write in my "About" section up above...

"Diaries, letters, and scrapbooks became journals, writing classes and essays became Long Hollow (and a few fictional works in progress...) 

But come to find out, what started as an outlet for my journaling and writing needs also satisfied this desire inside of me to connect with people. I was the kind of kid who wrote letters to everyone I knew and wanted tons of pen pals all around the world.

Blogging has given that to me.

Through my blogs... this one and my photography blog... I've met people I probably would never have connected with otherwise.

Just to name a few, there's the  Methodist minister in South Africa. The anesthesiologist/playwright in California. And the transplanted Wisconsonian photographer/artist/animal lover living near Dallas named TexWis Girl.

Earlier this week, I received an email from TexWisGirl letting me know about a surprise blog event called Flowers for Leontien, scheduled for today at 8 am, in honor of fellow blogger, Leontien Vandelaar of Four Leaf Clover Dairy.

I actually don't know Leontien, but she is battling cancer, and other bloggers who do know her felt our support and participation in this event would show her that her blogging community is there for her -- by posting a flower photo with {{hugs}} as the message to Leontien on our blogs today and linking to the "Flowers for Leontien" post on A Rural Journal.

By coordinating our posts, TexWisGirl and others hope to demonstrate how much the blogging community cares for Leontien and is thinking of her at this difficult time. A big beautiful virtual bouquet delivered right to her computer.

As I said, I don't know Leontien, but it moves me that these other bloggers are doing what they can to support their friend, and reaching out to others to gather as much support as possible.

So Leontien, this Texas flower is for you with lots of {{hugs}}. 

I'll keep you in my prayers, for strength and peace and healing. I'm grateful for this blogging community that connected us.

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What a coincidence that the BlogHer Life Well Lived question this week is: How does blogging, journaling, writing and connecting online help to increase your happiness?

I think I just answered that question.

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And now for a few other Sweet!s of my week.. 

Sunday: talking to all three kids in the same day; your mom calling to make sure you're okay; a call from your husband

Monday:a butterfly landing on your shoe; progress on your book for the first time in a few weeks; a blog friend using your photo in his post 

Tuesday: dinner with 2/3 of your kids; payday for one of your jobs; veggie omelettes; a porch swing at night, with a view of the crescent moon

Wednesday: free home grown onions sitting in a basket at your veterinary clinic when you go to pick up your expensive dog food; fortune cookies that tell you what you want to hear; your mom calling to check on you; more progress on your book

Thursday: your sister thinking of you when she sees an exciting photography opportunity; finally getting your Easter decorations put away; editing photos on a new, fast computer; making arrangments for a fun summer vacation at the beach with family

Friday: being back in high school and not caring if anyone likes you; a hug from a friend, via her little girl; goofy dogs; salmon colored sunsets

Saturday: joining other bloggers to offer support and prayers to a fellow blogger

Share your Sweet!s with me! I love to hear them! I hope your next week is full to the brim with them!

...Toss your hat into the latest BlogHer Life Well Lived Sweepstakes for a chance to win an iPod Touch and a $50 iTunes gift certificate to go with it. Go to the Live Well Lived main page to see the other answers and add your own to the comments.

For proper disclosure...

Catching My Breath (and other Sweet!s)

I haven't blogged in a whole week. I think that's a record. 

Snippets and ideas for posts have popped in my head - random words are scribbled on scraps of paper all over the house and in the car - but I haven't been able to stop long enough to work them into full posts.

This morning Life is moving slower and I'm hoping today I can focus my attention on those poor, neglected Good Intentions and Need-To-Do's I see moping in a dusty corner.

It's been a fun week, though. No exotic vacations or anything, but just Life and all of the challenges and adventures and love it provides. There have been beautiful spring days that turned into powerful thunderstorms with blustery winds and cold temperatures... which meant stinky country dogs cowering in the laundry room... but we're back to Spring and warmth and outside dogs now.

While I'm grateful for the rain, I'm not so grateful for the mosquitoes it awakened. They buzzed and bit me every step of my walk this morning. You can be sure I'll thoroughly douse myself with repellent every morning from now on.

Yesterday, TG fixed me breakfast... a delicious sauteed veggies/scrambled eggs concoction she prepared every morning over Christmas break that set my stomach growling with its divine smell. But it was always several hours after I'd already eaten.

I'm too lazy to go to that much trouble myself first thing in the morning, but yesterday I slept late after a sleep-deprived weekend and she woke up early to prepare for a Spring Break trip to the coast... which means we woke up at the same exact time! So when I saw the eggs and veggies coming out of the fridge, I worked out a deal with her involving laundry.

One of the best deals I've ever made! It turned out to be just as delicious as it smelled, and sustaining enough for a day on the run that included seeing her disappear into one of five chartered buses for an overnight drive (and praying the whole way home for their safety!)

Sunday morning I met a blog friend for the first time in person. Non-bloggers (or non-FlickRers, etc.) probably don't understand how exciting that is.  They might have trouble understanding how you can become friends with total strangers you connect to online but have never seen face-to-face, but I can assure you those friendships are just as real as any other. 

Wolf, of Just Add Father, was in town for a dad blogger conference. He delayed his flight home to meet me, Tom, and 2/3 of my kids for brunch downtown at the Driskill Hotel's 1886 Cafe and Bakery. It was just like meeting a long-time friend I hadn't seen in a while. 

Wolf is a pseudonym (he explains why he uses one on his blog) so we had some fun taking this photo below. I wanted one I could post here. (I'm sure the people sitting at nearby tables were wondering what the heck we were doing!) 

We chatted awhile on the sidewalk after eating, but knew it was time to part ways when my kids (ages 20 and 23!) got restless and started roughhousing on the sidewalk. 

Some things never change!

Actually, we needed to leave anyway because Wolf wanted to walk around and see the Austin sights before heading for the airport, and we wanted to get back to the house to visit with my oldest and his fiance before they had to leave.

They were in town for a wedding. After the reception on Saturday night, they brought friends back to the house with them and all of us were up really, really late visiting and laughing. I always enjoy seeing those grown-up kids, even though it makes me feel old, wondering how these kids who I swear were in middle school yesterday are now out of college, working, married...

Totally worth getting only 4 hours of sleep.

No, really it was.

<yawn>

Anyway, Sunday afternoon I grilled chicken and enjoyed a quick dinner with them, before dashing off (late!) to my writer's group meeting.

Even after all this time, my book is still a misshapen piece of clay. Writing is so dang hard. But with these women's input and guidance, it's beginning to take shape, although it still needs lots and lots of pinching, molding, scoring...

It's tough - even painful - but I'm grateful to them and willing to do whatever work is necessary to have a finished piece by the end of the year.  

Saturday I took a short road trip along Highway 281 to San Antonio. A friend of mine hosted a Silpada jewelry party for me.

Highway 281 runs through the Texas hill country and several small towns... a beautiful drive, even on a rainy day like Saturday. I spotted my first bluebonnets, splashes of blue drizzled along the roadside. I promised myself I'd drive out this week on a sunny day and take some photos.

Jewelry parties are always fun, what with the food and drinks, the sparkly silver bling, and meeting lots of interesting women, but this one was especially fun because Jackie and I went to high school together, but didn't really know each other until just recently. We reconnected thanks to Facebook and discovered we didn't live that far from each other.

Here we are with another high school friend, Marilyn, who came to the party. She lives even closer to Jackie but they didn't even realize it until recently.

And here I am with one of my dearest friends, Nancy, the first person I met when we moved to Lago. She now lives near San Antonio, so she and her daughter took advantage of the situation and came to the party, too. 

You just can't beat reconnecting with friends, playing with pretty jewelry, and making money at the same time, can you?

The rest of the week was a blur of writing, reading, subbing at the high school, trying to catch up on emails, and watching the Hollow explode in greens, blue, yellows, pinks, and purples. I'm hoping not to get lost in the busy-ness of this week.

I do want to mention Tuesday, though. I spent the day swim suit shopping with TG in preparation for this trip to the coast. There's always more under the surface than shopping, though... there's talking, laughing, sharing, and just soaking up the sight of her.

In one store, going through a clearance rack, I came across the perfect shirt to describe the way I feel...

We took turns trying it on and snapping pics with my iPhone, but in the end, I just went ahead and bought it. How could I not? It was cheap and fit perfectly, in so many ways!

And now for the official Sweet! report:

Monday: time to be still and breathe, sitting on a rock beside a pond, listening to running water and chattering birds, watching silly dogs and flirting dragonflies

Tuesday: hours spent with your daughter... shopping, talking, laughing; finding a really good fortune in your Panda Express cookie

Wednesday: porch swings; flowers and tree buds popping out everywhere

Thursday: finishing a great book; high school one-act plays

Friday: rainy days when a drought is fresh in your memory; some of your kids home for the weekend

Saturday: clouds sitting on hilltops; roadsides sprinkled with bluebonnets; a job that lets you catch up with 'old' friends and meet new ones; sangria; staying up late visiting with your kids and their friends, who used to be kids but somehow turned into adults; the birth of a great-nephew and photos on Facebook

Sunday: meeting a blog friend in person for the first time; brunch and people-watching at the Driskill Cafe; an afternoon with your son and future daughter-in-law; a writing group that keeps your ego in check

Monday: sleeping in after a sleep-deprived, busy, busy weekend; spending time with your baby girl 

Wishing each of you a week full of sweet moments!

Beauty in the Midst

Last week I helped celebrate my cousin Ronnie's life. 

Looking through the photos afterward, Claire Bidwell Smith's words kept coming back to me...

"Even in the midst of all this pain and sadness I see something beautiful."

 

I snapped this one of Ronnie's sister Cindy surrounded by her daughters, grandkids, and great-granddaughter because of the palpable feeling of support they gave her, as well as the sweet hug and kiss of comfort from a grandson to his grandma. I had never even met some of these generations before, my own cousins once or twice or three times removed.

 

I had to capture this smile on my mother's face as she met her great-great niece, Khloie, and the proud smile on Khloie's grandma's face.

 

Representatives of the Veterans of Foreign Wars paid tribute to Ronnie's military service with a few words at the graveside ceremony. 

The man in overalls on the far left was Ronnie's neighbor, a good friend who drove Ronnie to and from his many doctor visits. 

 

 

 

Charles and Howard are brothers, my cousins. 

I had good visits with both of them on this day. 

I can't remember the last time I saw either one of them. Perhaps it was at a funeral.  It makes me sad to think the next time I see them will probably be at another funeral.

 

 

Martha and my mom's friendship goes all the way back to junior high. Martha's sweet face always appears in those times when Mama needs support, reminding me of my own longtime friends. (I wonder what they talk about when I'm not around?) 

 

Tex-Mex for lunch afterwards with my parents and sister, Brenda. 

Mama and Daddy aren't often this dressed up. I used this opportunity for a photo shoot. Daddy made me work for it, though.

"Well, that's okay, but Daddy, this time remember to look down just a little so the flash doesn't bounce off of your glasses. And smile!"

 

"Hmmm... better, but Daddy this time don't take a bite of food before I take the picture and really smile! You know I'll keep taking them until you do what I tell you."

 

 "That's it! Perfect!" (He knew I meant it!)

Fiction, Fires, Family... and other sweet things

Bonfire sparks drifted up to the sky where clouds parted like curtains and stars crowded the stage, accompanied by the singing creek beside us. No moon softened the darkness - the pitch wall of night rose just beyond the reach of the firelight. 

There was a time not too long ago when I would have feared the darkness, imagining all sorts of danger lurking where my eyes couldn't see. But last night I hugged my jacket around me, craned my neck up to stare at the stars and felt nothing but awe at the beauty of the night and amazement that I ever felt fear standing in its darkness.

I had spent the past day and a half immersed in the world of children's books, listening to authors, agents and editors sharing their stories and experience, offering advice and encouragement to those of us still only dreaming of publication.

Standing there watching the stars break through the clouds, hearing the sizzle and pop of the fire, the trickle of the creek, the frogs singing in the distance... it all just added to the impression that this is a magical world where dreams can come true...

...Especially the small ones like sleeping in for the first time in weeks and meeting my cousin Pat for lunch after two years of trying to match our schedules (which is just ridiculous because she only lives an hour away!)

Pat's a genealogy addict like me, except she's still actively researching. I've had to put myself on a 12-step-program, otherwise I'd get nothing else accomplished!

A few years ago we spent a Saturday tracking down family cemeteries and visiting the Bell County Museum, where we discovered a photo of 'the oldest house in Bell County' hanging on the wall. 

According to writing on the photo, it was built by one of our ancestors. She sent off for a copy of it and today presented me with a framed canvas copy, along with copies of other family mementoes and letters she knew I'd treasure. 

 

 

Well, she's the true treasure! But I was enjoying our time together so much, I completely forgot about getting a photo of us together as I'd planned.

Next time... and by golly, we won't wait another two years for it.

"Our most treasured family heirlooms are our sweet family memories."

~ Unknown

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And now, here are a few Sweet! moments from the past week I remembered to record...

Monday: puppies, stretched out warm and cozy in the laundry room on a rainy, cold morning; making Valentine cyclops cookies with your Valentine

Tuesday: sharing Valentine cookies with your middle son and heart-shaped chocolates with your daughter; a "Happy Valentine's Day, Mom" call from your oldest; searching for fossilized hearts with your sweetie beside a lake, followed by dinner by candlelight and a funny, romantic movie 

Wednesday: a chicken quesadilla for lunch, shared with your honey who decided to take the day off; a little bird outside the window posing for your camera; a job that lets you eat pizza, play with jewelry, sip wine, and catch up with friends while you 'work'

 

 

Thursday: a rare day spent totally at home; a puppy's face in the window reminding you to take a break from the computer

Friday: the sound of raindrops on your umbrella; familiar faces in a roomful of strangers

Saturday: the rain stopping just as you leave the house; a day spent listening and learning from authors, agents and editors; watching the clouds give way to stars; bonfires on a crisp night 

Sunday: late Mass so you can sleep in a bit; a glimpse of a huge red-tailed hawk flying past; a long-overdue lunch with a dear cousin/friend

Hoping you had a week full of sweet!s and are blessed with even more in the week to come! (Share some of yours here!)

"Girl...We SO Crazy" (a Diva weekend in Long Hollow)

 

This tiny naked baby, arms opened wide for a hug, sits on my kitchen window sill, a sweet reminder that just two weeks ago my kitchen was overflowing in love and friendship and hugs from women who have known me almost forever.

 

 

 

The baby came hidden in an authentic King Cake, carted all the way from Louisiana (along with some genuine boudin sausages) by my friend Sandy.

I'm not sure who found the baby in their piece of cake, but I love that they plopped him down where I would spot him and be reminded of them every day.

The Diva weekend started on a Friday night, two weeks ago tomorrow, when half of the women braved my dirt road in the dark of night just to get together with friends they've known since high school. 

The rest rolled in on Saturday.

The beauty of these get-togethers, though, is that we weren't all friends in high school. It took a few decades, but we're grabbing this chance to connect in ways that are impossible when you're a teenager. 

I didn't start snapping photos until Saturday morning, though, when some of us ventured out on a walk to wake up my husband who had escaped to his tent across the creek soon after grilling us a delicious fajita dinner the night before.

 

 

What a sweetheart! 

We thought about jumping in on him, then realized he might be as naked as that King Cake baby, so we just talked to him through the canvas, instead. 

 

Look! I wasn't the only one swinging a big camera that weekend! 

Love this one of Rae and Max, just chillin' by the creek...

Max and Belle love Rae - she always brings them treats. 

This time she brought puppy Valentines, of course...

After a morning spent hanging out on the porch talking and eating more fajitas, we piled into SUVs and headed to Flat Creek Estate for a wine tasting and tour. 

It was fun being a customer for a change!

We even talked Chef Sean into posing for a photo...

Back at the house, we continued the celebration of our friendship with tons of food, including the King Cake below...

...and a toast (I knew that one day all of those souvenir shot glasses I collected would come in handy!)

And that's why I feel this photo says it all...

I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy. Let’s face it: Friends make life a lot more fun.

~ Charles R. Swindoll

Kids, Jewelry, Birthdays, Weddings and other (belated) Sweet!s

A rumble of thunder and whisper of rain woke me in the night. It continues today, another steady, soaking rain falling from a colorless sky. We've had enough rain in the past few weeks that I almost take it for granted, despite the months of drought.

Almost, but not quite. Waking to the sound of rain is still a sweet sound, especially when I can roll over, snuggle deeper into my covers, and go back to sleep.

I would also almost start complaining about the soggy weather... the mud that gets tracked in, the slippery roads... despite those months of drought, but in between our frequent rainy days, we've had warm days with crisp blue skies (Saturday) and cool days with skies of rainless clouds (yesterday.)

I love it when things balance out that way! Very sweet!

Yes, I realize I'm running late with this post. I've been keeping up with my sweet!s this week... but my photos, not so much.

Well, I've been taking plenty, but all of them from the past week were still stashed on my camera until last night. I didn't have a chance until now to tidy my sweet! list and glance through my photos - it was one of those on-the-run weekends that I love, but that leave me breathless!

First, Daniel came home for a visit this weekend. His face is always a sweet sight, but I hadn't seen him since last year, when he moved out to his own place just after Christmas!

So you can imagine how happy I was to see him!

We spent Friday evening talking and watching a movie, just hanging out and relaxing. I was hosting my own Silpada jewelry party (one of my other "hats") the next afternoon, but thought I would have plenty of time Saturday morning to get everything done.

But after letting myself sleep in and then mentally comparing what I had left to do with how much time I had in which to do it, I realized I was wrong!

My kids were lifesavers, though, bless them... they pitched in and helped me pack up the last of our Christmas decorations away, tidy up the house in preparation and followed whatever other orders I barked at them. Such sweet kids!

Consequently, it was a relaxed open house. And what a great way to spend a Saturday afternoon... sitting around a table, sipping wine, munching on yummy snacks, talking to friends and looking at beautiful jewelry!

Tom and I headed out right after the party to help my dear friend Darla celebrate her birthday at Z'Tejas. (It was my first time there, and oh my gosh, it was soooo good! Great twists on traditional Tex Mex... I got the Wild Mushroom Enchiladas.)

(Again, my kids were lifesavers... they helped clean up from the party for me! I just hope Daniel will come home again some day... I don't think he was counting on all the extra chores!) 

Just getting together with these longtime friends from high school is a sweet way to spend a Saturday night, but we were joined by a face none of us had seen since graduation day. We reconnected with Wayne via Facebook and discovered he'd been living in the Austin area for the past fifteen years or so, too. We've probably passed him on the highway a zillion times...

After church Sunday morning, I met my future daughter-in-law in town for another day of wedding venue sightseeing. There are so many possibilities, it's mind-boggling! I'm glad I'm just a tag along and not the one having to make the decision!

I can have fun snapping photos...

And now for my belated list of Sweet! moments from the past week...

Monday: walking at sunrise; checking out wedding venues with your son, his future bride and her family (photos HERE and HERE); one of your blog posts listed on Pioneer Woman's sidebar links

Tuesday: frost sparkling in the caliche road like tiny diamonds; working on your book for hours, even if it doesn't feel like you made much progress

Wednesday: almost getting caught up on your email; a friend pinning a link to your blog on Pinterest; not burning the chicken legs on the grill even though you were distracted with writing; catching a movie with friends; extra-sweet... the movie starred George Clooney and was set in Hawaii ("The Descendants")

Thursday: the excitement and joy of puppies on a morning walk; words flowing onto the page without effort, for a change; a phone call from your sister; your kids helping you take down the Christmas decorations

Friday: fresh morning sunlight; bumping into a friend at the grocery store; the Epiphany; photos of your husband's aunt ziplining in Costa Rica in honor of her 74th birthday!; the sight of your middle son for the first time in two weeks

Saturday: your kids pitching in to get your house ready for your jewelry party; finding out one of your photos was chosen for FlickR's Explore; friends gathered around your table, chatting; a friend putting in an order for jewelry even though she sells it herself, just in hopes you have a good party; celebrating a dear friend's birthday and reconnecting with a friend from long ago

Sunday: kneeling and praying next to your sweetie in church; checking out more wedding venues with your future daughter-in-law; hearing from your oldest, letting you know he made it safely to Arizona for a business trip

(Monday: I didn't plan to add Monday on here, but first thing this morning, I received a message from a friend I've been praying for that he's met 'someone'. It made me smile, inside and out, so I had to add it here.)

I hope you had tons of sweet moments this past week, too. I confess, there are days when I have to think really hard to find one, but I always manage to... and often it triggers recollection of a few more. If you haven't tried it yet, I encourage you to!

 

26 Sweets (and then some)

 

I was 26.

I had felt the life inside of me, kicking my ribs, pressing on my bladder. Had heard the amplified swoosh swoosh of the heartbeat in the doctor's office. Had spent all night and most of the morning gritting my teeth and breathing heh-heh-heh through the waves of pain.

And then, there you were. My baby boy. 

They wrapped you in blue blankets, covered your head to keep it warm, and placed you in my nervous arms. 

I'd never held a baby this small before. Never even changed a diaper. How could I be a mother? What if I hurt you? The feeling swelled up from deep inside... I would die if anything happened to you. The strength of that thought overwhelmed me. The truth of it rang in my heart, through my bones and every pore of my body.

Your tiny face, so close to mine. Eyes tinted blue, bottomless pools that gazed into mine, full of all the wisdom of the world. I fell into those eyes, felt the miracle and mystery of life, all God-doubts forgotten. I was forever changed. 

Happy 26th birthday, Tommy! Meeting you and watching you grow into the man you've become has been one of the sweetest adventures of my life! 

And now for a few sweet moments from the past week...

Sunday: weddings and cake balls; a clear night sky full of stars; the glow of porch light when you get home late at night

Monday: warm jackets on frosty autumn mornings; working at home so you can take drum-playing breaks

Tuesday: your old puppy well enough, not only just to walk, but to run a little and play with his little sister; a church busy with helping hands

Wednesday: a fire in the woodburning stove on a cold morning; a few seconds in a clearing in the woods, just breathing; witnessing the Holy Spirit at work; news that your father-in-law is better and out of the hospital

Thursday: a card in the mail from a friend, just because it made her think of you; editing photos on your son's faster computer and larger monitor

Friday: sitting on the back porch, sipping coffee, watching waves of misty rain parade past; good news on a friend's major surgery; singing happy birthday to your son and thinking of all of the other birthdays gone by; a house full of twenty-somethings

Saturday: a house full of twenty-somethings; chatting with your oldest on the morning of his 26th birthday, wishing him happy birthday face-to-face

Hope you all have had a week full of sweet! moments, too!

And Tommy, I'm hoping 26 is as sweet for you as it was for me!

 

Returning to Me

With the birth of my first child, my ego, dreams, and most other aspects of Me as I knew Me sloughed off like a snake skin, forgotten. I was a Mother now! That tiny little being depended on me and by golly, that's all that mattered.

Within a few years, I had two more little beings depending on me. Throughout my thirties and most of my forties, I was just Mom. Busy, practical and unselfish.

Oh, I toyed with my old dreams. Took a few classes at the community college. Had some essays published. Met my girlfriends for dinner and a movie every once in a while. Worked some part-time jobs.

For years I held onto enough ego to battle my body over the same 15 pounds, but when semi-daily walks with my dogs, periodic lifting of light weights and eating healthy-ish didn't make a difference, I finally gave up and accepted my body as it was.

I was way too mature and sensible to care that the varicose veins on my right leg were so bad a new friend asked if I'd been in a car wreck, thinking they were horrible scars. I cringed a bit myself when I looked at them, but I hated to be so vain and selfish as to undergo the pain and expense of surgery. There were so many other things we needed.

Then my oldest son left for college.

Oh, my heart ached! For days I would suddenly burst into tears over the pain; it hurt so badly! One day I realized my tears weren't falling just because I missed my son; that's what triggered them, but my tears fell because I could suddenly feel Life, as I knew it, changing. Soon, my two youngest would follow their big brother out of the nest.

I would always be a mother, but I knew the end of my days as Mom was just a few years away. It made me feel...old. And I wondered, if I'm not Mom anymore, what will I be? Who will I be?

Some might call what happened next a case of the MidLife Crazies. I just call it Returning to Me.

You can be anything you want to be. I had told my kids that over and over because I believed it, and now was my chance to act on it. I would be Me. The best Me possible, for as long as possible. I wasn't ready to be old.

I took bits from each of my previous selves: the spoiled youngest child, the tomboy, the homecoming queen, the scholar, the thinker, the independent woman, the dancer, the newlywed, the mother, the daughter, friend, the volunteer, the writer, the photographer, and even, thanks to my husband, the wanna-be drummer.

Dusting off my dreams, I signed up for college classes, one per semester. Over the next few years, I started a blog and began teaching myself digital photography. I wrote a screenplay, polished up one book, and started another.

I reconnected with friends, other women who were going through the same changes I was experiencing, including friends I'd known since childhood, before any of us were wives or mothers. They helped me rediscover the Me I was back then.

I made my own health a priority, scheduling time every day for a workout. I began running again for the first time in years. Part of my motivation was ego, I admit, but I knew others still depended on me; I needed to be in the best shape possible so I could take care of them. Heart disease runs in my family. I wanted to be a good example to my kids, who carry the same genes.

My hair was thinning at an alarming rate, so I educated myself about nutrition and made huge changes in my diet. It didn't have any affect on my hair, but between those changes and my stepped-up physical work-outs, I finally dropped those 15 pounds I'd given up on. What a great surprise!

With my ego fully out of the closet, I treated myself to varicose vein surgery for my 47th birthday, deciding I was too young to wear nothing but ankle-length dresses the rest of my life.

All of these changes acted as defensive armor just in the nick of time, preparing me for the assault of menopause. I've experienced a few hot flashes, but not the mood swings, weight gain, severe sweats, or disrupted sleep some of my friends complain about.

My kids have all flown the nest now; but instead of crying, I feel like I'm flying with them.

The people at Pfizer are interested in helping all of us find our wings and keep flying through these strange, trying, wonderful midlife years and hope to accomplish that through their "Return to You" program, a program aimed at helping women return to their best selves.

Have YOU had a Return to You moment? Please share it with me in the comments; I'd love to hear your story!

Visit the Pfizer Return to You page on BlogHer.com for more blogger stories and prepare to be inspired!

"It was the thing to do..." (Thank you, Veterans!)

"Lord, if your people need me, I will not refuse the work. Your will be done."

~St. Martin of Tours

 

 

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect.

When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

 

 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan.

Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. 

A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

 

Pop, my wonderful father-in-law, missed out on World War II, but joined the Air Force in time for the Korean War. He worked base supply in Okinawa, supporting bombers flying missions to Korea...about 100 aircraft every day.

He re-enlisted, got married, and hopped around the globe...living in England, Germany, and over a year in Pakistan, separated from his family (the other heroes - Mom had 8 teenage and younger boys to deal with by herself!)...visiting a dozen other countries...eventually staying put for awhile in Maryland, working with NSA (and a second job at the bowling alley to make ends meet), until his retirement.

A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

 

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries!

He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska.

Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard...and even marrying other service members!

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list.

That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many, they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like the sad incident at Ft. Hood a few years ago.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Uncle Howard, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans, past and present, out there! Because of you, we're free to go about our daily lives, without a thought in the world to how much that freedom costs.

But let's hope we do remember the price, as well as those who, through their actions, say "Don't worry. I got this."

(If this sounds familiar, it's a re-post from last year and the year before, with just a few tweeks.)

 

As if I were beside you...

…Grieve not,

   nor speak of me with tears,

but laugh and talk of me

   as if I were beside you…

I loved you so –

   ‘twas Heaven here with you.

                                         ~Isla Paschal Richardson

 

In the last couple of weeks, several of my friends have had to say goodbye to their beloved pets. Enough that it seems off-balance, somehow... sort of extreme, like the recent weather patterns. An oddity of nature.

But then, most of them are older pets, treasured members of their families.  Perhaps it's just this age we've reached ourselves; puppies and kittens we gave into for our young kids have grown up beside them, gradually become more ours than our children's, and are reaching old age before us.

It's tough watching them grow old. Yet while we don't want to see them in pain, we don't want to let go and say goodbye, either.

When Jake, our old Black Lab, died years ago at 15, our vet sent us a card with the Richardson poem, above, printed inside. Reading it the first time was like having Jake speak to me - I knew it was exactly what he would tell us.

Of course it makes me cry even now when I read it, thinking of Jake, his "sister" Maggie, my precious kitty Char, sweet Chewy and Charly, little Frankie bird... there are so many impressions on my heart made by "God's Little People" (a term used by a blogger friend who rescues stray cats in Greece) and I wouldn't be who I am today without the blessing of them in my life.

Now we see our sweet Max aging fast. Eternal puppy on the inside, visible in his eyes, goofy grin, and playful spirit ... old man on the outside, obvious in his graying whiskers, limp and dragging rear leg.

Pythagoras said "Animals share with us the privelege of having a soul."

I believe this, too. I know it from looking into their eyes. I know it from the ache in my heart when I've had to say goodbye.

I also believe we could learn a lot from their sweet souls about love, honesty, faithfulness, joy...

To all my friends who have recently...well, ever...had to say goodbye to their furry or feathered or even scaly best friend, I'm sharing this poem with you. I hope you hear their hearts speaking to you when you read the words, as I did, and that it brings you comfort, as it did, and still does, to me.

 

…Grieve not,

   nor speak of me with tears,

but laugh and talk of me

   as if I were beside you…

I loved you so –

   ‘twas Heaven here with you.

                                         ~Isla Paschal Richardson

First Days

Looking sharp in "business casual", he tucked his lunch into his backpack and headed out the door with Tom this morning before dawn. It's Daniel's first day at his post-college-graduation, adult-world job. He and Tom are carpooling right now until Daniel gets his own place in town.

I stood there watching him as he grabbed a banana and a couple of oranges from bowls on the kitchen island. He sported a new shirt, slacks and shoes... so reminiscent of other "first days" when he wore his favorite set of new school clothes and a clutched a superhero-decorated lunchbox free of crumbs and grime. I almost grabbed my camera to capture the image of him standing by the front door, backpack slung over his shoulder, like I always did in those days that don't seem that long ago...

...But I held back. I'm not sure why. There seemed to be a line I would be crossing, a line that appears once your baby birds have tested their wings and learned they're capable of flying on their own. It's a wavery line, though, hard to see at times and I'm sure I step over it occasionally, purely out of old habit. But I'm getting better at spotting it and staying on my side.

I think I am, anyway.

Daniel plans to look for his own place soon. That makes me happy and sad, all at the same time. Happy because it's the way it should be. Sad because I enjoy having him around, of course. 

Happy and sad... a mother's braid of feelings she wears most of her life when it comes to her children.

I don't take it personally that he's eager to move out. Lord knows, living with me and Tom would drive anyone nuts, but I think it has more to do with this: 

He's 23... his wings are more than capable of flying where ever he wishes to go...

Life, according to an Arabic proverb, is composed of two parts: that which is past - a dream; and that which is to come - a wish. ~ G.A. Sala

(I didn't have one from today, so I'm posting this one... his first day of kindergarten. It took awhile, but all that education has finally paid off. I bet I still have that lunchbox somewhere...)

Anyway, I hope this is the best first day ever, Daniel!

 

 

Halloween Memories and other Sweet!s

My Friday drifted away from me. I had a tight grip on it but then next thing I knew it was gone. 

It was one of those impulsive days... the kind where I start one thing and in the middle veer off onto something completely different... where I get a lot of little things done but nothing much accomplished to speak of.

Despite the overall feeling of being stuck in Wonderland, there were two side trips I'm happy I made:

1. I played the drums. Only 15 minutes or so, but it's been weeks since I picked up my drumsticks. Again. I still sound like a little kid pretending to be a drummer, but it is soooo much fun.

2. I changed out my "Kids Pictures". There's this little Duncan Phyfe side table near the front door where I keep 7 or 8 snapshots of my kids when they were little in whatever season it happens to be... for instance, up until today, they were all holding brand new lunchboxes and looking spiffy in their favorite "first-day-of-school" clothes. Now they're all looking out at me so precious in their Halloween costumes, making me feel wistful and melancholy over how fast the years went by (conveniently forgetting how stressful it was trying to help everyone "be" who they wanted to be.)   Sigh.

 

See what I mean? Just so dang cute! And so cuddly-little!

Years ago, when I first started changing seasons, photographically-speaking, on the side table, seeing these little faces reminded me that the teenagers I lived with at the time used to be sweet and lovable munchkins who liked to snuggle up with me while I read to them.

Now, some seasons, I actually slip in a few photos of them as teenagers because it reminds me of all the fun we had... because they really always have been fun kids. Well, mostly.

Sigh. 

Anyway... now I'm headed off for a long shift at the Bistro, but before I go, I want to share some other Sweet! moments of my past week... 

Sunday: finally making it to Barton Creek Mall; an afternoon with your daughter; shopping for hours and somehow managing not to buy anything; crawling in bed when you're really, really tired

Monday: a sunrise walk with your puppies; thinking of a sweet friend on her birthday; catching up on email - sort of; a clean bathroom and empty laundry hamper; knowing your sister made it home safely from a long road trip

Tuesday: joyful puppies; fluffs of pink-orange morning clouds; no lines at the post office; finding a package from a friend in the mailbox; finally making it to the grocery store!; a son who helps carry in groceries and put them away; jalapeno/swiss cheese hamburgers; listening to a cd of Peter Frampton's recent live concert while you work

Wednesday: more and more yellow flowers popping up along the road; lunch with two dear friends for the second week in a row; portobello mushroom tacos; finding tutorial videos on Photoshop Elements and actually learning a little bit; Modern Family's Halloween episode, even if it's a repeat

Thursday: getting $4 at Buffalo Exchange for a pair of shorts you paid 50 cents for years ago; finally getting the chance to take photos of the nuns on top of Toy Joy; a much needed haircut and re-blonding; thrift store Halloween costume shopping with your daughter; your son introducing you to another funny cable show (now on Netflix!); sticking to your guns about something; watching a teensy part of the World Series next to your sweetie

Friday: autumn temperatures that stick around all day; beautiful skies; Belle grinning; a RealAge.com age 4.5 years younger than your real age; playing the drums; glancing through old photos of your oh-so-small-and-cute Halloween-costumed kids; getting rewarded (sort of) for sticking to your guns

Saturday: sleeping in; walking with your sweetie and the puppies on a brisk autumn morning; connecting on Facebook with one of your husband's distant Australian cousins who has the same name as your son

 

Hope you all have a beautiful Saturday!

He would have been 64.

Thoughts of my brother Buster flitted in and out of my mind today. My parents drove out to the cemetery as I'm sure they've done every October 16 for 29 years. As I'm sure I would do if I were in their place.

I hope I'm never in their place.

The following is a re-post from 2008. I've included a few more photos, but otherwise there's nothing more to add except to say, I'm thinking of you, Buster. You're always in our hearts.

      Here's a rare picture of me with all of my siblings - Brenda's holding me, Donnie is lying behind us, and Buster, the big brother of us all, is on the right.   

      Yesterday was Buster's birthday - it's hard for me to imagine he would have been sixty-one. It's hard for me to imagine I'm now older by more than a decade than he was in my last memory of him, when I stood beside him in the hospital, kissed him, told him I loved him, and told him good-bye. We knew he wouldn't be coming out of his coma. 

      Even now I cry when I think of it. I can't imagine, don't want to imagine, how it feels to my parents, losing a child. 

      In my earliest memories, Buster had already left home. There's a memory of us visiting him at his Army Boot Camp graduation in Louisiana, and one of him taking me to a carnival, where he won me a soapstone bank shaped like a cartoonish hound dog."Grumpy" is still with me, sitting high on a shelf in the livingroom, a reminder that my big brother loved me and spoiled me. On his visits home, he doted on me...a trail of small footprints meandered across the ceilings in our house because minutes after coming through the door he would comply with my demands to "Walk me on the ceiling!" He would grab me, flip me upside down and hold me up (giggling and squealing) so that I could walk in that imaginary topsy-turvy world.  Mama says he was crazy about me when I was a baby...he would even wash the styling grease out his hair so I could play with his dark brown curls. I can't remember that, but I do remember sitting on the front row of his wedding, crying. I must have sensed that things would change between us.

      Through most of my life he was in the background, a shadow...Buster was busy with his adult life and I was busy with my childhood and they rarely intersected. He became a father and I loved being an aunt. He went to Viet Nam - twice - and we hung a map up on the hallway wall, keeping track of his whereabouts with pushpins. He divorced and gave up custody of his son, and I didn't understand.

     Our lives collided again just before Christmas in 1973. I was watching television in the darkened livingroom, the colored lights on the Christmas tree splashing a kaleidoscope on the walls, when the phone rang. I heard Mam-ma's voice talking, then her silhouette appeared framed in the doorway. "Buster's been shot." 

      I remember Brenda and I pulling in to the dark parking lot of Houston's Ben Taub Hospital, rushing through the glaring white halls, dodging solemn faces overflowing from the waiting rooms, just in time to see Buster, his body bruised and bloody, being wheeled in on a gurney. He disappeared through the white double doors of the operating room.

      Mama refused to leave the hospital for ten days, until she knew he was going to make it. She slept in stolen snatches on a hard wooden bench in the lobby. Daddy brought her fresh clothes and she washed up in the ladies' room.

      My once tall, muscular big brother was now a quadriplegic. He came home from Viet Nam only to be shot in a bar just outside of Houston. One of the bullets severed his spinal cord.

      Over the next few years he was in and out of hospitals...he attended the University of Texas and then Victoria College, getting a degree in business...he started a guard dog business and learned to drive with hand controls...he wrote poetry and loved debating with his friends about religion and what ever else got them stirred up. He could be moody, unpredictable, and gripped by bouts of depression - just like me, a teenager during those years, too consumed with my own life to pay close attention to what was going on in his.

       We didn't get along very well. He loved to tease me and embarrass my boyfriends. Except Tom...Tom just let it roll off of him.

       Just before his thirty-fourth birthday, Buster went in the hospital for surgery. The next day he went into the coma. Within a few days, he was gone and I realized how much I loved him, and how much I would miss him. I wished I had told him I loved him more often when I had the chance.

       Not long after his death, I woke to find him standing in my room. Standing. We didn't speak. Perhaps it was a dream, but it doesn't matter...in my heart I knew he was sending me a message because he knew I loved him and would want to know that he was once again tall and strong, healthy and whole, just like he was in my childhood.

Twenty-Three? How is that possible?

"Daniel, you're going to be 23 in two days!"

"Yeah, I know, mom."

Whoa. That thought hit me while we were driving back from town two days ago. There I was, comfortably cruising along with him being 22, and next thing I knew, a whole year had zoomed by, just a blur out my window, it moved so fast.

And now here we are on October 13, the day 23 years ago that I first laid eyes on this amazing kid... um, man... oh, gosh, what do you call your kids when they get to be so old?

...love at first sight...

...I swear this was yesterday and not two decades ago...

This will be the first birthday in several years I'll get to see him on his actual birthday, since he's back living at home.

I know it's not where he hoped to be on his 23rd birthday, but he's got such a great attitude about it, teaching me by example about hope, optimism and 'chill'. 

He's been spoiling me and Tom while he's here... loading the dishwasher, taking out the trash without being asked, feeding and walking the dogs, cooking dinner, helping Tom with jobs around the property, watching movies with us... whatever we ask him to do, he jumps on it, eager to help.  He even seems to enjoy being with us! Most of the time, anyway.

Tom and I got used to that really quick. I feel blessed having this extra time with him, not because he's so helpful (although that's a definite plus!) but because he's just a great kid man guy (there, that sounds right)... so funny and smart, as well as thoughtful. (I've already written tons about how great he is HERE and HERE and HERE and HERE if you don't believe me.) 

So today I'll make sure I don't ask him to do anything. I'll try to go back to my old ways and spoil him by cooking him breakfast (he's sleeping in for a change... one advantage of not having a job yet!), fixing the King Ranch Casserole he requested (after dozens of "What do you want for your birthday?" pleas from me) and the Cyclops cookies he didn't request but I know he loves.

(Why is it mothering always revolves around food, especially when our babies get older?)

So Happy 23rd birthday, Daniel.

May you have clear paths and bright skies.

And no matter what this year brings,

I hope you continue to "Be silly. Be honest. Be kind."  

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Also... Happy birthday wishes to Kim, my sweet previously-Montana-now-Arizona sister-in-law... young cousins Ashley, Kayce and Kayce's daughter, Tayvie (celebrating her first birthday!)... and Pete, my inspirational blogging friend, who wrote a wonderful, reflective piece today in honor of his birthday (go here to read it - it's great!) 

 

A Top Notch Day

It started like this...

Belle's face peered in from the pre-dawn darkness, much earlier than usual. I had just stumbled from the bedroom, still groggy with sleep.

She seemed nervous about something. Stepping outside, I knew right away what had her up so early, wanting our company...

...The frogs had a croaking chorus coming from the pond, so loud I knew the full moon could hear it through the misty clouds. Belle had probably forgotten what that sound was, it had been so long since there was enough water in the pond to make the the frogs sing.

I reassured her and stepped back inside. Thirty minutes later, when she was still peering in at me, I gave in and stepped back outside to rub her ears, and this is what I saw...

 

I knew it would be a good day.

**********************************************

Daniel had an interview downtown. I tagged along to visit the State Library.

It had been ten years since I'd done any research there... it was completely changed! Bigger, more modern... and even a snack room for patrons now. (In the 'old' days, my co-genealogy-nut friends Susan and Donna and I would stand on the steps and eat our lunches.) I caught on to the new microfilm readers, thanks to a lesson from the sweet girl working the Library, and even found a few tidbits on 1880's taxrolls. (Are you yawning yet?)

Something that hasn't changed is our beautiful Capitol building, just across the street from the State Library and Archives building. 

 

 

A scent captured my nose, sending me whirling back into my childhood and memories of catching honeybees in glass jars (released soon afterward, don't worry.)

 

 

Japanese Ligustrum... complete with bees. Too bad I didn't have a glass jar with me! (I took more photos around the capitol - you can see them HERE.)

After Daniel's interview, he introduced me to this Austin icon, used in the movie, Dazed and Confused...

 

 

We both ordered fried chicken and it was, indeed, Top Notch!

But the best part came after we got home and took the puppies for a walk. After just one day of rain, the pond has water again! It might not look like much to you, but it's beautiful to me!

 

The air hummed with dragonflies. Where have they been hiding? They flew too fast to capture their photos, but across the pond, I came across this splash of color, such a welcome sight after months of gray and brown...

 

 

As if all that wasn't enough, this is how the day is ending...

 

 

Hope your day was Top Notch, too!

When Wishes Come True (Happy birthday, Daddy!)

I gripped Daddy's hand as we crossed the parking lot and stepped into the tall building.  To my right and left tall counters rimmed the room but I ignored them; all of my attention was focused on the fountain straight ahead.

We crossed the spacious lobby together. Daddy's bank business would wait - we had a routine. First things first.

He jingled the change in his pocket, pulled out a handful of coins and handed me a penny, first checking it for the wheat symbol. Those went in a special jar at home.

I went up the steps to the edge of the fountain, mesmerized by the changing colors in the spraying water. Liquid gemstones... blue, red, orange, green. Coins glittered below, scattered across tiny tiles under the surface of the shallow pool, reflecting whatever hue had its turn at the moment.

Closing my eyes, I whispered a wish and tossed my penny into the air, then watched as it splashed and floated down, down, down to join the others. 

I don't remember any of the wishes I made on those pennies so long ago, but I'd like to think at least one of them was to continue making special memories like that with my Daddy for a long, long time.

Because if I wished that, then that's a wish come true.

Today is Daddy's 85th birthday. Just a few weeks ago he was in the hospital having test after test after test run, trying to figure out why his foot refused to follow orders any longer. Nothing definitive was ever pinpointed, so when he was well enough, they let him go home. 

Now, I'm no doctor, but I still suspect it had something to do with him chopping up a tree trunk in the backyard and carrying the chunks out to the curb in the front yard... in 100+ degree temperatures. His foot probably just went on strike!

You'll see from the post I wrote last year for his 84th birthday (below) he hasn't changed much in a year. In fact, I think I'm aging much faster than he is.  I hope I take after him and have the gumption to chop up a tree trunk when I'm 85!

Happy birthday, Daddy! I love you and can't wait to watch you blow out 85 candles tomorrow evening!

*******************************************************************

(last year's post... with just a few changes in the photos...)

Blowing a birthday kiss to my Daddy!

Today's my Daddy's 84th birthday.

He complains about this or that, like not being able to think of the word he needs that's on the tip of his tongue, or not having the energy he used to have... but these are things I'm already dealing with!

He's got scars from top to bottom, thanks to heart surgeries, aneurysm surgeries, plus a few other minor and not-so-minor operations... he has to check his blood sugar and his blood pressure every day... he can't eat everything he wants to like he used to, like eggs and bacon and ice cream... but he can still grab a shovel and pluck a stray baby loquat tree from the ground for me... he can jump up from his chair a zillion times a day to give one of their spoiled squirrels a peanut... he can refill the bird feeder, empty the trash, drive to the corner store for his lotto ticket, and do his share of the housework.

 

In my mind he has never aged.

When I think of him, I see him smiling his devilish grin... maybe humming and doing a little dance across the kitchen floor. I can hear his sweet voice, Time to wake up, Barbara... and his dead-on impersonation of an evil laugh. Mwaa-haa-haa.

I see him jumping rope, showing me how to do push-ups against the kitchen counter, playing ping-pong, swinging a golf club (grumbling) and a tennis racket.

He's beside me at the Sears candy counter, buying us some warm cashews or malted milk balls... in the car at the drive-in theater, watching westerns... in the living room, watching Dark Shadows... at our square dance lessons, do-si-do-ing... at my babies' baptisms, holding them close as only a grandfather can... at the zoo, helping me keep my young brood together.

He's handing me Black Beauty or Call of the Wild or something from Leon Uris, and tucking yet another paperback into his metal lunchbox.

He's in the driver's seat, shuttling me and my friends to the movies and basketball games... he's in the passenger seat, letting me practice behind the wheel.

He's painting an orange and yellow lattice on my bedroom ceiling... he's painting a large fluorescent orange circle on my ceiling... he's painting my furniture royal blue. 

He's mowing the grass, wiping the sweat off of his brow with a little golf towel, taking a small break to chug some orange juice and then getting back to work. He's helping me plant beans in the sand pile and sunflowers beside the utility building.

I could go on and on and on... each memory triggers an avalanche of more.

I know I'm blessed to be able to still add to them, and to say "Happy birthday, Daddy! Thank you for all of these wonderful memories! I love you!"

 

From the Port Aransas "Secret Files" (and a week's worth of Sweet!s)

For twelve years now I've trekked to the coast with friends for a much-needed respite from "routine".

Two years ago, a beautiful weekend was made unforgettable: Laura Bush spent the night at the same condos we were staying in.

I wrote about it (HERE), but didn't post the photos my friend Donna took with my camera of Laura walking on the beach with her friend, surrounded by Secret Service guys dressed as 'normal' people. Like us, she was just trying to have a relaxing evening at the beach.

Donna took the photos because I ran out to the beach with some of the other women, hoping to "casually" bump into Laura as she returned from her walk (can you say "paparazzi"?)

When we passed her on the beach, Laura was gracious and friendly. The Secret Service guys we met were good sports, too, joking around and letting us take their photos.

It was a magical weekend, the perfect way to commemorate 10 years of a special friendship.

For some reason, we decided we shouldn't post the photos of Laura. I'm not sure why... she gets her photo taken all the time!

I decided enough time had passed to post a couple of them.

Beautiful, isn't she? 

Laura's not here this weekend, but we're still having a beautiful, magical time, full of sunshine, the surf, plenty of food, friendship, dancing...

Sweet!

Here are a few of my other sweet! moments of the week...

Saturday: the only evidence of a rear-end collision being a few scratches, even if one is on your nose just before a reunion; recognizing and remembering faces you haven't seen in twenty years or more; spending overdue hours with dear friends and vowing not to let so much time pass again without another visit; friends who take care of your grandpuppy as well as your own menagerie while you're away

Sunday: breakfast with your parents; face-to-face time with your sister, her husband, your parents, your brother's kids and capturing more photos of his precious granddaughter; picking up your son from the airport after his European adventure and hearing some of his stories; 2/3 of your kids at home for dinner; remembering a first dance 30 years ago that changed your life; getting word that your oldest made it home to Dallas, safe and sound

Monday: spotting a few patches of yellow and purple wildflowers popping up along the roadside; looking through photos and videos of your son's trip to Munich and Prague; spending a few hours with your daughter; sharing dinner, conversation, memories and cheesecake with longtime friends; lightning flashing in the distance on a night drive home

Tuesday: an invitation to become a contributor to an online blog for over-50 women; dark clouds in intricate patterns, thunder and lightning seen from the protection of a wide porch overlooking the Hollow; rain spray carried into the porch by the wind to splash on my face

Wednesday: jacket-cool mornings with pink clouds; a drive through the Texas Hill Country at sunset; reuniting your grandpuppy with her mom; souvenirs from Germany and Prague

Thursday: road trips; Reuben sandwiches; the first sight of the coast in a year; pink and blue beachhouses; reuniting with friends on a balcony overlooking the beach

Friday: running on the beach; flocks of pelicans; a long phone conversation with a friend; a glimpse of porpoises leaping from the water; strangers offering to help your hip-surgery-recovering sister down the boardwalk; twirling on a dance floor with friends for hours

Saturday: having an artist you met during a walk on the beach ask for one of your photos; a thirsty beach puppy drinking from your hand (and reminding its parents that beach puppies need water!); Bloody Mary's on the beach; a call from a friend checking on you after reading about your car accident; reading on the beach until sunset; singing "Happy Birthday" to a special friend

I hope all of you are having a beautiful weekend, too... a grand finale to a week full of sweets!

Share yours with me!

 

Now I Remember Why

Autumn behaved itself that year, arriving right on time, just at the end of September, bringing T-shirt-warm days and sweater-cool nights, perfect for snuggling in a sleeping bag with someone on the beach, staring up at a star-studded night sky. 

Perfect weather for New Braunfel's Wurstfest, with a night breeze chilly enough to believe it came straight from the Alps. 

Perfect weather for nights spent two-stepping in old dancehalls, like Gruene and Gilley's.

Perfect weather for the Renaissance Festival nestled in the tall trees near Magnolia, Texas, where cool mornings warmed up enough for wearing shorts but not hot enough for sweating in front of your new boyfriend.

That year, we went twice to the Renaissance Festival.

After the second trip, a day with such a glorious blue sky that every blue sky I've seen since reminded me of that one...a day where everything seemed to glow in a magical light, dreamlike, sparkling with life, he asked me to marry him.

Now I remember why I love autumn!

Happy 30th anniversary of that first autumn, Tom.

I still feel the magic!

 

 

Me in a Hard Hat

"I can't picture you in a hard hat," Bob from my church told me after reading "A View from a Catwalk". 

I've spent the last two days thumbing through thirteen years of photos in preparation for a DuPont reunion and thought of Bob every time I came across one of me in my hard hat.

So here you go, Bob. This one's for you.

Me and JD. I remember the day it was taken. A photographer was roaming the plant, taking promotional photos. He asked us to pretend we were working on something. I felt silly. JD, on the other hand, went right to work on that water station.

JD was a sweet guy. We shared a passion for genealogy; he's the one who lit the fire in me to start researching my lines at the Clayton Library in Houston. His was trying to track down family behind the Iron Curtain at the time. He hinted at a big scandal.

He also taught me how to look at my pay stub, to make sure my overtime was correct and things like that that I'd never even thought about. Before donning the hard hat, he drove a UPS truck, I believe. 

One morning when he was only in his 40's, his heart gave out at the breakfast table. His funeral was a reunion of sorts for me - I had already turned in my hard hat and big paycheck to stay home with my three babies. The funeral home overflowed with people, mostly people from his church who stood and spoke of JD's generosity and compassion.

Isn't it funny that, even after all these years of women's rights, blah, blah, blah, people still have a specific idea of what a chemical plant worker looks like - and acts like? I doubt if JD or I either one fit the stereotype.

Actually, most of the people I worked with didn't fit the preconceived hard-hatted mold either. They didn't even have much in common aside from the plant. But no matter our differences, we hold memories of the same pipe alleys, catwalks, columns. We fought fires together and shared pot luck holiday dinners. 

That's what kept it interesting for me and helped me stick it out for thirteen years and three pregnancies.

The people. 

And that's why I'm excited to be seeing some of those people again soon. Many of them for the first time in more than 20 years.

Everyone won't be there. Some, like JD, have died. Some we haven't even located. Some have other commitments... or perhaps just aren't interested.

But the ones who can't, or won't, for whatever reason, will still be with us. Those with family emergencies will be in our prayers and the rest will be there in our memories, stories, photos and laughter.

Here are a few more for you, Bob...

Fire school in Beaumont

Fire school again (we went every year) We're smiling because it's over!

Out of the hardhat zone... I think this was an open house

A visit from Santa Jim (out of the hard hat and safety glasses area again, obviously)

 

 

 

September, Oktober(fest) and my Friday Favorite Photo

"By all these lovely tokens

September days are here,

With summer’s best of weather

And autumn’s best of cheer."

-   Helen Hunt Jackson, September, 1830-1885

 

Wednesday night, alone on the Bistro patio after a special banquet, I bent over to un-velcro a small cushion from one of the metal chairs. Triple digit heat had given way to a cooling breeze whispering over the vineyard. An acoustic guitar strummed a beautiful song through the outside speakers.

I turned to remove another cushion and that's when I saw it, the orange orb hovering on the horizon, smiling down on the grapevines. The beauty, the peace, they total SIGH of it all froze me in place for several moments. I could have stayed there, doing nothing but soaking it all in with all of my senses for hours.

I love September... I love full moons... so that's why I chose the one above as my favorite this week. 

********************************************************

My boys are on the edge of a European adventure. They're in Chicago as I'm typing this but jumping on another plane this evening, headed for Munich to experience an authentic Oktoberfest, visit castles and all that fun German stuff.

In a few days, they'll head for Prague, Czech Republic. Another place I've longed to visit.

I'm unashamedly living vicariously through my sons the next few days just as I did with TG when she traveled to Spain a few years ago. 

A photo of them at the airport would have been my favorite photo of the week, except I wasn't there to see them off. They left early this morning from San Antonio, along with Tommy's girlfriend Kirby. We met up with her in San Marcos last night to trade Daniel for our grandpuppy, Josie. We'll be puppy-sitting for the next week or so. (Max and Belle are very excited!)

In Chicago, the trio are meeting up with Kirby's cousin Matt before taking off on the next leg of the adventure.

All I've asked for are lots of photos and, if possible, something with "Czechoslovakia" written on it. Heck, it could be a napkin for all I care, but "Czechoslovakia" has been my favorite word for as long as I can remember... it's just so much fun to say. I love the rhythm of it, the way it dances around in your mouth. Try it!!

(I can't believe they traded "Czechoslovakia" for "Czech Republic"! Not nearly as much fun, in my opinion.)

Since I don't have a photo of them, passport in hand and loaded down with luggage, and because their trip is throwing me back into my own memories (a sure sign I'm getting old, right?) I'm adding one of me with my friends Donna and Laura, on the edge of our own European adventure way back in '76. (I'm the brunette on the right.)

Under that brown hair, I truly believed this was just a preview of many European trips to come. I'm only 52 now - even though I haven't returned yet, there's still plenty of time for my brunette 17-year-old self to be right, isn't there?

But even if I never get the chance (more like, have the money), I'm so glad my kids have the travel bug and are taking advantage of the opportunity.

Please join me in praying they have a safe, fun adventure (and bring their old mom lots of photos!) Thank you!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Have a Groovy Day, Baby!

How can you not have a groovy day when you start it by sipping coffee from this Flower-Power, Love and Peace-ful cup?

It came straight from the Museum of Bethel Woods in Woodstock, New York, to me, via my sweet friend Mary Kay, and sends me straight back to my bedroom in the '60's when my walls, clothes and anything I could pop a sticker on were covered with some variation of these words, colors and patterns.

I won't get into all the reasons why Mary Kay bringing me a souvenir were totally unnecessary. I'll just say "Thank you, Mary Kay! I love it!" and leave it at that.

I hope all of you have a groovy, love-and-peace-filled Wednesday!

Each Day

Lord, take me where you want me to go;
Let me meet who you want me to meet;
Tell me what you want me to say; and
Keep me out of your way.

- Fr. Mychal Judge, FDNY (died 9/11/01)

 

This morning, while thousands of names were solemnly read, one by one, at Ground Zero, two babies were baptized in our church.

This evening I'll help celebrate a dear friend's birthday with Mexican food and margaritas.

In between, I've been remembering...

Ten years ago I was one of millions watching in disbelief as our country came under attack. Do you remember that feeling as we pulled together in the days that followed? We changed the way we did things, for sure, but we kept on living our lives, refusing to let our attackers control us with fear. 

Living each day, deliberately and free. Remembering but moving forward, only leaving room for light and happiness and love. That's our victory.

 

"...Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve.

America was targeted for attack because we're the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining.

Today, our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature, and we responded with the best of America, with the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could..."

~President George W. Bush

 

 

It could be worse, couldn't it?

Fall colors surround us, temperatures have dropped, but there's no touch of autumn in the air; daily highs still top 100 with nary a drop of rain.

(Clouds congregrate at times, but even when tinged gray, I know they're just playing games with us.)

We've had hot, dry summers before, though.

One in particular stands out in my memory (and makes me sweat!) because I was driving that old green Mercury Villager minivan with no air-conditioning and a passenger window that wouldn't roll down.

That was the summer I taught Daniel to drive. We always headed out early enough to finish the lessons by 10 am because that's when my side of the van became an oven, even with my Walmart water-mister fan, and I became a little, ahem, grumpy.

Spanky the salamander was still with us then, staying cool hiding under wet moss in his terrarium, only expending energy to gobble down a live cricket or two. Once or twice a week we'd grab a plastic bag full of them from the pet store and dump them into their own little terrarium, furnished with an empty toilet paper roll and a little water. Every day Daniel scooped a few out for Spanky's dinner.

One afternoon the kids and I swung by the pet store for a bag of crickets, the last stop on our round of errands in town. It was 4 in the afternoon and (according to the fancy digital dash thermometer) 107 degrees.

The crickets didn't stand a chance. Poor little guys, they baked right there in that plastic bag - an oven within our oven van.

Yes, things could be worse. I have an air-conditioned car this year and give thanks for it and the a/c in our home every day!

We even still - somehow - have a little water in the pond. It had dried up enough for Tom to get his backhoe down there to scoop up the silt (making the best of the situation!) and he must have somehow unblocked the opening to some underground springs.

I'm really surprised anything is flowing from the springs right now, but as you can see, there's water in the pond. It has to come from somewhere, and it sure isn't from the sky!

Belle's grateful for it.

Not much of a pond, though, is it? 

One year the water completely, totally dried up. Tom was able to scoop enough silt to see fossils embedded in the bedrock of the original creekbed, right about where my name is in the above photo. I love knowing they're there, even if I can't see them anymore.

Tom had to halt work on the pond because of the water; instead, he has turned his attention to the creek bed downstream, beyond the little pond (which still has a few inches of water in it, too) clearing overgrowth and scooping silt, preparing for the rain we know will fall, someday.

But when?

All the land is praying for rain.

 

 

 

My Sweet and My Sweets!

On this day 29 years ago, I walked down the aisle of St. Mary's Catholic Church in League City, Texas and officially joined my life to Tom's. I hadn't even known him a full year, but I was very sure my feet were treading in the right direction.

Despite that confidence and our whole romantic fairy-tale falling-in-love story, the path hasn't always been an easy one, because, you know, we're married. It's like a three-legged sack race... to get to the finish line you have to learn to work as a team. You might travel faster by yourself, and maybe trip less, but it sure wouldn't be as much fun.

Last weekend we attended a wedding officiated by a permanent deacon of the Catholic Church, a widower who was able to give a unique spin to the ceremony and the concept of marriage. 

He spoke mostly to the new couple, but his words resonated even with the rest of us who already know that marriage can be hard, how there are going to be times you might not even like that person you married much less love them, grrr, because he helped us remember we're just a heartbeat away from being left alone with just our memories and regrets. Never take each other's presence for granted.

He warned the new couple that Life would try to come between them. I personally think the most important word in marriage, besides Love, is Cling. You have got to cling to each other with all you've got because there's so much pulling you apart or trying to squeeze in between you. Stress, lack of money, lack of sleep, kids, exhaustion, pride...

Oh, pride is a big one. Watch out for it! The deacon warned against it, too, about the dangers of keeping score on who does the most around the house, etc. (Those of you who've been married awhile know what I'm talking about!)

We need to overlook each other's faults and focus on the positives. Focus on love, because after all, the love you have for each other is just a reflection of God's love for each of you.

"My wife was a terrible housekeeper," he told us, then looking up, he said, "You know it's true! You were!" But he said if started to complain, she would look at him and say, "Do you love me?" and it would get him everytime. (Yes, he loved you. It was plain to all of us!)

He told us to kiss each other and say "I love you" every day, and he had us do it right then and there! 

By golly, I think the best thing a couple can do for their marriage is to attend a wedding every now and then, especially right before their anniversary.

Happy anniversary, sweet Tom! I love you!

Gosh, we were cute, weren't we?

 And now for the rest of my sweet! moments of the week...

Sunday: attending Mass with 2/3 of your kids; an unrushed trip to the grocery store; Tom's hot wings for dinner; catching up on South Park episodes with your son

Monday: pink clouds; capturing photos of a woodpecker; a too rare phone conversation with your mother- and father-in-law

Tuesday: watching your old dog run down a dirt road; keeping your temper despite being disconnected 6 times and being on hold for two hours with the phone company; a new lens waiting in your mailbox; a violet dusk; a call from your brother with joyful news

Wednesday: glimpse of a hummingbird out the window; a new book to review waiting in your mailbox; potentially good news from your son

Thursday: your sister's birthday!; news that your cataract is growing but not enough to affect your vision or require surgery... yet; lunch at the mall and philosophical discussions with 2/3 of your kids; Panda Express orange chicken; a surprise gift from a friend

Friday: the excitement of closing one chapter in your life and opening a new one; a roadrunner zipping in front of you then waiting while you snap its picture; writing and writing and writing on your book; a full moon over your left shoulder, casting light on the road before you.

Saturday: looking into a pair of familiar blue eyes, feeling the same rush of love you felt 29 years ago when you said "I do".

Hope you've had a week full of sweet! moments!

 

 

Portrait of a Sister

How do people make it through life without a sister? 

~Sara Corpening

I've asked myself this question so many times and always felt a twinge of guilt that TG doesn't have a sister, even though she's got two great brothers.

Because I truly can't imagine how different, how empty and downright dull my life would have been without my big sister in it.

In the cookies of life, sisters are the chocolate chips. 

~Author Unknown

Brenda added drama and conflict to my life (fighting over the state of our bedroom)... enriched it with literature (sharing her books with me, like Swiss Family Robinson and Pollyanna and Jane Eyre)... expanded my world (taking me to museums, the zoo and movies I probably shouldn't be seeing)... and gave me a great soundtrack (exposing me to the best from the 60's and 70's.)

Sisters function as safety nets in a chaotic world simply by being there for each other. 

~Carol Saline

Well, she was certainly there for me. If I ever had a problem, I knew she'd be right by my side, no matter how much I'd irritated her seconds before.

The mildest, drowsiest sister has been known to turn tiger if her sibling is in trouble. 

~Clara Ortega

Oh, here's another good one that truly applies to Brenda and me...

When sisters stand shoulder to shoulder, who stands a chance against us? 

~Pam Brown

You don't want to test that, believe me. It could get ugly. We're formidable.

That being said, we're not just alike. Sure, we both like reciting Little Boy Blue and watching old movies. We share the same taste in books (just about anything) and enjoy visiting museums, no matter how small. 

But she's always been a 'dress' person. A girly-girl. I'm jeans or shorts, definitely a tom-boy. She knew all about coloring hair and curlers. I'm totally hair-inept.

I tend to make mountains out of mole hills while she refuses to even acknowledge mountains exist.

She truly has the most positive outlook of anyone I've ever known. 

Sisters are different flowers from the same garden. 

~Author Unknown

By example, Brenda taught me about love and acceptance, about appreciating the eccentricities that each of us on this earth has, about the importance of family connections, about looking on the bright side. We had our share of spats and arguments, but as I grew they dwindled, dried up and drifted away into childhood memories and stories.

An older sister is a friend and defender - a listener, conspirator, a counsellor and a sharer of delights.  And sorrows too. 

~Pam Brown

She doesn't hesitate to correct me if my facts are a little awry when I relate those memories and stories here on my blog, or I misspell a word. But as she's my biggest fan and cheerleader in whatever I attempt to do, I know not to take it as criticism. She's just burdened with a better memory and writing/spelling skills than I have!

A sister smiles when one tells one's stories - for she knows where the decoration has been added. 

~Chris Montaigne

She turned 60 today, a number that is hard for me to grasp because in my eyes and heart, she hasn't aged a day in my life.

I didn't get to wish her a happy birthday face-to-face this year as I did last year. In fact, it's been months since I've seen her sweet face in person. 

But I called her this morning and now I'll wish her a happy birthday here (I know she'll read it eventually, even though right now she's off gambling in Louisiana in honor of this milestone year. Last I heard she was winning! I'm glad she's having fun and celebrating big!)

So once again, happy birthday, my beautiful sister! I didn't always appreciate you like I should when I was little, but now I thank God, Mama and Daddy every day for blessing my life with you! Have fun and I hope you cleaned out the casino! 

Sister to sister we will always be,
A couple of nuts off the family tree.

~Author Unknown

And proud of it! I love you!

There is no better friend than a sister.  And there is no better sister than you. 

~Author Unknown

Where did the week go? Heck, where did the years go? (plus my Saturday Sweet Report)

I totally lost track of this week. Until this weekend, nothing extraordinary happened, but even so, it felt crazy and I was exhausted without knowing exactly why!

Our empty nest isn't so empty right now - TG is still home for the summer, along with the contents of her dorm room, currently in Transition-Limbo, tucked into random places. And as of this past Saturday, Daniel and the stuff from his apartment are back home in Transition-Limbo, as well.

Tom helped move him home then they both took off for several days of sun and fishing on the coast, leaving a maze of boxes and stuffed trash bags full of household items and clothes overflowing from Daniel's room.

While they were gone I had to cover for Tom, which meant making sure TG and I had something to eat and pulling the evening puppy duty as well as the morning one. Okay, it doesn't sound like much, but it felt like a lot and I was pooped. 

They rolled back in Thursday night, just in time to unpack, re-pack and head to Dallas (all of us) for a wedding.

See that cute chubby-cheeked boy in red below?

That's Quentin, one of Tommy's friends. They went through Boy Scouts together and helped each other earn their Eagle Scout ranks. Along with his dad and brothers, Quentin helped us build our house.

Somehow, he's old enough to get married now. How did that happen?

The photo above was taken at Tommy's 12th birthday party, when all it took to entertain those boys was pizza, video games, movies, boxing gloves and some kind of rowdy wrestling game that, if I remember correctly, involved jumping from trees and forced me to come inside before I started screaming "Be careful!" and embarrassing my children.

Ah, boys. Those were the days.

In just a blink or two from when this photo was snapped, Quentin graduated salutatorian from high school, graduated with a degree in Aerospace Engineering from Texas A&M and then decided to teach high school math and science. A pretty good decision because that's where he met Kristen, the high school Spanish teacher who is now his wife.

Funny how we somehow get to where we need to be, even though the path seems to zig-zag a bit.

These days, I believe Quentin finds Kristen much more entertaining than pizza and video games.

It was fun seeing those kids, all grown up. A bonus to the trip was having all of my kids together. TG and Daniel stayed at Tommy's house, while Tom and I snuck away to our very own hotel room - all by ourselves! It was kind of an early anniversary celebration - next week will be 29 years.

Talk about time passing in a blink of the eye!

This morning we enjoyed a wonderful Mexican food breakfast all together before zooming back home, where I changed clothes and headed to work for the First Saturday Dinner at the Bistro. Each month the Three Course Wine Lunch menu changes and they feature some of the new items at this special night event. Getting to see - and taste - some of the new items... definitely sweet!

Here are some other sweets from the week...

Sunday: seeing your son and husband heading off for a few days of coastal adventure; watching a movie with your daughter instead of tackling your to-do list.

Monday: a surprise call from a dear friend; a text from your son letting you know they made it to the coast okay; hearing that your sister is feeling better after being very sick... again.

Tuesday: finally making the decision to buy a lens you've been wanting and getting a surprise discount on it; a glorious blue and orange striped sunset.

Wednesday: a glimpse of a mama quail, babies parading behind her, making it safely across a busy road; trio of baby deer finally out in the sunshine where you could snap their photo.

Thursday: pink mornings; your husband and son straggling in safe and only slightly burnt from days of fun at the coast.

Friday: witnessing a wedding, being reminded of love that lasts a lifetime; catching up with long-time friends; dancing.

Saturday: sharing breakfast with your husband and all of your babies; arriving home safely from a road trip; a new book to review waiting for you in the mailbox; Banana Crumble with a glass of Mistella; moonlight on a vineyard.

Hope you took time to notice the sweet moments in your week!

 

 

 

Face in the Mirror

Face in the mirror

You are the face I recognize, the face I know, the face I greet each morning,

Yes, the face I love, despite the lines and scars and spots.

You and I have traveled together, collected mementoes of Life.

Your eye-crinkles and mouth-creases... reminders of laughter and reasons to smile.

Deep lines between your brows... etched during late nights worrying about the kids.

Tiny scars on your forehead... souvenirs of chicken pox at 10 and 30, and shingles at 50.

Dark spots... kisses of Galveston sunshine.

Remember?

I do.

My life. 

My face.

 

This morning, the face staring back at me in the mirror sported a few pimples amidst her wrinkles, scars and spots. That's not really fair, is it?

My grandmother swore by Oil of Olay. She had beautiful skin. I don't remember her ever having any pimples, but the one time I tried the lotion, my face broke out something awful. Now I'm afraid of anything labeled "Oil of Olay"!

My mother has beautiful skin, too. She used the Clinique ritual for awhile - I tried it, but I think it was just too much work for me. It probably broke me out, too.

I remember lots of pimples back then, when I was a teenager. I tried everything. No luck.

Until finally, I asked our family doctor what to do. "Stop putting all that crap on your face," he told me. "Just use Ivory soap and be done with it."

He was right. Ivory soap worked! Until a few years ago when I noticed my cheeks felt like sandpaper.

Dang menopause.

Obviously, I needed a moisturizer, but I was scared, remembering the Oil of Olay situation as well as one experiment with an eye cream, guaranteed to "minimize the appearance of fine lines" - it actually poofed up the skin around my eyes. I looked like I'd been stung by a bee! That's how it got rid of the lines!

I'd rather have the lines.

The key words to watch for (I realized afterwards) were  "the appearance of"... Very important! 

Even with this in mind, I eventually succumbed to advertisements for L'Oreal's Revitalift products. I'm happy to report that my face didn't break out and my eyes didn't poof up like marshmallows. In fact, nothing much happened except my cheeks no longer felt like sandpaper. 

In other words, I still have my wrinkles, but that's okay. I'll do what I can to keep from accumulating more, but I earned the ones I have. They're me. 

I don't think I'll ever be bothered enough by my wrinkles to try Botox or surgery (I don't like pain)... but I have friends who've delved into those treatments, so I'm not passing judgement. 

So imagine my surprise one day last week when I looked in the mirror and noticed the lines between my brows were missing. Where did my furrows go?

The only thing I could attribute it to was three nights in a row of solid 7+ hours of sleep. Who could have guessed? Sleep - truly the best anti-aging tool we have, and it's free! But how many of us take advantage of it? I know I don't!

For instance, here I am typing at the computer way past my bedtime.

Furrows and dark circles are guaranteed for tomorrow! (I just hope the pimples are gone.)

But what about you? If you have a face you've grown old with, do you love it? Hate it? What do you do to take care of it?

 

 

 

 

"The End" of an Era (and my Friday Favorite Photo)

This is the book that was the beginning of the end.

Each evening for years and years, Daniel, TG and I would huddle around a book on the couch, taking the adventure together, a chapter at a time. I would read out loud, relishing the warmth of my two little ones cuddled up against me.  

Tommy had broken away on his own when he discovered the Goosebumps series in 3rd grade, devouring them one after another as fast as he could. Speed is addictive: he couldn't slow back down to our pace, savoring bites of the story, a little every day.

TG, Daniel and I were usually each reading something else as well on our own. But every night we'd come together for a special book. We'd take turns choosing it. This is when I introduced them to the Lord of the Rings, Call of the Wild, Black Beauty, Tarzan, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, the Wizard of Oz series... 

And then Daniel won a drawing in the school book fair. He got to pick any book he wanted, up to $15 value. We hadn't heard of the one above, but it looked promising. It had a cute cover, interesting-enough story line, and the kid on the front even looked a little like Daniel to me.

I didn't expect much from it, but I hadn't gotten through the first chapter before I felt jealous of the writing. The kids were irritated when I would stop reading in the middle of a critical scene to comment on some gem of a phrase or description. 

That, plus they didn't want to wait 24 hours to know what happened next. It was mutiny on the couch. What could I do?

They drew straws to see who got to read it first. Within a couple of days all three kids had finished it and I finally got my turn. I'm sure I was through it within a day or two, also.

There was no going back after that. We tried to rendezvous over a book a few more times, but they'd had their taste of independence: our Reading Hour fizzled to an end.

All because of Harry Potter.

With each new HP book, the scenario repeated itself... drawing straws, all-night reading sessions, keeping your lips sealed until everyone had read the book. (You could hear the sigh of relief after I closed the book - I was always last.)

Meanwhile, my kids grew and grew and grew. HP movies were made and we'd dutifully buy our tickets and watch them, but we were never satisfied. Admittedly, I always enjoyed them because I've never been able to remember details of books as well as my kids - they're harsh critics, let me tell you! I raised a fine litter of critical reader-geeks!

With that in mind, we didn't rush to be the first in line to see the final HP movie. It was one excuse, at least. Can you guess my other excuse? I hated to say goodbye. 

Yes, the book was finished long ago. I shed my tears back then, said goodbye to the characters, but I knew this movie was really the final goodbye to that era - an era of faces buried deep into books and kids who were shorter than me... of long summer days full of discussions about plot and character, good and evil. 

But I couldn't resist any longer - today I sat with my two twenty-something-year-old kids who'd known Harry and company half their lives... who'd grown up with Harry and Hermione and Ron... munching tons of popcorn and Milk Duds, reliving the last decade while watching the end unfold before me... the end of an era.

(Guess what we did after the movie? Dropped into Half-Price Books, of course!)

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And now, my Friday Favorite Photo, totally unrelated to Harry Potter. My crape myrtle is getting closer and closer to blossoming... I feared it had changed its mind due to lack of rain, but then I noticed this bud... I think it's going to make it!

 Hope you had a wonderful, magical Friday!

 

 

 

A Brother's Smile and other (belated) "Sweet!"s of the Week

The day his wife died, my brother Donnie lost his smile.

Well, he lost more than that; with just a glance at his drawn face, it was easy to believe he thought the world held absolutely nothing for him anymore. If it weren't for his children, I think he would have just sat in a corner and faded away.

But instead, he held on, gradually pulling himself back into the land of the living. Eventually the birth of his granddaughter reminded his face and heart how to smile. But it was still a rare and magical sight.

So you can imagine how ecstatic I am to report its return! He and his smile paid us an unexpected but very welcome visit this weekend, introducing us to the reason behind the smile's return: a girlfriend.

In other words... Love.

It turns out Donna grew up just around the corner from us. She and Donnie were great friends in high school but lost touch a few years later when he went in the Navy and she got married.

They recently reconnected via Facebook. He rode his Harley up to see her in person last month and he said it was like those years had never passed. (I believe him - he looks years younger!)

She lives in a little town not too far from us, so this weekend they drove over and spent the night. It was fun reminiscing, but more fun watching them beam at each other. 

What's rare now is his face without a smile. It's still hard for me to believe, but I tested it with my camera, always in the past a sure-fire way to make that smile run away and hide.

Not anymore, as you can see...

Aren't they cute? <sigh> Thank you, Donna! 

And thank you, Lord!

Accept the things to which fate binds you,

and love the people with whom fate brings you together,

but do so with all your heart.

~ Marcus Aurelius

***************************************************

 

Between TG's birthday and Donnie's smile, that's already a lot of Sweet! but would you believe I spotted more sweet! moments this week? Here they are...

Sunday: spending a wonderful dinner with your niece-in-law while she's in town visiting her family

Monday: organizing a zillion loose to-do lists into one and scratching off tons of things before the day's over

Tuesday: finally getting your iPhone operational (it only took two full days and a few phone calls); a clean bathroom!

Wednesday: welcoming the newest baby Shallue into the world!; hours of work on your book; complete Lesson 1 of kim klassen's skinny mini class on Photoshop Elements (getting started is the hardest part!

Thursday: full moon waving goodnight through your kitchen window - at dawn; finally meeting the new parish priest; bougainvillea exploding with color even in a drought; sweet fresh strawberries 

Friday: mandatory employee wine-tasting session (!); just the moon, you, your camera and dog in the quiet of the night; a sweet comment from your mom on a blog post; watching a movie with your sweetie

Saturday: sleeping in; remembering the day twenty years ago when you first met your baby girl; an unexpected visit from your brother and getting to meet the woman who restored his smile

Sunday: fresh chocolate birthday cake washed down with a glass of cold milk

What was your most Sweet! moment this week?

 

 

 

 

Two Sweet Decades

A new era began for me today. 

At 6:59 this evening, my baby girl turned twenty years old, ushering me out of a twelve year stint in that fun club, "Mother of Teenagers."

Now I belong to "Mother of Just Twenty-somethings." I think I'll stop keeping track after this. It makes me feel old.

I dropped her off in town last night so she could celebrate with friends. Who wants to hang out with old people on your 20th birthday? Tomorrow we'll do the chocolate cake and special dinner thing for her. 

I'm having my own celebration tonight.... a night of reminiscing with my brother, getting to know the new love in his life.

But still, in the back of my mind, I'm thinking of where I was twenty years ago, holding that tiny pink bundle, relieved that my hours of labor were over and so happy to finally meet that little blue-eyed girl. Those hours of pain were totally worth the chance to hold her in my arms, though. I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I had to. The day she was born was a sweet, sweet day. And the past two decades have been packed with sweet moments, so many memories of a little girl that kept me hopping, that amazed me with her independence and self-confidence.

 

My twentieth birthday is a blur of twelve-hour shifts - I had to dig through old photos to trigger my memory. I found a handful of photos, depicting a brown-haired, smooth-skinned girl I barely remember...

...surrounded by people who loved her, although I doubt she knew the value of that love back then. Many of them are no longer in my life...

There are photos of me with my arms around Mam-ma and my ex-brother-in-law... one of me showing my quadriplegic brother Buster my gifts - a jewelry box and a set of knives for my apartment... one of me and my 24-year-old bearded, long-haired brother Donnie who is here with me tonight at the ripe old age of fifty-seven, clean-shaven and buzz-cut, who has come from the ashes of heartbreak to find new love.

So what do I tell my girl today? I think I'll tell her that life goes by quickly, to value these days and the ones who love her, because they're gone all too fast. I would tell her that life will be hard sometimes, but overall, life is really, really good. I would remind her that she comes from a line of strong women and not to worry about what's around the corner - she'll get through it just as they did, and she'll be able to find sweet moments every day, just as they did.

Just as I did two decades ago when I first looked into her sweet blue eyes. Just as I do now every time I look into her still sweet blue-green eyes.

Happy birthday, sweet baby girl!

"A daughter is the happy memories of the past, the joyful moments of the present, and the hope and promise of the future."  

~Author Unknown

 

 

 

 

 

"And now for something completely different..." Kitchen Tales, a Recipe and Post #1000!

When I was growing up, if I stepped one foot in the kitchen, my grandmother would suddenly appear beside me to see what I was doing. It didn't matter if I waited until she was in her bedroom with the door closed playing the piano and belting out "Oh, What a Friend We Have in Jesus", she would somehow sense a presence in her territory and promptly investigate.

Mam-ma wasn't ugly about it. She didn't forbid me to cook. She would even sometimes sense my uneasiness under her watchful eye and try to give me some space, ducking around the corner to the livingroom and only peering at me around the door frame, but before long she would be back inside, hovering at my shoulder. She just couldn't help it!

Needless to say, I didn't learn much about cooking back then, beyond what was taught in my one semester of 7th grade Cooking Class with Mrs. McDonald. By the time I was out on my own, with my very own kitchen, I was on a perpetual diet. I learned to bake chicken, steam broccoli and even made Magic Cookie Bars and a broccoli-cheese casserole for a company Christmas party, but otherwise I lived on dry roasted peanuts, picante sauce and chips, and microwaved baked potatoes. Quick and easy.

After Tom and I married, I began experimenting with recipes on my days off. I loved cooking - if I had a whole day to devote to it, that is. I scoured magazines for new recipes to try...

Then the children arrived; it was back to quick and easy and trying to cook something everyone liked. Pre-boxed, pre-jarred... even pre-cooked. The more "pre's" there were, the better! 

In recent years, I've cut out all of those "pre's" - I'm trying to eat healthy. But I still like "quick and easy". Cooking, and the inevitable cleaning up, are way down below writing and photography and playing the drums for me, so when preparing a meal lands on my shoulders, it's usually grilled chicken and fresh salad. (Tom will say it's always grilled chicken and fresh salad. And he might be right!)

So why in the heck did I sign up to develop a recipe with Knorr Chicken Stock for BlogHer? Not just cook something, mind you, but develop a new recipe?

Because the top recipes win an all-expense paid trip to the upcoming BlogHer Convention, which I could never afford otherwise, that's why.

But, seriously, what was I thinking? I couldn't win. It's not that I think I'm incapable - it's just not something I'm 'into' right now. You name it and cooking is way down below it. And then there's the time thing. I'm already stretched so thin there are days I think I'm going to POP!

I thought about backing out of it. But thinking about it is as far as I got on that because... well, I gave my word, for one thing. And also, it became a new challenge, a way to grow in an area I've sorely neglected. 

I believe learning and growing and challenging yourself is what this 50 decade is all about, so for two weeks, I tossed ideas around in my head, trying to come up with something new.

That's really, really hard, you know it?

I noticed the chef at the winery creating dishes using roasted cauliflower and that gave me an idea. I had tons of cauliflower in the fridge. I would just roast a bunch and then... hmmm. Then what?

I eventually did come up with a mostly-original recipe. Only 'mostly-original' because I adapted one of my old standbys from when all the kids lived at home, a recipe I got from a co-worker years ago: "Terry Boer's Chicken and Rice Casserole." (I kept it in a recipe box next to "Hoi Tranh's Butterfly Shrimp" and "Larry Corona's Manicotti" and "Jim Josey's Cheeseburger Pie." I loved working with guys who could cook!)

And I really love casseroles because you just toss everything together in one pan, slip it into the oven and let it cook.

But Terry's recipe wasn't very healthy. That was my challenge...

His called for buttering the pan. I used olive oil. His used white rice. I replaced it with organic, gluten-free short grain brown rice. Instead of a whole cut-up chicken that his recipe called for, I used boneless, skinless chicken breasts. Instead of two cans of 'cream of..." soup, I used Knorr's low-fat chicken stock. Instead of dried onion soup, I used fresh onion and other spices.

Then I added my own twist, adding lots of cauliflower, broccoli and mushrooms.

Guess what - it was good! Even TG and Tom agreed, although I think Tom still prefers Terry's (unhealthy) version.

So maybe it doesn't totally qualify for the contest, since it's more of an adaptation than a totally original recipe, but even if I'm disqualified, I feel good about the whole experience. My cooking confidence has been restored - although I think I'll still let Tom retain the Kitchen Crown. 

So without further ado, here's the completed recipe for, um, what should I name it? How about... "Barbara's Chicken, Veggie and Brown Rice Casserole"? Well, not very original, but my brain is tired. It'll have to do. 

Hope you enjoy it!

 

Barbara's Chicken, Veggie and Brown Rice Casserole

Ingredients

1 lb. Monterrey mushrooms, sliced

1/2 broccoli crown, cut into chunks

1/2 head cauliflower, cut into chunks

1 whole onion, chopped

3 lbs. boneless, skinless chicken breasts (about 5 breasts)

2 1/2 cups of chicken stock made from Knorr homestyle concentrated stock

1 1/2 cups of brown rice

1/2 tsp. dry mustard

1 tsp. garlic salt

1 tsp. black pepper

1/2 tsp. cayenne pepper

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Prepare chicken stock. Coat bottom of 9 x 13 pan with olive oil. Pour 1 1/2 cups of stock into pan. Add 1 1/2 cups of rice, covering bottom of pan. Place chicken on top of rice. Mix seasonings together and sprinkle on chicken, then top with  onions, mushrooms, cauliflower and broccoli. Pour remaining chicken stock on top.

Cover with foil and bake for 1 1/2 hours. Remove foil and bake for 15 minutes. Allow to sit for 5 minutes before serving.

Serves 8 to 10.

(If you make it, let me know what you think!)

 

And now, for something ELSE completely different...

 

 This was my 1000th post on Long Hollow! Whoo-hoo!!

It's hard for me to believe, but I'm sure my stats don't lie. Thank you to anyone out there who has actually read even half of them!

 

 

 

 

Divas ... Then and Now

More than two weeks have already passed since my Deer Park Diva Weekend, but I'm just now getting the photos uploaded to Facebook and I've barely mentioned it on here.

(Or have I? I can't remember!)

But on these hectic, over-packed days I find myself in lately, I just have to flip a page in my mind to take myself back there beside Rae's pool, surrounded by ladies who have known me most of my life (plus a few Divas-in-Training) and ahhh, the stress just melts away in the warmth of the memory.

Friendship and sunshine. They can cure almost anything - or at least help you get through anything.

Who are the Divas? We're just girls, um, women who used to be girls who attended high school together. Many of us attended junior high and even elementary school together, too. Some are married to the guys who attended high school with the rest of us and that makes them honorary Divas.

We didn't necessarily hang around each other back then or share the same interests or hobbies or classes.

Some of us were best friends in junior high then drifted apart in the bigger sea of high school. 

 

Some became best friends in high school and have somehow hung on through all the ups and downs of the years. 

 

 

But the important thing is we're friends now, with so much in common, connected by bonds we never realized were there, more than thirty years after graduation.

In their faces, I see all the ages we've been. We didn't spend them all together - there have been gaps in our closeness during those times when our lives led in different directions.

But what a blessing that our paths have once again converged because when I look at these women, I also see survivors.  Divorce... deaths of children, husbands, siblings, parents... cancer... the fear of children at war overseas and children battling addiction...

You name it and one of us has lived through it.

I see women who keep going despite it all, who still find plenty to laugh about. Women who love life.

But Patti describes a Diva Weekend much better than I can...

 

Ode to the Deer Park Divas

So we’re all in our fifties, but none of us care

We’re all just so happy to have us all there.

We talk about husbands, the jobs that we’ve had,

We talk about kids, the good and the bad.

We drink margaritas and hang in Rae’s pool

And remember the days when we were all cool.

We play “who was....?” but mostly don’t know

Which makes us laugh harder at these brains that are slow.

We are 13 again as long as we’re together

And with a little luck, we’ll do this forever.

We’re sisters for life, let the story be told -

We’re the Deer Park Divas and we’ll never grow old!

~ Patti (Stringer) McPeek

Friends Forever!

What a Father Does

A father gives advice 

A father nourishes body 

and soul 

A father encourages

A father is joyful

A father reads

A father lends a hand 

 

A father plays 

 

A father offers support 

A father sticks close by your side

 

A father makes memories

A father teaches 

A father laughs 

 

A father is gallant

 

A father proves age is just a number

 

A father reaches out 

A father hangs on tight

 

A father helps you aim high

A father shows pride 

A father sets a good example to follow

A father relaxes

A father listens

A father works

 

A father keeps you honest

 

A father helps out

 

A father loves

A father dances 

 

A truly rich man is one whose children run into his arms when his hands are empty.

~Author Unknown

I've spent the day wading through photos, pulling out these of my three favorite fathers - my sweet Daddy, my remarkable father-in-law and my wonderful husband Tom, father of my children.

I might have gone overboard with the posting, but once I got started, it was hard to stop. While gathering the ones I wanted to use and posting them here, I also transferred photos from decrepit photo albums to new, more protective ones and recovered tons of files from that dying external hard drive. There are still a few left. I hope I can salvage them before it's gone completely.

There were tons of photos to choose from, reminders of how blessed Tom and I are to have such great, loving fathers. And I was reminded how lucky I am that he's the father of my children. Granted, we don't always see eye to eye on parenting styles, but I think we complement each other and achieve a good balance. 

We didn't get to see our fathers today, but we know how blessed we are that we can pick up a phone and wish them a Happy Father's Day (which we did.) 

I hope all of you dads (and moms who are playing both both roles for your children) had a wonderful Father's Day!

P.S.

My sister gave me permission to post this beautiful letter she wrote to our Daddy for Father's Day. It expresses much better than I can what kind of parents we were blessed with. Thank you, Daddy and Mama (and Brenda for letting me post it!)

Dear Daddy,

   As fathers go, you’re as good as they get. I’ve always loved you and been proud of you, and one of the things I appreciate about you is that you’ve always made it clear that you were proud of me. As I matured, I realized that not all parents are as generous with praise and appreciation of their kids as you and Mama have been with all of us. Thank you for the confidence you instilled!

   Thank you, also, for being my first first-grade teacher. Even after all these years I can remember lessons with you, particularly the large chart of the alphabet hanging on my bedroom wall, from which you taught me to read. That started my love of reading and opened worlds to me. For that I will be forever grateful.

   There is so much between then and now to be thankful for, but I am so very, very grateful for the opportunity to fall back into your and Mama’s loving arms for the last three months. At the least you provided me with basic care and waited on me hand and foot. But you did so much more. You doted on me, fussed over me, kept me company and entertained me. It was a little bit of heaven I’ll always be thankful for.

   I enjoyed waking up each morning and using my walker to meet you in the living room, where you stored my wheelchair each night. You seemed to enjoy pushing me, even though I could wheel myself, and I enjoyed letting you. You parked me at the dining room table and poured me a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice, then it was, “What would you like for breakfast today? Toast, bacon, eggs, oatmeal?” And you cheerfully fixed whatever I asked for. I was Daddy’s little princess every morning. Before I finished skimming the newspaper, Mama would join us. That made the morning perfect. What a rare treat for someone my age!

   Nobody ever had a better Daddy. I’m so glad I got you!

And I am, too! Happy Father's Day, Daddy! Thank you for always putting up with me, for always encouraging me and always believing in me! I love you!

Rest in Peace, Big Man

I try not to post twice in one day, but I just heard that Clarence Clemons, saxophone player extraordinaire, died today. Complications from a stroke a week ago. And it makes me sad.

I was a latecomer to Brucie, Clarence and the E-Street Band, but once there, I was hooked. Tom and I went to a few concerts early in our marriage and then had to rely on CDs until our friends George and Karen treated us to the concert here in Austin two years ago, right around the time George and I turned 50. 

I was in heaven. Brucie hadn't seemed to age, still rocking out and dancing and sliding across the stage on 60 year old knees as well as he had on 30 year old knees. And Max on the drums... well, I wrote about that here. Let's just say I'm partial to drummers.

But it was obvious Clarence felt the effects of the years. He still sounded just as great as ever, but he sat or leaned on a stool the whole time. 

Still, news of of his stroke, and now his death, caught me by surprise and make me sad. 

Rest in peace, Big Man, and thank you for your beautiful music.

Rosalita... Remember this one, Clarence? It's the one that made me fall in love with your sax...

 

The Difference a Few Years Can Make

 

Back then...

He was short.

He loved Honey Nut Cheerios and Cyclops cookies.

He loved building things with Legos.

He loved books, making up stories, and playing 'what if...?'

He had a wild, wonderful imagination.

He could get lost in thought, observing and wondering about the world around him.

He loved learning.

He was funny.

He was sweet, sensitive, considerate and affectionate.

He had intense blue eyes that twinkled with mischief most of the time.

He loved his siblings.

He believed anything was possible.

Now...

Well, um, he's not short anymore.

Otherwise, I guess not much has changed. 

Lucky me. 

(Not!) The End.

 

I've gotten way behind on my blog and photography challenges, so this is my contribution to two...Jan's Focus 52 and Jillsy's May Challenge, "Childhood". Click the links or the image below to see the other contributions (and wish me luck winning a cool tripod from Jillsy!)

 

Tough and Beautiful, inside and out. That's my Mom.

My mother, a pony-riding, chin-up champion tomboy, grew up... 

 

 

 ...to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, inside and out.

She's only 17 in the photo above.

I certainly didn't look this glamorous, elegant, or self-confident at 17.

I'm not sure I ever have! 

 

She's a combination of strong, soft, tough, sweet, gutsy, generous, confident, sensitive, sharp, compassionate, independent, loyal and determined that makes the cast of Magnolia Steel look like a bunch of cry-babies.

 

It's no wonder she caught the eye of my handsome, shy highway patrolman Daddy.Did I mention she was smart, too? Smart enough to know a good thing when she saw it .
(And of course, he was that smart, too.)

 

She's the one who taught me you can do anything you put your mind to, or deal with whatever life plops in your lap.

(I want both of these dresses!)

 

No, that pretty little girl up there isn't me. That's my big sister, Brenda. I wouldn't show up for probably two more Easters.

But the little cowgirl in the next one is me.(I never have had my mom's sense of style. Hers comes through even in a watermelon shirt.)

 

Maybe I didn't inherit her sense of style, but I did inherit a passion for lifelong learning. Judging by the serious (annoyed?) look on her face, I bet she was studying for one of her college classes when I took the one below. (But my gosh, isn't she gorgeous?)

She taught me there are times to buckle down and be serious...

 

...but mostly she taught me that life, even with its ups and downs and its quirky sense of humor, is still fabulous.

She taught me to appreciate every single day the good Lord gives me on this earth.

She taught me that no matter what's going on your life, you can find something to laugh about...

 ...and a ready laugh is beauty's secret weapon, inside and out.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama! Thank you!

I've linked this post to Jillsy's latest blog hop, because I guess it's obvious I think my mom has always been a glamorous beauty. Check out the other Mom Tributes below, and feel free to add your own. You don't have to have a blog - a FlickR or Facebook photo will work, too.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you who have mothered someone at sometime in your life!

 

Royal Wedding, the Sequel. Yes, I'll be watching. (And my Friday-ish Favorite Photo)

 

On a summer morning in 1981, I stumbled up the stairs and into my condo after a twelve-hour night shift, turned on the television, plopped on the floor, and watched the fairy-tale wedding of Diana and Charles.

Despite the cynicism of my 22 years, I guess I believed in the fairy-tale, and must have said an envious prayer as I watched, because just two months later I met my own prince.

My life turned out to be the happily-ever-after story, not Diana's. At least as much as anyone's can be these days. (Knock on wood, quick!)

We appeared to be nothing alike, but for some reason I identified with Diana - her relationship with Charles seemed similar to a long-term relationship I had at her age ... I understood her struggle to please, to gain attention, the battles with bulimia and anorexia and self-esteem. (Thank the good Lord mine didn't result in marriage.)

I had two sons in a row, just as she did. And my oldest son even looked like William for many years (I'm not the only one who said so.) 

Because of Diana, I became a Royal Watcher. Not in excess, but I watched the interviews, the news blurbs, read the books. When she died, I cried, glued to the television for days.

I know I'm not the only one.

I really don't understand it. It's against character for me, but there you have it. And for the same reasons I don't understand, I'll be up early - really early - this morning watching Diana's son tie the knot with that lovely young girl Kate, praying that after their fairy-tale wedding, they live happily-ever-after.

For Diana's sake.

The commemorative mug above was a birthday gift from my sweet friend Kim a few years ago. Thank you again, Kimmy!

 

And now, this goofy capture of Max is my Friday-ish Favorite Photo, because the look of delirious joy on his face as Daniel pets him is a mirror of the joy I felt having all three kids here.

I hope all of you have a joyous weekend!

Twenty-One Years Later...

"You have a daughter? I just remember the two boys!"

"Yep. I had her in '91. What year did you leave?"

"'90." 

"Well, that explains it then. Here's her picture..."

"Yeah, I saw it. She looks just like you. You don't look like you, but she does!"

When Ken first met me, I was 19. He was... well, he was just one of those old guys who hired on at the same time I did. Way up there in his late 20's or early 30's, most likely. One of those guys I worked twelve-hour shifts with who became like older brothers to me. Those guys who will always make me feel like I'm 19.

I like that.

It's hard to believe so many years have passed since we've laid eyes on each other. That's the way it is, though - you see someone all the time, and then life turns a corner. Next thing you know, twenty-one years have gone by.

Ken and his wife, Cynthia, now live in Panama. We've exchanged one or two emails and that's about it, so it was such a wonderful shock to hear his voice on the phone Sunday telling me they were in Austin, and could we get together?

We only had an hour or so to visit, just enough to reminisce a little and catch each other up to speed, like old friends do. We compared notes on co-workers (he hadn't heard about Roger) and fingers crossed, I've convinced him to come back to the states in September for a DuPont reunion I'm helping to organize. He's not the only one I haven't seen in twenty-one years - and none of us are getting any younger. (Even this perpetual "19-year-old" sitting at my computer.)

THEN (a staged photo of me and Ken, circa 1980, in the plant lab with Larry, one of those other "old guys". That's a lab pipette or syringe in my hand, by the way, used on methanol tests. Don't start any rumors!)

NOW (not much difference, is there? Well, maybe a little less hair on both heads, but I, for one, think it's an improvement, don't you?)

“My friends have made the story of my life.

In a thousand ways they have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges.”

~Helen Keller

 

 

 

 

Somewhere in our house...

I finished up my run on the treadmill, stepped around the couch, flipped the square coffee table on its side to make room on the rug for my sit-ups and stretches...

...and that's when I saw this...

Well, not this exact centipede, although it did cross my mind to run upstairs and get my camera...

Instead, I came to my senses. I knew I needed to get rid of that thing. 

Stomp it? No - I remembered stomping on a big one like this a few years ago in the kitchen ("big" as in 5 or 6 inches long!) and what I mostly remember about it is how it didn't die easily and I had to keep hitting it and there were tiny legs scattered all over my kitchen floor.  

I also remembered standing in my shower stall one morning, looking up, and seeing one about the same size taking the corner of the shelf above me rather tight - he was close enough to the edge that, well, I could see him!

Fastest shower I ever took, needless to say.

Anyway, with those memories flashing in my brain like neon signs, I ran into the laundry room where I knew we had a glass jar stored for catching bugs.

Well, I thought we had one in there. I couldn't find it. So I grabbed a really pretty red decorative can, dumped the two dozen ear plug packs it held onto the washing machine, and ran back to the rug, ready to scoop the sucker up, not caring that my pretty red can would now have centipede germs in it.

It was gone.

In retrospect, I should have stomped it when I had the chance, tiny-leg messes be damned.

I spent about ten minutes looking under the rug, under the shelves - I even using a long wooden back scratcher to reach under things. No luck.

So I called Tom. Not just to dump responsibility on him (that was part of it) but to warn him of its presence in case I forgot later.

Yes, my memory is that bad.

Now, hours later, we've both searched the room to no avail...

So that means...

...somewhere in our house...

Four years later...

I ordered the whole Grad Pack - personalized invitations, portraits, diploma frame, cap and gown, thank you notes with return address labels - one click and it was done. So easy and overall cheaper than just buying the invitations and cap and gown. Go figure. 

(Oh, I know full well there's nothing cheap about college. I said cheaper, not cheap.)

Tassles and stoles for the College of Liberal Arts are white, did you know that?

I like that.

"...white is not a color, but the manifestation of the presence of all color - the complete energy of light. It stands for wholeness and completion. In many cultures it represents openness and truth. White has a cold quality. It can provide clarity as its energy is complete.

White has purification vibrations and can be used to clear blocks from your path.

It holds the potential to move toward every other color and this makes it a good choice for new beginnings, and development in any direction." (from http://crystal-cure.com)

White. Yeah, it fits. I like it.

Guess what color the School of Business graduates get to wear! Drab!

I'm serious! Did you know 'drab' was an actual color? I sure didn't.

I didn't bother looking up what it symbolized.

I'm glad he isn't a business major. 

(Only because of the color ... His older brother is a business/marketing graduate ... But I'm sure his stole wasn't 'drab'. Ugh.)

He picked up his robe and invitations from the Co-op last week. I'll get them from him this weekend and start addressing envelopes. I'll have to stuff my Procrastination in a box, lock it up, and shove it deep into a downstairs closet.

This is too important to put off.

He sat for his graduation portrait at 2pm this afternoon. Doesn't seem right to take it two months early,  but they say it's easier this way, hectic as graduation day can be.

I told him to imagine he had just been handed his diploma and to make sure his face reflected that feeling.

I wonder if he remembered?

More likely he was thinking of the test he had just taken, or of one (or more) tests coming up, or of his resume, or of the job applications waiting to be filled out or sent in...

I was conjuring an image of him, looking so scholarly in his robe with the pure white stole. Then the image faded into scenes of another graduation, just four years ago, on a much smaller stage in a high school gym. 

Just four years ago.

Just four years ago he was coasting to the end of high school life; academics were pretty much over, he had his acceptance letter from the University of Texas and all that was left was organizing an Eagle Scout Court of Honor.

This time, there's no coasting ... no 'for-sure's ... no time yet to sit back and rest on achievements.

But there are achievements to celebrate.

He made it through a mine-field of distractions, obstacles, the Roommate from Hell, bad teachers and advisors ... cracked the codes of online registration and financial aid, drop-add, cheap books, changing majors, off-campus housing, bus routes, graduation requirements, campus employment...

It makes my head spin when I think of it all. 

He was frustrated at times, stressed out, confused, discouraged, depressed, tired, pushed to the brink of giving up...

But he didn't. He took a deep breath and fought his way through to the end.

He finished the job.

And now here he is at the end of a journey he started four years ago... 

I have no doubt he's ready for this next one that's about to begin.

(Have I mentioned how proud I am?)

 

 

Back Home

I left my parents' house before lunchtime, fortified by a bacon and eggs breakfast a la Daddy.

(That seems odd to say "my parents" house, when it's my childhood home, the house where I can't turn around without bumping into half a dozen memories...)

It was tough to leave - I worry about my sister Brenda, recuperating from hip surgery, trying to do too much too soon on her own. I worry about my aging parents, who would do anything for their kids, including sacrificing sleep. Or a back. Or breathing.

But I have my job, deadlines, projects, bills, dogs, kids, a husband. I stayed as long as I could, but I needed to get home.

"You're the best sister ever!"

"No, you're the best sister ever!"

"Girls, don't argue!"

Brenda is gaining strength by the minute - she has always been bullheaded and determined - and I can't imagine anyone who has a titanium rod in their hip, who has moved back into their parents' home for an extended period of time, who is having to rely upon others for help with basic needs, who doesn't have insurance and who has Parkinson's disease on top of everything else... what was I saying?

Oh yeah, I can't imagine anyone else in that situation having a sweeter disposition than she does. We didn't nickname her Pollyanna for nothing.

It's a humbling experience for me, a perpetual whiner, let me tell you.

I'm grateful I had a chance to repay her at least a little for all of the sweet things she has done for me all of my life.

Brenda, will you take me to the swimming pool? To the beach? To Astroworld?

Brenda, I'm sorry for calling you so late, but I'm in the last chapter of The Amityville Horror and I'm scared. Can I spend the night with you and finish it there?

Brenda, I'm sorry for calling you at 2am, but I was cleaning my oven and cut my finger and I think I need to go to the emergency room! Will you drive the 20 miles between us and take me?

(She confessed during one of her middle-of-the-night calls to me for assistance this weekend that she's glad she was so nice to me! Heads up to all you siblings out there!)

I'm also grateful I could relieve my parents for once, after all they've done for me and my siblings. They've dealt with encephalitis, whooping cough, measles, mumps, chicken pox, dislocated hips and body casts, broken arms, broken legs, dislocated shoulders, asthma emergencies, oxygen tents, gun shot wounds, quadriplegia, knee surgeries, grandchild-care ... I'm sure I've left something out, but you get the picture...

Now I've jumped back into my own life - I had to stop by the grocery store even before coming home. I knew we were out of everything! Tomorrow it's back to my job, back to writing projects and deadlines for part-time jobs.  I have bills to pay, phone calls to make to straighten out insurance kinks of our own (giving thanks for having insurance at all!) and piles of laundry to conquer. That's as far as I've gotten on my to-do lists. That will be enough for tomorrow.

But I've taken time to catch up with Tom on his weekend adventures (they include replacing a starter on his truck and breaking a $400 part on his backhoe while trying to help a neighbor, poor guy!), give my puppies some hugs and kisses, and take a lot of pictures of peacocks! More on that one later.

I also took advantage of a long drive home to stop and, well, I didn't see any roses to smell, but I did see quite a few bluebonnets and other wildflowers to capture in my camera ... (Hope you had a wonderful weekend!)

(click on the image to make it larger)

 

 

 

Life Maps and Detours

I circled “College Degree/Career Woman” on my life map long ago. The specifics were vague, but I had faith they’d become clear along the way.

Sure enough, after high school, I stepped onto a sure-fire route: "Full Scholarship in Chemical Engineering".

The path turned bumpy right away: tough classes in subjects that didn't interest me; distracting scenery - my parents' divorce, a jealous, unfaithful boyfriend, and non-college friends on separate paths; and on top of it all, a gray depression settling like a deep fog around my heart.

I got lost that first semester. Instead of class, I'd find myself perched on the Galveston seawall, munching Cheese-Its and staring past the waves to the horizon, my thoughts as scattered as the seagulls.

But re-focused and determined the next semester, I scrambled to the top. Still fired up from A's and B's, I veered onto a shortcut to make up for lost time: a summer semester of Physics ll, Calculus ll, and Linear Algebra Computer Programming. 

Too much, too soon. I wasn't fit for the rough terrain. Frustration and doubts chipped my protective wall, and the fog returned.

I gave up. Dropped out. Got a job as a welder's helper and my own apartment. I thought being alone was the answer; I thought all I needed was a bit of space to sort things out. I thought I could go back to school on my own, dependent on no one but myself. Forge a different path.

Thirty years down that detour, here’s what I’ve learned:

• Being alone is great, even necessary at times, but having family nearby is better.
• Education is worth more than the cost of tuition.
• Never take a gift for granted.
• When depression casts its pall on your world…
  • Play the opposite game: step out of yourself and do something for someone else.
  • if you feel like hiding in a dark room, take a walk in the sunshine. 
  • If you feel like being alone, gather people around you.
  •  If you feel like frowning, smile.
  •  If the hill ahead of you seems too big, just concentrate on moving forward; celebrate the small victories. Better yet, get someone to help you climb.
  •  If the songs you're listening to, the news or stories you're reading, or the people surrounding you are pulling you down, take a break from them and fill your world with inspiring, uplifting music, stories, and people. There are plenty to be found - they're just hard to see in the fog.
  • Appreciate the good things inside of you, but recognize the bad, and don't accept them. Think of the person you want to be, the kind of person you admire. Become that person. It won't happen overnight, but it's a good path to start on.
  • Eat right, exercise, get enough sleep. Miracle cures right there, for so many different problems, and at the very least, great ammunition to battle others.
  • Pray, pray, pray.

My detour took me into some dark, scary places, but it evolved into a wonderful journey, filled with love - my husband, children, family, friends. But I regret the detour, regret that I gave up, gave in, so easily. I regret time wasted, opportunities missed.

My regrets propel me forward, keeping me moving, determined to reach the end of the detour. That life map is faded, but the circle is still there, and the specifics are getting clearer. Stay tuned.

 This was my contribution to Red Writing Hood's prompt "Detour". Click HERE to read other contributions.

 

 

Mom, first and foremost

Tommy's cough was back, worse than before, poor baby.

No preschool for him tomorrow; that meant one of us would have to stay home with him, give him nebulizer treatments every four hours. Probably take him back to the doctor. I hoped he wouldn't need another round of Prednisone.

"I took off work last time," Tom reminded me. True. And he was just months into a new job after finally graduating from college. 

I, on the other hand, had three weeks of vacation to use for the year, my reward for working twelve hour shifts through two and a half pregnancies while Tom earned his degree. We wouldn't be going anywhere for vacation this year because Tom, as a newbie, only had one week coming to him, and I was due to deliver smack dab in the middle of July. 

I dialed my supervisor's number, then cradled the phone between my shoulder and ear while adding medicine to the nebulizer's plastic cup. "David, I need a day of emergency vacation tomorrow. Tommy's sick again."

Tommy coughed and coughed from the living room, waiting for me. I knew it would be a long night, waking every four hours, perhaps even every two to give him the treatments if he didn't respond to it. 

"Um, I've been instructed to tell you that you can't take anymore emergency vacation days."

"What? By who?"

"Sam."

Sam. David's boss. That bastard! Just a few weeks ago he was telling me about his son's battle with asthma. His son was Tommy's age. He, of all people, should understand. 

There had been cutbacks lately and forced overtime, and now they were worried about manpower and coverage. But Sam was just a male chauvinist control freak bastard, anyway.

And my baby was sick. And geez, tomorrow was Friday! I just needed off one day. Tom could take over Saturday.

I felt my heart beating faster, my face flushing. 

"I'm sorry, Barbara. I don't have a choice."

"I know, David. I don't blame you. But I am taking off tomorrow."

I hung up and immediately dialed the plant's main number, punching the numbers hard and fast. "Dave Loveday, please." The plant supervisor. Head honcho. I wasn't messing around anymore - my baby depended on me.  

A few clicks and then, "Dave Loveday here." 

"Hi Dave. It's Barbara." I poured out my conversation with David to him, shared with him how sick Tommy had been the past few months, how he was struggling to breathe now, how worried I was about him. "You know, I earned those three weeks of vacation and we have an emergency vacation policy in place for situations such as this. If the plant is short-handed, that's someone else's responsibility, not mine. I have done my job out there, but being a mother is my most important job. So right now I'm thinking I need to either call a lawyer or a psychiatrist. Which do you think, Dave?"

"Oh, Barbara, you just stay home and take care of that baby! Don't you worry about a thing out here!"

"Thanks, Dave." Damn right.

 

This is my contribution to The Red Dress Club's RememeRed. This week's assignment was, when meeting someone for the first time, describe a scene from your life that would help show the person your true self. It was tough trying to think of something I haven't already written about (I'm not even sure I haven't written about this before!) and I am barely slipping this one in under the deadline. Click on the image above to see the other contributions.

 

 

God Bless Texas!

‎''You may all go to Hell, and I will go to Texas''

~Davy Crockett

If you don't live in Texas, you might not realize that today is Texas Independence Day. On this date 175 years ago, Texas officially declared its independence from Mexico and became the Republic of Texas. An independent nation.

Ours is the only state of the United States that has even been a nation. How cool is that?

"Texas is a state of mind. Texas is an obsession.

Above all, Texas is a nation in every sense of the word."

~John Steinbeck, Author 

Yes, we are obsessed with ourselves, but I think we have a right to be. Face it - we're unique! We may not be the biggest state anymore, but we're still pretty damn big. (I know from experience! I've driven to El Paso and to Brownsville and to Amarillo!) 

We have the Gulf coast, the piney woods, the hill country, the desert, the plains, the Guadalupe and Davis mountains... 

The thing is, you can't judge Texas from any one area. We are the sum total of our parts.

And our history.

Ah, Texas history. I could get lost in you!

~ me

(In fact, I often do, especially when I'm working on my great-great-grandfather's story... )

My roots dig deep into Texas history. According to a book by the Daughters of the Republic of Texas, my multi-great grandpa, Jacob Reed, was part of the Austin Colony (as in Stephen F.Austin! Yes, I'm name-dropping!) He received a Spanish Land Grant, taking an oath in May of 1831, along with his wife, Matilda Gage Reed. 

My Baggett branch arrived in 1841 and stayed, becoming judges and successful businessmen.  I had several successful, land-owning relatives, but unfortunately, I'm always related to the youngest female of just about every branch, and they didn't inherit squat except the status of "Texan".

But I'm happy with that.

My Clary branch couldn't make up their minds, buying land early on in the Republic days but going back and forth between Texas and Arkansas. Or was it Alabama...

Whichever it was, they got smart and finally settled in Texas. Or at least my branch did.

Are you bored yet? Sorry, the genealogy addict in me started rearing its head. After writing just this little bit, I have somehow accumulated five 3-ring notebooks filled with tedious family history details stacked beside me.

I was getting lost in history again...

Now, believe me, I have nothing against other states. I've traveled to almost all of them and found beauty and interesting history in each one. And each branch of my family originated in some other state (except for the Rantzes, who came over from Germany in the 1840's and landed at Indianola... oops, there I go again. Sorry!)

Anyway, let's just end this by saying I am damn proud of being a multi-generational Texan.

Happy 175th birthday, Texas! And many more!

"I think Texans have more fun than the rest of the world."

~Choreographer Tommy Tune

"I am forced to conclude that God made Texas on his day off, for pure entertainment, just to prove that all that diversity could be crammed into one section of earth by a really top hand." 

- Author Mary Lasswell

"If you've ever driven across Texas, you know how different one area of the 
state can be from another. Take El Paso. It looks as much like Dallas as I look 
like Jack Nicklaus." 

- Pro Golfer Lee Trevino

"Texas is neither southern nor western. Texas is Texas." 

- Senator William Blakley

"I have moved over a great part of Texas  and I know that within its borders
I have seen just about as many kinds of country, contour, climate and conformation
as there are in the world."

 - Author John Steinbeck

"In the covered wagon days, if a baby was born in Texarkana while the family was
crossing into the Lone Star State, by the time they reached El Paso, the baby would 
be in the third grade."

- Texas Author Wallace O Chariton 

"Some folks look at me and see a certain swagger, which in Texas is called walking."

~George W. Bush

 

Hurray for the Weekend! (and my Friday Favorite Photos)

I can't believe it's already Friday again, and I haven't yet mentioned what a fantastic weekend I had... a week ago! It was a weekend with friends, and that's always wonderful, but what made this even better is having friends meet friends meet friends...

It started simple enough. Shari and Robert made plans to come visit for a night of dancing. Then our gypsy friends Jay and Chris let us know they'd be swinging through our way on the very same weekend in their travel trailer. They are on a cross country adventure and blogging about it on the way at Chris and Jay's Odyssey.

We hadn't seen Jay in more than ten years - he had been Tom's Coast Guard commander in a previous life - and we had never even met Chris, the woman who snagged him out of an entrenched bachelor lifestyle. So after quick introductions and hamburgers, all of us went dancing, and met another set of friends there who no one else knew yet - Debbie and Kevin.

And then (can you believe there's more? can you keep up?) Saturday night friends of Jay's came over for dinner. Don and Kathy actually live in our little town, but we had never met them! 

Don and Jay also knew each other from the Coast Guard - they were both stationed in Puerto Rico in the late 60's, early 70's. I enjoyed listening to their stories, and talking genealogy with Chris and Kathy. 

Sunday morning Tom and I were up early for our Austin Marathon adventure (if you missed it, click HERE and HERE) but were able to just relax on the porch and visit with Chris and Jay the rest of the day. (Shari and Robert had to head back home Saturday.)

And that's my idea of a perfect Sunday afternoon, just rocking on the porch with friends.

No photos of our night dancing, but here's a blast from the past - Tom, me and Jay on his sailboat in the Chesapeake Bay, circa 1984...

And here's Jay and Chris in our "front yard" this weekend. (She's a professional photographer, among a zillion other things, and professionals make me camera-shy, so I wasn't my normal snap-happy self. I've got to get over that! But my desire to have a photo of them made me overcome my shyness. If you like beautiful photography, check out her website HERE.) 

So here we are on the brink of another weekend. It won't be nearly as much fun, except for a little get-together tonight, but if the forecast for sunshine holds out, I'm hoping to get a lot of work done around here.

Especially since Tom picked up this little beauty on Craig's List yesterday for almost nothing! 

Sure, it needs a new paint job, but the a/c is cold! And it runs! Talk about an answer to a prayer - we (as in "Tom") really needed a work truck around here, since he traded the old one in for my little Elantra and TG rolled the Suzuki Samurai last year.

As beautiful as the truck is (you realize, don't you, that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? Tom thinks it's beautiful and that's all that matters!) that wasn't my Friday Favorite Photo. 

This is... 

Today is full of sunshine, but we had several drippy mornings this week, and this raindrop-dotted plant along the road caught my eye. I'm not sure what it is, and haven't had time to look it up, but I like the way the raindrops bling it up, don't you?

And because last Friday I was busy getting ready for the action-packed weekend (which means I was frantically cleaning house!) I didn't put up last week's Favorite, so here it is... my shot of February's full moon...

Happy Friday!

 

 

 

 

Grandma's Eyes

 

We parked in front of Grandma's tiny home and piled out of the car, the grownups heading straight for the porch. I lagged behind on the footbridge with my cousin; Poo swore she was not going to step a foot closer to that spooky place.

Grandma's house was gray, the gray of a dead oak branch still clinging to a tree full of green. That's what it reminded me of, because it sat nestled in the middle of her fig trees, her rose bushes, her gardens. To say she had a green thumb was like saying Jesus was a good swimmer. Grandma could grow anything.

Grandma was also blind. Someone had strung a rope between her flower beds so she could feel her way around to tend them. Heck, she might have strung it up herself, somehow. I only knew her then as a child knows a great-grandmother, which means about as much as you can know about a story from looking at the outside of a book, but over the years I learned she was smart, proud, stubborn, and unafraid of hard work. Unafraid, period.

While the grownups climbed the rickety steps and disappeared into the darkness of the fragile house, I tried to convince Poo it wasn't haunted.

I understood her wariness, though. It was hard to believe anyone lived in that weary place. If any paint had ever brightened those gray boards, time and weather had long ago stripped any evidence of it. 

And I knew the inside wasn't much better. Unlike Poo, who lived far away, we lived just over the Ship Channel, and every few Sundays we'd drive through the tunnel to pay Grandma a visit. I dreaded it because of the smell of gas and old that slapped you in the face when you first stepped through the door, and the tiny bugs I could see crawling in and out of the old-fashioned key holes. We had cockroaches hiding in the dark places of our home (like everyone else in that area, including the rich) so I wasn't judging her. I just didn't like it.

Also, Grandma was blind, but not bashful. Merly, she'd say to my mom, how old is this girl now? Then using her hands she'd give me a thorough checking out (wink, wink) to see if my development matched my reported age.

Oh, another thing. Grandma dipped snuff and kept a spit jar handy.

Yes, I dreaded the visits.

But, still, I knew it was safe to go inside, and I knew we should at least make an appearance. She wasn't a soft, sweet-smelling, gushing-over-grandchildren kind of grandma - her cover was pretty worn and ragged, her face full of angles below a wild nest of white hair, her eyes cloudy yet intense - but she was our Grandma, nevertheless. Well, great-grandma, and great-great grandma, respectively. 

There wouldn't be much to see once we crossed the threshold. I only remember three rooms: a bedroom to the left, a kitchen straight ahead, and the main room you step into from outside, and all I remember about the main room is a table where Grandma's record player sat (along with her spit jar.) The Lighthouse for the Blind sent her an audio record of the complete Bible, and my mother told me Grandma listened to it every day.

(I didn't know this at the time, but my older sister used to visit Grandma separately, sometimes taking her friends along. They loved visiting with this feisty old lady who'd outlived a whole century. I kick myself now for not spending more time with Grandma myself.)

These thoughts and memories popped into my head yesterday when my eyes began to ache. I had been staring at the computer screen for hours. That's not unusual. I stare at the computer screen for hours every day, sometimes up to 15 hours, with small breaks in between.

And my eyes start aching every day; sometimes they twitch and spasm, and that reminds me to do my eye exercises, staring out the window at something far away, focusing on objects at different distances... but more and more it reminds me of Grandma. Of her blindness.

I'm not sure what caused her to lose her sight. I've heard she was an avid reader, just like me, and would devour books by gas light. Family legend said that's what did it, reading in dim light, but modern medicine has taken away that excuse.

Could it just be heredity, some stray renegade gene? I hope not. Don't want to think of that.

Aside from my eye exercises and trying to eat healthy, I don't think there's anything I can do to prevent it anyway. My job requires me to stare at a computer screen for hours, and in my spare time I'm a writer, staring at yet another screen. And that's that.

I can only hope that, if I do inherit Grandma's eyes, I also inherit her spirit that refused to let her blindness keep her from the things she loved.

 

This post is my response to the Red Dress Club’s memoir prompt of writing about a memory and what it means to us.  At first I couldn't think of anything meaningful, but that's the beauty of these prompts - they start you thinking. And writing. Click the button below to read the other writers' contributions.

 

I Should Have Known

Who bought our family a state-of-the art green fake Christmas tree when I was ten (maybe eleven) because our experiment with a real tree landed me in the emergency room with asthma by Christmas Day but rather than go back to our sterile aluminum one the next year, I declared I didn't want a tree at all?

... and then, as if that weren't enough, who bought some Winnie-the Pooh and fake gingerbread men ornaments to go on the tree so we didn't have to hang those same old red glass balls on it again?

And who gave me the huge pink stuffed elephant for my 11th birthday and then bought me that Flamenco dancer doll in the beautiful pink dress that I fell in love with at the record store in Market Square?

Who let me tag along with her when she worked as a lifeguard in Houston and when she visited her boyfriend who worked at Jack-in-the Box, back when the building was an actual box and I got to go up inside of it? And who would take me to the zoo and to Peppermint Park and to that place where they had the pony rides and to the movies and to Astroworld and to the beach... ?

I could go on and on and on like this ... there are five decades of this stuff! ... but I'll end with this one:

Who, besides my parents and Tom, loves to indulge me?

My sister Brenda, that's who.

She'll tell you I was spoiled rotten but then confess to helping me get that way. 

Yes, I found out today my Mystery Friend, my generous drumming benefactor who granted my wish for beautiful blue drumsticks, is none other than my wonderful big sister.

I should have known... 

(Thank you, sweet sister! For everything!)

 

 

"The Old Irishman has flown to see his God."

What do you say when you hear a friend has died? What can you say?

How do you dare mourn, or express your own sadness, knowing there's a wife, children, mother, sisters, nieces and more, tied by blood and longer memories than you have to your friend, whose pain you know has got to be so much worse than this ache you feel in your heart, even though you're mourning not just for your own loss but for theirs as well? 

Mostly for theirs...

I have typed words. Then deleted them. Then typed them again.

This has been a dark day, literally and figuratively. It's truly night now, but looking back over this day, I can't remember sunshine, can't remember anything but winter's heavy gray sky, barren and dry and cold.

Sunshine would have been wasted on me, anyway; I learned first thing this morning that a bright light on this earth had gone out, and no amount of sunlight could have brightened the day for me.

There are some people who are so full of life, who live it so fearlessly and joyfully, who have so much positive energy, that you easily imagine them invincible. Or maybe it's just impossible to imagine a world without them in it somewhere.

My friend Carl was that kind of person, and the news this morning that he was gone, killed in a plane crash ... well, it still doesn't seem possible.

There aren't any right words.

My heart breaks for his wife and their kids, for his mom, sisters, nieces ... theirs is a close-knit family. One thing's for certain, though: they knew Carl loved them. He made sure they knew it.

He lived a life without fear, a life full of love, a life following his passion and encouraging everyone around him to follow theirs. I truly believe he lived each day as if it were his last, not wanting to waste a single minute worrying over something he couldn't control but wanting to do everything within his power that he could, not wanting to have any regrets.

He did nothing halfway.

His faith, his energy, his smile were contagious. From what I could tell, he always saw the positive side of things, was always ready to lift you up if he noticed you scowling or frowning or getting discouraged. And he was always ready to step in and help someone, no matter how big the project; he could easily rally troops to help with the twinkle in his eye, his gift of gab, and sense of humor. 

I'm grateful our families were led to this same small community years ago; grateful that our lives became so tightly interwoven with theirs through scouts, church, school, community; grateful that those bonds have held tight.

I'm mostly grateful that Tom and I were able to see Carl just a few weeks ago, sharing several hours of music, dancing and laughter with him and Rachel at their annual Christmas party.

Lots and lots of music, dancing and laughter. 

I'm so grateful for this photo.

Carl impacted our community in many ways - organizing the Young Eagles program out here (thanks to him, my kids and I got to experience flying small planes); helping to create a Youth Foundation and youth center; chairing our church Octoberfest and tripling the proceeds of previous years with his big ideas, like raffling Harley Davidson motorcycles.

Carl was a big thinker, and encouraged everyone around him to think big, too.

When Tom stepped down as Scoutmaster, needing to focus on building our house, Carl stepped up to take over as leader and helped guide many boys, including our own, to the Eagle rank. (Did I mention Carl was an Eagle Scout?)

As treasurer of the troop, I witnessed firsthand how much the troop and Boy Scouts meant to him.

I doubt if any of us who knew him realize even half the impact he made in this world ... but some of that impact was evident in posts I read on Facebook today...

...My heart is broken by this news. Carl was such a great guy, and my heart hurts for Rachel and the kids. I will never forget him taking the cubscouts up for flying eagles. His involvement with Scouts and his generosity will be sadly missed. :(

...He was an amazing man. He was the troopmaster that led many young men to achieve their Eagle scout rank. These boys are now phenomenal young men. Thanks Carl

...God bless you Carl. He too led our son Bobby to become an Eagle Scout. Bobby is now a Corpsman in the US Navy. We pray for God's comfort for Rachel and family.

...he was so full of life and always full of surprises! He will be so missed!

...Rachel, I am so sorry to hear about Carl. He is the most amazing man who would sacrifice for anyone. The bench at the elementary school in the car rider line is there because Carl would do anything to help anyone. At a moment's notice he brought out his backhoe and helped us get that heavy bench delivered to the playground (donated by Troop 847). I never thought we could get it done, but he made it happen, because that's what he did! I'll never forget a phone call he made to me when I was having a problem, he touched my heart, because that is what he did! Much love, peace & prayers to you and your family! God bless!

But this one that tugs most at my heart, and for me, sums it up the best:

The old Irishman has flown to see his God.
Thank you Dad for all you ever were.
2.2.2011

Please join me in praying for solace for Carl's family as they face this huge loss in their lives, that they are always able to feel the warmth of Carl's smile, because I know it will continue to shine down on them.

 

Remembering...

Tommy and Graham's Eagle Court of Honor

Tom and Carl, helping with Daniel's Eagle project...

Swimming in The Notch at Buffalo Trails Scout camp (by Daniel)

Carl in action, at Court of Honor with Daniel

Honored for his service at Daniel's Eagle Court of Honor

 

With his mom, aunt and sisters, December '09

Rachel and Carl with Kirby at her graduation Dec. 09 

Jim, Carl and Jacque, talking scouts, New Year's Eve '09

Rest in peace, Carl.
"The old Irishman has flown to see his God."

 

Keeping My Fingers Crossed

In my laundry room, there's a huge old rug stretched across the concrete floor, and the room has been puppy-proofed to the best of my ability. Maybe not Belle-proofed (I think that's pretty much impossible!) but at least dangerous, tempting items like window cleaner have been moved to higher shelves. 

It would be such a cozy spot for Belle and Max to snuggle down out of the frigid temperatures, but when I tried again to coax them inside the second time last night, they refused to even venture downstairs. Max just barked from his bed on the front porch and I could hear Belle pitter-pattering on the back deck above me. After calling and calling, and shivering and shivering, I finally just said "'night, then" and shut the door.

This morning they were both still alive and well, all wound up, ready for a walk. Max was limping more than usual, but I have a feeling they played a good part of the night. The cold has invigorated them!

We started out on the road, but the wind on my face was so fierce, I ducked into the woods as soon as possible, the frozen ground crunching under my tennis shoes. Other than that crunch, and the bite of the wind, you'd never know just by looking that it was colder here than it was in Chicago, with and without the wind chill (according to Al Roeker on the Today Show, anyway) because despite the woolen gray sky, we haven't had a flake of snow; there's not even a sprinkling of frost. Everything is just dull green and gray.

Even as my inner grownup chastises me and reminds me how dangerous the snow can be and how some states have been buried in the stuff, my inner child screams "NO FAIR!"

Really now, it's not fair to have to suffer through this cold and not even have the magic of snow to soften the sting, is it? I want icicles trimming the roof or hanging from bare oak branches. I want to watch delicate flakes flutter down onto the rocks and weeds; I want to run out and catch them on my tongue.

I'm really dreaming now, but I want a blanket of snow thick enough to lie in and create snow angels on our road, to build a snowman and to drag Tom's Uncle Reggie's childhood sled to the top of the hill and ride it down. 

I want to take lots and lots of photos of snow.

Yes, I know. Be careful what you wish for! Dangerous driving conditions, bursting pipes, branches crashing down, power outages (we've already had those!)... a snow-covered world isn't all magic and fairy tales.  

Yes, I know.

But I'm still keeping my fingers crossed that the forecasters are right and snow heads our way tomorrow evening. (I'm also hoping it avoids San Antonio, because someone special has a big day planned Friday and I promised her I would pray it didn't snow there. A complicated request, but I know he can handle it.)

And now, I'm going to go holler at those goofy dogs again. Maybe one night in the cold was enough to convince them they should snuggle on that cozy rug in the laundry room.

For some reason, I doubt it.

Goofy dogs.

Some scenes from our snow adventure last February ... I had forgotten about all of these. I took a lot that day! Remember the little guy in the first photo? Man, I miss that Frankie bird.