Long Hollow

A Reason to Celebrate!

The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is in life to celebrate.

~ Opray Winfrey

I turned 50 almost two years ago, along with all of the people I went to school with. We spent a fabulous year celebrating one birthday after another, each time celebrating all of us jumping into this next half century. 

My birthday party, courtesy of wonderful friends, was, I believe, the best birthday party I'd every had in my life. (I've already written about it so I'll spare you the details again, but click HERE if you're interested and missed it the first time. I'll warn you ... it involved cage dancing!)

The tinsel in the photo above is from that party - a friend decorated water bottles with it, and this piece has been wrapped around my little wine rack ever since, a reminder not only of my wonderful friends, but that life itself is a reason to celebrate each and every day.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations!  You have another chance.

 ~ Andrea Boydston

Earlier this month we celebrated the life of a dear friend in a different way - not the way we'd prefer, but the wake and funeral service for our friend Carl was a celebration, nonetheless. A celebration of his inspirational, infectious spirit ... a spirit that I suspect celebrated life every single day.

"Fly free and happy beyond birthdays and across forever, 

 and we'll meet now and then when we wish,

in the midst of the one celebration that never can end."

~ Richard Bach

At the service, another friend of his offered tokens to everyone, reminders of Carl. She had asked his kids to come up with words that described their dad, or tell her things he often said. She then burnished pieces of bamboo and somehow printed the words on the pieces.

Tom pulled one that said "Superman". He carries it in his pocket every day now. I think that's a form of celebration, don't you?

(I ended up with these four. There are words on both sides. Tom says I was greedy, but all jokes aside, I was there a long time, and each time I closed my eyes and pulled another token from the basket, I felt a connection to Carl. I'll eventually give two of the pieces to my two kids who couldn't be there.)

"The more you praise and celebrate your life, the more there is to celebrate."

~ Opray Winfrey

Friday night we helped celebrate with friends their 20th wedding anniversary. It was a surprise celebration, the idea of their oldest daughter, who was five at the wedding.

What a testament to their love and marriage that she saw reason to be sure they celebrated it in style! Like any marriage, theirs has had some ups and downs; we were happy to help them celebrate!

Above, a surprised Conni with her thoughtful, sneaky daughter...

Below, Conni and Larry, twenty years ago... (isn't this a sweet idea, hanging the wedding photos from a tree along with glass hearts?)

"Conni and Larry go together like peas and carrots" That was the theme of the party. Somehow our friend Mary Kay found candy peas and carrots and bagged them up as favors. So cute!

 

So what have you celebrated lately? (I hope it was this day!)

Remember, you need to...

"Enjoy yourself. It's later than you think."

~ Chinese proverb

This is my contribution to the latest Focus 52 project hosted by Jan at twoscoopz. Yesterday was her birthday, so she has been celebrating all week! Click HERE to see the other contributions!

 

 

My Cup of Tea

Growing up in Texas, my memories of tea don't involve delicate cups and saucers, but instead revolve around Mama's fresh brewed sweet tea, served ice cold in tall jelly glasses.

The only thing I drank hot from a cup was coffee or hot chocolate, and any knowledge of "tea time" came from one of my favorite scenes in "Mary Poppins", when Julie Andrews pours while teetering around Uncle Albert's floating table (If you don't know what the heck I'm talking about, do yourself a favor and watch the clip at the bottom of this post.) 

Anyway, despite my inexperience, I've always had a weakness for vintage china and teapots: the delicate artwork, the originality, the shapes. And thanks to friends and relatives, I've accumulated a wonderful collection. I have music box teapots, silver teapots, and novelty teapots, china sets handed down from grandmothers, and (bless her!) Tom's mom's collection of teacups. Or, at least I think they're tea cups. How can you tell the difference between tea cups and coffee cups? Oh, well, they're pretty and unusual and that's all that matters to me.

Here are a few others, treasured heirlooms, not because they're worth anything monetarily (they probably aren't!) but because of their connections to people I love...

my wedding china, and yes, I've used it...

But as much as I admire them, this is what I prefer for my coffee... it's pretty, but the important thing is, it's BIG!

Here are few other things on my Cup of Tea list besides tea cups, teapots and coffee:

• time with friends and family (especially Tom and the kids!)
• dancing
• the beach (all seasons, all weather, all times of the day or night)
• reading and writing
• rocking on my porch, watching the birds
• walking the dogs
• watching movies
• scratching things off of my to-do list...

...and that's what I'm planning to do today. In fact, I'll probably fit all of the above in today, except for the beach. But maybe I can slip down to the lake for a bit - that should be on my list, too, anyway.

So, tell me ... what's on your Cup of Tea list?

Oh, I almost forgot this one ... as promised, here's the laughing/tea scene from "Mary Poppins" - it's definitely on my Cup of Tea list! If you can watch this without at least one chuckle ... well, I'd be very disappointed in you, and we might not even be friends anymore! So just don't tell me - I'd hate to lose you.

 

This is my contribution to Jillsy Girl's Prompt Me! (Did you guess the prompt is "My Cup of Tea"?) Jump on the Blog Hop Below, or just click on the images to see the other contributions.

 

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.

 

Austin Marathon Moments - a personal perspective

My legs ache so bad!. This is one of the worst cases of shin splints I've had in ages!

No, I didn't run in the Austin Marathon. But I did run/walk 28 zig-zagging, uphill/downhill blocks in record time, camera bag ricocheting around my body, trying to reach the finish line in time to see my oldest baby son victoriously cross it after running the Half.

I didn't make it.

I'm not sure who that is in the photo above, but I know it's not my son. He doesn't usually wear sports bras. (But congratulations to whoever you are, anyway! Way to go!)

I staggered up, sweating more than the runners, about ten minutes after Tommy crossed. I'm glad he had his cell phone so I could find him...

A few minutes later, I spotted Kirby (the pretty redhead) just after she crossed.

 

That's right! ... I ran (okay, walked/ran) 28 blocks just to take pictures of my son and his girlfriend and tell them congratulations. I am Mom!

 

A bit of Marathon Mayhem, Austin-style...

 

The champs together, already discussing next year's half-marathon...

 

Look at these medals ... aren't they beautiful?

 

After walking back 28 blocks to our car (parked at Daniel's apartment), we met Tommy and Kirby at Trudy's for a celebratory dinner and Mexican Martini toast. They clean up pretty nice, don't you think?

 

I'm thinking I might join them in the half marathon next year. I mean, these people make it look pretty easy, don't they?

 

And you're entertained along the way...

 

But then, there are the hills (oh, my aching shin splints...)

 

Well, I have some time to think about it. But you know, if I'm going to be sore the day after, I'd rather be able to say it's from running it rather than running to it.

We took our time walking back, coming upon the full marathon runners as they made their way across the University of Texas campus. A few stood out. There was the blind runner, using his cane to check his path - how inspirational is that? And then there was this one, who just, well, stood out...

 

Now we know what Santa does in the off-season...

If we weren't planning to meet Tommy and Kirby for the celebration lunch, we would have rested for awhile near these guys and just listened to the music. They were really good!

 

I first spotted this sculpture of wild mustangs fifteen years ago, when I chauffered Tommy and other fifth graders to the college for a career project. I've passed it several times since and wished I could take a photo, but either didn't have my camera or the time. Sunday I had both.

See? No time limit on wishes...

 

We passed some other interesting houses, graffiti, wall art, along our trek back to Daniel's apartment. (The day was just full of adventure!) Check Confessions tomorrow for those (as well as a few others I took downtown.)

If you've run a marathon or half-marathon, tell me about it. Help me decide if I should give it a try or not.

(This is my contribution to week 7 of focus52 sponsored by Jan at twoscoopz. Click HERE to see the other contributions to the prompt "Close Up".)

 

 

 

 

 

What Money Can't Buy

Tom and I are pretty old and settled - it doesn't take much to entertain us. Since we're also pretty broke, that's a good thing.

Taking a leisurely walk down our caliche road with the dogs on a sunshine-filled afternoon is a highlight of our weekends.

That's how old and settled we are.

 

We live on an old sea shore. We know this because of all the shell fossils we find on our walks, if we remember to look for them. Sometimes they're just lying there, loose, right out in the open.

Sometimes they're not.

 

Sometimes you have to dig a little to break them loose...

 

On a good day, if you're lucky and paying attention, you can end up with a handful.

 

But very once in a while you come across a buried one that turns out to be bigger and deeper than you thought. You start digging...

 

The dogs sigh and settle down to wait.

 

and wait...

 

while you keep digging...

 

Good dogs.

Stubborn fossil.
(Stubborn Tom.)

 

Persistence pays off (with the help of a rock hammer tossed in the car so you can stop and dig it out a few hours later when you're headed out to a friend's house)... a natural Valentine.

 

To go along with the Valentine's Day sunset...

 

and the best card in the world...

"If you want to feel rich, just count the things you have that money can't buy."

Like time and sunsets with the one you love.

 

 

Bloom, Waiting

The trio of crape myrtles at the top of our walk are bare, just bunches of naked gray branches with nary a leaf, much less the beautiful pink blossoms they flaunted last summer.

And yet I know somewhere inside those gray-brown forlorn branches, new buds are waiting. They are biding their time, waiting for the perfect conditions, to make another grand entrance.

That's how I feel these days, like a bare crape myrtle, in between seasons.  

Something is there, waiting to bloom. I don't know what color it will be, what shape it will take, but I'm eager to see it. Restless.

I hope it doesn't take too long.

This post is my contribution to Jillsy's Prompt Me! Wednesday - this week's prompt is "Blossom". You have until Tuesday to join in the Blog Hop!

My Whole Silence is Full of Prayer

Thomas Merton said that, not me. But I like it.

I spend my day in silence. In prayer.

In the mornings, it's just me, the dogs and my thoughts. Most of the day I'm on my own in a little office with very little co-worker conversation. At night, Tom sighs and leaves me to the computer.

So I spend a lot of my time in prayer.

Today it started out joyful - how could it be otherwise? I'm blessed to be able to spend a bit of almost every day walking along a country road at sunrise with two goofy dogs whose joy is palpable and contagious. They run, roll in the dirt, sniff, play... and sometimes just stop and gaze in joyful wonder at the world.

It's enough to make you think anything is possible, especially when the birds begin to sing, relishing these warm mornings.

Hope is that thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops... at all. 

Emily Dickinson

But you know how it is - as the sun rises, reality sets in. The reality that bad things, sad things, can happen in the world. 

Sometimes sad things happen all at once. Last week, about the time I heard of my friend Carl's death, I also got word that a friend of mine had been the victim in a home invasion. Here is the offical news report...

On 02/05/2011 at approximately 9:00pm, three Hispanic males dressed in reflective work vests and hard hats committed a home invasion in the 1400 block of North Park Ridge, Deer Park. The suspects knocked on the victim’s door posing as employees from a local cable company. The suspects told our victim that they had information he had been stealing cable service and requested that he meet them in the backyard of the residence to inspect his cable box. The victim met the suspects in his backyard where he was attacked by the suspects. The suspects bound the victim’s hands and feet, and took him back into the residence. The suspects then ransacked the residence, stealing only a handgun. After the suspects left the residence, the victim was able to remove the bounds around his legs and contact a neighbor who phoned the authorities. The police department has been unable to identify the suspects as of this release date. The case is under active investigation.

My friend was watching his young granddaughter at the time, and she witnessed the attack. Of course, she was traumatized.

I've had messages from my friend this week, and although he spent a few days in intensive care, he's back home and says he's doing okay and his granddaughter is much better. But please keep them in your prayers for continued healing, and also that the creeps who assaulted him are found and convicted so they can't do this to anyone else.

While you're praying, please keep the teenage son of a friend in your prayers: I received word today that he's in intensive care. I don't feel free to offer any other details... just please pray for him.

Driving home this evening, with these things weighing on my mind and heart, I spotted this:

 

 

Right away, I felt better. 

Have courage for the great sorrows of life,
and patience for the small ones.
When you have laboriously accomplished your daily tasks,
go to sleep in peace
for God is awake.

~ Victor Hugo

Saying thank you ... and goodbye.

I spent two days witnessing love and friendship poured back upon a family mourning a husband, father, son, brother, uncle.

A whole community grieved over the loss of one man, joined by family and friends who had traveled thousands of miles to pay their respects, impressing upon me visually what an amazing difference one man can make in the lives of so many by living life to the fullest, believing the impossible is do-able, and just being a friend.

(Imagine the difference in the world if we all did the same.)

Love of family, love of community, love of the life we're given - I think that's what Carl would want all of us to remember.

I won't forget.

 

Life is to be fortified by many friendships.
To love and to be loved is the greatest happiness of existence.

~Sydney Smith

 

 

In the darkest of times, laughter helps revolutionize our perspective.

~ Phil Callaway

 

a few of Carl's Eagle Scouts (all grown up) and fellow leaders...

[Love] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:7-8

...especially with the support of friends.  Please continue to keep Carl's family in your prayers. 

 

The following video of the Missing Man formation was recorded by one of Carl's Eagle Scouts. The video below it features the lone bagpiper playing "Amazing Grace" on the runway...

 

 

More "Love is..."

...Love is being greeted at the door by Brooks and Dunne singing "Still in Love With You" and the smell of grilled steaks and baked potatoes.

(Love is leaving a cd of Country Love Songs on the table beside a mushy card and heart-shaped box of "Wild About Reese's" peanut butter cups for him to find when he got home from work.)

Love is eating dinner together then watching a brilliant pink-orange sunset before coming inside to pay bills and type up an agenda for tomorrow night's meeting ... which is why I'm re-posting something from last year in honor of Valentine's Day, instead of writing something completely new and fresh.

I hope you enjoy it, anyway!

Happy Valentine's Day! 

 

 

 

 

Love talked about can be easily turned aside, but love demonstrated is irresistible. 

W. Stanley Mooneyham
American minister and speaker, 20th century

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

I was bemoaning the fact that, despite hundreds of miles run, lunges lunged and squats thrusted, and losing enough weight that I could buy my bras in "training" sizes, I still have my grandmother's saddle-bag thighs.

"But you don't have any cellulite anymore," Tom told me.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really."

The next day I looked for myself. Sigh. Just as dimpled as ever. I knew Tom hadn't been lying or merely trying to make me feel better; he just can't see worth crap anymore. But he also just doesn't care. He doesn't care that my hair is thinning. Heck, he wouldn't care if I went bald. He has never been able to tell when I'm wearing makeup or not (I've tested him)...so I'm sure my deepening wrinkles go unnoticed. He pays attention to me, he sees me...but it's the me on the inside...the me that he met and fell in love with despite himself almost 28 years ago. He looks past the "me" on the outside just as I look past the 52-year-old "him" on the outside and see the "him" who asked me for a dance at Diamondback so many years ago.

That's love.

Jill, from ELEMENTAL, my dear, invited bloggers to share their idea of what love is, so it set me to thinking about things that make or have made my heart go pitter-patter. Here are a few more ...

...Love is the sound of drums coming from my house...fulfilling a wish I had tossed aside, believing it couldn't come true because there wasn't a spot for them in our new house. Tom surprised me with a set (thank you, Craig's List) on our anniversary a few years ago. It proved to me he pays attention. At least sometimes.

(Love is throwing him not one, but two surprise birthday parties...plus a huge family reunion/50th birthday party that lasted two weeks and involved having people sleeping on every square inch of the house, including on a mattress in the downstairs shower stall. Poor Kirby)

...Love is coming in the house from a long weekend, relieved to discover your coffee grounds from four days before have (thank the Lord!) been dumped and all the pieces are clean and dry, ready to go...despite the fact that your spouse doesn't drink coffee. (If he hadn't cleaned it for me...ooh, gross!)

(Love is picking up empty Dr. Pepper cans from all over the house...and outside...and biting my tongue. Pretty much.)

...Love is finding the coupon section of the Sunday newspaper separated for me, without asking.

(Love is gathering up the Sunday newspaper, at times from different rooms in the house, and putting it in the wicker basket where it goes.)

...Love is not minding that I plant myself in front of the computer every evening after dinner to write...and biting his tongue when he sees I'm on Facebook instead.

(Love is not minding that some nights he just crawls in bed and flips channels, instead of working on whatever project is in progress at the time, because he's physically and mentally worn out. He leaves the house at 5:30 am, for goodness sake!)

...Love is not being jealous about phone calls from old boyfriends, or emails from old boyfriends, or birthday lunches with old boyfriends.

(Love is not being jealous about his women friends and co-workers...even when he pinches Lisa's rear-end.)

...Love is always dancing the Cotton-Eyed Joe and the Schottische even though his hips and ankles still hurt from that accident in 1998.

(Love is sitting by his side in the hospital for a week, afraid to leave him...holding the urinal in place for an hour because he thinks he can go on his own...feeding him ice chips, sleeping on a fold-out chair, grateful for the sound of his snoring because it means he's alive.)

...Love is piecing together sections of workshop floor matting for me to lie on when I do sit-ups, so my tailbone doesn't get bruised anymore.

(Love is subscribing to Men's World e-newsletters and forwarding the good ones to him to keep him healthy.)

...Love is not nagging each other because the bathroom he/she is in charge of cleaning is a borderline health problem.

...Love is saying to hell with everything that needs to be done around here to play ping-pong...or go for long walks along the creek...or travel virtually to Ireland or Istanbul or Italy with Rick Steves...

...Love is still joking around, still having fun, still laughing at each other and at ourselves after almost 30 years...and looking forward to the next 30 together.

What do you think "love is..."? 

 

Love is Life

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day.

Tom and I celebrated early with a walk through the woods with the puppies, where odd things caught my eye, like this branch and its shadow against the aged cedar tree...

and this colorful cactus...

And then on the road headed home, Tom spent a few minutes trying to free a fossilized shell from its caliche prison.

(More on that adventure later, but isn't this a cute photo of my Valentine?)

 

We moved in slow-motion, mesmerized by the blue sky and sunshine and warmth, physically and mentally exhausted from the weekend.

We played ping-pong, drove into town, stopped for a quick meal at Panda Express and hit the grocery store.

Perhaps that doesn't seem like much of a celebration. It's nothing extraordinary; we often spend our days this way.

But isn't that what love is all about? Those thousands of moments that blend together into a single heart ... one giant heart that beats for each of you, pulsing to the rhythm of your lives, setting the tempo, ensuring your steps match each other's even when there are times you can't be together?

We've never gone overboard with huge Valentine's Day celebrations, but especially after this past weekend we understand how precious each moment we have together is, and that it's the simple, quiet, every day moments that say "I love you. I'm glad you're mine." louder than any box of candy or corny, dusty Garfield statue ever could...

(Garfield is pretty cute, though. Happy Valentine's Day tomorrow , anyway...)

This is my contribution to week 6 of Focus 52 - "‘Love, baby’! L-O-V-E!" Click HERE to see the other contributions.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Days of Prayer and Celebration

Surreal.

Sitting where just weeks ago I danced, now praying, chanting, "Hail Mary, full of grace...", my voice joining with almost 300 others, Catholic and non-Catholic, drawn together by shared admiration and affection, our breath turning frosty in the cold of the hangar, our eyes full of tears, surrounded by airplanes, pieces of airplanes, miniature airplanes, airplane art... 

Carl loved airplanes.

He's there with us. Faces, memories, photographs, videos. I can feel him smiling.

Today there will be more - more prayer, reflection, recognition, sharing, hugging, crying, laughing, remembering. Please keep Carl's family in your prayers.

To learn more about him, click HERE.

 

 

A Treasured Gift

I decided to be prompt with this week's post for Prompt Me! Wednesday, hosted by Jill at Jillsy Girl, although even as I'm typing this, I have no idea what my post will ultimately say.

Don't get me wrong... I've been pondering this one for several days already. What stumps me is trying to decide what to set on the pedestal as "A Treasured Gift"? Should it be a thing or an ideal?

I fear I'm in danger of overthinking this one...

There's the gift of friendship, both human and animal. I was reminded of the preciousness of friendship this past week by the loss of a friend, and that's what I had originally planned to focus on for this post. I even found several quotes to go with it... 

"Friendship is a treasured gift,
and every time I talk to you I feel as if I'm getting richer and richer." 
~ unknown

"Among Life's precious jewels,  
Genuine and rare,  
The one that we call friendship  
Has worth beyond compare." 
~ author unknown

"Real friendship is a rare and precious gift, strong,  
stable, yet fragile, and never to be taken for granted." 
~GAgirl 

But I wasn't satisfied. So here I am still typing...

The gift of my blue drumsticks come to mind, not because of the drumsticks, but because of my sister, Brenda. Truly a gift. And writing the post about her brought back so many wonderful memories of our shared history. My family and those memories are for sure treasured gifts.

Then there are the drums themselves - Tom surprised me with them on one of our anniversaries. Definitely one of the most romantic gifts he's ever given me, and I treasure them as a reminder of his thoughtfulness as much as for the joy they bring me. 

Heck, Tom is a gift. I believe God put him in my path... He knew just what I needed. But if we're talking of gifts from God, how could I, as a Christian, not mention the ultimate gift of eternal life, thanks to the sacrifice by his son, Jesus?

Or the gift of faith that will sustain me even if a time comes when I have nothing else left - no friends, family, drums, blue drumsticks, or even my memory.

(See? I'm all over the place with this. Totally overthinking it, I know.)

And of course, my children! Such precious gifts, each one of them.

But what about these others? 

• Learning to read
• Trust
• Freedom to pursue my passions
• Time
• Breathing
• Sunshine
• Each day and whatever it brings

Ah, that's it!

My most treasured gift is... ...this moment right now.

Fleeting, precious, not to be taken for granted, no matter how ordinary it seems.

Or extraordinary.

Because each one is extraordinary in its own way, isn't it? Each one filled with bits of every other gift we've ever received.

What comes to your mind when you think of "A Treasured Gift"?

 

 

To see other contributions to this week's Prompt Me! Wednesday (or to add your own)

CLICK HERE!

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!)

 

 

Nests, Webs, and Blue Drumsticks

These arrived on our doorstep a few days ago...

I have no idea who sent them. Tom says it wasn't him ... he thought I ordered them for myself.

I swear when I said "will someone send me some blue drumsticks?" I never expected anyone to actually do it! From now on, I know to be careful what I say on here!

But to you, my Mystery Friend, right now I say thank you very much! They are beautiful, as you can see - a rich, royal blue - and when I'm banging away with them, I'll remember you!

...whoever you are...

(I hope you come out from hiding so I can thank you personally.)

 I had another sweet surprise this week - Hilary of The Smitten Image recognized Winter's Breath on my Confessions blog as a "Post of the Week". Each Wednesday she highlights several blog posts in different categories on her blog, and I am truly honored that she chose one of mine! 

I urge you to click on the badge below to see all of her choices from this past Wednesday - better yet, once there, click on the links you find there for some wonderful reading.

Thank you again, Hilary!

And speaking of Wednesdays (sort of), all week I've been pondering this quote... 

It's Jillsy's latest prompt for Prompt Me Wednesday. (Fortunately, we have a week to ponder and post.)

This quote has been in the back of my mind as events of the week unfolded, trying to figure out what it means to me.

I've pondered the drumsticks, the Post of the Week award, and especially my friend Carl's passing in relation to these words, and this is what came from all my pondering...

Like birds, humans have nests, cozy homes for our families. Like spiders, humans toil to gather food and produce beautiful works of art. But unlike birds and spiders, humans have a larger network beyond the nest and web - a support system for those times when our loved ones leave us alone in our nest, or when we're no longer able to gather food for ourselves or our passion for our art has been lost.

The bird a nest, the spider a web...

Man friendship. 

Our shelter, our safety net, our inspiration.

What does the quote mean to you?

Share in a comment or link up your own blog post below (you have till Tuesday!) Next week's prompt is "A Treasured Gift".

 

 

Good morning, Snow! (My Friday Favorite Photos...)

I woke to a Winter Wonderland, Central Texas style (translation: an inch or so of snow) 

Not quite enough to cover the rocks, but hey, you northern people, don't laugh! It's like icing on a cake, and you know, icing makes everything taste better! Or in this case, look better... and also justifies freezing our tushies in those teens temps.

It was a surprise to see the world of white out my window when I finally awoke; when I went to bed - and it was pretty late by then - we'd gotten nothing but some sleet and frozen rain.

Tom and I stayed snuggled under the covers for awhile this morning (because the house was so dang cold!), entertained by coverage on the television of adventurous drivers slippin' and slidin' on the highways, until it hit me FIRST that the dogs were still in my laundry room past their potty time and SECOND the snow wouldn't last all day so I better get my rear-end out there and enjoy it while it lasted.

So I did.

I threw on some clothes, started the coffee brewing, and headed off on a walk with the puppies to work on my Snowy Day list. (Bless their hearts, they had managed to "hold it", if you know what I mean...)

As far as my walk went, two out of three isn't bad. (See yesterday's post, if you're wondering what the heck I'm talking about... )

1) Catching delicate flakes on my tongue: The snow had stopped, but the wind played housekeeper, dusting the snow flakes off of the roof and leaves. It was tricky, but I managed to catch several on my tongue.

2) Make snow angel: I took advantage of the dogs running off into the woods after something to lie down on our road and move my arms up and down. When I tried it with them nearby, well, forget it. This might not be the best snow angel around, but it's mine...

3) Build a snowman: I confess, I forgot about this one at first. It was after my camera battery had died and had to be recharged, and I went out for a second round of snow that I ventured to build a snowman. Right away I realized two things: first, there wasn't enough snow left, and second, my hands were really, really cold and it wasn't fun. So no snowman. Sorry.

Not really. I'm actually not sorry. My hands were really, really cold, dang it, and I could tell it wasn't going to be a pretty snowman - too much mud and dirt getting mixed up in the snow. But Tom grabbed one of the sections (pretty much a snowball) and stuck it in the freezer as a reminder of the Storm of '11.

So there.

Instead, I took a photo of my vintage '80 snow boots in the snow...

And here are a few more shots from my walks in the snow today. I'll post more tomorrow on Confessions...

Belle meets Snow...

More of Belle and Max...

"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. 

 

A Chili Kind of Night

Tom made chili tonight. He used my recipe, but of course, it tasted better than when I make it. 

He's so irritating that way.

But I forgive him, because it was really, really good - the kind that makes your nose run and beads of sweat pop up on your brow (a picture of my Daddy just popped in my head, pulling out his handkerchief, wiping it across his forehead and saying, Mmmm, that's good!)

Anyway, the chili hit the spot. And the fire in the wood burning stove is keeping the cold outside where it belongs. I'm supposed to be paying bills, but instead I've been playing with photographs, finally posting those frosty images from last week over at Confessions.

I'm hoping for snow. Not as much as the northeast is getting. Just a few inches would make me happy. A blanket of light snow, maybe some ice, that would force us to hibernate for a day or so - our roads aren't made for cold weather and we wouldn't be able to drive up the surrounding hills to the highway. We'd be in our own little world...

It might happen by the end of the week. We'll see. The forecasters are getting really excited and talking about breaking records. But all I know is, tonight it's really, really cold - temperatures will drop into the teens and, with the wind chill, down in the single digits. (I can feel you Montana and Kansas people rolling your eyes, but that's still cold!)

Tom and I have had a debate about bringing the puppies into the house. He argues they have a great doghouse built into the hill and up against the house, and if both of them crawled in there, they'd be toasty warm.

I argue that they're my puppies and I worry about them. And I'm really not sure they're smart enough to crawl into the doghouse together.

So I'm headed downstairs now to puppy-proof the laundry room. 

And then I'll pay bills. I promise.

Hope you're warm wherever you are!

P.S. I tried to get the dogs into the house. Max came gratefully, but Belle stopped at the threshold and wouldn't come a step farther! She was afraid! Max finally re-joined her outside and the last I saw them, they were running and playing, headed in the direction of the pond. Goofy dogs! The wind is howling and it's so cold I could see my frosty breath right there at the door! I'll try to coax them in again a little while. I really am paying bills now. And then there's that book I'm writing...