Long Hollow

Good (Halloween) Morning

I might see some trick-or-treaters this evening. I'm excited about that.

When you live a mile down a dirt road in a Hollow of few houses and no small children, Halloween is like any other night. Quiet. No one ever comes to your door. Even when my kids were actively hustling for candy, I had to drive them from house to house, or at least to another neighborhood where they could walk door-to-door.

But I'm still here at Mama and Daddy's, in my old neighborhood of side-by-side wood-shingled houses connected by sidewalks perfect for the travels of little goblins and princesses. I plan to sit near the front door with my camera handy. And, of course, a bowl of candy.

I was supposed to be heading home this morning, but, as often happens in life, things didn't work out the way we thought they would. Home healthcare wasn't in place when Daddy was discharged and I can't leave until it is.

My sister has that wheel turning now, working with the doctor's office and an agency, and fingers-crossed it'll be in place Friday so I can get home in time to work this weekend.

But flexibility is my word right now. 

Transitions are tough, and I sympathize with  Daddy's frustration over his new medicines and changes in his morning routine: Take blood pressure. If it's above this, take this pill. If it's above that, take another. Also take two others that have long multi-syllable names that sound alike and even I can't pronounce. Wait an hour. Eat. Take another handful of pills with similar names.

One day, God willing I live thirty more years, it will be me frustrated over my rebellious body and doctors and prescriptions.

I'm going through my own transition right now, missing my morning routine of a walk with the puppies. I miss working on my book, editing and posting photos to sell. I miss sweating and pushing my body through those work-outs I had come to dread.

Daddy feels great...and not-so-great. His medicine has side-effects, apparently. He has no restrictions except driving and lifting, so he's trying to do everything else he did before...wheeling Mama from room to room, getting her nebulizer medicine ready, feeding the cats, sweeping.

Except for carrying the full laundry basket and lifting the wheelchair and anything else over 10 pounds, I let him, while I focus on phone calls: the plumber, making follow-up appointments, getting his prescriptions filled, talking to pharmacists and nurses about them, and writing up a schedule to make it easier for him to keep track of it all. Today I'm going to try to organize a cabinet or counter to keep it all handy and organized.

One scary moment yesterday: The pharmacy wrote the complete opposite instructions on one of his blood pressure medicines than what I had been told by the nurse. I called the pharmacy and they said "Oops!" What if I hadn't spotted it? 'Oops' is an understatement.

No, I won't go there. I know I can't stay here indefinitely.

I can only do what I can do today, and I don't want to miss the precious moments of the here and now, which include spending time with my parents and handing out Halloween candy... and remembering a time, not so long ago, when it was my own little Power Rangers (and goblins and pirates and cowboys and snow leopards and wizards and ninjas and skeletons and devils and bunnies...) who knocked on that very door, calling "Trick or Treat" to their delighted grandparents. 

 

 Happy Halloween!!

Those of you on the east coast affected by Sandy are in my prayers!

A Week of Blessings

This is the way I remember it:

Tom and I were driving down the highway, headed to Houston's Methodist Hospital for the first time, because Daddy was about to have surgery for an abdominal aneurism. I was pregnant with my first baby and worried about Daddy.  I was praying, praying, praying...

...and then I was crying, crying, crying, because Bread's Everything I Own came on the radio. I was afraid my baby would never know its grandfather. I was afraid I wouldn't have my Daddy to hug and laugh with anymore.

"Is there someone you know,
you're loving them so,
but taking them all for granted.
You may lose them one day,
someone takes them away,
and they don't hear the words you long to say."

I was afraid.

But Daddy made it through that surgery, hallelujah, and the next and the next and the next... you name a surgery on the body's cardiovascular system and he's had it at least once, with a few strokes and seizures in between. I've lost count.

He always bounces back, strong and vigorous, and except for all of the scars, you'd never know he's had so much go wrong inside. 

This latest was his fourth carotid artery surgery - he's had two on each side. I wonder if that's a record?

His mini-stroke on his birthday weekend was from a slight blockage in the left carotid, but in the follow-up arteriogram this past Tuesday, the doctors saw that his right carotid was about 95% blocked and required immediate surgery. The left one could wait.

During the actual surgery they discovered it was closer to 98% blocked, plus the old graft had weakened and an aneurism had developed. A ticking time bomb in my Daddy's neck.

I'm happy to report the doctors were able to diffuse the bomb. Daddy made it through yet another surgery, just fine, this past Thursday. I spent several days there, taking over his role as my mom's caregiver, making sure she was able to be at his side every day.

I tell you, there's nothing sweeter than helping your mom stand up to give your dad a kiss in his hospital bed, seeing the love shining in their eyes as they lean in for that touch and to say 'I love you' one more time.

I'll be headed back again to Houston this evening, after a big photography job my sweet friend Darla got for me. I also needed to come home to do laundry (I only went prepared for two nights), pay bills, and check on my baby girl who came down with pneumonia this week.

There were a few stressful, tearful, hurt and even angry hours when plans I thought I had in place for when I was gone crumbled. But I should have remembered the message on the penny in my pocket: "In God We Trust". Everything worked out, thanks to my sister, my niece, my parents' neighbors, and my son.

Yes, that same little boy who grew inside of me on my first trip to Methodist hospital, who perhaps sensed my tears and worry, not only got to spend lots of time with my mom and dad, but he headed down a highway himself yesterday from Austin to be there for his grandparents and ease my mind. 

Life is full of sweet blessings.

Here are a few others I noticed over the past week.

 

Monday: managing to miss the traffic jams in both Austin and Houston; arriving at your parents' house, safe and sound

Tuesday: helping your mom and dad; meeting interesting, kind people in the hospital; prayers from your friends; sleeping with your mom

Wednesday: helpful, caring people; laughter in a hospital; nurses 

Thursday: watching your parents kiss before your dad heads into surgery; eating omelettes with your mom after a long night sleeping in a chair; gospel singers serenading the ICU waiting room; a familiar, friendly face sitting beside you, lending support; your dad making it through surgery just fine; your baby girl who has pneumonia finally getting in to see a doctor and getting a prescription

Friday: seeing your dad sitting up in a chair beside his ICU bed, eating soup, and then getting released to a regular room; people who step in to help care for your parents when you have to leave, who understand caring for loved ones is a privelege and blessing, not a burden; a cup of hot coffee on a cold, late night drive 

Saturday: your metal roof bathed in moonlight and a wiggly puppy greeting you on the rock path leading to your front door after too many stressful days away; snuggling into the warmth of your sleeping husband; knowing your mom and dad are okay even though you aren't there taking care of them; your son stepping in to help care for his grandparents; your zoom lens back on your camera, good as new; bringing groceries to your sick baby girl and seeing with your own eyes that she's okay; reassurance from a nurse friend that your dad's hallucinations are normal after surgery; cyclops cookies, courtesy of your husband and middle son

Sunday: crisp, clean autumn mornings; attending Mass with your husband and son; your whole church praying for your dad

 

Thanks so much to all of you who lifted my Daddy in prayer this past week. Please continue to think of him and my mom as we deal with the next fews days and the transition back home. Also, please keep my baby girl in your prayers that she heals up from this bout of pneumonia.

I hope that even if you're going through tough, stressful times, you're still able to notice the sweet!s all around you. They're there, I promise.

A Ping-Pong, Mums, and Fossils Week

 

 

Ping-pong season has arrived! Afternoon temperatures are still flirting with the 90's, but cool fronts have pushed the mosquitos and most of the humidity off of the front porch, so Tom set up the table Saturday afternoon and we played for the first time in months, listening to music and talking about random stuff while we hit the ball back and forth. 

We don't keep score. We have no rules at all. The object of our game is to hit the ball back across to the other side of the net. It doesn't matter how many times it bounces or if it bounces off the wall or if it bounces at all.

The thing is, if it gets past you, you're the one who has to chase it down and pick it up. Oh, my back! Great incentive.

 I decided in the middle of the 'game' I wanted a photo of the ball bouncing at me.

Tom, bless his heart, never protested as I asked him to hit it repeatedly toward me and my camera. And I kept trying, even though it meant I had to chase that ball down every time.

Alas, I never got a clear shot. In fact, except for the one above of the ball rolling toward me, I only captured it in one other photo, and it's just an orange blur. It was just too fast for my trigger finger.

Other than that, it was the perfect way to say goodbye to the sun on a Saturday afternoon.

Here are some other sweet! moments from the past week...

 

Tuesday: kids checking out books at school libraries; catching up on a week's worth of email; a friend bringing you a hot cup of tea when you're freezing; remembering to get your dress from the cleaners; a walk in the rain with your puppies after work

 

 

Wednesday: two of your photos, blown up onto a stretched canvas, arriving in the mail; a webinar on writing children's books; decluttering a corner of your house; laughing with your husband over a new "Modern Family" episode

Thursday: preparing for a school book fair; helping a friend celebrate the 10th anniversary of her business; an afternoon walk with your puppies; a call from a dear friend, just to catch up; finishing the design of your business cards

 

 

Friday: shopping at school book fairs; the tinkling of homecoming mum bells; playing ping-pong on an autumn afternoon; finally watching "The Cider House Rules"; a call that your zoom lens is fixed and ready to be picked up (again!)

 

 

Saturday: sleeping in; the sight of your son stepping through the front door on a quick visit home; a walk with your puppies, husband, and son before heading to work; finding fossils; your team winning its football game, after a little losing streak

 

Belle's happy to see him, too!

 

Sunday: attending Mass with your husband; burros grazing beside the highway; meeting a woman who is producing a documentary on child trafficking in America (more on that later!); the sight of momma cows leading their babies along a fence line; a glimpse of deer disappearing into the woods near your house; a call from your oldest baby

Monday: the moment the sun first peeks over a hilltop into your hollow

 

I hope your past week was full of sweet! moments and you discover even more in the coming week!

P.S. I'm headed to Houston today to be with my mom and dad as Daddy goes in to get the blockages in his carotid arteries removed (again!) Please keep all of us in your prayers, especially Daddy and his doctors! Thank you!

 

 

Get Thee Away From Me, Cyclops Cookie!

The key to a successful marriage is having at least a few things in common. For Tom and me, the list includes visiting Civil War battlegrounds, watching 'Breaking Bad', hiking... and eating.

Especially desserts.

Especially Cyclops Cookies.

It's his mom's fault. And I thank her profusely.

 

 

I remember that first Christmas, before we were married, when the decorated coffee can overflowing with fudge and cookies arrived.

I remember that first bite of peanut-butter-and-chocolate heaven.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

 

 

I also remember our dismay the next Christmas, after we were Mr. and Mrs., when the can didn't arrive. She informed us only the single boys got coffee cans full of sugary goodness. Once her sons married, she was no longer responsible for satisfying their Christmas sweet tooth, and considering she had nine sons altogether, I can't say I blamed her.

(I think that was the first time Tom wondered if he'd made a mistake in marrying me.)

 

 

Mom didn't leave us totally on our own, though. We got the recipe. Then we practiced and practiced and practiced until now we have the art of Cyclops Cookies down to absolute perfection, even if I say so myself.

 

And that's a very dangerous thing.

My name is Barbara, and I am an addict. A Cyclops Cookie addict. 

And so, for the sake of our waistlines and arteries (Tom is an addict, too) I only make them for special occasions, like birthdays and Christmas... 

 

 

...most recently my son Daniel's birthday, when I discovered that if I take lots and lots of photos of them, I don't inhale the whole batch before they have a chance to cool.

Saved by my camera, once again.

Okay, okay... here's the recipe. But don't say I didn't warn you, and don't blame me if your pants suddenly get too tight. I don't remember how many this makes, but it's not enough - I always double it.

Cyclops Cookies

 

Ingredients

 ½ cup of butter or margarine

• ½ cup of peanut butter
• ½ cup of sugar
• ½ cup of brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 2 tablespoons of milk
• 1 teaspoon of vanilla
• 1 ¾ cups of flour
• ¼ teaspoon of salt
• 1/8 teaspoon of baking soda

• a bowl of extra sugar
• Hershey’s Kisses

 

1. In large mixing bowl, mix butter or margarine and peanut butter together, using an electric mixer on medium for about 30 seconds.
2. Add sugar and brown sugar and beat till fluffy.
3. Add egg milk and vanilla to mixture. Beat again till fluffy.
4. In medium mixing bowl, stir together flour, salt and baking soda.
5. With mixer on low speed, gradually put in flour mixture to peanut butter mixture, stir well. If necessary, cover and chill about 1 hour for better handling.
6. Preheat oven to 350.
7. Shape dough into 1 inch balls and roll in additional sugar.
8. Place about 2 inches apart on ungreased cookie sheet.
9. Bake in oven about 8 to 10 minutes or until edges are firm.
10. Immediately after baking, press a chocolate kiss atop each cookie. 
11. Try to resist eating it.
12. Oh, okay, go ahead and eat that first one. You deserve it.

Leaves for Leontien

 

I'm adding these leaves to a bouquet Nancy at A Rural Journal is gathering for fellow blogger Leontien at Four Leaf Clover Dairy , to show her she's in the hearts and minds of many.

Leontien is battling melanoma for the second time.

The leaves are budding from a tree near the creek we thought we'd lost in the drought. Just a reminder to Leontien and all of us to never give up hope.

Life is full of surprises.

Sending light and love your way, Leontien!

 

Walking on the Ceiling, and Other Buster Memories

Images of my oldest brother Buster have hovered in my mind today. Today is his birthday. He would have been 65. 

I wonder what he would have been like at 65? Would he have mellowed any at all? Probably not. He was too passionate, too creative, too energetic. 

I try to imagine his curly black hair faded to silver and wrinkles framing his mischievous eyes, but like a sand sketch, the image shifts and disappears, and in its place is the dark-haired Buster of my childhood, towering above me.

The following is a re-post from 2008, in honor of his birthday. 

 

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, my grandmother, 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.

 

Love you, Buster, and happy birthday!

 

Muddling along on a Monday...

I woke in darkness yesterday morning.

A thunderstorm paid us a surprise visit in the middle of the night, giving us the whole shebang... lightning, wind, huge thunder booms and buckets of rain. Great snuggling weather. 

But a power outage, when you need to get ready for church and work, makes you realize how much you take electricity for granted, doesn't it? And you would think, by the third time you hit the light switch heading into the bathroom, you'd remember it's not going to work because there's no electricity!

By the time the sun rose, the dark clouds had moved on to terrorize other parts of the world and we've had glorious sunshine and dryer, cooler temperatures ever since... all the way down in the 80's!

Autumn has most certainly arrived in my part of Texas, even though the only color is still along the roadside in the form of yellow, white, and purple wildflowers. The only colored leaves are ones that succumbed to the long drought.

 

I met with my writing group last night. I'm still working on my book, even though progress is in baby steps. I even signed up to meet with an agent and an author for feedback at the writing conference coming up in February. That means I need to send samples of the book to them sometime in December...which means I need to have it {mostly} finished.

I love deadlines - without them I'd put everything off forever.

I've been subbing more lately, both in the elementary and the high school. I love the diversity of it, being able to help, and learning new things. Plus I love meeting new people. Even those a fraction of my age can be fascinating, like the third grader who gave me a refresher course on mancala last week.

What I don't love are rude kids, but those are few and far between, thank goodness.

Today is my sweet niece/goddaughter's birthday. I love being a Nina, but wish so much I could see her more often. Arizona is a long way from Texas.

This was from our summer reunion in Florida. (Nino Tom always grows a beard on vacation.)

Happy birthday, sweet Nicole! I hope you've had a beautiful day!

Through my writing journey, I've met so many talented writers. One friend from my screenwriting class, Richard Dean Johnson, has decided to tell his story in novel form first, just as I did with the historical fiction I'm writing based on my great-great grandfather's memoir.

Richard's story, Saving the Farm, was one of my favorite screenplays in the class, and I can't wait to read it in novel form, where he'll be able to better develop the characters and relationships without the page limits of a screenplay. 

Through Kickstarter, a funding platform for creative projects, he's raising money to hire a professional editor and publish the book in both digital and physical hardback book formats. Depending on donation amounts, supporters get perks, like copies of the book.

He's almost halfway to his goal, but only has a week left to raise the other half. Would you take a look at his Kickstarter page and possibly toss a few coins into his hat to help him with the project? You can find a synopsis of his book and information on how to donate on his Kickstarter page HERE.

P.S. I don't get a kickback from this plug - I'm just supporting a fellow writer who I believe in!

Good luck, Richard! Remember me when you're famous!

And now, my collection of sweet!s from the past week...

 

Sunday: a day with family; knowing your boys made it home from a road trip to visit their grandfather on his birthday

 

 

Monday: watching the Dark Shadows movie with your mom and dad; spotting a woodpecker just out the window; driving into a glorious red sky, headed home; a wiggly puppy greeting you on your front porch

Tuesday: a heating pad on a pinched muscle and a few more minutes to sleep; taking a day off for a slow walk through fall wildflowers and getting reaquainted with your drums

Wednesday: mist draped across a hill's shoulders; finally creating your photography business website; a whole hour of Modern Family, and watching it with your sweetie; following through on your promise to yourself to go to bed early

Thursday: getting up in time to run before heading to work; a refresher course on Mancala from a third grader (and winning!); elementary school assemblies; spending the evening with your daughter

Friday: your son letting you know of job openings he knows you'd love; finishing up a chapter in your book-in-progress; a call from a friend you haven't spoken to in awhile; a good news text from a friend; cyclops cookies, fresh out of the oven

 

 

 

Saturday: remembering the day your blue-eyed, dark-haired middle son was born; helping prepare for a wedding at a winery; celebrating your son's 24th birthday; pumpkin ale, pumpkin cider, and silly movies with your son and hubby 

 

 

Sunday: snuggling deeper under the covers on a stormy pre-dawn morning; blue skies after a night of thunder and lightning; power returning after an outage; spicy carne asada when you're feeling really drained; meeting with your writer's group in person for the first time in weeks

Monday: being in the right place at the right time to help someone; teenagers listening and following rules when you're subbing; high schooler's informational speeches; an afternoon walk with your puppies

 

I hope you already have a great collection of sweet!s started for this week!

Linking up with

Twenty-four years ago today...

...I met my son Daniel for the first time. Of course, it was love at first sight.

With each passing year, I fell deeper and deeper in love with that creative, funny, compassionate, wise old soul.

How could I resist? Look at that smile! And that hair!

 

 

But, dang it (and thank God!) kids grow up.

It's such a curse and a blessing. 

 

So here I am, shaking my head in wonder that it's been 24 years since I first looked into those blue eyes. I just can't wrap my head around the number, but my heart overflows with sweet memories from each and every one.

And I'm grateful to still be adding to them.

He no longer lives at home - soon after I wrote last year's birthday post  he found a job and moved out on his own again - but he comes back for a weekend here and there, just to help Tom with a project, chill on the back porch with us, listening to music, or introduce us to some great obscure movie on Netflix.

I'll even get to wish him a happy birthday today in person. He'll be here when I get home from work. I'll stick a candle in a cyclops cookie and Tom and I will sing 'happy birthday' to him...and he'll let us, because that's the kind of sweet kid, um, man, he is.

Happy 24th 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 my sweet sister-in-law Kim, my young cousins Ashley, Kayce and Kayce's daughter, Tayvie, and my inspirational South African friend Pete! 

A Morning Off

Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers, why not gather your own bouquet?

~ unknown

 

 

For the first time in almost a week, I went for a walk with my puppies this morning. I had a chance to work at the elementary school, but I turned it down, and I've only felt the slightest twinge of guilt about it.

The problem with juggling mutliple part-time jobs is never having any paid time off. Ergo, you feel guilty for taking a day off.

But I needed a day to breathe. To stop and consider and catch-up and regroup and indulge and tackle big chunks of projects. I needed a day at home, after days away, and days ahead already spoken for.

I discovered that flowers are blossoming everywhere, like it's a second spring. Purple and yellow explode along the roadside and spread into the woods. I think this happens every autumn, but for some reason it always catches me by surprise - but such a wondrous surprise! They kept my camera busy.

Belle and Max were overjoyed that I was walking with them. What a great way to start the day, having someone be overjoyed to spend time with you.

Then, for the first time in weeks - maybe months - I played my drums after our walk. I vowed again, as usual, to play a little bit every day from now on.

But even as I said it, I knew it was an empty vow. When you're trying to work as much as possible to help pay bills, plus trying to get a business started and write a book and take care of your family and every weekend you're not working there is something exciting going on out of town like high school reunions... well, playing the drums gets pushed way down on the list. But it was still fun today.

Next, I ran on the treadmill. As with the morning walks, it had been almost a week since I'd worked out, so I went easy on myself. I ran three miles, but let myself jog at a slower pace.

(It's funny. Lately I've dreaded my workouts, chafing at the time it takes, thinking of a million other things I need to do instead, like a kid making excuses to get out of doing her homework. But this morning, after not being able to work out for so long, I savored the opportunity. Weird, huh?)

I spent the afternoon focused on my budding photography business, specifically, working toward a website.  I purchased the domain and tomorrow, budget drained, I'm going to teach myself CSS and whatever else I need to know to build and design it. 

A lot of work, perhaps, but I'm just adding flowers to my bouquet. They come in all different shapes and sizes and colors.

I hope you continue to add to yours.

 

 

 

 

 

P.S. Thanks to everyone who nagged me to send those photos to Marilyn. I'm happy to report I did it! And if you're interested, I posted the photos on "For Marilyn, at long last" on my photography blog.

 

Linked to 

 

A Blessed Birthday

For two mornings in a row, sunlight has found me snuggled under the covers in my grandmother's room, waking in the warm embrace of so many memories. But for the first time that I can remember, Daddy hasn't been already up and sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, newspaper spread before him. 

This morning, I tiptoed through the kitchen to the back room, unable to stay in bed any longer. But yesterday I let myself fall back asleep, tired from a late night, and not wanting to wake him and my mom up, knowing they had to be more tired than I was.

I had planned to drive in yesterday morning to celebrate Daddy's 86th birthday, which is today. But after a phone call from my sister Friday evening, letting me know Mama thought Daddy had had a stroke earlier that day and urging her to call 911 since Daddy wouldn't let Mama, I tossed some clothes in a bag and hit the road. 

By the time I pulled into Houston close to midnight, Daddy "felt fine" and, against the hospital's advice, had my niece drive them home. 

He did look normal to me. His voice has gotten weak, thanks to a paralized vocal cord from a major stroke years ago, and his walk has slowed quite a bit, but he was up and attending to my mom, who is mostly in a wheelchair these days because of weak muscles (the drug Zocor literally ate holes in her muscles after briefly using it a few years ago) and breathing problems (asthma).

The hospital said he'd had a TIA, or mini-stroke, so yesterday I kept a close watch on him. At times he seemed weak. His speech would get tangled up periodically and his headache returned for awhile. But then he'd be his old self again and I'd breathe. I stayed on him to drink lots of water and eat. (The man who used to graze all day long is now never hungry.) 

So this morning, when he finally stepped into the kitchen, his usual smile on his face, I was especially grateful for the chance to say "Happy birthday, Daddy!" and give him a big hug.

There will be cake and ice cream and singing this afternoon. But I'll be celebrating my Daddy all day.

 

Here are a few sweets from the past week...  

Monday: a day to play catch-up and dust off to-do lists; the Beach Boys singing to you while you run

Tuesday: crisp autumn mornings; progress on your book; pepperoni rolls and agave wheat beer on a restaurant patio with 2/3 of your kids and your husband on a beautiful evening in Austin; grocery shopping with your daughter

Wednesday: frisky puppies; a potential sale of one of your photos; dinner and a funny movie with friends, celebrating a birthday

Thursday: working in the school library, with a view of the rolling hills; finishing Season 4 of Breaking Bad

Friday: working a second day in the school library; helping kids find books they want; people who adopt their foster children; kids with good manners; a golden-egg-moon rising to keep you company on a long drive; prayers for your Daddy; instead of visiting your Daddy in the hospital, you get to see him walking and talking like normal at your childhood home; hugs from your Daddy

Saturday: waking in your childhood home; a home, full of family; your youngest son helping his big brother move into a new apartment; the sight of your two sons standing in the doorway after a long day of moving and hours on the road

Sunday: being able to wish your Daddy a happy 86th birthday and give him a birthday hug in person

 

What were some of the sweets from your past week? Share them here, including a link if you write about them.

Hope you all have a beautiful Sunday. I would appreciate prayers for my Daddy and Mama! 

 

A Little Beach Serendipity

Quite by accident, I met artist Marilyn Lindholm in Port Aransas last year while on my annual retreat with girlfriends. She spotted me taking photos of something down on the beach - I can't remember what it was - and said something about my camera and mentioned wanting a photo of a colorful beach umbrella just down the shoreline from us. 

At least I think that's how we met, anyway.

What I do vividly remember is promising her I'd send her a photo of the umbrella that I'd already taken and then arranging to tag along with her the next morning for a photo shoot of a piece of driftwood she was going to use for her next set of artwork.

I also promised to send her the photos I took of the driftwood, in addition to the colorful umbrella.

We had a lot of fun rearranging a wine bottle and set of glasses around that driftwood log, snapping away on our cameras. 

But...I never sent her those photos.

Oh, I thought about it a lot. I wrote it on my to-do list over and over and over, but to no avail. I've felt so guilty about it all year, but the thing is, the past year zipped by so fast I never even finished looking at those pictures from that weekend in Port Aransas, much less editing them.

I know, poor excuse, but there it is.

So this past Sunday morning when I was returning to the condos after my last morning walk of the weekend, and a woman in a passing group spotted me taking a photo of a bird and told me she had camera envy, that she just had a point-and-shoot, and she was an artist...my memory flew back to that morning a year ago.

"What's your name?" I asked, interrupting her.

"Marilyn Lindholm."

OMG!

And then she remembered me and forgave me for not sending the photos on the condition I send her the one of us below, as well as the others I promised her last year. In return, she'll send me some of her greeting cards that feature her beautiful watercolor artwork.

It was like Groundhog Day: I had a do-over!

 

 

 

So you'll probably be surprised to know I still haven't sent those photos. (Or, maybe you know me well enough by now that you're not surprised at all.)

But it hasn't even been a week yet, and I did send her the one above with reassurance that I'll send the others, um, soon. 

I'll keep you posted, and I'll share the photos here, too.

(Until I do, feel free to nag me.)

(In fact, please nag me. I can't live with that guilt another year!)

What would I do...?

 

As she has for more than ten years, my sister joined me and my girlfriends at the beach this past weekend.

From my earliest memory, Brenda has been my closest friend, and, along with my mother, my role model and inspiration.  Despite the eight years between us and my bratty personality, when I was little she often let me tag along with her. She drove me and my friends places, and as I got older, was there whenever I needed support or just someone to laugh or cry with.

When we were younger, we spent lots of time together (she was the best big sister ever!) but eventually husbands, kids, and my move to another town made it difficult to have more than brief visits. So I really looked forward to these annual trips to the coast and long hours to relax together.

However, this year I was torn. Brenda's Parkinson's disease hasn't been an issue, but a hip injury isn't healing as well as we hoped and, as much as I wanted to see her, I worried the trip would aggravate the injury, that she would overdo it between sitting in a vehicle for hours and walking too much, even with her cane or walker. She had taken several trips the past year and always seemed to have a setback and be in pain afterwards. 

On her part, she worried she would be a burden on everyone, that her mobility issues would prevent her from doing any cooking or cleaning.

That's when my friends proved they've embraced her as their sister, too...

"Does anyone think this woman would be a burden?  Should I just go get her & force her into my vehicle? Is there a rule that she HAS to shop or cook?  Wouldn't we all take care of each other?  Brenda.....PLEEEZ come with me!"

"Absolutely no rule that says she has to do a thing, Brenda we need you there. there are plently of us to take care of the grocery stop, the preparing of food. You just come relax."

And Mary Kay pointed out that she needed someone to stay and watch movies with her while the rest of us went dancing.

So once again, Brenda joined us in Port A, and I'll be eternally grateful to those wonderful friends who helped soothe her fears and mine so I could have another great weekend with my big sister. 

Although she's always looked forward to taking that drive alone, this year Brenda hitched a ride with Patti, my sweet Deer Park Diva friend who joined us this year. And everyone stepped up to help her with whatever she needed, whether it was a drink, a steady hand, or just company.

Brenda has always been independent, always been the one to step up and help others, never worried about what anyone thought about her. She's stubborn and doesn't take crap off of anyone, but no matter what hurdle or trial she faced, her Pollyanna spirit shone through and helped her find a bright side. 

So I know it was tough for her to admit her limitations, but even tougher to ask for help. To accept that help. But as usual, she faced that fear. By voicing it, she zapped it of its strength and found a way around it. And I'm glad.

What would I do if I were not afraid?

~ Martha E. Manglesdorf

 

I thought of Brenda when I read that quote yesterday, then I asked...What am I afraid of? What am I letting fear keep me from doing?

In the past, the fear of failure kept me from trying new things. While I'm no longer afraid of rejection slips, they still make me wince.

Too often I've let the fear of other people's opinions guide my steps instead of being true to myself and having faith in my own opinions. I've been afraid of speaking in public or standing in front of large crowds. (It kept me from taking part in my senior class play.) Now it doesn't bother me. Much.

Fear for my kids - for their health, happiness, work... heck, their very souls -  hovers in the recesses of my heart, but I'm much better about turning that fear over to God and trusting Him to take care of it and show me how to help. I've found handing fears over to God is a great way to get rid of them.

A little harder to let go of is my fear of sinking deeper into debt. It's that fear - and the fear of Tom keeling over from the stress of it - that keeps me from diving headfirst into my writing and photography, buying equipment and books and attending all the conferences and courses that are "recommended".

But I've torn free from it enough to keep moving forward with those dreams, finding my way along the old, slower (free!) highways instead of the faster tollways. 

So... what would you do if you weren't afraid? 

 

My beautiful sister and our beautiful friends. To read more about how awesome my sister is, click HERE and HERE.

Till We Meet Again, Port A!

I just returned from my annual retreat with girlfriends to the coast - our 13th or 14th now, I can't remember which - where the sight and sound of the ocean renews my soul and invigorates my spirit.

The bonding of girlfriends... the food... the kiss of the sun on my skin... the birds and people and dogs posing for my camera... the dancing... sigh. They're all part of the prescription, too. Too many sweet! moments to count!

 

“The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.” ~Isak Dinesen

 

 One in particular was wishing my longtime friend Patti a happy birthday in person while standing on a balcony that looks out to a blue-green horizon of sea meeting sky... now that was particularly sweet!

 

I've known her since 4th grade, so we have a long history of birthday slumber parties. Who would have thought they'd continue into our fifties? Life is so surprising and beautiful! (Click HERE to read a birthday tribute I wrote her in honor of her fiftieth birthday.)

I fully intended to publish a "Reunion, Part 2" post last week before heading off on a this road trip, but ran out of time. So I just waved goodbye to that intention, as well as its numerous brothers and sisters. There are times you just have to do that. I knew they'd wait for me.

They did, and now they're breathing down my neck. But before I give them my attention, here are a few more sweet! moments from the past week. 

 

Sunday: breakfast with classmates; a quick visit with your Mama and Daddy before heading home after a fun weekend; being able to check Facebook and email on your way home because your husband is driving; your son grilling pork chops for dinner; sorting through photos from your high school reunion

Monday: eight hours of (mostly) uninterrupted sleep; second graders; dads who eat lunch with their kids and then play freeze tag with them at recess

Tuesday: reading "Love You Forever" to second-graders, even though it makes you cry, as usual; getting a brand-new computer printer for free; being approached about one of your photos being used in a brochure for a nonprofit organization that helps animals

Wednesday: discovering new purple wildflowers growing along the road; a day at home to catch up on email, work on your book, critique your writing group's submissions, and scratch other to-do's off of your list

Thursday: road trips with girlfriends; your zoom lens working long enough to capture some close-up bird photos; moonlight on the water

 

“The waves of the sea help me get back to me.” ~Jill Davis

Friday: waking to the sound of the surf; walking and running on the beach with a friend; spending a day on the beach with friends and your camera; discovering you can still do a cartwheel; grilled shrimp and huge onion rings; dancing at Sharkey's until closing time

 

(Conni gets credit for this photo, and all with me in them, I think, unless she's with me. I'm the one in blue...not bad for an old lady, huh? The other two are twenty-somethings. Thank you, Ms. H, my 6th grade gymnastics teacher, for making us practice, practice, practice!)

 

Saturday: relaxing on the beach with friends for the second day in a row; strangers pointing out things you should photograph, like dogs lying on lounge chairs;  the rain holding off until you're ready to come inside; watching UT-Austin win a tight game while listening to the running commentary of your very vocal, passionate friends; full-moon-light kissing the waves and a lightning show flashing in the background; staying up late watching Saturday Night Live with one of your longtime friends

Sunday: a solitary walk on a near-empty beach in the pale light of dawn; a chance meeting of someone you first met the year before on the beach; being able to wish your dear friend happy birthday in person; a stop in Swinny Switch, Texas; fresh, warm tortillas and grilled veggies at the Alamo Cafe; your husband's face after four days away from home

 

 

Monday: explosions of tiny yellow, white, and purple wildflowers along your dirt road; meeting a neighbor and her dog on your morning walk; having enough money to pay the bills

 

Hope you have a week full of sweet!s!

P.S. Happy birthday, Mary Kay!

 

Friends, sisters, mothers, daughters... blessed with each other's love and company.

"Age disappears when you're at the beach." ~ me