Long Hollow

A Home with History in Old Town Pflugerville

Beginning in my teens, I dreamed of renovating an old house. My aunt joined in on the dream project, picking out potential projects in the countryside around Killeen, where she lived.

Tom picked up on the dream. We loved touring Victorian homes that had been lovingly restored...or sneaking into neglected ones and imagining their potential.

We ended up building our country home from the foundation up. It's a perfect fit and I no longer dream of renovating anything.

But roomy front porches, leaded glass windows, metal roofs, spindle railings, clapboard siding...they still make me swoon. So when I saw that the one home on our office property tour Tuesday before last was this gray-headed grandmother of a house, the raindrops falling from that steely sky couldn't dampen my excitement. 

 

The original house was built in the '30's, but the current owners added a two-story section onto the rear which included more bedrooms, bathrooms, and a huge playroom upstairs.

 

 

I doubt the view out of this kitchen window has changed much at all in the past 80 years.

 

 

This bar with the gorgeous metal counter and sink are in the huge upstairs family room.

 

 

The perfect front door for this house, dont' you think?

 

 

I couldn't help lingering on the front porch a little while before running back out into the rain.
All it's missing is a swing right over there.

 

This property is listed by another agent, so contact me if you have fallen in love and I'll play matchmaker for you!

And stay tuned for my property tour adventure out into the hill country from this past Tuesday. I'll post it this weekend.

Love and Respect

There have been mornings when, after snapping photos of birds or leaves or bugs, I turn and discover Max and Belle are nowhere in sight.

They've slipped off in a different direction, distracted by an interesting smell or a glimpse of a squirrel, assuming I will follow them (as I often do.)

So I backtrack, calling their names, until finally we're back together, headed along the same path.

Relationships can be like that, too. You each have your own interests or responsibilities - which is a good thing, of course - but sometimes you forget to check on each other.

You get caught up in what you're doing as if it's all that matters, oblivious to what the other is going through, assuming they are right there with you...until you look up and find you're all alone.

If you're lucky, you can backtrack and find each other. But often, that isn't the case, as we all know.

There's a perception that love conquers all. It does, but it's not that simple. It doesn't just happen automatically.

When I found out I was pregnant with my first child, I didn't just assume all knowledge about pregnancy and motherhood would come naturally. I bought books and subscribed to parenting magazines. I wasn't taking any chances.

And when Tom decided to build a house, he didn't just trust his vision or his gift for woodworking. He bought books and subscribed to magazines about construction, tools, and building. He wanted to make sure the house was done right and could weather any storm.

Yet we didn't treat marriage the same way. It never occurred to us when we decided to get married thirty-two years ago that we should educate ourselves beyond the few "Engagement Encounter" sessions the Catholic church required.

We didn't even think we needed those. After all, it was pretty much love at first sight for us. We were meant to be together, totally in sync, thought alike, had the same visions, opinions, and goals...

We were in love. We didn't need anything else.

If you've been married very long, you're probably laughing by now. You know it's not that easy.

Before we knew what was happening, we found ourselves drifting off on different paths, seeing issues from different perspectives, backtracking, compromising, giving in, or digging in.

But despite some pretty tense times in our marriage, we never considered counseling or workshops of any kind along the way.  We were special, more in-tune with each other and more in love than anyone else in the history of the world had ever been. We could work it out ourselves.

However, several couples who I thought were special like us have recently fallen apart, or come close to it, after decades together, which made me realize Tom and I have really just been lucky that we've made it as far as we have.

Two friends separately told me about one particular book that helped save their marriages. I became curious, and because my marriage is very precious to me, I ordered a copy to read myself. 

The premise of "Love and Respect" by Dr. Emerson Eggerichs is that women's basic need is love and men's is respect. Unconditional love. Unconditional respect.

I admit that made me stop and think. I've always believed respect should be earned. How do you respect unconditionally?

But...if love can be unconditional, then I had to consider that respect could be, too. So I kept reading.

I admit, there were times while reading that the feminist in me clenched her teeth, rolled her eyes, and ranted over certain passages. I need respect, too, for crying out loud! I have a brain!

But I had been forewarned by one of the friends...a very independent, outspoken, strong woman...that that would happen, and to give the book a chance. To read it all the way through.

So I kept reading. And I'm glad I did. Sure enough, by the end, he mentions all of the exceptions I thought of and addresses my questions.

I wish the book had been around and someone had recommended it when we were newlyweds. If we'd read it way back then, maybe we would have avoided most of the bumpy roads we've taken. The book opened my eyes to many mistakes I'd made over the years that created a lot (but not all!) of those bumps. 

Mostly he points out what triggers the "crazy-cycle" couples often get into and give good advice on how to avoid it, or how to get out of it when you forget and slip back into it.

Eggerichs theory is Bible-based and the book is laced with verses, but even if you're not a Christian, I think you'll see that what he suggests is very practical. It's actually good advice for any relationship...between you and your children, your parents, your co-workers, your boss...

So this is my Valentine's Day gift to you...a recommendation to educate yourself if you're in a relationship, whether it's through this book or or a workshop or some other way that helps you communicate and smooth out the bumps...or avoid them altogether. Otherwise you might find yourself at a dead-end, staring at a stranger.

Treat your love like the precious treasure it is. Love deserves that much.

(If you're not in a relationship with someone else, you're still in a relationship with you! And that's still a precious treasure! Treat yourself accordingly!)

Happy Valentine's Day!

If you've got a recommendation for a book, workshop, or just something you've discovered that helps relationships grow stronger, please share in the comments!

 

 

                    Love & Respect: The Love She Most Desires; The Respect He Desperately Needs

(Disclosure: I'm an Amazon Affiliate. If you buy it through this link, I get a few pennies. But that's not why I'm recommending it. )

Better Late Than Never! (and other sweet!s)

I'm sure we passed each other in the hallways of our junior high and high school. We might have even shared a class or two. Perhaps we even spoke once or twice.

But if we did, I don't remember.

So even though her face and name were familiar, I truly didn't know Debbie until Facebook revealed that she, too, lived in the Austin area and I invited her to a Shake Russell concert.

My first memory of speaking to her was at that concert in the Saxon Pub about five years ago. That's when I realized what a sweetheart she is...quiet, smart, and strong.

Since then we've shared many evenings dancing and listening to live music. She's always one of the first to give me encouragement and support, or offer prayers and a shoulder to cry on, even as she went through some heartbreaking times of her own. 

I could waste time lamenting all those years of my youth when I didn't make an effort to know her, but instead, I'll be grateful to Facebook for eventually bringing us together so that I could help this wonderful woman through tough times and celebrations...

...such as the one for her birthday this afternoon with other friends who walked those halls with us so many years ago.

Happy birthday, Debbie! I'm so very grateful for you and your friendship. Better late than never!

 

 

Monday: getting an issue resolved at the Social Security Administration even if you have to wait three hours to do it; meeting people in waiting rooms; a real estate referral on Facebook by someone you've watched grow up; seeing your mom twice in one day; dinner and dessert, courtesy of your son and daughter

Tuesday: puppy kisses; touring properties with friend-colleagues; fajitas and margaritas; the happiness in your mom's eyes at the sight of you

Wednesday: the return of birds to your hollow; time for a quick visit with your mom before heading to a meeting; grilled chicken, courtesy of your son

Thursday: Realtors who share their knowledge with associates and their lasagna with hungry colleagues; making new friends every day

Friday: a call from your mother-in-law; a day at home with your family; watching funny movies with your kids; heating your whole house with just your wood-burning stove, thanks to your husband's awesome design; the God made a Realtor video

 

 

Saturday: blue skies and balmy breezes after too many days of gray skies and freezing temperatures; French toast, courtesy of your husband; your mom feeling better after being hit with a stomach virus; two walks in one day with your puppies

Sunday: the morning sun kissing your Hollow and shining through the stained glass in your church; Mass with your husband; new church directories; the anticipation of helping a dear friend celebrate her birthday

 

Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive. 

~Anäis Nin

Frances Nail

 

Today I went to a friend's Facebook page to wish her a happy 90th birthday, and that's how I found out author/artist Frances Nail passed away, sometime before Christmas.

So she probably didn't see the note I scrawled on my Christmas card to her..."I hope to see you in the coming year!" If she did, she probably just laughed, way too familiar with my good intentions.

Once upon a time in Houston, a special magazine came with the Sunday Chronicle. It was just named "Texas", and included a column called "State Lines" where each week you could read stories about Texas (of course!) - personal essays written by a different writer each week, as wide and varied as the state.

I read them voraciously.

"State Lines" was my first paid publishing gig, way back in 1991, with "A View from a Catwalk". I went on to publish two more essays in "Texas" before the Chronicle stopped publishing the magazine. 

Soon after "Catwalk" was published, I read an essay by Frances about things she had lost, which included the words to one of my favorite poems from childhood - "Little Boy Blue", by Eugene Field. She could only remember a few lines. 

Immediately I typed out the poem and sent it to editor Ken Hammond, asking him to forward it to Frances. Within a few weeks, I received a letter from her, thanking me for the poem. And thus began our friendship. 

By that time several more of her essays had been published in "State Lines"...

...so many that I couldn't help feeling discouraged, comparing my words and stories to hers. Mine seemed flat and lifeless, hers rich and vibrant, but she was always full of support and encouragement for my writing. After all, she pointed out, she didn't even start writing until she was seventy.

(I admit, that's more consoling to me now that I'm in my fifties and still struggling on my writing path, than when I was in my thirties and had it all figured out.)

When we moved to Austin, she invited us to the publishing party for her first book, a collection of essays, of course, named "Crow in the House, Wolf at the Door". It was held in a fabulous old Victorian home downtown.

TG was barely 4, Daniel around 6, and Tommy no more than 9, but when Frances read from her book out on the screened-in porch, with her distinctive soft, soothing, Texas accent, they sat still and listened. She was that good. Austinites enjoyed listening to her read her stories on pubic radio station KUT for years.

I wish I could say we grew closer once I moved to Austin, but we didn't. We kept in touch with occasional Christmas cards and phone calls, and in 2005 she invited me to a play based on one of her books, "I'm Not the Woman I Was".

But we lived on opposite sides of Lake Travis...I was busy with my three kids and building our home and broke. 

I didn't go see the play, just as I didn't take her up on an invitation for lunch when we first moved here, or follow through with any other good intentions I had to see her, except attending the Texas Book Fair panel she was on years ago, along with authors Leon Hale and Liz Carpenter, two of her good friends.

I really wasn't half the friend she was to me.

Frances was truly a remarkable woman. I have wasted many opportunities in my life, but I think one of the biggest is not taking advantage of the chance I was given to know her better.

I still have her words and her stories, though, and thanks to Jim Swift, I can still hear her voice...

 

 

Godspeed, and thank you for leaving a part of yourself with us, Frances!

I know the angels are enjoying your stories as much as we always have.

I look forward to seeing you again... and I mean it.

 

 

 

Top Home Seller's Mistakes (Which ones have you made?)

The last home we bought (and later sold) was a foreclosure. We first lost it in an open HUD auction, but later won it by sealed bid.The home had been stripped of everything that could be removed - light fixtures, switch-plates, you name it. Even the carpet was ripped up in most of the house. 

What we thought was the foundation for a storage building in the backyard turned out to be a swimming pool covered with rebar and plywood...and partially filled with thick, green, slimy water.

I was afraid of what we'd find hidden in that water.

But we wanted this house. I was pregnant and we could see this would be a great home for a growing family. That backyard had so much potential, even before we realized it had a swimming pool! We bid high to make sure it became ours...and we never intended to leave.

Famous last words, right?

My husband, Tom, is a master handyman, but even with him doing most of the work, we put a lot of money into the house before we sold it ten years later. New carpet, light fixtures, switch plates, paint, French doors to replace the back door, a laundry room with cabinets, custom bookshelves filling the walls on either side of the fireplace...the list goes on. I can't even remember most of it.

Out back, we planted crape myrtles and miniature roses. A deep covered deck ran the length of the house. After acid-cleaning the pool, Tom built a beautiful curving fence around it and the foundation for a gazebo. The kids also had a cool tree fort and swing set. 

It was tough to leave that house. It's where we raised our three children for ten years. Christmases. Birthdays. Swimming parties. So many memories and so much time, money, and effort went into making it a home.

We weren't just emotionally attached:  we also wanted to get some of the money back we had sunk into that home over the years, so we argued with our Realtor about the price. Bless her heart, she gave up and listed it higher than the comps suggested for our neighborhood.

Thank goodness, the right buyer came along who recognized the house had great features that would cost a lot more anywhere else. But now that I'm seeing it from the perspective of a Realtor, I know we just got lucky.

But I still dread the day we have to sell this home we built from the foundation up...

What about you? Have you made any of these mistakes?

 

 

Data provided by ActiveRain.com. ActiveRain is an online community of real estate professionals who exchange best practices, write real estate blogs, and get free education from the industry and their peers.

 

 

A Cousin, a Mom, and Mexican Food. Sweet Sunday!

 

 

Tomorrow is my cousin Patricia's birthday.

She's always held a special place in my heart, beginning when she was a teenager. Unlike some of my other teenage cousins, she was consistently nice to me when we went to visit, even though I was a brat.

I haven't forgotten.

Her dad was one of my favorite uncles, too...a self-taught artist and musician who made me laugh and triggered my interest in antiques and family history.

However, even though Pat doesn't live far from me, we've only gotten together a few times over the past twenty years, for an occasional lunch or hike through a cemetery. (We're both into genealogy.)

But soon after Daddy died, she made a one-day trip to Houston, just to see Mama. Then she sent Mama a care package around Thanksgiving, full of cookies, snacks, and I don't know what else. And as soon as I brought Mama up to Austin, Pat was there...bearing gifts, of course. 

Love is, above all else, the gift of oneself.
~Jean Anouilh

So this afternoon, Mama and I took Pat out to dinner. It's just a drop in the bucket of repayment, and pales in comparison to her thoughtfulness (especially since she brought another basket full of goodies for Mama) but I hope it helps her understand how much we love and appreciate her.

She's a sweet! all by herself, for sure!

 

"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich."  

~Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford

 

 

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

Monday: finally having your camera when you spot ducks on a pond; learning the tricks of real estate photography

 

 

Tuesday: time to walk with your puppies and pray before getting caught up in the busy-ness of your day; a friend saving you a seat at a meeting when you're running late; sponsored lunches; interest in a beautiful house you just posted on MLS

Wednesday: your first closing; a hug from your sister who travelled up to see your mom; finally getting all of your Christmas decorations boxed up; taking time to watch a gorgeous full moon rise from behind the hills

 

 

Thursday: safely spotting - and photographing - a gorgeous coyote; saving ducks from getting eaten by a coyote; obedient puppies

 

 

Friday: getting a lead while on phone duty; making progress on some to-do's; a movie with your son

Saturday: catching the end of a Shirley Temple movie and traveling to Wales with Rick Steves while eating breakfast, checking email, and sipping your morning coffee;  your tall son helping you hang portraits in your mom's room

Sunday: helping your cousin celebrate her birthday with your mom; Green Chili Tortilla Soup and spicy salsa that opens your sinuses when you're suffering from cedar fever; a quick phone visit with your eldest; selling one of your many "For Sale"s

 

What were some sweet! moments from your past week? I hope you've been paying attention!

Oops! I almost forgot one of the sweetest moments of the week. (My days blend together so much lately. That's one reason it's important for me to sit down here and count my sweet's! at the end of the week.)

Anyway, on Wednesday my sister and her husband took an overnight road trip to Austin so she could spend time with Mama. I didn't get much time with her, but enough for a sister-hug and a quick visit. 

Very, very sweet!

 

 

 

 

From reunions to George...what a week!

Tuesday I drove to Houston for a reunion of the DuPont Deer Park Old Farts Club, an exclusive group of people who helped start-up the DuPont Syngas/Methanol plant and worked there in its infancy. I was part of the second group of plant technicians to be hired (#43) in November of 1978, when the plant was still under construction.

The reunion wasn't just for us plant technicians who operated the plant, but also for the engineers who guided us, the maintenance and instrumentation crews, the office staff...you name it. We were a team and shared the adventure.

Too many have passed on, and that's why we decided a couple of years ago it was high time to get together. This was our second reunion. Why have it on a Tuesday? Ky was returning to the U.S. from vacation abroad the day before, Oscar was scheduled to fly out to Saudi Arabia for work the next morning, and Ken was returning to Panama, where he now lives, on the 10th.

It's amazing it worked out, when I think about it.

Even though some don't seem to be interested in the get-togethers, many of us cherish those friendships and memories and enjoy seeing each other again. 

Still, it can be a bit of a headache sending out emails and getting people to commit. Thank goodness Mark, one of the engineers, stepped up to reserve a spot for us. Thank you, Mark!

 

Oscar sent an email the next day that made all of the preparations totally worthwhile. 

Morning All,

 

Thanks again Barbara, for going that extra mile, literally, to bring everyone together. The food was outstanding, great friends with whom just to laugh, a little moment to share that something (talent) we were all so blessed and gifted with and all shared together. My God, we lived our lives all together for more hours than we spent with our families...  This is what true friendship is all about, those 3 beautiful hours were worth more then money can ever buy. I loved this moment we shared with all of you, my family and old friends. Thank you all for being there and Donny, please stop saying your days are numbered. You will out live us all. Well, heading back to the airport for my 20 plus hour journey back to Saudi. We will do this again, be safe and stay healthy everyone. Happy New Year and send the photos please. If we don't see you all again, I promise we will see you in heaven. Later Oscar ( O G )

 

Thank you, Oscar, and be safe!

 

 

Heladio (what a great name!) and Oscar. (Oscar is the best whistler I've ever heard.)

 

 

Here are a few other sweet!s from my past week...

 

 

 

Tuesday: a pond reflection framed in ice; frisky dogs; your husband getting a fire going in your woodburning stove for you before leaving for work; a friend letting you crash at her house when in town for a quick visit; your mobile mapquest app guiding you around a traffic jam so you're in time for your reunion; hugs and visits and laughter with longtime friends; staying up late visiting with your sweet friend

 

 

Brian and Cliff - these two guys could make me laugh till I cried - and probably still could!

 

Ky introduced me to classical music while carpooling, along with Brian, and Chinese/Viet Nam history during breaks on nightshifts; Howard and I shared books, and he had my back when I voiced concerns about fumes in the lab while I was pregnant. (If you've read "A View from a Catwalk", he's the friend who was knocked off of his bicycle in an explosion.)

 

Henry and Donnie...oh, I have lots of stories about Donnie. Unfortunately, most I can't share. 

 

Groundbreakers. Imagine us all in hard hats and safety glasses. Well, and thirty years younger. These are just a few of the interesting, smart, talented women I worked with.  

 

 

Wednesday: a deal coming through you thought was lost; breakfast at a friend's restaurant with another friend and your sister; making it home safe, despite constant rain and traffic; being able to stop and visit your mom on your way home;  your daughter making you a quesadilla for dinner

 

 

Thursday: making lots of progress on a project; finally taking two boxes of stuff to Goodwill

Friday: a glimpse of the Mallard couple, even though you don't have your camera; feeling optimistic about your listing; your son surprising you with a ticket to see George Strait in concert

 

 

Saturday: an evening at home with your mom, husband, and kids, eating hamburgers and watching "Enchanted"

Sunday: attending Mass with your husband; another day hanging out with your mom; Realtor friends who think of you when they need someone to cover for them at an open house

I hope you remember to notice the sweet! moments in your week!

"Do not take anything for granted — not one smile or one person or one rainbow or one breath, or one night in your cozy bed."

~Terri Guillemets

Dancing, Sunshine, and other sweets

 

 

 

 

 

After several days of gray skies and temperatures below freezing, the sun finally made an appearance yesterday afternoon. And the clouds even stayed away long enough for me to say hello to a half moon and a sky full of stars that dripped all the way to the tree tops.

Hallelujah! My spirit soars under a clear sky, and even though this morning I woke to another gray sky and cold drizzle, I feel recharged. 

Here are some other sweet!s from my past week...

 

Monday: finding a lucky penny, reminding you "In God We Trust" just when you're feeling overwhelmed; getting a lease client while on phone duty; your first real estate paycheck; finally finishing the weeding of your library

 

 

Tuesday: remembering the day you became a mother, and wishing your oldest a happy birthday; touring a million dollar home set in the hills near Austin; juniper trees lining the roadsides decorated for Christmas; a long-overdue re-blonding

Wednesday: guidance for your 2014 business plan; God's art in the sky, made of wind and clouds

Thursday: a bus ride with colleagues to Fredericksburg, Texas; the Christmas light displays in Johnson City

 

 

Friday: dry roads so you can attend your company party and enjoy dancing, photo booth sessions, making new friends, and chocolate fountains

 

 

Saturday: your sister home safe after a cruise; not having to leave your house except to walk your puppies

Sunday: your husband walking in with an armload of firewood on a cold morning, and assurance that his car is loaded down with more; a telephone visit with your sister-in-law, even if it isn't all great news; your son learning how to make Terry Boer's Chicken and Rice casserole; an evening of visiting with friends; couples in their 80's who are still tearing up the dance floor

 

Monday: attending a class that supports your belief that a Realtor is more public servant than salesperson; getting a new customer while your watch gets a new battery in the mall; nurses who put their patients above job security

 

How's the weather where you are?

If it's cold and gray, I hope you find a way to recharge, too! (Try dancing!)

 

There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good.

~ Edwin Denby

Mom hugs, singing frogs, and other sweet!s of the week

We couldn't have asked for better weather in Austin, Texas on Thanksgiving Day. Clear blue skies, a touch of autumn in the breeze...perfect for throwing open the doors to cool off a small kitchen full of cooks trying to get dinner on the table. 

I'm so grateful we were able to stay here and celebrate in my son and his wife's home, along with her family, christening it with love and gratitude and wishes for many happy Thanksgivings in the years to come.

I'm also grateful my sister, niece, and nephew made sure my mom had a wonderful Thanksgiving in her home, and that I was able to hop in the car the next morning with my kids and drive to Houston to spend time with her myself. 

We didn't repeat Thanksgiving dinner. Instead we ate Mexican food and kolaches on our old kitchen table, drank lots of coffee, and spent hours reminiscing, laughing, watching the squirrels in the back yard, and looking at photos.

I missed Daddy's smile and hug, of course, but I felt him with us, and all things considered, our visit was a sweet memory to tuck into my heart.

 

 

I hope your Thanksgiving weekend was full of sweet memories for you to tuck away and savor. 

Here are a few other sweet!s from my past week. Share yours in the comments!

 

Tuesday: exploring houses with friends; sunshine after days of rain; your first transaction approved for payment; finding your first holiday card in the mailbox

Wednesday: making your mom's cornbread dressing; your son volunteering to chop all of the onions and celery for the dressing; leftover pumpkin pie filling baked by itself in a small casserole and enjoyed warm from the oven

 

Thursday: helping your son and daughter-in-law celebrate their first married Thanksgiving in their home; teaming up with your son in a game of beanbag toss (otherwise known as 'corn hole'?); your grown kids still loving to color with markers and pencils

 

 

Friday: a road trip with your kids; your mom's hugs and kisses; staying up late with your daughter watching ConAir and Tombstone; Val Kilmer as Doc Holiday

Saturday: kolaches for breakfast; fixing your mom's hair; a surprise visit from your mom's old neighbors; home again, safe and sound

Sunday: frogs singing to you on your morning walk; leftover ham and cornbread dressing and pumpkin pie; an afternoon free to finish sorting, cleaning, and (fingers-crossed) decorate for Christmas

Thou hast given so much to me, give one thing more - a grateful heart; not thankful when it pleaseth me, as if Thy blessings had spare days, but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.

~ George Herbert

 

P.S. The mother of some of my dear friends was in a bad car accident yesterday. She's in serious condition. Please say a prayer for her!

 

Lesson #82 (Thank you, and Happy Birthday, Mama!)

Today is my beautiful Mama's birthday. Soon I'll be on my way to Houston to celebrate another year of having her in my life.

I hope the coming year will be full of laughter and happiness for her. She's been through so many changes this past year, the toughest being having to say goodbye to the love of her life, my Daddy, and I hope she gets a little break.

It hasn't been an easy goodbye or transition to life without him. Some days are easier than others. Even though there were many times in my life when I thought their marriage was over, their love for each other pulled them through. It was a fierce love, stronger than any differences between them.

I see that strength in all my mom does. Over the past few weeks since we lost Daddy, I've witnessed more laughter than tears, and a steely determination to continue on, even if she doesn't quite see the point. She trusts that God has his reasons, and more importantly, that He will give her whatever strength she needs for the road ahead.

I believe that's called Faith, and it's Lesson #82 on this list I began compiling several years ago in honor of her 77th birthday. It's easy to add to it every year with a mother like mine, and I'm so grateful it continues to grow. 

 

The mother's heart is the child's school-room. 

~Henry Ward Beecher

 

(With some of her kids, grandkids...and Daddy...on Mother's Day)

Happy birthday, Mama, with much love and gratitude!

 

Things Mama has taught me...

1. it's never too late to learn something new
2. if you have a choice between laughter and tears, choose laughter.
3. don't let anyone mess with your babies!
4. only give advice when asked for it (I'm still working on that one)
5. pray every day
6. pray some more
7. reading a good book might not solve your problems, but it's a nice escape from them
8. bend but never break
9. some people are just takers
10. be nice whenever possible, but sometimes nice doesn't cut it
11. take care of family
12. we're all individuals - let your kids blossom into themselves, not "mini-me's"
13. be there
14. Johnny Weismuller is the best movie Tarzan
15. don't be in a rush to be older than you are - you're only going to be this age once in your life
16. if you like something, and you'll use it, and you can afford it, then buy it, or you'll regret it later
17. quality over quantity
18. never think "can't"
19. people will stand in line for a dead skunk if it's free
20. roll with the punches
21. have fun
22. laugh often
23. believe in yourself
24. don't let others change who you are
25. be honest
26. don't steal
27. forgive yourself
28. God loves me
29. don't judge
30. just do it!
31. inside matters more than outside
32. don't use God's name in vain
33. you can learn anything if you put your mind to it
34. you're never too old to dance
35. it's okay to ask for help
36. show appreciation and express gratitude
37. use my manners
38. consider the source
39. an office or position of authority should be respected, but the individual in that position has to earn your respect
40. sleep is good
41. take advantage of opportunities
42. keep your eyes open and your wits about you
43. people aren't always nice
44. things can't make you happy
45. use your imagination
46. just get started and the rest will be easy
47. don't be intimidated by anyone - we're all the same, all human, we all have strengths and weaknesses
48. you can love someone even if you don't like them
49. forgive but don't forget
50. learn from others' mistakes
51. there are times for being patient, and time for putting your foot down
52. speak up
53. stand up for what you believe in
54. admit your mistakes and expect others to do the same
55. persistance pays off
56. let your kids be kids
57. love unconditionally
58. take lots of pictures
59. kids grow up fast
60. your kids need a mother, not another friend
61. pets are family
62. help others
63. a sense of humor is essential for sanity and survival
64. if you look close enough, you can find something to love about everyone
65. coffee is good anytime
66. messes can be cleaned up
67. prayer works
68. God is strong all the time - let him carry you
69. if you say you're going to do something, do it
70. be nice to yourself in case no one else is
71. you have to show respect to get respect
72. girls are tough
73. don't put up with temper tantrums
74. listen to your body - doctors don't know everything
75. don't say everything you're thinking
76. asking questions is the best way to learn something
77. your babies are always your babies (and their babies are your babies, too!)
78. God is. 
79. Just listen. 
80. people are more important than things
    
81. there is a time to help others, and a time to let others help you
82. God has his reasons, and He will give you whatever strength you need for the road ahead...and never leave you to walk it alone.

 

 

Today is Veterans Day...

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

~St. Martin of Tours

 

 

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

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

 

 

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

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

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

 

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

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

A lifetime of service and sacrifice for this country.

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(If this sounds familiar, it's a re-post from last year and the year before and the year before, with just a few tweeks. With the passing of Daddy and his brother, Bobby, this past year, and Pop last year, this day feels especially poignant.)

Not-So-Hidden Treasure

I've been driving in, around, and through Austin for almost 20 years now, but for the most part, I have traveled the same routes over and over and over.

Lately, I've been venturing out into unknown territory so that I'm better acquainted this wonderful city and its neighborhoods, and that's how I discovered this vintage grocery store, now operating as a sandwich shop.

It's situated only a few blocks from familiar roads in all directions, but I never knew it was there until yesterday. I snapped this photo with my iPhone and drove on...but then turned around, parked, and stepped through those awesome screen doors.

Right away, I had a flashback to a small grocery store my grandparents ran so long ago I could barely see over the counter. The register, the counter, the shelves behind it were all in the exact same place. It was weird, in a very cool way, and I had a sudden urge for a candy cigarette.

Instead I wandered to the back and grabbed a Texas Tea from a cooler and started conversations with other patrons who were waiting on sandwiches. Alas, I had already eaten lunch, but vowed to return.

So I did today. TG and I shared a chicken salad sandwich (with cheddar cheese, avocado, and bacon!) and a small serving of quinoa salad, because the owner (I guess he is, anyway) gave us a taste of it when we first arrived.

Oh. My. Gosh. It was all so good! I can't believe it's been there all this time and I never knew it. 

The neighborhood surrounding the shop is perfect for Halloween night. Tall oak trees, picket fences and porches. It reminded me a lot of an upscale version of Scout and Jim's neighborhood in "To Kill a Mockingbird". 

Most of the houses were dripping in decorations. I had to snap some photos with my iPhone...but not enough to have the cops called on me.

 

 

The owners of this house mixed Halloween and politics, Austin-style...

 

Do you decorate? I used to, but in these empty-nest, pre-grandchildren years, this is the extent of my decorating...

Sigh. Where did the time go?

We won't have any trick-or-treaters - we live too far down a dirt road - so I think I'll just settle down with some popcorn and watch "Young Frankenstein" to celebrate. 

What are your Halloween plans? Whatever they are, have fun!

 

Halloween wraps fear in innocence,
As though it were a slightly sour sweet.
Let terror, then, be turned into a treat...
~Nicholas Gordon

 

Five Things on Friday

 

 

1.

Wildflowers are blooming like it's springtime instead of autumn. Plants I thought had died are sprouting blossoms again.

Maybe it's like this every year, and I just forget. That's okay. I love the surprise of it!

2.

Waller Creek runs through Austin down to Lady Bird Lake. Near downtown, it's dirty, stinky, and can be dangerous during flash floods.

Thank goodness there are people working to change that. A representative of the Waller Creek Conservancy spoke at our office meeting last week, describing the tunnel which will control flooding problems, as well as the walks and green spaces planned that will help Austinites and visitors enjoy the creek.

I can't wait to see the finished product!

3.

If you're planning to sell your home, here's a tip: make sure all of the toilets have seats. You're welcome.

4.

I'm still bringing my camera to work, using it to take business portraits of fellow agents for their business cards. It's a great way to get to know my colleagues. Photography can be a useful addiction!

Meet Patrick....

5.

I grew up in Pasadena, Texas, and spent a lot of Saturday nights at Gilley's, but for some reason I never sat my bottom on that mechanical bull Debra Winger made famous in "Urban Cowboy".

So of course I had to change that by climbing on the one in The Trophy Club Wednesday night for a photo with my friend who was in town for the City Government Convention.

We just wanted our picture taken, but the operator started moving the bull a little bit, setting us to giggling. 

 

 Now I can say I rode a mechanical bull without being thrown off! Yay!

 

Linking with Nancy at Random 5 Friday.

Dreaming of Sandcastles and Sweet Sunrises

Usually the Monday following four incredible days full of sunshine in Port Aransas with twenty friends is a Monday in every sense of the word. But today hasn't been bad at all...except that it's too short.

With everything going on in my life right now, I really didn't have time to slip away and lounge on a Gulf of Mexico beach, but I did it, anyway. It's tradition...as in, this was the 14th or 15th year 10 to 30 of us have taken over a certain condominium complex with sigh-inspiring balcony views and someone else washing our towels.

So now I'm sitting in front of my computer after a full day of traffic jams coming and going, classes, communications with clients, grocery shopping, unpacking, laundry, and grilling. Bills still wait to be paid beside me; I'm considering waking up at 4 to take care of them tomorrow morning, but that Procrastination Warning is sounding in my head.

Unwritten thank-you's, birthday, and sympathy cards wait to be written and mailed on my desk... I still have real estate homework to complete... I'm drowning in emails... I need to close a Silpada party... I'm longing to lose myself in editing the hundreds of photos I took the past four days... but my eyelids are heavy, my brain is foggy, and my head is nodding.

I think I'll skip my regular sweets, share a few photos here with you that I've already edited, and then crawl off to bed, ignoring the Procrastination Warning Bells...

 

The two rules of procrastination:  1) Do it today.  2) Tomorrow will be today tomorrow. 

~Author Unknown

 

 

A view of the coastline from our condo.

Just one of several glorious sunrises!

 

We ate dinner at a restaurant next door to this marina, with a clear view of the sunset.

So beautiful!

 

What's a weekend with girlfriends without a night or two of dancing?

Sharkey's is THE place on the island. Nevermind that it's usually empty - we have the dance floor to ourselves.

 

This talented tye-dye fan got up on stage and hoola-hooped through several songs.

Even a two-step. He was amazing!

 

This was my view 3/4 of the weekend...

Four of the wonderful ladies who were there with me......Rae, Sandy, my sweet sister Brenda, and Jackie.

Abandoned sandcastle...

 

Another sunset. You're welcome.

The sky, a perfect empty canvas, offers clouds nonetheless.  They shift and drift and beg interpretation... such is the nature of art.  ~Jeb Dickerson

P.S. Today was my friend Patti's birthday. She had planned to join us at the coast, but those procrastination bells were ringing something fierce in her knees. She couldn't put surgery off any longer.

We missed her, but I look forward to having her and her new knees join us next year, ready for dancing!

Here's a photo from last year and a post I wrote a while back in honor of her birthday. Dear Paquita...

It Happened Like This...

I leaned on a railing, watching couples swirl past on the dance floor below, feeling very alone because my boyfriend of five years wasn't with me.

I can't remember where he was. Probably with his buddies. Maybe with another girl. I worked most weekends, so I was fuming - and hurt - that he didn't want to go out with me on my rare Friday night off. And I was disappointed that none of the regulars I had counted on were there, either.

Then you approached and asked me to dance. It was a Michael Jackson song - again, my memory is foggy and I can't remember which one, but I know you do. Your memory has always been so good. In fact, now it often annoys me how good it is.

Anyway, you asked me to dance, and I was in such a grumpy mood I intended to say no, but yes came out instead, and next thing I know, we're on the dance floor. When Michael stopped singing, a country song came on and you asked me to dance again.

We talked a little. I was surprised you were older than me. You looked like a teenager with those mischievous blue eyes, freckles, and tousled sandy-blonde hair.

You invited me to sit at your table. I met Chris, Karin, and Karin's friends from New York. We talked a little, but Karin kind of monopolized your attention.

However, when closing time came, you walked me to my car, asked me what I was doing the next night (going to Gilley's to see the band "Alabama") and if you could meet me there. I said sure, and you gave me a little peck of a kiss before saying goodbye.

Was it on the cheek or the lips? I can't remember. But I thought it was sweet. And I thought you were fun. And sweet. And cute. And I hoped you showed up the next night. (You did.)

And that's how it happened (according to my memory, anyway) thirty-two years ago this evening...

Thank you for that first dance...and all that have followed. My memory may have faded about details, but I'll never forget that on a night when everything seemed to be going wrong, God proved he had my back, all along.

He gave me just what I needed:

You.

"Love is a symbol of eternity.  It wipes out all sense of time, destroying all memory of a beginning and all fear of an end."

 ~Author Unknown

 

Reinvention

"Reinvention" is the theme for Generation Fabulous's blog hop this month.

Considering I just started a new career as a realtor, seemingly out of the blue, "reinvention" is right up my alley.

Or is it? Can it be considered "reinvention" if it's something you once loved, and spent hours doing, long ago?

You see, when I was little, my favorite section of the Sunday newspaper wasn't the comics - it was the Homes section.

I loved looking at the homes featured on the front page. I would study the floorplans of the huge houses on the back page, imagining myself wandering through them.

I was ten the first time Daddy and I toured the Bishop's Palace in Galveston, triggering my love for snooping through houses which carried on into my teen years, when my boyfriend and I knocked on the door of a house I loved and asked for a tour..

...and then into my twenties when Tom and I and two friends knocked on the door of a renovated old house in LaMarque and asked for a tour, and Tom and I and two friends explored a condemned Victorian house in Galveston, and Tom and I pushed babies in strollers through old homes' tours in LaPorte, and explored new construction in every town we've lived in...

I began designing floorplans when I was ten. My mother would bring home special paper from her job as a secretary at a construction company. I came up with some pretty good plans!

Television houses have always triggered my imagination. Back then I tried figuring out the floor plans of the houses on "Bewitched" and "The Brady Bunch" and "Dark Shadows", and even taped pages of typing paper together into large sheets so I could sketch out the floor plan of the Munsters' and Addams Family's mansions. 

I thought I wanted to be an architect...but the idea of having to include the plumbing and wiring and placement of supporting beams in a structure bored me to tears.

I just liked the parts of houses you could see. And secret passageways.

But I'm not sure I'd ever heard of real estate agents back then. However, considering my obsession with houses and the list I made when I was ten of every single person I had ever met (my first "contacts" list!), it's obvious that (besides being a strange child) I would eventually grow up to be a Realtor, touring properties and reminding everyone I know that I can help them buy, sell, lease, or invest in it. 

 

(There are also conventions!)

Why that didn't become obvious to me until I was 54 is a mystery, but I'm sure the journey to this place wasn't wasted, but was, instead, an invaluable trek to self-awareness.

Perhaps the midlife "reinvention" we talk about so often now is more about getting back in touch with who, or what,  you really are and what you enjoy than becoming something altogether new.

What do you think?

Have you experienced "reinvention"...or are you longing to? Share your story in the comments, and read the other GenFabbers' posts to hear more. If you're a blogger, join the blog hop!

(By the way, who do you know that needs to buy, sell, lease, or invest property...anywhere in the world? Contact me!)

Six Things on Saturday

 

1.

Wednesday night, as I drove home from a meeting, the huge Harvest Moon broke through the clouds, beaming bright on the road ahead of me.

I relished the beauty of it, but would you believe I didn't even think about grabbing my camera when I got home?

Something must be wrong with me.

 

2.

I've now experienced my first huge convention -  the Keller Williams Mega Camp, held here in the Austin Convention Center.

It started Thursday. Vendors, freebies, inspirational speakers, live music, and thousands of people from all over the world...so it was pretty amazing that a friend from high school, another new agent based in San Antonio , was sitting just a row behind me that first day.  

3.

I haven't met with my writing group in...well, I think it's been a few months. But this week I got a sympathy card from them in the mail because of my daddy's passing. Inside, there was another card containing a Best Buy gift card. They had chipped in to help me buy a new printer. 

That just blew me away. 

I'm glad they haven't given up on me!

 

4.

Tom's brother Steve and his wife, Kim, are visiting from Arizona. She's an agent with Keller Williams (my sponsor) and came in for the convention, and they just planned their trip to stay over for the weekend.

The last time they were here, six years ago for Tom's big 50th birthday party/Shallue family reunion, it rained and rained and rained. 

Then it stopped and we've been in a drought ever since.

Well, Thursday night it started raining and it didn't stop until early this morning.

Obviously, Steve and Kim need to visit more often.

Today...the first day of autumn...the sky cleared to a vivid blue, there was a golden tint in the sunlight, and temperatures dropped enough to enjoy lunch on a patio overlooking Lake Marble Falls. 

Hallelujah!

 

5.

Friday was Mama and Daddy's 64th wedding anniversary.  Sigh.

 

6.

 

Amen. 

 

 

 

Bittersweet

 

 

 

I spotted it when I stepped out onto the front porch one morning this past week, in between trips to Houston. I noticed the fossil first, thinking it had fallen from its spot on the windowsill above the bench where it now rested.

Then I realized it had been placed there to hold down a handwritten note.

"...I wanted to drop you a note and let you know you and your family are in my prayers..." 

It was from my longtime friend George. He has been making multiple trips from Houston to San Angelo to see his mother-in-law, who they discovered had lung cancer earlier this summer, and tries to vary it by taking different routes.

He left the note on Sunday. On Monday, a few hours after I found the note, his mother-in-law passed away. On Tuesday, while I said my last goodbye to my Daddy, he was on his way to San Angelo again, to help his wife say goodbye to her mother.

Considering my house is a mile down a dirt road, off of a small highway that twists and turns and isn't a shortcut between San Angelo and Houston by any means, it's a huge honor that he took the time to go that way to ease my pain over losing my dad, especially when he knew I wasn't home.

A few years ago in a post about friendship, I spoke of it as a garden that needs to be watered. Ever since then, we've referred to our infrequent emails as 'watering the garden'. 

So on the back of the note he sketched a flower and added these words: "You are a daisy in my garden...May God continue to shine through you and give you Peace...Can you feel the water?"

All those years ago, when we worked on the high school yearbook together and planned to go sky-diving, we never imagined that one day our friendship would include these days of mourning each other's losses. And I'm glad we didn't.

However, I am so very grateful we're still friends, flowers in each other's gardens.

(Please keep George, his wife, and their family in your prayers!)

A good friend is a connection to life -

a tie to the past, a road to the future, the key to sanity in a totally insane world. 

~Lois Wyse

 

Here are a few other bittersweets from my past week...

 

Sunday: joining with your siblings to support your mom after your father's passing; a safe journey home after a heartbreaking weekend  

Monday: a day to immerse yourself in images from your father's life that will become a slideshow memorial; a safe journey back to your childhood home with two of your kids, and the safe arrival of two more

Tuesday: helping your mom prepare for your dad's funeral; an ice chest full of eggs, bacon, and biscuits waiting on your parents' doorstep, courtesy of a friend; a limo driver named Paul, who provides just the right amount of conversation on a tough day; friends who help you mourn your father; "Day is Done" by a solitary trumpet, in honor of your father's service to his country 

 

Wednesday: breakfast, courtesy of and the friend who left the ice chest full of food on the porch the day before, and your son, who took his Granddaddy's place at the stove; fitting the huge schefflera plant from your Divas and other plants from friends into your car trunk; a safe journey home; Whataburger in LaGrange at sunset with your kids

Thursday: winning a book you wanted in a contest in your lead generation class; love, in the form of cards, waiting for you in your mailbox

 

Friday: lunch with new friends/colleagues; your new business cards waiting for you on the front porch; a walk with your puppies at sunset

 

Saturday: a day at home to catch your breath; your cousin traveling to see your mom and take her to lunch; tiny purple flowers shaped like Easter lilies

 

Sunday: Mass with your kids and hugs from your friends; cleaning and organizing sprees, even if they only make a dent; your husband making it home, safe and sound, after his own long journey to support his brother during a sad time

I hope your week has been full of more sweet!s than bittersweets. Share them here! If nothing else, look around at those you call friends, and give thanks. 

“When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow.” 

 ~ Shauna Niequist

 

 

Dear Daddy

Saturday morning my dad finally got an answer to his prayers: He went to be with the Lord.

In his honor, I'm reposting this letter I wrote to him here a few years ago...

 

 

Dear Daddy,

All of my life, you've been right here, holding my hand - loose when I needed loose, tight when I needed tight - but never letting go.

I disappointed you at times over the years (Oh, yes I did and you know it!) but you never stopped believing in me, never stopped wanting the best for me or wanting me to be the best I could be.

You believed in me even when I stopped believing in myself. 

You taught me what unconditional love really means. Even when I knew I had disappointed you...

(Remember when I hit that parked truck with my brand new Toyota Celica, my graduation present from you and Mama? Remember when I decided to flush my scholarship down the drain and drop out of college to work in a chemical plant?)

...I never once, not once, doubted your love.

You never said a word, never chewed me out for being stupid and irresponsible (even though I deserved it) but just kept holding my hand, offering whatever help and support I would accept.

 

Like you, I love reading, watching a good Western, history, traveling, kitschy tourist spots, pecans, rocks, and sweating in the sun. I inherited your silliness, impulsiveness, teasing/mean streak, and flash-fire temper.

I hope I also inherited your generosity, loyalty, and tenderness.

 

With Mama, you raised me to be confident, courageous and independent, willing to test myself, push myself, try new things, truly believing I could do anything I wanted to do because you believed it.

You raised me the same as you raised the boys, with no discernible difference related to gender. No matter what I did, or still do, your pride is palpable. It's a fuel that keeps me chasing my old dreams and discovering new ones.

 

Memories tied to you are the treasure of my life...

...Thank you for my sunflower garden, my orange and green painted bedroom, introducing me to ping-pong, Black Beauty, Leon Uris, James Michener and National Geographic.

Thank you for taking beginner square dance lessons with me and letting me chop down that tree when I was sixteen. 

Thanks for teaching me to drive, to play tennis, and for trying to teach me to bowl and play golf. Thanks for shuttling me and my friends to the movies and basketball tournaments, and for finding some of them jobs at your chemical plant.

 

You never thought you were special - you still don't - but let me assure you, you are, and I thank God every day for making you my Daddy and giving me (and now my kids) so much time here on Earth with you.

I look forward to the day I again feel your hug and see the twinkle in your eye, but for now, I carry them in my heart.

Rest in peace, dear Daddy. You deserve it.

I love you.

 

He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. 

~Clarence Budington Kelland

 

Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance. 

~Ruth E. Renkel

 

 

I love my father as the stars — he's a bright shining example and a happy twinkling in my heart.

~Terri Guillemets

Thank you all for the many prayers you've offered for him and my family this past year. Now please continue to keep my mom in your prayers as she faces life without him by her side after almost 64 years together.

I'm grateful I've been able to spend so much time with Daddy this past year, even if a lot of it was in ERs, hospital rooms, and doctor's offices.

I'm especially grateful that I was able to tell him I love him (and hear him say it back to me) on the telephone Friday.

Don't ever take the time you have with loved ones for granted or miss a chance to say "I love you!"

 Old as she was, she still missed her daddy sometimes.  ~Gloria Naylor

 

(The One and Only) Rae of Sunshine

 

Back then it was slumber parties...scary stories...dancing...eating junk food...wrapping houses...riding bikes...prank calls...boys...

Back then Rae was the life of the party...always on the move...full of ideas...as playful and mischievous as a puppy...

Fast forward forty-four years and things haven't changed very much, thank goodness!

We're still having slumber parties where we tell scary stories about menopause and loss. We're still dancing, eating junk food (but not as much!), and even occasionally wrapping houses.

The boys are still around...and Rae and I are still friends.

I admit...there was a long gap in there where we weren't a part of each other's lives, except for reunions every five years and occasional Deepwater/Deer Park girls dinners. But rather than drifting further and further apart, we grew closer and closer as time went on.

Now I hate to imagine not having her in my life.

Rae has seen enough dark times to recognize every blessing she receives, and she generously shares those blessings with everyone - even strangers if she sees there's a need. She keeps her eyes open for chances to help.

Rae has a way of bringing people together - people who have nothing in common except loving to be around her. She can be a ham, a clown, the center of attention...and yet make everyone around her feel special. She's comfortable in her own skin without ever being "full of herself" - in fact, she exudes so much confidence that it spreads to those around her.

Rae is classy and earthy - lipstick and tomboy. She embraces life, savors it, lives it passionately and adventurously, not taking one single second of it for granted...and she wants to make sure no one else does, either.

She is a vortex, pulling us into her whirlwind, taking us all along on the ride, not wanting any of us to miss a thing. Making us not want to miss a thing, either.

Yes, ten was a lot of fun, but fifty-four is even better, because of the friends I'm sharing it with...friends like Rae.

Happy, happy birthday, sweet Rae!

 

 

This is an updated re-post from a few years ago.

Rae is the kind of friend who always has a zillion things going on, who is always doing something for at least half a dozen people all the time. She has been there for me too often to count, checking on my parents, taking them food or just giving bringing them the sunshine of her smile. She sends me cards of encouragement and when she visits, always comes bearing gifts...even for my puppies!

And yet, I didn't even get a card in the mail in time for her birthday! 

Okay, there's really not even a card in the mail, yet, period, but I do hope to see her this weekend and help her continue her birthday celebration. There will be at least a card then!

In the meantime, my gifts to her are my words and assurances that I know I am blessed to call her friend, and that she can call on me anytime she needs me.

Happy birthday, Rae!

 

"Friendship is a promise made in the heart.
Silent.
Unwritten.
Unbreakable by distance.
Unchangeable by time."

~ unknown

September Sweetness

September has always been one of my favorite months.

The air feels a little drier, crisper...summer temperatures begin their slow (and short, in Texas) descent into winter...the sky sheds its faded denim and dresses in vibrant azure. I'm eager to spend every minute of September outside, enjoying it all.

But there are other reasons I love September...

I first met Tom on a September evening, thirty-two years ago. We spent the last week of that month getting to know each other and falling in love. 

It was in September fourteen years ago that I first gathered a group of other exhausted moms for what became an annual retreat in Port Aransas. September is the sound of waves washing onto a sandy beach, the last kiss of summer sun on my skin, hours of reading or wandering with my camera, four days of laughter and a night of dancing with girlfriends.

When I was growing up, school didn't start until after Labor Day and three months of summer...enough free time to grow weary of the same neighborhood friends and Monopoly games that last for days...so September meant new clothes, new friends, and new beginnings.

Now that I'm in a state of reinvention as a real estate agent, September is still a time for new beginnings and new friends. Every day I'm pulling on seldom worn 'nice' clothes, attending classes and training, and meeting so many people, both newbies like me and experienced agents, willing to help me along this path. 

It's just making Septembers even sweeter.

 

Here are a few sweet! moments I noted from the past week. Please be sure to add yours in the comments!

 

 

Monday: a pond full of Snow-On-the-Prairie; your husband's help getting your puppy into the car for her check-up; people who are willing to share their methods of success; the comfort of friends when you hear of another friend's death

Tuesday: continuing to learn new things when you're 54; krispy kreme donuts; offers of help in your new career

Wednesday: helpful salesmen; your very own laptop; the arrival of your official real estate license; potential clients; spotting a bunny on your evening walk; your puppy not spotting the bunny

Thursday: the glint of morning sunlight on a dove's wing; meeting new people; cake and cookies and learning; friends who help you mourn the deaths of a two friends in one week; a letter in the mail

Friday: soft gray mornings; your old puppy running and playing with his puppy; your son sending you marketing tips for your new real estate business; spotting a creative sign while you're stuck in traffic; new purple flowers

Saturday: a long overdue haircut by Michael; walking at dusk with your puppy; making progress on your real estate to-do list, even if it feels like you're crawling along; nagging checking up on a longtime friend with some help issues; reconnecting with two old friends on Facebook, one from your chemical plant days and another from high school

Sunday: attending Mass with your husband and 1/2 of your kids; homilies that touch on things that have been on your mind the past week; being able to delegate puppy care when you have tons of stuff to do

 

I hope this September overflows in sweetness for you!

"The happiness of life is made up of minute fractions - the little, soon-forgotten charities of a kiss or a smile, a kind look, a heartfelt compliment, and the countless infinitesimals of pleasurable and genial feeling." 

~Samuel Taylor Coleridge

 

 

 

Healthy, but Hearty!

For years, my family ate a lot of pasta and noodles. Especially lasagna, after my brother-in-law pointed out to me the no-boil recipe on the side of the box.

So easy!

And then my family got sick of lasagna.

So for the past few years, especially once it was just me and Tom, we've mainly had grilled chicken or pork and a big, colorful salad.

But that can get old, too, and sometimes you just crave something a little more substantial. So that's why I'm  grateful I was able to participate in this Healthy Choice review and try out some of their frozen entrees.

 

 

Yes, this is another review, and here's the disclosure: I was lucky enough to be chosen as a participant in Vibrant Influencer Network Healthy Choice campaign, which means I was sent coupons for free products and will be paid to express my honest opinions about them. 

Rest assured I am giving you my own opinion.

I signed up for this review because, especially as I've gotten older, I focus on nutrition when making food choices and am always on the lookout for new, healthy products.

Now, on to my experience with the Healthy Choice Baked Entrees...

 

 

I was still a little concerned about the amount of sodium...

 

 

...but honestly, take a look at the ingredients. For the most part, and especially at the beginning of the list where it's most important, they are all recognizable and real food! And less than 300 calories!

That doesn't happen very often.

 

 

 

They were easy to prepare. Just cut a little slit in the film covering the tray, pop in the microwave for 5 or 6 minutes, let stand a couple more, stir, and enjoy!

 

 

You can see there's a lot of broccoli, in good sized chunks, not just little sprinklings.

 

This may not look like a lot of lasagna, but it was just the right size! And less than 300 calories! (Did I already mention that?)

 

 

 

Plus it tasted good!

The Chicken Alfredo was creamy and cheesy, and I was impressed by the amount of broccoli in it. The lasagna was a little spicy, which I liked...very meaty and flavorful.

YUM!

 

 

These are perfect for empty nesters who are craving something with noodles and yummy sauce, but aren't in the mood to go out or have the noodles and yummy sauce as leftovers for days and days.

I'll be stocking our freezer with a few, that's for sure. There are plenty to choose from:

·         Four Cheese Ziti Marinara:Freshly-made ziti pasta tossed with classic marinara and topped with a blend of fine Italian cheeses; Parmesan, Romano, Asiago and mozzarella.

·         Roasted Chicken and Potatoes:Savory slices of chicken breast with red skin potatoes, crisp carrots, and tender pearl onions in a light chicken and herb sauce.

·         Fettuccini Alfredo Bake:A classic combination of freshly-made fettuccini pasta and rich Parmesan Alfredo sauce with crisp broccoli and topped with seasoned bread crumbs.

·         Italian Sausage Pasta Bake:Freshly-made whole grain rotini pasta paired with juicy Italian sausage, tossed in a rich garlic marinara together with bubbling mozzarella cheese.

·         Lasagna with Meat Sauce:Three rich layers of freshly-made pasta, hearty meat sauce, and ricotta cheese topped with mozzarella for perfection.

·         Chicken & Rice Cheddar Bake:Whole grain brown & wild rice pilaf with crisp broccoli and sliced chicken breast in a creamy cheddar cheese sauce.

·         Chicken & Spinach Alfredo:Freshly-made whole grain penne pasta tossed with sliced chicken breast, spinach and tomatoes in a creamy Alfredo sauce.

·         Chicken Enchilada Bake:A full-flavored chicken enchilada over cilantro rice and topped with corn, black beans and a decadent queso sauce.

·         Ravioli Marinara Bake:Rich ricotta and spinach filled al dente ravioli tossed in a tomato basil sauce and topped with fresh mozzarella cheese.

·         Slow Roasted Turkey Bake:Slow roasted turkey breast accompanied by potatoes, butternut squash and crisp green beans topped with classical gravy and crispy onions.

Ah, it makes me hungry just reading the list! If you try any of these, let me know what your favorites are!

 

 

A Letter in the Mailbox

 

 

 

I got a letter this past weekend. A real letter, written just to say hi, how are you, I'm thinking of you, and catch me up on the doings of my friend's life. What he's working on, what he's reading, what he's thinking about. It wasn't a required letter - a thank you or a filler around something he needed to send me.

It was just a letter.

Once upon a time, I wrote letters like that. And received them. Lots of them. It was how I kept in touch with my cousin, my grandmother, the teacher who left mid-year to move to the Dominican Republic, the boys I met at Garner State Park, the friends who went off to college...

I loved getting letters, so I wrote letters. Sometimes on pretty stationery, but more often on plain notepaper, because I could write pages and pages and pages!

Now, after just a few lines my hand and fingers are tired.

I never had great handwriting (I specifically remember getting a 'B' in 4th grade, Ms. Haygood!) but at least it was legible. Now, even before my hand gets tired, I have limited control of the pen or pencil; it'll go zigzagging off on its own wild adventure across the page.

The letter was from a writer friend. He has decided too much time on the internet has made him lose focus and it has affected his work. He's getting back to plain old paper, for his writing, communication (when possible), and for leisure, as in reading books with pages of paper.

Perhaps tonight I'll pull out some paper and re-train my fingers to hold a pen, to tame it to create legible words on a page once again.

What about you? Do you write letters the old-fashioned way? When was the last time you received one?

 

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

Before I could publish this post, I received a phone call that required me to add a little bit here on the end.

My friend's letter mentioned a plan to get together with Joe, a classmate of ours from high school who was visiting Los Angeles. Joe, too, had sent me a Facebook message letting me know he'd be seeing my friend. I told him to tell him hi for me.

That evening Joe posted a photo of them on our class Facebook page, smiling, toasting their friendship and life.

The next morning, Joe died of a massive heart attack.

What's the moral of this story? I'm not sure.

I know I'm grateful for all of the ways I've been able to stay in touch with my longtime friends and get to know some of those faces from my past as adults. I'm grateful for letters, for email, for Facebook, and for phone calls that draw us together in times of joy and sorrow.

Perhaps the moral has something to do with living each day to the fullest, for not letting opportunities slip by to spend time with a friend or loved one.

Maybe it's to present a smile to the world at all times, like Joe did, no matter what's going on in your life, and in that way inspire others to find a way to smile, too.  

I don't know. But I do know I'll miss seeing that smile.

Rest in peace, Joe. 

“My friends have made the story of my life. In a thousand ways they have turned my limitations into beautiful privileges.”

~Helen Keller

Five on Friday: Give me peace for the moment...

 

1.

I had to report for jury duty on Monday. It was in the old Travis County Courthouse, which to me is what a courthouse and jury room should look like...straight out of an old Perry Mason episode.

It was a wonderful process. The judge was very passionate and took lots of time explaining the process to us. I didn't really want to get picked (I'm in the middle of the whole real estate license thing and need to start making money!) but I decided to just be honest and see what happened.

I didn't get picked. Maybe I was too honest.

I was relieved in a way...but by then I was involved and interested in the case, so I also felt rejected!

 

2.

But since I didn't get picked for jury duty, I was free to take the State Exam for real estate on Wednesday.

I passed! I barely crossed the line on one part, but what matters is I did cross it. Whew! Now the real education begins, so I kept the momentum going and signed with an agency yesterday. Training begins next week.

I'm ready to hit the ground running!

 

3a.

There's a dead deer lying half in, half out of our creek, with a huge chunk of its rear-end missing. I'll spare you the photo of it I took to send to Tom.

Well, I'm not sure how much of the deer is still down there, actually. For the past two days coyotes have been fighting over it all night, yapping and yapping and making our poor puppies feel obligated to bark at them from our back deck. 

I'm glad they don't feel obligated to run down there!

During the day, vultures circle round and round, so close to the house that I hear the whoosh-whoosh of their wings. They glide down under the trees to where the deer is (I can't see it from the house, thank goodness) and then I hear a lot more loud noises.

Of course, the puppies feel obligated to bark at them, too.

3b.

I've taken a lot of photos of "interesting" scat on our road lately (scat = poop). There's a great site I discovered where you can identify what animal it came from. I'll spare you those photos, too. You'll just have to trust me that we've had coyote and fox and owl...and something much larger...crossing our road lately.

...Which makes me very nervous for Max with his wobbly hips and legs, poor old puppy, what with the dead (full-sized antlered) deer down there by the creek .

 

4.

 

In honor of its 75th anniversary, our local electricity co-op is sponsoring a photography contest for members with the theme: My life in Central Texas.

 

I chose a photo of a morning walk with the puppies from several years ago, back when Belle really was a puppy and Frankie, our late guinea fowl, thought he was one, too. 

Click HERE to see my submission page. Voting begins on August 26th and I would appreciate yours...and your friends' vote, too! There are some cash prizes!

It was tough narrowing it down to one photo, and there were some size requirements, too. But I had fun going back through all of the memories with that funny little bird.

I'm posting most of them over on Confessions in three posts, starting with THIS ONE, if you feel like looking at tons of photos of a precocious guinea fowl.

Rest in peace, Frankie bird. I miss you peering in the window at me while I work.

 

5.

Do you get songs stuck in your head? I have one running right now, and I'm grateful for it.

It's "Help Me Find It" by Sidewalk Prophets. Here are some of the lyrics playing in my head...very reassuring and calming in these days when there are so many things going on and decisions need to be made...

 

If there's a road I should walk
Help me find it.

If I need to be still
Give me peace for the moment.

 

And here's the song itself, below. If you're feeling stressed and /or need help figuring out what direction to head, I recommend it!

I hope you have a wonderful Friday and a beautiful weekend!

(Linking up with Nancy at A Rural Journal's Random 5 Friday)

 

 

Another Healthy Choice

When I was growing up, one of my favorite meals was the Swanson sliced roast beef frozen dinner. We called them TV dinners back then. I believe it came with corn, mashed potatoes, and some kind of yummy crumbly berry dessert, all tucked into separate compartments of the aluminum foil tray. 

My mother kept those and a supply of Banquet Chicken Pot Pies in the freezer for us to heat up for lunch during the summer while she was at work. 

But years later, I stocked up on Lean Cuisine frozen dinners to eat at work at the chemical plant. I ate so many that eventually just the smell of them cooking made me sick. Despite my previous love affair with them, I've avoided frozen dinners ever since.

So I admit it was with a little trepidation that I agreed to try Healthy Choice's Cafe Steamers.

(Yes, this is another review, and here's the disclosure: I was lucky enough to be chosen as a participant in the Vibrant Influencer Network Healthy Choice campaign, which means I was sent coupons for free products and will be paid to express my honest opinions about them. 

Rest assured I am giving you my own opinion.

I signed up for this review because, especially as I've gotten older, I focus on nutrition when making food choices and am always on the lookout for new, healthy products.

Now, on to my experience with the Cafe Steamers...)

 

I chose the Kung Pao Chicken and Roasted Chicken Marsala because they each had less than 300 calories, whole grain, and lots of veggies.

The "wine sauce" on the Chicken Marsala sounded pretty tempting, too!

 

 

Scoping out the nutrition panel, I was a little concerned about the amount of sodium - both of them over 500 mg. But at least the top ingredients were real food. They use chicken tenderloin and real veggies.

 

 

TG agreed to be my assistant and share them with me, so I could try both in one sitting.

They were very easy to prepare - pop in the microwave for about 4 minutes, carefully peel back the film on top, pull the steamer basket insert up out of the bigger bowl, dump the contents into the bowl (which contains the sauce), stir, and enjoy! 

 

 

She and I both decided the Kung Pao Chicken was our favorite...sweet and spicy and the chicken was very tender.

I'm addicted to a certain restaurant's Orange Chicken and I have to say, this would satisfy my craving in a pinch. 

 

The Chicken Marsala also featured tender chunks of chicken tenderloin and real veggies, as well as whole wheat ziti pasta. It was good, but I think the powerful flavors of the Kung Pao Chicken put it at an unfair advantage with my taste buds; it seemed a little bland. 

The serving sizes of these were just right. While I wouldn't eat them every day (never again!) I'm going to stock a few to be on hand for a quick lunch. 

Here are some of the vegetarian varieties they offer:

         Portabella Marsala Pasta: Freshly made whole wheat pasta and rich crimini mushrooms, tossed with a savory Marsala wine sauce and topped with rich fontina cheese. 

         Pumpkin Squash Ravioli: Tender pumpkin-stuffed ravioli with crisp green beans, sweet butternut squash, and juicy Granny Smith apples, topped with a tasty butter-sage sauce.

         Tortellini Primavera Pasta: Four-cheese-stuffed tortellini featuring whole-grain pasta, julienne carrots, and red pepper strips and now includes more tortellini and sauce. 

         Asian Potstickers: Vegetarian dish served on a bed of rice and covered with a sweet Asian-style sauce. We’ve also added more potstickers and sauce, while making it less spicy, per consumer feedback. 

         Portabella Spinach Parmesan: Freshly-made whole wheat pasta, and now featuring even more baby portabella mushrooms, red peppers, tomatoes and spinach.

Yum, right?

If you try (or have already tried) any of these, let me know what you think!

 

 

The Power of a Summer Song

...Love, love is the answer, whoo-hoo
And that's all right
So don't you give up now, whoo-hoo
It's so easy to find
Just look to your soul (Look to your soul)
And open your mind

Crystal blue persuasion...

It was 1969. I was ten and having the time of my life, because my sister was a lifeguard and she often let me tag along with her to work. Those days were spent swimming (of course) and then resting in the basket area (because I had privileges) watching old Shirley Temple movies. 

Crystal Blue Persuasion was the song of the summer. We sang along to it on the way to the pool and on the way home, and any time I hear it now, I'm ten, once again, riding shotgun in Brenda's VW bug.

I can smell the chlorine, feel the cool of the breeze in the shade of the basket room, hear the splashes and the chatter coming from the pool.

It's 1969, I'm ten, ignorant and innocent, and all is right with my world.

 

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

 

It drifted out to me from the winery bistro kitchen's radio...Black Land Farmer, sung by Frankie Miller. Although it had been years since I heard it, with the first whistle I was swept out of that restaurant to Garner State Park, two-stepping around a rock pavilion with a gangly teenage boy under a star-studded night sky. 

It's just a twangy country song, with a steady slow beat, but from the first time I heard it blasting out of that old juke box full of 45s, it became my Garner theme song.

Every summer from sixth grade to my senior year of high school - except one when the Frio River flooded and we had to pack up and leave in the middle of the night - I spent at least a week in that pavilion under the stars, caught up in innocent summer romances.

I tried to go back with my kids years ago, but it wasn't the same. It never is, is it?

The Frio River and the towering Cypress trees were still beautiful, and the kids got to climb the same trails to the same little caves I loved to explore, but the quiet dirt roads had been asphalted and the dances were so crowded that you could barely breathe, much less spin around the dance floor.

 

I took a photo of the pavilion before we left the park, just so I'd have an image of that great CCC stonework.

But my kids had fun, anyway. They didn't know what they were missing, of course. I'm just grateful that, with the first whistle of Black Land Farmer, I can go back to my Garner.

 

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

 

The Beach Boys were my favorite band when I was five. I already had a crush on Dennis Wilson. (Maybe that's why I always wanted to play the drums!)

I would sit in a chair near our console stereo and listen to this whole album, over and over and over. 

 

Once I got my driver's license, I spent every free minute in Galveston, soaking up the sun. The Beach Boys were still my favorite soundtrack in those sandy summer days. And talk about dreams come true...in May of 1975 I finally heard them in person. 

Their songs, any and all of them, still make me want to jump in my car and head for the beach...

So tell me, what songs take you back to summer?

This is a Generation Fabulous Blog Hop. Click on the links below to see what songs say summer to others.

 

 

 

 

 

At long last, we meet again...

They were waiting for me in the mailbox yesterday evening.

Ah, Mark and Debbie...you haven't aged a bit since I last saw you forty-one years ago!

 

 

I don't remember when the book first appeared in our home, but I know I had discovered it by the time I was in 4th grade and spent a week at home with chicken pox, reading and sipping on bottles of cold Coca-Cola.

(Chicken pox that first time was actually quite pleasant. Twenty years later I had it again - not pleasant at all!)

By the time I was in 7th grade and Cousins was snatched from my school locker, I had read the book at least a dozen times. I mourned its loss, but years passed before I began searching for it... scanning the titles of books in every antique store I entered, recruiting friends and even my kids to keep an eye out for it. 

Often, in the middle of some writing project, I would think of it and do a quick Google search, only a fraction of a glimmer of hope driving me on.

It didn't help that I couldn't remember the author, and that there were quite a few famous books with the same title. 

But then...a couple of weeks ago I was ordering a book about real estate a friend had recommended, on an online site she had also recommended because of the cheap prices.

Out of habit, and still hanging on to that tattered bit of hope, I typed in Cousins. The usuals popped up, but I was able to narrow the search to 'old children's books' and then...there it was. I couldn't believe it! 

However, the books offered weren't cheap. Over the years Cousins had become a collector's item, it seemed. Who knew? I thought I was the only one who remembered it.

My kids told me I should just splurge and get it, but I remembered we were broke and resigned myself to having to wait a little longer to actually hold it in my hands.

Besides, I was happy just knowing the author's name and that several copies were still out there.

But my sweet, book-loving, employed son told me he would pay for it. An early Christmas present.

It was in my shopping cart before he finished talking, and within minutes, it was mine.

Of course, I had to wait for it to be shipped, but what's a couple of weeks after forty-one years?

 

 

Their search for Felicity begins (again), but hallelujah! my search for them has ended.

Sweet!

And here are a few other sweet!s from the past week...

 

Monday: your Hollow dotted with yellow flowers; spending the day at your church...and getting paid for it

Tuesday: rising while it's still dark to lay on your car with your daughter, staring up at the sky, watching meteors and fire balls shoot across the sky; thinking back to your wedding day, 31 years ago; visiting a real estate agency and deciding it's a good fit 

 

Wednesday: roasted veggies a la Jessie; facing your new adventure, head-on; a movie with your daughter

Thursday: your puppy running for joy; friendly people who put you at ease when taking your fingerprints; phone calls from your mom; finally making it to the grocery store

 

Friday: pink prickly pear fruit; a day at home for to-do lists; laughing over an episode of Dark Shadows with your son  

Saturday: a free lunch; learning more about real estate; seeing your son and daughter-in-law's new home; surprises in your mail box; studying real estate on the back porch until the sun drops too low to read

Sunday: empty toll roads when you're running late; another free lunch; doing better on your practice real estate exam than you thought you were; hearing that your dad didn't hurt himself in his latest fall; unpacking forgotten books from boxes; identifying weird scat with your son via an online site (coyote, not mountain lion, we think - I'll spare you the photo)

What were some of your sweet! surprises this week? Share!

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

~ Oprah Winfrey

Thirty-One Years

Thirty-one years. That's officially how long Tom and I have been married as of this evening, around 6 or 7 pm.

And they said you couldn't find lasting love in a bar...

...No more looking for love in all the wrong places
Looking for love in too many faces
Searching your eyes, looking for traces
Of what.. I'm dreaming of...
Now that I found a friend and a lover
God bless the day I discover 
You, oh you, lookin' for love.

~Wanda Mallette and Patti Ryan

(For our first dance as a married couple, we chose "Looking for Love in All the Wrong Places."  Yes, really! I still love that song!)

They also said getting married on a Friday the 13th was bad luck...that once Tom graduated from college with his degree he'd dump me...that building a house together was suicide for a marriage...

We proved them all wrong...

...at least for thirty-one years, anyway. If I've learned one thing since my wedding day, it's to not take your love or marriage for granted. To say we've had our ups and downs is putting it mildly...and it can turn in a heartbeat.

But if it ended tomorrow, I'd have no regrets. Meeting Tom that fortuituous night in the Diamondback Saloon was a blessing...a seed that continued sprouting and blooming into a garden of blessings.

I'm so grateful for each and every one of these thirty-one years...even the bad ones, because they helped me appreciate the good ones.

 

photo by bloom photography

(I've also learned that thirty-one years can go by really fast!)

Happy 31st anniversary to the love of my life!

...But the greatest of these is love.

~1 Corinthians 13:13

 

...sisters are the chocolate chips.

One of the first and best gifts my parents ever gave me was my big sister, or "See-uh-stuh" as I called her for the first few years - I don't remember when I switched to Brenda.

How do people make it through life without a sister? 

 ~Sara Corpening

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

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

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

~Author Unknown

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

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

~Carol Saline

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

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

~Clara Ortega

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

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

~Pam Brown

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

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

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

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

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

Sisters are different flowers from the same garden. 

~Author Unknown

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

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

~Pam Brown

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

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

~Chris Montaigne

She turned 62 today, a number that is hard for me to grasp because in my eyes and heart, she hasn't aged a day in my life.

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

~Author Unknown

And proud of it! I love you!

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

~Author Unknown

 

I've lived long enough, seen enough other sisters, to know that I was blessed with an extraordinary big sister. Thank you, Brenda...thank you, Mama and Daddy...and,of course, thank you, God.

This was an updated, conglomerate re-post in honor of my sister's birthday today (for fun memories we shared, go HERE)

Even though I'm in town to see my parents, I'm not sure if I'll get to wish her a happy birthday face-to-face. Tonight she'll be partying at her high school reunion, and since she's on the reunion committee, she'll probably be busy preparing for it today.

But I know she's been looking forward to this for months, and I think it's awesome she'll get to celebrate with all of her classmates. Have fun and happy birthday, sweet sister!

It's been a year. And what a year.

A year ago today, I whispered goodbye to this man and promised him I'd help keep an eye on his beloved wife.

 

 

It's hard to believe a whole year has gone by without him...until I stop and think of all that has happened in that time. So many changes.

Much happiness and laughter, but also much heartache, heartbreak, and many, many tears. 

So for today's Five Things on Friday, I'm sharing five things about Pop:

1. I can still hear his voice. I'm grateful for that.

2. When he picked me and Tom up from the airport years ago, he always had a couple of cold beers waiting in the car for us. Later, Pop and I both switched to wine about the same time, and he was quick to offer me a glass as soon as we arrived for a visit. Cheers, Pop.

3. His eyes twinkled more than anyone else's I've ever known. He was such a flirt!

4. Nothing got my husband moving on finishing projects around the house more than an impending visit from his dad. And if there was something he couldn't get to in time, Pop would take care of it.

5. He never let anything keep him from going to Mass each week. 

I love and miss you, Pop! I give thanks that you were in my life and honored to be among your daughters. 

He didn't tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it. 

~Clarence Budington Kelland

 

 

 

Group Therapy, Diva Style

 

Most of us don't need a psychiatric therapist as much as a friend to be silly with. 

~Robert Brault

I just staggered in from the annual Diva gathering at my friend Rae's house. Two nights and days of margaritas and non-stop talking, too much food, and too little sleep. The sun barely made an appearance, but just being together lightened our spirits.

What's a "Diva", you ask? Here's a snippet of a definition written by Diva Patti...

What Is A Diva?

She’s the girl you’ve known since kindergarten, or 1st grade, or 4th grade, or 6th grade, or high school.....

She’s the girl you giggled and danced with at girlhood slumber parties....

She’s the girl you talked to every night for hours on the telephone about anything and everything..mostly boys.....

She’s the girl who was shy when young, and is now confident and sassy and fun...

She’s the girl you sang Christmas carols with out in the cold December night.....

She’s the girl you cheered with, danced with, played sports with....

She’s the girl who marched in the band or sang in the choir or performed on the stage...

She’s the girl who blushes at the mere mention of the name Coach Bondy....

She’s the girl who was homecoming queen and Miss Deer Park....

She’s the girl who thought she’d married the love of her life....and then found the true love of that life 30 years later....

She’s the girl who was always the clown, the tomboy, the rebel, and now, a strong and faithful voice for the people of the town we love....

She’s the girl who overcame the heartbreak of betrayal, the grief of loss, the shattering of dreams and still laughs and loves.....

She’s the girl who fought, and continues to fight, a deadly opponent who would take her too young, but she won’t allow it....

She’s the girl whose child was born with a troubled soul, and yet she is there to listen and comfort others when they are down.....

She is each one of us....all of us....separately or together....now grown into women who live and love and laugh and cry with each other....and amaze many others with the strength of their bond....

~Patti Stringer McPeek July 2013 

Say what you want about aging, it's still the only way to have old friends. 

~Robert Brault

 

I also spent a lot of time with my parents. An MRI revealed Mama broke her tailbone and fractured her spine in that fall last week. It will be a bumpy road for awhile with her and Daddy. Please keep them in your prayers.

My sons came with me, and while I was off in group therapy with my girlfriends each night, they cleaned my parents' house and washed their clothes.

I mean it when I say I have The. Best. Sons. In. The. World. Amen!

Oh, and look what Tom did while I was away...

 

 

Nothing like a Cyclops Cookie (or two or three) to perk you up when you arrive back home after a long weekend of highs and lows.

Here are a few other sweet!s from the past week:

Monday: traveling back in time via photos and journals

Tuesday: dinner and shopping with your daughter on her birthday, even if it's just the grocery store and Subway sandwiches

Wednesday: weekday Mass; rainy days in a drought

Thursday: time at work to study for your next real estate class

Friday: a road trip with your sons; helping your parents; girlfriends; margarita machines

Saturday: how laughter lightens a heavy heart; a few rays of sunshine on your skin; your sons cleaning your parents' home while you have fun with your friends

Sunday: a few more hours with your mom and dad and sister; your twenty-something sons reading for hours in the car, just like they did when they were little

The next few weeks are going to be really challenging, but I'm going to do my best to keep track of the sweet! moments. They are the best medicine (along with a weekend with my Divas!)

I hope your week is full of them!

Transformation a la Plane, Train, and Hovercraft

My blogging group, Generation Fabulous, hosts a monthly Blog Hop. July's theme is “Transformative Travel.” I knew exactly what to write about... 

 

On this date thirty-seven years ago I stood beneath the glorious ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. I also toured St. Peter's Basilica that day, thinking - paraphrasing my travel diary - "It's really pretty, but I'm too tired to appreciate it." 

 

 

 

Reading those words now, I wish I could reach through the barrier of years and shake me by my tanned teenage shoulders.  

How I would love a second chance to tour Rome, the Vatican, and everything else I saw on that trip, especially now that I'm Catholic, instead of somewhere between Baptist and agnostic!

But I guess I'll cut myself some slack. I mean, I was just seventeen, on the 20th day of a whirlwind month-long very-shoestring tour of Europe sponsored by the Foreign Study League, a Reader's Digest subsidiary. 

 

 

I found out about it through my high school sociology teacher, Ms. Cook, who had been on a FSL tour before and was going to go again as a chaperone that summer of '76, between my junior and senior years of high school. 

A history nerd and anglophile, just the idea of traveling to Europe and seeing all of those castles, walking those cobbled streets...oh, it made my knees weak.

My parents were already stretched thin financially, but they both longed to travel, too, and the next best thing to traveling yourself is sending your kid off to experience the world, right?

They got a loan. I was in.

 

 

 

We had meetings for months before our departure date, learning what to pack and how to pack it, what to expect, what they expected of us, etc. In each country we had at least one college-credit-worthy class teaching about its culture and history before being turned loose for three or four days. 

Not totally turned loose - there were some group tours - but we were given tons of free time to wander the cities on our own before meeting up again for dinner.  

 

 

 

So here I was, a girl raised in the suburbs...who had never been in a city bigger than Houston (where you get everywhere by car, anyway)...who had only been on an airplane once before in her life...

...yes, here I was zipping around on London's Tube like I'd grown up there, climbing the Eiffel Tower to gaze out over Paris, sleeping on night trains, exploring castles, getting lost in Venice, hailing cabs, and swimming in the Adriatic Sea. 

Amazing. Exhausting, but amazing.

 

 

We flew from Houston on a plane not much wider than a bus, landing in London's Gatwick airport on June 28.

"A heat wave has been in London. It was about 92 degrees today and no where has air-conditioning. I love London; winding streets & old houses. It's kind of dirty, but it looks right."

I can sense my excitement in the first pages of my travel diary, full of anticipation of adventures to come, dotted with details about the temperature, names of people we met, and even the types of beer I bought in the pub across from our dorms.

"I got a "Blacklable" beer and a"Breaker" malt liquor...Everyone is so friendly. We all stood outside & we met some local guys. Paul, Paul, and Vince. They were real sweet & we talked a long time. Found out a lot about London."

Purely educational conversation, I'm sure. <snicker>

 

 

 

Farther down that same page in my journal I mention a law student from the West Indies named Kameel who helped us with the phones, explained money to us, and loaned me two books to help us with London.

I can still picture us standing in that dorm hallway, talking to him. Kindness is long-remembered.

(I hope I gave the books back.)

 

 

Before I made this trip, I had barely stepped foot out of Texas. There had been a day in Matamoros, Mexico on a church choir trip, several trips to Colorado, one to St. Louis where I was immediately put on a plane and flown home because of my asthma, and a jag through New Mexico. 

But I had read voraciously, and now I walked in the worlds described in so many of my favorite books. 

 

 

I carried a little 110 camera and a dozen rolls of film. Back home, I doled them out two at a time to the photo lab.

It felt like Christmas morning each time I opened a new envelope of developed photos. 

We were tired of smiling for the camera by the third day, but we persevered for posterity. Even so, I have very few images from Madrid and Toledo, which, of course, I regret now, because my memory of this once-in-a-lifetime adventure depends on the snapshots tucked away in my photo album and travel diary, captured with camera and pen.

When my daughter traveled to Madrid with her Spanish teacher a few years ago, I barely recognized the city in her photos.

 

 

 

(I'm happy to report that this man hasn't aged a bit since 1976, based on the photographs my daughter-in-law took of him in April. I'd recognize him anywhere!) 

 

 

I was often homesick and heartsick, missing my family and my boyfriend, living for the next town where I hoped a batch of letters would await me.

I even made a few calls back home from telephone kiosks that we searched out as soon as we hit a new city, but with the time difference, no one was very excited to hear from me in the middle of the night. 

 

 

We were limited to one suitcase, a purse, and our FSL backpacks...so I found the largest softsided suitcase I could find and carried a huge purse. We had to pack for the heat wave, for special occasions, and for the Austrian Alps, which even in the summertime can get pretty cool at night, and somehow leave room for souvenirs. I was on a tight budget, but loved picking out gifts for everyone. 

 I still have no idea how I fit all of those steins, flasks, jewelry boxes, scarves, and one Lladro duck figurine into my suitcase. These days I use three suitcases for an overnight trip!

 

 

 

Reading through my travel diary, I realize there are things I didn't write about that I somehow still remember, despite my flaky, fading memory...like how in Italy a can of (hot) coke cost the equivalent of a dollar, but a large bottle of wine was only fifty cents, and how three or four girls (not me!) went off on a big no-no joy ride through London with some local boys. 

Probably those ones we met at the pub.

There's also an incident I didn't write about, but remember vividly. We were at Tiffany's Disco in Piccadilly Circus, drinking screwdrivers with our chaperone-sociology teacher, Ms. Cook.

A whole group of Japanese men came in, probably from a convention or something, and one of them asked me to dance. Of course I said yes - I've always loved to dance!

In my mind, I'm back on that dancefloor. I see the man in front of me, see him smile, then see him reach out and place his hand on my right breast.

My presence of mind still impresses me. "No," I told him. I calmly removed his hand, turned and left the dance floor, a million questions running through my mind. Did I look like a prostitute? Did Japanese men think all American girls are sluts? Is that normal dancing protocol in Japan?

I know now that he was probably just a jerk, something I'm sure you can find in all countries and cultures.

Unfortunately, I didn't go dancing again on that trip. In every city a large group went out to a disco, but I stayed in with my friends, usually playing spades.

I hate that. I hate that I let that creep keep me from dancing across Europe when I was seventeen.

I could have been the Dancing Queen. 

 

 

 

I drew stars all over the entry for July 24, 1976. That's the day we flew from Madrid to Houston.

Mama, Daddy, Mam-ma, and my boyfriend were waiting for me. I write that I ran off that plane back into Texas and my regular life - I had ached to see all of them -  but the truth is, I was changed, and I'm glad of it.

Thanks to Mama and Daddy, I knew there was more. I knew the world was big...and I knew I could handle it. 

 

I met a lot of people in Europe.  I even encountered myself. 

~James Baldwin

Baby Girls

 

Baby girls

twirl into your life

a sweet pink rush

of kisses and hugs and giggles,

petticoats and tiaras,

soccer cleats and mudpies,

baby dolls and bicycles,

makeup and skinned knees,

spitfire and swallowed tears.

They're a wonder to behold, 

an ever-changing blessing.

 

  

 

At 6:59 pm, twenty-two years ago this evening, I beheld my own baby girl for the first time.

There have been tears but mostly laughter, and an overwhelming sense of gratitude and amazement, as I watched her grow into the beautiful young woman she is today.

 

 

 

My parents are both still in the hospital. I'm not sure if they realize today is her birthday, but I am sure that they love her more than she can imagine.

 

 Happy birthday, baby girl.

Today and everyday, I love you!

 

"My Wish"
(Rascal Flatts)

 

I hope that the days come easy and the moments pass slow,
And each road leads you where you want to go,
And if you're faced with a choice, and you have to choose,
I hope you choose the one that means the most to you.
And if one door opens to another door closed,
I hope you keep on walkin' till you find the window,
If it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile,

I hope you never look back, but ya never forget,
All the ones who love you, in the place you left,
I hope you always forgive, and you never regret,
And you help somebody every chance you get,
Oh, you find God's grace, in every mistake,
And you always give more than you take.

But more than anything, yeah, and more than anything,
My wish, for you, is that this life becomes all that you want it to,
Your dreams stay big, and your worries stay small,
You never need to carry more than you can hold,
And while you're out there getting where you're getting to,
I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too,
Yeah, this, is my wish.

 

My Fourth of July, 2013

I missed the parade this morning. I had the freedom to sleep in, and felt it would be un-American not to take advantage of it, so by the time I was up and walked the dogs, I would have been scrambling to get to work on time if I had dashed off to the parade.

But I admit I regretted not seeing my friends driving their Longhorn Orange Model T in the parade. If I had known they were participating, I would have gone to bed earlier, instead of staying up past midnight last night to read another chapter of The Game of Thrones last night. (Just taking advantage of another liberty!)

Our vineyard (as in "the vineyard where I work", not "the vineyard I own") hosted a VinoPalooza today which included wine tastings from other vineyards, live music, pulled pork sandwiches, and horse-drawn carriage rides. 

I didn't get to taste any of the other wines or hear the live music, because I worked inside the bistro the whole time, but I did get a pulled pork sandwich and a ride in the carriage with co-workers once the whole gig was over and all the guests had had their chance, thanks to co-worker Angelia who paid for all of us.

Say hello to Dolly, the horse. ("Hello, Dolly!" Get it?)

 

 

That's Kain on my right, who I've known since he was in TG's kindergarten class, and his mom, Angelia, on my left, who I've known since then, too, of course. And Clay, who I would co-work with on the weekends and then substitute teach during the week last year. (Or was it the year before?) His mom used to work with us, too.

That's life in a small town. 

I just like this photo.

Since I didn't make it to the parade, I was determined to watch the fireworks, so after work I drove up Airport Hill which overlooks our little town, the lake, and the hills beyond. I pulled into a deserted cul-de-sac to wait for dark.

Not long after I parked, two other vehicles joined me...two young couples. The guys were National Guard and they had patriotic music playing on an iPod or iPhone or iSomething. We chatted a little as the sun went down, fireflies flickered, and small bursts of fireworks popped up out of a handful of small communities sprinkled through the hills.

It got dark, and we were tempted to get anxious...especially since the mosquitoes had discovered us...but I remembered the years before when we'd watch the fireworks in the park below us, growing impatient after the sun set. The fireworks always started about twenty minutes after we thought they should.

Sure enough, at 9:40 pm, they began. I stood there with the two young military couples on a hill overlooking my little town, ooh-ing and ah-ing over the colorful, sparkly, beautiful fireworks.  My photos don't do them justice.

But it was so much better than watching alone. I gave thanks for another 4th of July memory to stash along with the others.

Happy birthday, America, and happy 4th of July to all of you!

 

 

How often we fail to realize our good fortune in living in a country where happiness is more than a lack of tragedy. 

~Paul Sweeney

Evolution of a Career Woman

 

 

I'm home from my first real estate class.

I don't count the one Tom and I took when I was pregnant with our firstborn. That was almost thirty years ago...and to be honest, it just didn't click with me at the time...maybe because I was pregnant, attending class after working a twelve-hour shift.

Neither of us intended to become realtors. We were taking the course for an overview of Texas real estate; we knew we would be buying and selling soon.

But now it clicks. Helping people, looking at houses, getting outside, being challenged, always something new to learn...

Tonight, in between taking notes on my energetic instructor's lesson, highlighting text in my book, and sipping coffee, I was tempted to mentally kick myself for not doing this last year. Or thirty years ago.

But... I know in my heart I really wasn't ready until now. 

 

"Like this," Ann said, showing me how to weave the strips of bread dough around a Pyrex dish to make bread dough baskets like the ones we'd seen at Houston's Westheimer Art Festival. It was circa 1977 in her mother's kitchen. 

She made it look so easy, but when I attempted it, my fingers got in the way. The strips stretched too thin and broke. 

She laughed. "You better be a career woman!"

I nodded. That was already my plan. I was going to be a chemical engineer... 

 

"Why don't you have a real career?" my daughter asked me about ten years ago. 

I can't remember what triggered the question - probably some issue about money. As far back as my kids can remember, there's always been an issue about money, because there's always been only one major breadwinner. First me, then their dad. For them.

I'm not sure how I answered her question. It required a complicated explanation, and even though I have a tendency to give long, drawn-out answers, I bet I didn't mention how I never planned to be a stay-at-home mom when I was growing up, or how, all through three pregnancies, I longed for the day I didn't have to leave my babies behind and venture out to work a twelve-hour shift at a chemical plant where I might die in an explosion.

(Worst-case scenario, but it happens, and I'd fought fires out there, and when you have babies at home, that possibility always hovers in a corner of your mind.)

I probably didn't tell her how I'd had to go up the chain of command at the plant to fight for the right to use some of the three weeks of vacation days I'd earned to stay home with her big brother when his asthma first appeared.

Or how I would arrive home some mornings after working twelve hours to nap on the couch in between her brother's nebulizer treatments and take him to see the doctor as soon as the office opened, my eyes foggy with sleep. 

I might have tried describing how rewarding it was to be home with them as they grew, to have the flexibility to focus on my family and its needs, to be with them when they were sick, to volunteer my time for a dozen worthwhile organizations, to chaperone field trips...to just share memories of time spent together.

I'm not sure what I said.  All I remember is the pang I felt in my gut when she said it, because that's where I still carried the dream of finishing my degree and having some kind of career. 

 

"If you're a realtor, you will be showing properties on the weekends..." my son told me just last week. "You'd have to be a workaholic for awhile to gain some territory."

Working weekends? Workaholic? I realized my kids know nothing about my work history...or my work present.

I had a plan when I dropped out of college: I'd get a job where I could make enough to support myself and go back to college on my own. The only job that fit that description was "Chemical Plant Operator", so I went from plant to plant, all along the Houston Ship Channel, turning in one application after another. 

Long story short, at nineteen I was hired by DuPont to help start up a new methanol plant. After a few months in portable buildings, learning about the process, it began: twelve-hour shifts, almost seven days a week.

For thirteen years, through my wedding, my husband's college career, and three pregnancies, I worked nights, days, weekends, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter...twelve-to-sixteen hours at a time. I've had a mortgage payment since I was twenty.

I went back to school during my last pregnancy, taking writing classes at night at the community college, swapping shifts or using vacation so I didn't miss a class.

But of course, he wouldn't remember that. And he probably doesn't remember me going to class when he and his siblings were young, staying up for hours after reading them their bedtime stories to do my homework or to study for a test, munching on popcorn to stay awake. 

And he probably doesn't realize that now...mornings, nights, weekdays, weekends, 24/7...I'm either working at a paid part-time job, working on a photography or jewelry gig, blogging, marketing myself in photography or jewelry or blogging, slowly making progress on one of my many fictional works-in-progress...or reading up on how to improve in all of the above.

But how would he know? When my kids are home, I still focus on them.

 

Oh, mirror in the sky 
What is love? 
Can the child within my heart rise above? 
Can I sail thru the changing ocean tides? 
Can I handle the seasons of my life? 


Well, I've been afraid of changing 
'Cause I've built my life around you 
But time makes you bolder 
Children get older 
I'm getting older too.

~Stevie Nicks

 

Seasons have changed. I feel it in the air...I feel it in my heart. This is the path I'm supposed to take. If I'm going to work this hard, I'd like to have something to show for it. 

It's time, and I'm ready. And I know how to work.

 

Five Things on...Saturday

 

 1.

 

Do any of you still have your landlines?

I've been so tempted to cancel ours...but then I remember the agonizing two months we lived without it when we first moved into this house in the country, and how our cell phones only worked outside, up the hill a little bit.

How I would stand up there, sweating and swatting mosquitoes, when I needed to made a call. How I had to sneak calls to the telephone company when I was at work, pushed to tears of frustration trying to cut through the red tape. 

The telephone poles lining our road may be unsightly, but I'll tell you they were beautiful to my eyes when they first went up. I swore I'd never take my land line for granted, ever again.

So even though my iPhone works just fine inside the house now, I'm just a little hesitant to let go of that landline. 

Yet.

 2.

 

I won this beautiful Shabby Apple dress on a raffle over at Over 50, Feeling 40. I love the classic styling!

Thank you, Pam and Shabby Apple!

 3.

 

That's Tom's Aunt Marg in front of Gilley's Nightclub, circa 1987. Yes, the original Gilley's in "Pasa-get-down-dena"...where "Urban Cowboy" was filmed. (I wonder if John Travolta ever sat on that bench?)

Aunt Marg was visiting from Wisconsin, and of course we had to take her there. She even rode the mechanical bull! 

 

 

Tom and I met at Kenny Stabler's Diamondback Saloon, but we fell in love at Gilley's the very next night. He met me there to see the band Alabama. 

We danced. We talked. He seemed safe enough, so I gave him my phone number, and he kissed me goodbye in that horrible, pot-holed parking lot, next to my car. Our first real kiss.

Gilley's burned down a few years later, but word has it from Mickey Gilley's own mouth that he's going to rebuild a Gilley's nightclub in Pasadena. 

I loved Gilley's, horrible parking lot and all. It had a great dancefloor, and the club itself was large enough to lose someone you didn't want to dance with. After the movie, it became too commercialized, but it was still a fun place to go dancing.

So, true redneck Texan that I am, it warms my heart that it will rise again. As I told a friend, "If they build it, I will come."

 

4.

Our diocese is celebrating "A Fortnight of Freedom" to draw attention to the whittling away of religious freedom in our country, to the changes our federal government is mandating that force religious institutions, including the Catholic church who historically has been a pioneer in charitable health and education services, to go against their beliefs when providing those services. 

Religious liberty is being threatened, and it scares me. No matter what your beliefs about abortion or gay rights, it should scare you, too, that our government is slipping sideways into these areas and issuing mandates where they should keep their distance. Separation of church and state, remember? It works both ways.

And if we accept this without speaking up, if we consider it fair and reasonable, what's next? You know it won't stop there.

 

5.

On a happier, more hopeful note, we went to a wedding today.

I guess it should make me feel old that kids I've watched grow up are suddenly old enough to get married...but it doesn't. Weddings overflow in love, joy, and hope, and how can those ever do anything but make you feel young and hopeful yourself?

Congratulations, George and Danielle! May you always remember the love, joy, and hope you felt today! Thank you for sharing it with us.

 

I hope you're having a wonderful weekend! I'm off to ponder the full moon...

Remembering Rena

Once upon a time, I was an elementary school librarian.

Well, technically an aide, barely making minimum wage and working 50+ hours a week ...but essentially I ran the library and absolutely loved it. If I had the time and money to go back to school, that's what I would be if I ever grow up.

The not-so-fun part of the job was cafeteria duty, walking up and down the aisles of screaming kids, opening milk boxes and ketchup packets, stopping food fights, and cleaning up...well, every once in awhile you got a sick kid, is all I'm saying.

But I was lucky: I had Jerry and Rena helping me.

I think at the time Jerry was the maintenance man for the school - maybe for the whole small district - but he was there to help Rena, his wife, who was the custodian. She had a special education teaching degree and I never understood why she preferred school custodial work to teaching, but she did, and she was awesome.  

We worked as a team which made it fun. I would help wipe tables...they would help open milk cartons and stop fights. 

I already knew them before that year, though. When we first moved to this little town, they ran an Italian restaurant serving great pizza. It was always packed. They helped us feel like this town was our home. We belonged.

They were smart, informed and active in the community. For years, Jerry and I sat until late at night at many school board meetings, staying on top of issues and decisions that were made.

Rena had an angel voice, using it to raise money and entertain the kids at school talent shows, and joining it with others in the local community singing group. She had a strong sense of right and wrong, and wasn't afraid to voice her opinion, but her smile rarely left her face.

What I didn't know until today was that they were childhood sweethearts, first getting together in junior high and marrying after college.

Rena passed away earlier this week at 63 of ovarian cancer; this afternoon I went to her funeral and told Jerry how much it meant to work side-by-side with the two of them. 

Mourners overflowed the small church onto the sidewalk outside. The doors were open to the Texas heat, and, despite the ceiling fans, it was hot. Really, really hot. But no one seemed to mind.

In the crowd I spotted many familiar faces. Some from my librarian days who I hadn't seen in years, or the parents of my kids' friends, and even several members of my church, because in a small town, friendships cross many lines, especially if you're someone like Rena.

I admit my mind wandered a little as the preacher spoke about Rena's gift of singing and how it touched so many lives. Friends and family spoke of her devoted friendship and encouragement, of the fun they'd shared. A cancer patient who met Rena in a support group shared Rena's vow to live every day she had left the best she could, to spend as much time with her friends and family as possible as long as she was able.

Rena had an angel voice, and even though she never became rich or famous from it (at least not in the worldly way)...never had a hit record... she developed and shared the gift, leaving the memory of it as her legacy.

For me, as I struggle to find a potential career instead of just another job, her legacy was something different - her attitude toward her custodial job. She was the best custodian you'd ever meet, always doing her best, and eventually losing her job because she stood up for the truth, defending one of her workers. She refused to keep silent and compromise her values.

I remembered today that what matters most is giving whatever you're doing your whole effort. Singing, cleaning, parenting, whatever. Stay true to your morals and values and ethics, and make the people in your life the most important thing.

Give it all you've got, no matter what 'it' is.

Because what you do doesn't define you. It's how you do it. How much of yourself you put into it. How many people you help or inspire or encourage along the way.

Rena, you nailed it as usual, honey. Thank you.

I'm blessed to have known you.

"Use what talents you possess:
the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there
except those that sang best."

– Henry Van Dyke

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Rich Inheritance (Happy Father's Day!)

Friday my mother thought Daddy was having a stroke. She's seen enough of them to recognize the symptoms in him.

He wouldn't let her call an ambulance, so she called my sister, who in turn called me en route to their house. 

The kids and I already had plans to leave early yesterday morning to celebrate Father's Day with Daddy. I hoped we wouldn't be visiting him in the hospital, instead.

With my sister's next call, the relief in her voice soothed my worries. Daddy's blood pressure had already dropped and he seemed okay. She would stick around a little while, but didn't see a need to call an ambulance. Thank you, Lord!

So yesterday we were able to celebrate Daddy with lunch at Applebee's, just as he requested, and then hang out with him and Mama in my childhood home, talking around the kitchen table, dozing in front of the television...

...and giving thanks every single second.

We'll head home early today so the kids can spend time with their dad, too.

I'm wishing Tom's Pop a happy Father's Day in my heart. I can still hear his voice echoing in my mind. I hope it never fades away.

My heart goes out to his sons who are missing him so much today, this first Father's Day without him, wishing they could give him a call and tell him "I love you".

So I'll give mine an extra hug and "I love you" for them, and for all of you who are missing your fathers today.

In honor of Father's Day, I gave Daddy a print-out of "Why I'm My Father's Daughter". I'm re-posting it here. I'm so honored that it was chosen for "Best Lessons from Dad" - a slideshow on Huffpost 50 of posts about fathers. Hop over there and see what other daughters had to say about their fathers.

 

If Daddy answers the phone when I call my parents, our conversation is a quick one.

"I can't talk," he'll complain. 

"You sound fine to me," I'll tell him. 

"What? I can't hear you. Here's your mother."

And that's that.

Strokes have taken their toll on his vocal chords. The effort to speak is too much for him and his voice gives out after just a few words. Perhaps his hearing loss can be blamed on strokes, too. (Although hearing aids could help with that. Sigh.)

But he was never one to talk much, anyway, and especially not on the phone. If I wanted or needed to talk, I went to my mother. I could talk to her about anything, and I'm very grateful for that.

 

Daddy and I communicated in other ways, though. We teased each other and toured old houses. We fought over who was going to mow the yard.

He chauffeured me and my friends to the movies and high school basketball games before I got my license. He taught me how to drive, and tried to teach me how to play golf and be a better bowler...without much luck.

Instead, I tagged along with him on the golf course, satisfied to watch him and admire the beauty of the courses. We took road trips to visit his mother, traveling along the back highways with the windows down, stopping often to visit historical sites or other interesting places that caught my eye or his.

We square-danced.

 

 

But words still formed our greatest connection. I was seven, maybe eight, when I uttered that inevitable childhood chant: "I'm bored." 

 "Bored? Here, read this," he said, handing me an old, mildewed copy ofBlack Beauty, "You'll never be bored again."

Well, I'm not sure if those were his exact words, but they should have been. I was hooked, and as long as I've had something handy to read (and I try to make sure I do), I've never been bored again. 

Besides Anna Sewell's Black Beauty - and hence, every horse book I could get my hands on - Daddy got me hooked on historical fiction via James Michener and Leon Uris. It's still my first love.

He also introduced me to Leon Hale and his Texas-flavored, rambling, memoirish columns in the Houston Post (and then the Chronicle)...the inspiration for my own personal essays and blog posts, I'm sure. I still read his columns online.

Because of Daddy, I surround myself with books, and I'm partial to old ones.

I read our ancient copies of Black Beauty, Call of the Wild, Daddy-Long-Legs, and A Girl of the Limberlost over and over and over, and to this day the smell of a musty book takes me miles away in my mind to those stories.

When I enter an antique store, I head straight for the book section. Not to buy, necessarily, but just to breathe, feel, and say Hello, you're not forgotten.

Our house overflowed in paperbacks, too, though. Daddy always had one in his metal lunchbox, usually a Louis L'Amour, and when I followed in his steel-toed-shoe footsteps years later, I always carried a paperback with me to work.

Today neither of us consumes books like we used to. Daddy reads the morning newspaper, but then turns his attention to the television when he's not doing laundry or other household chores.

I'm always somewhere in a just-for-fun book, but it takes me forever to finish them, only cracking them open to read while I eat lunch. When I'm at home. And don't have something else I have to read.

But all of those books and words and voices still bind us, and despite the miles between us, and the words we cannot say, I feel him with me every time I open a book. 

Thank you, Daddy.

 

 

Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance. 

~Ruth E. Renkel

Tom and I don't have a lot of money, yet we are blessed with riches, thanks to our fathers.

Happy Father's Day to all of you who fills the role of father to someone!

 

Why I'm My Father's Daughter

 

If Daddy answers the phone when I call my parents, our conversation is a quick one.

"I can't talk," he'll complain. 

"You sound fine to me," I'll tell him. 

"What? I can't hear you. Here's your mother."

And that's that.

Strokes have taken their toll on his vocal chords. The effort to speak is too much for him and his voice gives out after just a few words. Perhaps his hearing loss can be blamed on strokes, too. (Although hearing aids could help with that. Sigh.)

But he was never one to talk much, anyway, and especially not on the phone. If I wanted or needed to talk, I went to my mother. I could talk to her about anything, and I'm very grateful for that.

 

Daddy and I communicated in other ways, though. We teased each other and toured old houses. We fought over who was going to mow the yard.

He chauffeured me and my friends to the movies and high school basketball games before I got my license. He taught me how to drive, and tried to teach me how to play golf and be a better bowler...without much luck.

Instead, I tagged along with him on the golf course, satisfied to watch him and admire the beauty of the courses. We took road trips to visit his mother, traveling along the back highways with the windows down, stopping often to visit historical sites or other interesting places that caught my eye or his.

We square-danced.

 

 

But words still formed our greatest connection. I was seven, maybe eight, when I uttered that inevitable childhood chant: "I'm bored." 

 "Bored? Here, read this," he said, handing me an old, mildewed copy of Black Beauty, "You'll never be bored again."

Well, I'm not sure if those were his exact words, but they should have been. I was hooked, and as long as I've had something handy to read (and I try to make sure I do), I've never been bored again. 

Besides Anna Sewell's Black Beauty - and hence, every horse book I could get my hands on - Daddy got me hooked on historical fiction via James Michener and Leon Uris. It's still my first love.

He also introduced me to Leon Hale and his Texas-flavored, rambling, memoirish columns in the Houston Post (and then the Chronicle)...the inspiration for my own personal essays and blog posts, I'm sure. I still read his columns online.

Because of Daddy, I surround myself with books, and I'm partial to old ones.

I read our ancient copies of Black Beauty, Call of the Wild, Daddy-Long-Legs, and A Girl of the Limberlost over and over and over, and to this day the smell of a musty book takes me miles away in my mind to those stories.

When I enter an antique store, I head straight for the book section. Not to buy, necessarily, but just to breathe, feel, and say Hello, you're not forgotten.

Our house overflowed in paperbacks, too, though. Daddy always had one in his metal lunchbox, usually a Louis L'Amour, and when I followed in his steel-toed-shoe footsteps years later, I always carried a paperback with me to work.

Today neither of us consumes books like we used to. Daddy reads the morning newspaper, but then turns his attention to the television when he's not doing laundry or other household chores.

I'm always somewhere in a just-for-fun book, but it takes me forever to finish them, only cracking them open to read while I eat lunch. When I'm at home. And don't have something else I have to read.

But all of those books and words and voices still bind us, and despite the miles between us, and the words we cannot say, I feel him with me every time I open a book. 

Thank you, Daddy.

 

Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance. 

~Ruth E. Renkel

(This is my contribution to the Generation Fabulous Father's Day BlogHop. Click HERE to see the other wonderful posts about women and their fathers.)

Fifteen Years Ago Tomorrow Morning...

 

 

"Life's about changing, nothing ever stays the same." ~

Patty Loveless, "How Can I Help You To Say Goodbye"

That Memorial Day weekend in 1998 was one of the best we'd ever had. We had laughed with friends and danced to Johnny Dee and the Rocket 88's. Spent a glorious day swimming in a private stretch of the pristine San Marcos River with our kids and friends. 

We were young and happy and blessed, living in Paradise in the Texas Hill Country, preparing to build our dream home. We thought the tough times were behind us. 

But fifteen years ago tomorrow morning, the phone woke me.  A nurse on the other end let me know Tom was lucky to be alive. He was in Brackenridge Hospital, preparing for surgery. She urged me to get there as fast as possible.

It had only taken a split second for us to be pushed along paths we didn't want to travel. Our lives changed. We ourselves changed.

But then, that's what journeys do to you, and what is Life but one long journey? How dull a trip would be if the scenery always stayed the same. Unfortunately, on every trip, there's good scenery and there's bad scenery.

The potential for change is constant. Some of it we have control over. Big decisions like dropping out of college. Getting married. Having children. Moving to a new town.

But even little ones can trigger huge changes. Having one more drink. Angry words you can't take back. An opportunity you let slip by without grabbing it. Saying "yes" when you should say "no", or the other way around.

Perhaps it's unfair that we can't control what other people do, even though their decisions can send us reeling. We didn't know the kid who hit Tom head-on that morning, but even if we did, we couldn't have stopped him from making one bad decision after another.

All we can really do is pray for guidance in our own decisions and be sure they are rooted in love, with a desire that God's will be done.

We can't waste our time worrying about the changes ahead of us. All we can do when the road turns unexpectedly is what we did back then...count our blessings and carry on, noticing the beauty on the new path before us. Because it's there.

When you find it, don't take it for granted, thinking it will be there forever. Relish it, cherish it, soak it up, because, after all, life's about changes. It can be no other way.

Happy 15th anniversary of your second chance, Tom!

Through the ups and down that have been, and the inevitable ones to come,
remember my love is constant.

Five Things from La-La Land

Linking with A Rural Journal's Random 5 Friday 

 

1. 

 

This card, full of words of love and encouragement and inspiration, waited for me in the mailbox earlier this week, a precious gift from my friend Rae. 

How could I not share them with you, because the words are true for all of us, aren't they? Take a minute to read them and believe them. You are very special.

Thank you again, sweet Rae!

 

2.

In a previous life, Jeannie was my kids' high school Spanish teacher. A few years ago she retired to follow her dream of becoming a missionary in Honduras through SAMSUSA.org.

I subscribe to her newsletters and in today's I found this note that made me really stop and think. I thought it was worth sharing with you, too...

 

Dear Mission Partners,

I’ve been thinking a lot about what we pray for. I hear so many people resolve their problems and say, Oh, if God would just.....let me pass the exam, give me the dream job I want.... everything would be good and I could handle it from there. We want Him to hand our desires to us and back off. We want the control back. We think we know what’s best for us. When he doesn’t answer our prayer we feel abandoned. God doesn’t care.

We often never consider that He has other plans for us, probably much better plans that we have concocted to solve our problems and make us happy. Usually he makes us wait for His plans and the waiting is very hard when we see our solution just within our grasp. The solution is so obvious! Why won’t He just give it to us?

His plans are so much more comprehensive than our solutions. We don’t see His huge map. Like Sara with Abraham, we tire of waiting and substitute our plans for His. But the true solution is His. What we have done in the meantime may only complicate things.

I’m pretty clear on what I want. I work toward it and pray I am in line with what He wants. But I am praying that His Will, not mine, be done. I am praying to be obedient. Because I know He’s in control. And I have found his plans to be much better than mine. For His Sake,

Jeannie 

Jeannie does amazing work there with the poverty-stricken, transporting children to doctor's visits, among tons of other things. If you're interested in donating to support her mission, send me an email and I'll send you hers.

 

3.

"If you're lost and alone...or you're sinking like a stone...carry on.
May your past be the sound of your feet upon the ground. Carry on."

~ Fun

Speaking of inspiring and energizing things, Fun. was on the Today Show this morning. This song has been in my head all day. (I'm not complaining!)

 

 

4.

It rained all day today, and I didn't mind a bit because I had no where to go. That's one of the good things about not having a real job beyond writing and a fledgling photography company. (The bad thing about it is the lack of a paycheck, of course.)

Anyway, rain makes me pensive, so I flipped through a few of the journals where I noted details of our lives for about twenty-five years. 

There were some tough times, I'll tell you, but one thing I noticed was how I always ended with a positive note...using words like 'faith' and 'prayer' and 'blessings'. I remember some of those times vividly, the ache and the worry and the fogginess of the road ahead of us.

I love seeing it from this perspective, how the paths opened up and the sun came out again. I was reminded again that God has a plan, that he's got our backs, which is a helpful reminder right now when the road ahead has gone all foggy again.

Tom says I live in La-La Land, where there's always a silver lining and everything is hunky-dory. He says it like it's a bad thing.

But if we've prayed for God's guidance and truly trust him, how can we not think everything is hunky-dory, even if we can't see it from where we're standing at the moment?

 

 

5.

The proof of that hit home when I read through my notes written during my oldest son's heartwrenching high school years...and compare them to the joy and love I see on his face in the short video below of The. Most. Beautiful. Wedding. Ever. Amen. by amazing videographer Adam Grumbo. (I can't wait for the full video!) 

My prayers of so long ago have been answered. My mother-tears were not in vain.

(It takes a minute to buffer, so take my advice -  go grab a tissue while it loads...)

 

Happy Birthday, anyway, Tom!

When the rain started around 3 am, pounding on the house like we were under a giant faucet, Tom remembered he left his car windows down. A mad dash in the rain up the hill in the middle of the night isn't the greatest way to start your birthday. 

I think the worst of it came through our area just as he left for work. I prayed for his angels to stick close to him while he maneuvered the wet highways in his little Suzuki Samurai, trying not to think of another wet May morning in 1998 that changed our lives.

He'll be working late tonight (still catching up from those days off for the wedding) and so we have no special plans. Last night he met the boys for beer and pizza after work, though. His kind of celebration, for sure.

Before writing this, I glanced over some other posts I wrote in honor of his birthday. I had to shake my head when reading this in Grateful for #53:

So I wasn't surprised when I asked him what he wanted for his birthday and he said: "Don't get me anything. Just pay off the credit cards." 

I'm trying. I've made progress. Substantial progress. But it's a constant tug between needs, wants and finances, a battle we're intimately familiar with - we've been a mostly one-income family since soon after we married, when he quit work to go to college. We just switched places after our youngest was born. 

Now that we're Empty Nesters, I've doubled my "paid" hours. The catch is, without a college degree, my pay ... and my choices ... are limited. I try to make up for both - the pay and the fulfillment - with my writing. Blogging brings in a little bit of money; my play and my book, not so much ... yet. I joke that they're our retirement plan - once they're finished, I'll make a million dollars and we can both retire. But the only way that can happen is if I write, and the trick there is finding time to write. Between the 'paid' job and life, there's not much time left without dipping into my sleep, and when I skimp on sleep ... well, I'm back where I started, full circle: Tom worries. About me.

But I haven't given up. If being broke and juggling finances for years has taught me anything, it's to be creative and frugal. Being frugal just gets so tiring. But Tom's worth it. 

I feel bad that I won't be able to give him what he asked for this year, but I'll do my best for #54. I have a feeling he'll be asking for the same thing, anyway."

I shook my head because he still hasn't gotten this wish. But I haven't given up doing my part to see it come true by finding a job that will do more than slow the sinking. I know it's out there!

(Are you hiring? Contact me! I can do anything - seriously!)

Anyway, I'm wishing my dear husband sunshine on his birthday, even if it's only in his heart and not in the sky. A lightness and sense of hope that comes from faith. And I'm giving him all of my love, as always, and thanking God for letting me share my life with him for so long. 

Happy 56th birthday, Tom!

 

Five Things on Friday

1.

 

Remember this old farmhouse? I pass it on my way to work at the winery.

It's weathered, but has wonderful stonework on and around it, a working windmill (at least it spins!) and outbuildings oozing in character. As far as I could tell it was abandoned, which made me sad, so I wrote about it HERE.

But guess what? I've been training a young woman whose family actually lives next door to it.

They own and operate a youth camp across the road, and as it turns out, they also own the old house and the surrounding property. She says their dream is to renovate it and convert it to a tea house/bed and breakfast.

Yay! I'm so glad. 

 

2. 

My house smells like dog. Old dirty, country dog, to be specific.

Thunderstorms rolled through last night, continuing into the morning, so we let Belle and Max be house dogs for awhile. They're restricted to the downstairs (concrete floor.) The laundry room has a rug, though, and I spread a light blanket out just at the bottom of the stairs. 

Tom didn't think that was enough. This morning I discovered he put some cushions from our old pop-up trailer down, then re-spread the blanket over them. 

And he says I'm the soft one.

Of course, Josie, the princess grandpuppy, slept upstairs on the couch. In my defense, she's relatively clean. She learned early on that if she got wet or rolled in the mud on her visits, that she wouldn't be allowed in the house.

My dogs would choose rolling in the mud over sleeping in the house. They're happiest outside...except during thunderstorms.

(Another round is on top of us now! We need the rain, but I sure hope we don't get the damaging hail folks farther west got last night!)

3. 

My daughter-in-law sent me the link to the wedding photographs last night. All 600+ of them. I spent two hours clicking on each and every one. And smiling. I wish I could afford to buy them all and share them with you!

 

 

4. 

Our loquat tree is dotted with fruit. It's the grandbaby of one that stood in the front yard of the house we lived in when each of our children were born, and where they spent the first few years of their lives...and the child of one that grew from a cutting in my parents' front yard, tempting neighborhood kids who passed on the nearby sidewalk.

 

 

It's the last of its line. A hard freeze killed the grandmother and I'm not sure what happened to the mother. But thanks to Daddy, they live on with us.

 

 5.

A squirrel mom took a liking to Tom's GMC truck and built a nest there for her babies.

We're just leaving them alone for now and praying they don't chew up any wires...or that the dogs don't chew up the truck trying to get to the squirrels, like they did on Tom's other truck.

Sigh.

That's life in the country.

Linking with

Random 5 Friday at A Rural Journal

 

 

Rambling about Dogs, Children, and Butterflies

 

The sun still yawned under a light gray blanket this morning when the puppies and I headed out for our walk.

Josie, my grandpuppy, took the lead as usual; she's still excited about her visit to the country. Belle, my sweet companion, fell into step near me. She never strays too far from my side for long. Max lagged behind, probably worn out from trying to keep up with the youngsters all week.

Tomorrow evening my son, the newlywed, will be coming to take Josie home. I'll miss that little girl. We've had some great conversations and cuddle-time, but I look forward to seeing Tommy and hearing about their adventures in Italy.

This will be my Mother's Day visit from him, since I'll be in Houston visiting my mother on Sunday. I'll probably see the other two on Saturday. One might even travel with me to Houston, but it's still kind of iffy.

When the kids all lived at home, Mother's Day morning found me lying in bed, pretending to be asleep, listening to pans banging and Tom coaching them through fixing me a big bacon, eggs, and toast breakfast.

But once they started leaving the nest, it was rare to see them - especially all three at once - much less have a kid-cooked breakfast, because college finals usually fell around Mother's Day. 

But I'm grateful I can spend that special day with my mom, trying to make up for way too many Mother's Days that I spent with my friends on a Galveston beach instead of with her. (Kids! Sigh.)

I also go see her because it would be wrong not to, when so many of you would give anything to be able to tell your moms Happy Mother's Day in person, just one more time.

Anyway, back to this morning's walk...

I spotted a butterfly clinging to a low juniper branch. It fluttered a bit but stayed put as I snapped one photo after another, drawing ever closer.

The fact that it didn't fly away worried and concerned me. For some reason, I got the impression it was stuck to the branch, trying to get loose. Wanting to help, I put my finger out to help free it. It climbed onto my finger, but then fluttered to the ground, wings out, lying still.

Oh great, I thought. Now what I have I done?

I shooed the dogs away from it and started to continue on my walk, but worry and guilt got the best of me. I returned to the butterfly, found a small twig, and put it near its little feet. It clung to the twig, so I lifted it back up to where I first found it. It returned to the juniper branch, so I dropped the twig, and, again, started walking away.

But...what if it really wanted to be on the ground? Maybe I helped it the first time and just messed things up the second time. What if...what if...what if...?

I said a prayer for the little thing, and kept walking, trusting God to fix whatever I might have screwed up.

 

Then I thought about my kids (because that's the way my brain works and it is almost Mother's Day, after all) and about all the times I tried to help them. So often I just seemed to mess things up instead of making them better.

What if...what if...what if...?

And that's when I told myself to just shut the heck up, because what's done is done. I can honestly say my kids are awesome people, and whether it was despite me or because of me, it doesn't matter.

I know I did the best I could along the way for those beautiful creatures God put in my life's path,  just as I did the butterfly, always with lots of prayer. So I'll just keep trusting God to fix whatever I might have screwed up with my kids, too.

What more can we do, as mothers and fathers, and hikers in the woods?

So.... at the grocery store a little later, I indulged and bought some chocolate-covered strawberries.

Happy Mother's Day to me!

And Happy Mother's Day to all of you mothers out there! 

May you indulge yourself with forgiveness for any past (or future) parenting mistakes. You know in your hearts, as I do in mine, that you did the best you could, and most likely, you did a whole lot more right than wrong. Amen.

Being a mother is learning about strengths you didn't know you had, and dealing with fears you didn't know existed.  ~Linda Wooten

 

God, Grant Me The Serenity...

Through the window, I see my brother-in-law's SUV pull up in front of the house. Several younger men gather to help maneuver my mother down from her seat and into the waiting wheelchair.

For a moment exhaustion pinches her face from the three-hour road trip and constant struggle to breathe, but then I see that familiar smile bloom wide, right to the edge of joyful laughter, so contagious that everyone around her smiles, too.

She said she wouldn't miss her grandson's wedding, and by golly, she made it.

I sigh in relief. Maybe she didn't have doubts about her attendance, but I sure did. Eight months ago, for reasons that still haven't been clearly diagnosed, her muscle strength and balance disappeared. Walking was already a challenge because of her asthma, but now she couldn't even stand without support.

At first she fought it, believing she just needed to push herself to build up her strength. She accepted the wheelchair as a temporary accessory, but if you turned your back for a second, she would jump up and try to walk. Upon waking in the morning, she would automatically head down the long hallway, alone and unassisted, to the bathroom.

Consequently, she fell. A lot. I witnessed a few of the falls myself, including one in the middle of the night when she took my dad down on top of her in the bathroom (he tried to stop her fall) and we subsequently spent the night in the emergency room.

I'm not sure how many other falls there were. She and Daddy tried to keep them secret.

"Mama, stop trying to walk without help. You don't want to miss the wedding, do you?" 

She didn't. But it still took a few reminders before she started behaving and playing it safe, using the wheelchair to go down the hall and letting Daddy hover nearby when she needed to stand.

It's been a tough transition for all of us. Mama has always been the caregiver, so strong she makes the Steel Magnolias look like a bunch of wilting lilies. She's the Serenity Prayer and "where there's a will, there's a way" all rolled up in one, put into action. When something needed to be done, she just did it, without any whining or woe-is-me-ing. 

She spent sleepless nights nursing us through the usual and not-so-usual childhood illnesses and injuries...encephalitis, whooping cough, dislocated hips. Later, in her forties, Mama maneuvered my quadriplegic brother's six-foot-frame in and out of his wheelchair, despite her petite size. And just a few years ago, in her late 70's, she took care of my older sister following her hip surgery. 

 

Mama was with me to welcome my firstborn into the world, watched him while I worked and his dad went to school, and attended every special event of his life. There was no way in hell she'd miss his wedding, even if it meant relying on others for a change and accepting life in a wheelchair...at least for a little while. 

God, grant me the serenity...

 

In honor of Mother's Day, Generation Fabulous asked us to talk about that other fabulous generation - our mothers. Whether we like it or not, and whether we knew them or not, our mothers helped shape us into the women we are today. I realize I'm blessed with an amazing mother and the chance to know her through the eyes of an adult, and I'm happy I got to share a little bit about her with you. To read more mom stories, go HERE.

Powered by Linky Tools

Click here to enter your link and view this Linky Tools list...

I Won't Think About Good-Bye

 

 

I lingered on the back porch this morning with my coffee after the dogs finished their breakfast, listening to birds chirp their confusion over the unseasonal cool temperatures and the wind play rough with the trees. 

The sun was shining, and I could see the surface of our little pond sparkling through the new spring leaves of surrounding trees. I sat in the middle of a dream-come-true started thirty years ago, and wondered how I was going to say goodbye.

We're going to have to sell out and go somewhere else. Barring some miracle, along the lines of me writing a million-dollar bestseller or one of us winning the lottery, it's the only way we're going to climb out of the debt-sinkhole we've slipped into.

Tom figures it will take him two years to get the place in shape to sell. We started on it almost twenty years ago, moved in almost ten years ago, but it's not finished yet. Once we moved in, we weren't in a rush...until now. But Tom wants to see it the way he envisioned it in the beginning, so he's not rushing through doing a halfass job.

In my heart I know God led us here, so if it's his will we stay, we will, even if we don't see how right now. Maybe we've done what we were supposed to do here and he has some other job for us elsewhere. If so, I'll just give thanks for the time we've had in this little piece of heaven. We've been blessed and nothing can take that away.

Meanwhile, I'm going to linger and cherish and soak as much of Long Hollow as possible into my soul. I don't think I've ever taken it for granted, but I especially won't now. I'll push thoughts of goodbye off to the edge, only close enough to remind me to appreciate this day, and the next, and the next, and then I'll cherish the memories.

...While I pray for a miracle.

Birthday Cards and other sweet!s

Does anyone read blog posts in the middle of the night? It seems it's the only time I finally get to post, after finishing up the higher priority items on my to-do lists. 

BlogHer is asking for nominations for their Voices of the Year, in the categories of Heart, Humor, Inspiration, and OpEd. I had thought about nominating myself (that's what you do when you get older - you quit waiting on other people to toot your horn - you just do it yourself!) but to be honest, I can't think of a post that might have a chance of winning, so I'll probably just wait until next year.

I'm not putting myself down...it's just that I don't post about controversial stuff. And I don't cuss. Or have small children. I'm not an alcoholic or drug addict who had an abortion at 18.

I'm not complaining - I know I'm blessed. But those seem to be the criteria in the posts with the highest ratings, along with alcoholism, drug abuse, and abortions.

 I have too many other things on my plate to worry about. Namely, a wedding (my son's) and finding a job which is more than a job, but a career. And writing a book. And...

Okay, I'll stop and get on with this post, which is about birthday cards and other sweet!s of the past week.

 

Next year for my birthday, I'm going to go to Barton Springs Pool and wear a bucket on my head.

 

 

This is the card my son gave me. Inside it says: "It's your birthday, so take it easy. Relax. Wear a bucket on your head. Whatever."

 And he wrote: "Do you want to go to Barton Springs and wear a bucket on your head?

If I had said yes, he would have cringed, but I know he would have gone along with me, and my other two kids as well. As I've already said once in this post, I'm blessed. (Of course, they would have pretended they didn't know me, but that's understandable.)

My friend Tamara (Tamara, Tamara, Tamara!) sent me a card that proves she knows me very well...

 

 

And here are some other sweet!s of the week...

Monday: antelope horn blooming; spotting a rabbit's tail on a morning walk; a hug from an old co-worker/friend; reminiscing with a friend about your kids and old times

Tuesday: Russian accents; meeting a Headhunter who promised to critique your resume; a blog friend requesting to buy a series of your photos

Wednesday: a walk in the rain with your pups during a drought; homemade chicken soup and a fire in a fireplace on a cold, rainy day in a vineyard

 

Thursday: wildflowers bordering a Texas highway (they were beautiful, but I had to wait to take the photo when I was stopped at a red light, where they were more sparse); standing by your friend when she says goodbye to her mother; sharing memories of your childhood with people you still call friends; an evening with your parents

 

Friday: coffee and reading the newspaper at the kitchen table with your dad; sneaking a photo of your dad with your phone; new growth in an old neighborhood; red-winged blackbirds; splashes of primroses on a roadside that remind you of your wedding 30 years agoan afternoon with your daughter and seeing both of your sons

 

Saturday: time for a walk with your puppies before work; two elderly people finding love again; patches of bluebonnets; going to bed earlier than you expected 

Sunday: waking early enough to go to early Mass; the joy on your puppies' faces when you take them for a walk; baby turtles; your writing group liking your latest story; getting a lot of stuff done on your day off

I hope you have a fantastic week, full of sweet! moments! I'll leave you with one of my favorite photos...the red-winged blackbirds ignoring the kitties in my parents' backyard to meet at the birdbath...

 

 

Five Things on Friday

1. Last night I attended a funeral for the mother of one of my long-time, closest friends. Hers was one of the houses where we all congregrated, from middle school on up (I had my first kiss on the sidewalk in front of that house)... and now my friend opens up her home to all of us for get-togethers as well.

My - oh, I'll go ahead and use the word - 'old' classmates and I filled several rows, and even my mother tagged along with me. One of the guys got up and spoke about his memories - our memories - but I have to admit, when he said the words "forty years ago" and "back in the day", I cringed at the truth of it. We are old! Argh.

But we're also forever young, thanks to those memories. Rest in peace and thank you for putting up with us, Mrs. Stanley, and thanks for speaking for all of us, Randy.

2. I saw a news report about cicadas that said they only appear every 17 years. Well, if that's true, I want to know what the heck we have around here every single summer that does a perfect impersonation of a cicada!

3. Just when I decided I needed to give something up for lack of time, whether my blog or my book or photography, I had a request to purchase some photos, an idea for a{nother} children's book that wouldn't leave me alone, I passed to the next level on a paid online writing gig, and I got a lot of attention on my blog.

Murphy's Law, but in a good way for a change.

But I'm still trying to figure out how to do it all...

4. My girlfriends pitched in and gave me a gift card for my birthday for me to buy a pair of cowgirl boots to wear to the rehearsal dinner for my son's wedding.

(It's a Texas thing. I had a great pair of boots...but then had three kids. Now TG has a great pair of boots, and I have my mother's which are about a half size too small.)

Anyway, I'm in a quandary. I'm tempted to squeeze my foot into my mother's boots that night, and use the gift card to {mostly} pay for an iPad or Kindle or something like that. Several of my friends have written e-books, and I have them on my computer, but I have limited time at home in front of my computer. I can't even keep up with my book writing or photo editing, so their books are still unread, along with tons of blog posts and articles, because I can't read them on my iPhone.

I'm thinking if I got an iPad, I could tuck it in my purse and stay caught up with my friends' writings. Sure, I'd look cute in a pair of Heritage Westerns, with jeans tucked in or a cute summery dress, and two-stepping in wedges is kind of a challenge, but...

See the fix I'm in? 

If any of you has an iPad or a Kindle or other similar device, please share your input and help me with this decision before it drives me crazy!

5. I'm happy to report that I've had a couple of mouse-turd-free days since retrieving the last one from the back seat and tossing it into the woods. Fingers crossed they've decided my car isn't the luxury hotel they were hoping for!

P.S. The onion flowers are back!

(Yes, that's technically 6 things. But I had to share these - such simple elegance in our little bit of woods.)

Linking with

 {Random 5 Friday}

and

Friday Fragments

A Note From Your Waiter: Do Not Call me Toots

 

Do not call me Toots.

My name is Barbara. If you forget it and need my attention, you can call me "ma'am", or say "excuse me" or "pardon me".

But Toots? Per Wikipedia, Toots is a slang term for "babe" or "sweetie" or "honey," or, more-negatively, "tart" or "prostitute."  

Who, or what, do you think I am - or perhaps I should ask, who do you think you are - that you can be so disrespectful to a stranger?

I am a part-time waiter right now, because I need the extra money to help pay for my kids' college tuitions so I can afford my own...to support my writing and photography passions...to get me up and away from the computer I'm glued to the rest of the time, to be active and talk to people, which I love.

But waiting tables in a winery restaurant isn't my dream job, and I'm looking for something else, but what if it was? What if this was what I wanted to do the rest of my life? Serving people, helping them relax and enjoy themselves...there are worse jobs out there, far less enjoyable and rewarding. And if I make it look easy...well, believe me, it takes a set of skills that a lot of people do not have.

Oh, and if you arrive before the restaurant opens, please be patient. It will be a few minutes before your order can be taken because there are just some things that I need to take care of first...

 

The three women arrived early, before the restaurant opened for business. They were already seated at a table with water and menus, courtesy of our office manager who works a normal 9 to 5 job, when I walked in and jumped right to work, bringing up the computer so I could enter orders, pulling the reds out of the chiller so they will be room temperature, tucking an order pad and pen into my apron. They were younger than me. Early to mid-thirties, I guessed.

I was behind the counter preparing the register when one waved a menu at me and said "We're ready, Toots."

Toots? my ears repeated, asking themselves if they heard what they thought they heard. 

"Okay, just a second," I somehow managed to say with a smile and not one ounce of saccharin sweetness. 

I made sure to state my name, loud and clear, when I took their order. I treated them with respect, and they left large donations to the World of Children Fund, the nonprofit group we support in lieu of tips. And they didn't call me Toots again.

 

But speaking of children...

 

I'm all for taking your children out to eat with you. I know how confining life with small ones can be. Besides, what better way to teach them how to behave in a restaurant? 

But if your children are still too young to learn, get a babysitter. Stay home. Or at the very least, accept your waiter's offer of a high chair so your little one doesn't wander around bothering other guests and touching breakable glassware and expensive vases...

This young couple had two precious little girls, one about 7 months old, the other about 2 years old. Despite several offers, they refused a high chair for the 2-year-old, instead allowing her to stand in the chairs or wander about the restaurant, unconcerned about the other patrons or the fragile wine glasses or silverware she was touching...until I uttered a warning out of fear she would hurt herself, which scared the little girl into staying close to her parents.

For awhile.

Still, they were a cute couple and I didn't have many other customers. There were no broken glasses, no falls from the chair, no complaints. And after they left with lots of tips from me about places to visit in Austin, and I was sweeping up all of the cracker and bread crumbs littering the floor under and around their table, I remembered another floor covered in crackers...

One evening when our oldest was in the high chair and saltine cracker stage, Tom and I had a serious craving for seafood, so we took a drive out to our favorite restaurant. By the time we left, a three foot radius around our son's high chair was covered in cracker crumbs.

I was mortified, but wasn't sure what to do, other than leave a large tip and not return until our kids were old enough to know that saltines were not edible playthings.

Ah, paybacks.

Which I guess means they'll get theirs some day, too, both the young couple and the woman who called me Toots. Just another circle of Life.

And that makes me smile, because I'm human, after all.

(Hey, wait a minute! I never called a waiter Toots. Just proof that Life is also unfair and has a warped sense of humor, I suppose.)

Coach Christine, Queen of the Cosmos

We could hear her screaming from the other side of the soccer field, giving directions, shouting encouragement, and even growling disapproval at bad calls, voicing our own outrage so effectively we didn't have to. 

She was the epitome of a Mama Bear, fierce, loving, and protective of all of the girls on the Cosmos, TG's soccer team, equally. We were blessed to spend almost every weekend with her during soccer season for five years of our lives.

I knew her cancer wasn't responding to treatments. There was an open house a couple of weekends ago for friends to come and see her, but it was a long, tiring day at the winery and I decided I was too pooped and yucky to go that evening. 

Instead, I decided I would grab TG and we would pay Christine a quick visit one evening the next week. I knew she'd want to see TG more than me, anyway. But that week sped by, and the next, without "finding the time"...and now it's too late to see her again in person, give her a last hug, and tell her thank you in person.

Because Christine passed away on Monday.

My good intentions lie dried out, crumbled in a pile of ashes before me, so learn from my mistake and grab yours into a bouquet while they're fresh.  Carry them to the person you need to see again... the person you need to hug or kiss or say forgive me or thank you or whatever...because time doesn't bend to our convenience. It's on its own schedule and doesn't give a damn for ours.

Coach Christine was fierce, passionate, and all heart. I doubt her good intentions ever wilted even the teensiest bit.

I'm grateful she was a part of our lives, even though it was for a short time, and regretful that I didn't get to give her one last hug and thank you in person. She was an inspiration to me (and I'm sure to TG) and I'm better for knowing her.

 

Rest in peace, Coach...although I know you're really still there on the sidelines, pacing up and down, keeping an eye on those you love, giving support, encouragement, and protection. Your voice may have been silenced, but never your heart.