The Best Christmas Ever

The house is quiet, but peacefully so.  Rooms are slowly returning to their usual arrangements.  The Christmas tree, decorations and china will be packed away in the coming days but for now they remain, visible reminders of last weekend when our house was full, our stomachs indulged and our hearts overflowing with love and gratitude to God.

I smile as I begin to corral from other rooms the toys and things that reside in the grandkids room.  There is the Lego tray Tyler used when he played postman.  That tray delivered custom designed Christmas cards to his parents, aunts and uncles, and his cousins – cousins who can’t yet read but who already understand family love and connection.  I spy some curly ribbon on a chair, leftover from one of Reagan’s birthday presents.  She enjoyed her Princess Pink-Pancake Birthday Brunch we had the morning after Christmas, and even let us set before her a 2^nd miniature birthday cake complete with lit candle so we could sing Happy Birthday to her again :)  Huddled together on the floor by the couch are Spot and Snoopy.  Lily loves all animals but especially dogs and along with her stuffed black lab they were carried around and loved on greatly while Lily was here.  Emily’s beloved Bambi rests on a shelf in the grandkids room, head down as if he misses the children.

Traces of Emily and Molly testify to their delightful week long stay at Grandpa and Grandma’s.  At 18 months one of Molly’s favorite toys was the basket of alphabet blocks.  I find the colorful blocks casually tossed in the doll-sized red wagon, grouped near the books on the grandkids room floor, or perched precariously on Madeline’s head.  The crib is still up; I’m not ready to put it away yet.  Lying inside it right where Molly left her is church doll, who slept with Molly every night.  Church doll looks a little cold, as she was immediately and efficiently stripped of her dress upon Molly’s arrival in bed the first night.  

The red Christmas tray with Emily’s careful arrangement is still in the grandkids room; I can’t bear to disturb it yet.  Emily loves the Nativity figures, and toward the end of her stay she asked if she could play with them.  She gathered the various wooden and ceramic figurines and grabbed a cloth yellow star ornament from the tree along with all nativity scene ornaments.  I watched as she carefully placed Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus in the manger.  She grouped the animals off to the side with the shepherd (“Grandma, his shepherd’s stick comes out!”), and put the wisemen on the other side of the manger, still in their worshipful poses.  She had several angels and they were arranged close to the manger, under the big yellow star which seemed to shine as brightly as the real one must have on that holy night so long ago.  As she worked she sang her own version of the Christmas story, telling of the baby’s birth, how the animals gathered around and how the angels sang.  Her child’s faith kept us ever mindful of Who we had all gathered to celebrate and what the Christmas season is all about (“Christmas is all about Jesus!”) 

 

The little blue wooden table their mother used when she was a girl is still sitting in the living room next to the tree, right where we placed it for Emily and Molly to have lunch their last day here.  The table has been cleared, but the chairs are pushed back expectantly as if waiting for the girls to come sit for their next meal.  This too I want to leave in place just a little bit longer.

Moving on to the kitchen, there is very little left of the feast.   Some savory slices of ham, a few delicious morsels of prime rib from the bones, a scant portion of Grandpa’s famous homemade au gratin potatoes.  None of it will go to waste, and these too remind me of what a wonderful time we had together.  I look around the dining room, remembering how beautifully Laura prepared the table, perfectly arranging the dishes and colored napkins in their gorgeous gold rings.  I remember the talk and laughter of our children and grandchildren, passing steaming dishes around the table and asking for seconds and thirds of the meat and potatoes while still leaving room for sweet potato pie or Grandma’s Christmas cookies or a piece of Laura’s birthday cake.   I can still see the little table, set at the foot of the dining table, where the oldest four grandchildren ate.  Smiling, happy faces are still clear in my memory, and the warmth and camaraderie can still be felt in that room.  The memories will still be sweet and fresh when I begin taking the Spode Christmas Tree china down and packing it away until next year.   I’ll think about how glad I am that Laura loves the pattern as much as I do because one day it will all belong to her :)

Now it is New Year’s Eve.  For me it’s no longer a time to go to parties and stay up past midnight; rather, it’s a time to sit quietly by the fire reflecting on how I’ve spent the time God gave me in 2011 and on all the things He has done for us, brought us through.  Time to count my many blessings and thank the Lord for His gifts of life and time, marveling again at the wonder of knowing that every moment of every day of my life has been laid out for me before I was born (Psalm. 139).  Best of all as a believer and Christ-follower of 37 years, no matter what the future holds I rest in the certainty my God is in control, unchanging and ever faithful, and I enjoy the freedom that can only come from being a humble servant of the living God.

It was indeed the best Christmas ever, and as I slowly let it go I’ll keep the memories and carry them into the New Year, full of hope and deep abiding joy.

The Girls are Back

Squeals of delight.  Arms outstretched wide as legs propel forward.  Eyes shining with anticipation.  And my granddaughters look that way too as we find each other at the airport!  Is there anything more wonderful than being greeted by the cutest toddler in the world who smiles as she lifts her arms to be picked up and says “Ga-ma”?!

Emily, Molly and their beautiful mother are here for the week.  The best Christmas gift ever, after Jesus Christ.  What will we do while they are here?  Well, we have to make a Target run of course – at least one – that’s a given.  And a visit to the Austin Children’s Museum is a must.  And have a visit from Aunt Lena, and Uncle Walter, and Aunt Tracy. 

But we won’t spend the entire time driving in the car or in busy-ness.  We’ll play a lot in the grandkids room – with Bambi, blocks, Noah and his animals, and lots and lots of books.  We’ll chase up and down the stairs a million times and laugh every time we get to the top.  We’ll make a gingerbread house, eat Grandma’s famous Christmas cookies, make some more cookies, play the piano, consider the presents under the tree, gaze at the lovely ornaments and lights, and walk by the inside Christmas dog Duke to hear him sing “Up on the housetop ho ho ho”.  We’ll splash in the bath.  Have wonderful dinners prepared by Grandpa and eat off matching Christmas dishes with special napkins.  We’ll take some cookies to a few of Grandma’s friends and some neighbors.  Their mother and I will watch a movie if we get the girls to bed in time, and spend every chance we get talking and sharing.  We’ll hug and smooch and tickle a lot.  We’ll have an occasional time out when little ones get cranky, but it won’t be needed often.  We’ll read the Christmas story, and go to church together as a family on Christmas Eve.  We’ll rearrange the figures on the nativity scenes set about in the living room, and talk about the wonder of the shepherds, the angels, and the wise men.  We’ll pray, and thank God for our many, many blessings.

And if we are truly fortunate, we’ll nap  :)

Turns out I DO have the camping gene

I confess I wasn’t really looking forward to The RV Trip.  It’s not that I didn’t want to spend time with family – I love that.  But for me, prone to motion sickness and a complete lack of the ‘camping gene’, the idea of 6 hours in a large moving bus to go to a campground was not enticing.  Even knowing how much my husband was looking forward to it, and how much fun he and his son would have jacking with every knob, lever, switch and handle on the unfamiliar rented vehicle the size of Delaware, and the lure of hiking in good weather (which I do enjoy) was not enough to overcome my reluctance. 

My last RV experience was nearly 30 years ago.  It too was across state lines, and the only significant memory I have of that trip was how nauseated I was and how sick I was for the entire trip.  And there was the teeny tiny detail that neither Paul nor his son Chris had ever driven anything approaching 40’ long.  Like I said, I’m not camper – my idea of camping is “which hotel are we staying in”.  The only saving grace was that I’d be with kids and grandkids, so I decided to try not to worry about motion sickness.

We arrived in Plano Thursday night to the sight of a large RV in Chris’ cul-de-sac.  An ear-splitting horn sounded as soon as we parked, and even in the rain Paul couldn’t wait to go check this thing out.  I was happy with just taking our things to the room and getting ready for bed.

The next morning the RV looked bigger – much bigger than it had in the dark and in the rain.  I began to feel hopeful about not being sick on this trip as we loaded up the food, gear and baggage.  Tyler kept running in every few minutes saying, “We’re leaving in 15 minutes!”  “We’re leaving in only 1 hour!”  “We are leaving in 30 minutes!”   Eventually we were all aboard and the leaving horn sounded.  Dawn and the kids and I found places in the back while Captain Chris was in the driver’s seat with Grandpa riding shotgun.

Grandpa was in “jack with it” heaven.  Seriously.  He had a checklist and busied himself with checking all the latches, jacking with the window blinds, and scoping out the instrument panel.  Took him a while to get into the navigator role, as we took our first wrong turn after only 30 minutes.  But we got righted, and Grandpa continued with his checklist:  “Generator - On!   Inverter - On!  Battery – oops!!”  Those sounds along with other noises that can’t be described in this blog serenaded us in the back.

Meanwhile, behind the driver area we were having our own adventures.  Dawn in particular had exceptional timing each time she went to the kitchen area to make a snack for the kids.  Almost as if timed, as soon as she was at the counter opening or spreading or slicing she would get slung around from a sharp turn by the RV.  I’d glance over to see her clinging to the counter for dear life, jelly caps and apple parts flying.   But she was a great sport about it, and it was the source of some good laughs for us.   We had a great sandwich lunch on the road and as we got close to the campsite Tyler and I played I Spy.

A gas stop was needed before we arrived so we picked a place with diesel and lumbered in.  It took so long to fill up I was beginning to get worried we’d make it before nightfall.  Later I realized a good chunk of that time was spent figuring out how to open the gas cap….

At the campsite we spotted our reserved site – a beautiful spot on the water with a great view.  Captain and Navigator had quite the discussion about heading in v. backing in and finally decided to head in so that when we were inside we’d still have the great view.  Carefully the RV was maneuvered into place, the jacks were lowered, and there we were with our gorgeous view.  We had noticed that every other RV had backed into their spot, and soon it became clear why:  the water and sewer hookups were on the other side.   Fortunately one of our neighbors noticed our predicament and came to the rescue with an extra, long-enough hose.  Now we were set. 

It turns out DO have a camping gene!  All it takes to activate it is the right amount of motion sickness pills and the most luxurious RV known to civilized man.  In our case, the 35’ Discovery Fleetwood – 10 tons of fully automatic, fully equipped living space designed for comfort and ease.   Once I realized I was not getting sick to my stomach, I could turn my attention to notice all the amenities.   Plenty of seating for those of us not driving or navigating; fully stocked refrigerator and snack cabinets; 4 burner gas stove and microwave; coffee maker; working bathroom (including shower) while you were rolling down the road; built-in inverter so you can stay plugged in to charge and power cell phones, laptops, I pads, and whatever else needs power; ample storage space; and if you really want to relax you can go take a nap in the bedroom on the sleep number bed.  Now this was camping even I could do!!

While we were camped in Lake Ouachita State Park we had many adventures.  We took several hikes, some in the day time where we saw the beauty of God’s handiwork, and one at night guided by Laura the Park Ranger where we learned why owls aren’t afraid of skunks (they can’t smell them) and got to see and touch lots of animal pelts.  One afternoon we had a boat excursion where we delighted in following two eagles trying to get duck for dinner – what a majestic sight that was!  Our meals were fabulous – bacon, sausage, eggs and fruit in the morning with good coffee; barbecued chicken or burgers with all the fixings at night.   Dinner was always followed by roasted marshmallows over the open campfire enjoying the cool night air and even the kids went to sleep easily after the day’s activities.  For all our fishing we did catch one catfish, although it was too small to keep.

Sunday morning we had time for one last hike on the Dogwood Trail, then it was pack up and get ready to hit the road.  We hadn’t been out on the street very long when we had to stop for something called a “dump stop”, which apparently involved disposing of our wastewater.  I tried not to look or know what they were doing as I was already battling some motion sickness.  I hadn’t considered the fact that leaving for the trip we started out on flat straight roads, for the most part, but coming home we started on winding, curving, hilly roads.  But it was manageable, and fortunately I was able to read so a good book made the trip go by fast. 

All too soon it was time to say goodbye to our kids and grandkids, and finish the trip with our last 4 hours on the road.  Hugs and kisses all around, and as we drove off I was still marveling – I DO have the camping gene!!

Owl Visits

They are in the trees by 8:15 p.m.  It’s best if fresh water is in the birdbath before 8.  But I’ve been late before, and as I walk out to the birdbath in the middle of the yard where with a full watering can of fresh water, the little gray screech owls watch me.  Silently, but in an approving, patiently waiting way.  I speak softly in sweet tones to them as they watch me dump out the dirty-bird water, rinse the bath and fill it with fresh, cool water, just waiting for them to enjoy

Almost always they come down for the first drink at 8:20 – you can set your clock by it. 

They spend at least a minute looking on all sides before daring to dip their beak down into the water.  They drink dipping their face straight down into the water, then curving their heads in an upward motion.  So graceful and magnificent.

Completely quiet in flight, you won’t hear them coming.  You have to be watching for them or you’ll miss them.   However I have learned to discern the sound of their “screech”, a misnomer I think.  It sounds more like a high pitched but soft and distant cat purr that dips into low notes before it ends.   Almost imperceptible but once you know what to listen for you can catch it.

Most summers we are lucky to see one owl once or twice during the summer.  But with the severe drought this year they have become regulars.  Most nights there are two of them, but once we had three at a time and one evening we saw four of them perched on the edge of the birdbath.  Amazing.

I think the two regulars are father and son.  The big one loves to take a bath.  After spending 4 or 5 minutes alternately drinking and watching, he’ll dip a foot farther into the bath.  Then he glides into the center and before he’s done he will have completely immersed his head several times, his tail, his full wings and is delightful dripping when he flies up to the branch to dry and groom.  At that point the little one lands or resumes drinking in earnest, but so far I’ve not seen him take a bath.

These silent, pretty, graceful creatures are fascinating to me.  They captivate me with they way they watch their surroundings and are so quick to turn or react to sounds I can’t hear.   The year I feel as if they are listening to me when I speak to them; I even saw one cock his head as I spoke while filling the bowl.  I know they’ll be gone soon but in the meantime you can find me out on my back porch each evening by 8:15.  Watching, and enjoying.

The Dress

Lena found The Dress today!   What fun it was to be there as she tried on various styles, culling down to what would become The Dress.  I wouldn’t have traded that experience for anything. 

I was so honored to be there with this “second daughter” of mine.  I am not her biological mother, but in many ways our closeness couldn’t be more Mother & Daughter.  She is also best friend to my daughter and the sister neither of them had.   As a mom I have plenty of extra advice, comments, suggestions and in this case lots of ooohs and aaaahs, and Lena wanted to hear it all. 

Lena is beautiful, very smart and knows what she wants, often to the point of stubbornness.  But she is usually right.  And when it comes to trying on wedding dresses, it is critical to know what you want or you’ll spend hours and hours just trying to decide on a style.  She had decided on the simple but elegant approach – no poofy, no lace, no excessive beads or jewels, and good heavens don’t even think of putting a flower or fish netting anywhere near her!  It had to be fitted not full, not traditional A-line, not too exposing of the bosom, the perfect white, and the perfect alignment of the bodice with that tiny, tiny waist. 

On to the fitting room, where I fastened each dress and then retrieved it for the assistant to hang up.  One hook for “possibles”, one for “no way will I wear that.”  Several of the styles suited her, and there were two very nice ones that she was beginning to think she would have a hard time choosing between.  And then she donned The Dress.

The Dress was gorgeous, elegantly flattering, the perfect cut and flow.  The gathering beneath the bodice was worked to perfection, creating an illusion of an even smaller waist, gracing the hips perfectly letting the romantic chiffon panels flow down softly to the floor.  As she stepped and turned, the panels slightly parted to reveal smooth satin underneath the outer material.  She traded the single, flowered strap for two simple spaghetti straps and voila – the perfect dress for her destination beach wedding.   You know it’s The Dress when you simply don’t want to take it off.  Ever.

Lena is going to be a beautiful bride.  And I will be there to see her say “I Do” in that gorgeous gown.   Probably with a tissue to catch happy-tears.

Elevators, Parking Garages and Towers – oh my!

I’m a city girl but not a Big City girl.  I am intimidated by skyscrapers, tall towers, and elevators with more than 7 numbered buttons to push and parking garages.  Actually, I detest parking garages – they are often illogical, not well-marked, can be dark and scary, and typically the only places I can park are at the extreme areas with the worst access and least climate control.  Those nice, well-lit, close-in spaces are for the lofty folks who can park in “Reserved” or “Contract” without fear of the towing company.

Recently I visited our corporate office in another city.  A city bigger than mine.  Their  offices are in a beautiful new space on the 11^th floor of one building of a four tower complex.  Once you are inside their suite it is lovely, with beautiful views and all the amenities.  But to get there you have to negotiate, tall towers, elevators with more than 7 buttons and parking garages.

When I arrived that morning I parked in a 2 hour visitor parking space.  I knew I’d be there all day but at their former location the parking was ample and visitor spaces weren’t closely monitored.  I exited my car and noticed what a looked like a grown-up hall monitor walking among the rows of parked cars, writing on a clipboard.   I found my way to the elevators – thank goodness all the elevators in this building stop on floor 11.

During the morning I heard my co-workers discussing the new space, the move, and the parking and learned it might be wise to move my car.  At a stopping point in training, I grabbed my keys and headed out to find long-term visitor parking.

Down the hall to the elevators, press 1.  Exit that elevator into the building lobby, round the corner and exit into the parking garage area.  Walk to my car.  It’s easy when you are in 2 hour visitor parking.

I backed out, shifted into D and began reading the signs.  “Exit”, “Retail Parking”, “Stop”, “Contract Parking” … ah, there it was “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.  On the roof?  Geez, in this 108º weather surely it would not be exposed to direct sun.  Round and round I drove, stopping, reading signs, wondering how there could be parking on the roof of a 30 story building.  After a few minutes I was up on a level where I could see tops of trees and look down on buildings, and it seemed that the ceiling of this level of the garage had to be the roof.  I found a space close to a stairwell and got out of the car, proud that I had found long term visitor parking.  Spotting another ‘hall monitor’ I decided to confirm that, and I politely asked if this was indeed long term visitor parking.  With a long-suffering look and no smile she replied, “Long term parking is on the roof.  Just follow the signs.”  Good grief.

Backing out the car again, I made sure not to run over the hall monitor and begin circling the levels again.  A few minutes later I rounded a corner and saw the bright sunlight on two uncovered cement flats of parking spaces.  Just outside the covered “Contract” parking was “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”.   The cement slanted upward, walking distance to the closest stairwell was hard to calculate, and not a lick of shade in sight.  Welcome to “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”. 

Now that I was here, how the heck was I going to find my way back to the right building, much less the right elevator?   I ended up back at the office by taking this route:

Stair 1 Level 4 stairs to Stair 1 Level 2 stairs

Walk all the way across parking garage to

Elevator 2 Bank D

Elevator 2 Bank D to Elevator 1 Bank D

Exit Elevator 1 Bank D in parking garage, find doors to enter building

Enter Elevator, Press 11

End up on 30^th Floor

When the doors opened onto the premier 30^th floor, a nice gentleman entered the elevator.  Seeing that I was not getting off, he asked which floor I need.  “I’m going to the 11^th floor,” I said confidently.  He just smiled and asked if I was a visitor.

Needless to say I was not looking forward to the end of the day when I’d have to find my way back to car.  The crazy thing was I could see my car from our breakroom on the 11^th floor.  How could that be?  I drove up and up and up, only to find later that I parked on the roof next to the 3^rd floor of the building??

At the end of the day I filled my water cup and headed bravely for the elevators.  Enter elevator on floor 11, Press 1.  The elevator immediately raced to the 28^th floor, where a nice lady got on with me.  I confessed I was new to the building and not having the best experience with the elevators and parking.  Immediately we were best friends – turns out she was a new employee to the building and was having the same frustration.  I felt a little better.

Exit Elevator on Floor 1

Turn the corner, exit the building to parking garage

Take Elevator 1 Bank D to Elevator 2 Bank D

Exit Elevator 2 Bank D, walk across parking garage to

Stair 1 Level 2

Stair 1 Level 2 to Stair 1 Level 4

Exit on the highest level of “Long Term Parking on the Roof ↑”. 

Walk down to car, open all doors and windows, remove sunshield, sweat profusely

To complete my parking experience, as I exited the roof level I couldn’t quite make the tight turn bounded by medians into the exit lane and so of course ran up onto the median.  Put it in Reverse, back up, inch forward, back up, inch forward and barely make it through the space and merge into the flow of traffic exiting through the garage.  Down all the levels, with only one wrong turn that required going into Reverse, and a few minutes later I was out onto the street.  Freedom!   Blue sky, marked pavement and regular street traffic never looked so good.

After the Grandkids Visit

Ramona sits on her shelf slumped sideways, one shoe half off, exhausted.  The Peter Rabbit family rests quietly on their shelf, looking strangely expectant.   Bambi, having been much loved as Emily's constant companion during her stay, is posed contentedly on the jungle shelf next to Baloo the Bear and Lion.   The ring of alphabet blocks remains positioned on floor of the grandkids room as the center ring of Emily's circus.  Mr. and Mrs. Noah and their animals are once again nestled in their wooden ark, marveling at their recent stint as circus performers. 

The wooden wagon with its picture blocks that make a puzzle, Molly’s favorite toy while she was here, are right where she left them.  All the books, replaced by Mommy and Uncle Walter on the last night, are tucked away neatly on their assigned shelves, looking quite pleased at how much they were read.  A bright metallic sticker is stuck at child height on the wall at the top of the stairs; another is in the carpet just outside the grandkids room.  Tubes of finger paint and some poster board lie unnoticed on the upstairs porch.  Bubble wands tossed idly on the porch swing.

All the sippee cups and plastic plates are cleaned and put away; the booster chair is back in its storage spot.  No more cheerios or goldfish to dodge on the floor, no more "haz-mat" diapers by "polecat", as Grandpa affectionately referred to Molly when she produced one of those.   No more shape pancakes, no more icing birthday cakes together, no more baking cookies with lots of sprinkles.    No more tea parties, no more train rides in the grandkids room for all the animals in baskets, chairs and boxes.  No more block towers for Molly to knock over. 

The house is quiet without that sweet toddler voice piping "tank u", without that little girl voice inquiring, "Grandma, have you seen Bambi?" or "Can you please pass me the scissors and glue?"  The arts and crafts carefully made by Emily are stored in her crafts basket downstairs at the children's table.  How many times was that table used by her mother for tea parties and crafts when she was that age? 

Only Pete the Cat seems pleased that everyone is gone, and even he seems to look for them as he wanders the upstairs.  There is a sweet sadness in the air, permeated by lingering joy and love and laughter.  Oh how blessed are we to have such family love, to experience the full range of emotions God created in us, and to have faith that God willing we shall be together again soon. 

Until then, I think I'll go downstairs and eat that last cookie with the blue sprinkles on it....

Reflections on Independence Day

Three days ago we celebrated our nation’s 235^th Independence Day.  July 4^th, a day of fireworks and picnics, a day or rest from our paid labor, and a day to recognize and remember the sacrifices of real people over 200 years ago that we might be free.

We are all blessed and very privileged to have been born in this great nation.  We must never forget that our freedom and the liberty we enjoy were hard-won; they are not guaranteed and not to be taken for granted.  The Founding Fathers (an amazing group of men, check them out if you never have) made it clear in their documents that our independence can remain secure only as long as We the People have a firm conviction that our liberties are a gift of God.

Did you know:

• The Declaration of Independence is a one-time, one of a kind document?
• The idea of a government getting its power from the consent of the governed, who are individuals with God-given not government-given rights, was new?
• The Declaration states 4 clear references to our Creator God
• The signers ranged in age from 27 to 70 years.  They were businessmen, farmers, doctors, lawyers and preachers.  Most were Protestant Christians, some with college degrees, some with military service.
• Many of the signers had their homes and property destroyed because they declared their freedom.

Next time you are tempted to complain about that bad day at work or whine about how everything is going wrong lately, consider what it would feel like to come home to nothing – all burned to the ground viciously simply because you said you wanted to be free.   I’m going to try to live a little more sacrificially in light of those great patriarchs.  Not financially or water rationing for the yard – we are all doing that these days.  But in time, giving more thought to how we got here and what I can do to stop the erosion of our freedoms by those who would make us dependent on government rather than its head.  Putting my money where my mouth is.  Writing articles as a citizen journalist.  It’s not even a sacrifice compared to what those guys did.  But it’s what I can do.

The New Tale of Peter Rabbit

Lily spent last weekend with us.  She’s 2 years old and a delightful child – easy going, extremely well-mannered, has a sweet loving spirit and is a great conversationalist.  She is the grandchild of my husband’s only daughter which makes her even more special.

We had a delightful Saturday.  After picking up Miss Lil right after breakfast we headed over to Target to check out the children’s clothes and shoes.  We found some cute outfits and just the right pair of close-toed rubber soled shoes for our morning outing at Zilker Park.  Such fun to take her on the Zilker Zephyr and ride the train through the park, looking down at the canoeists and dogs on Town Lake and enjoying the park musician who played guitar and harmonica at the same time, hat cocked sideways over his smiling face.  I had wanted to feed the ducks, who used to always hang out by the canoes, but there were so many dogs I think they were in hiding.  Lily was just as happy tossing our pieces of bread to the birds – the doves and pigeons became her new best friends.  As they flocked around her on the ground she told Grandpa, “Look, they’re chewing the bread!”   And she proudly announced there were so many there were “five birdies”!

Playing on the playground brought back memories of doing that with my children.  It’s wonderful to bring out a mental photo album any time you want and enjoy special times from the past while living similar times.  Only now I don’t have the time constraints of a young mother and I have Grandpa to help me carry and watch for danger.   Sweet.

Leaving Zilker, it was on to Sandy’s for some good old fashioned burgers.  They didn’t have a kid size burger so we got Lily a corn dog.  She wasn’t sure what to do with it, but as soon as I showed her how to hold the stick, dip the dog in catsup and take a bite, she was all over it.  Sans breading though -  she wanted to get right to the meat of the matter.

After nap we decided to beat the heat by playing in the kiddie pool on the back porch.  It got pretty crowded with Lily and Grandpa when Duke had to get in on the water play fun.   But had no problem with that.  A few plastic measuring cups, spoon and a funnel, keep the water hose running and you’ve got hours of 2 yr old entertainment.  You don’t have to have a fancy pool or custom playscape in your backyard to have fun with kids, sometimes people forget that.  What they want is you and your undivided attention; toys and things are a distant second on their list.  Well, time, love and undivided attention are just what Grandpa and Grandma have.   What a great day.

But wait, there’s more.  At bedtime Lily likes Grandpa to read her a story while I get the pack n play set up (I can face one again, it’s been a month since The Rollaway Cart) and straighten up the grandkids room.  She chose several books for him, but the one that had me rolling on the floor was The Tale of Peter Rabbit. Normally this is not a very funny story, but the way Grandpa read it that night was … vintage Grandpa.

Grandpa’s rendition of The Tale of Peter Rabbit, Beatrix Potter’s classic story, was not exactly Uncle Remus style.  It was more of a country, on-the-verge-of-redneck version – a twist only he could pull off.   Here is what I recall of his tale – I can’t remember it word for word because I ended up laughing so hard it was difficult to concentrate.  I don’t hear so well with laugh tears rolling down my cheeks.

As his story begins, Peter and his friends decide they want a new corvette.  On the way to the car house [car house?  Really?] they stop to eat some cabbage.  They all get gas, and one of the rabbits gets some thing called the “squirts”.  They continue their journey and make comments to each other about how bad they smell, with a lot of boy noises accompanying that dialogue.  I don’t know how to type those sounds, just use your imagination.  On the way they stop at Grandpa’s house to visit “old Duke” and get some barbeque, apparently the perfect food for little rabbits suffering from gas.   They ate the barbeque and it was so good they never left and they all lived at Grandpa’s house with old Duke happily ever after.

Lily was riveted.  Seriously.  I couldn’t believe it, she never took her eyes off the pages as he turned them.  She listened carefully as he read enthusiastically, with great style and fun voice inflections and only brief pauses to think of what to say next.  Hey, this is the child who announced at supper that “Grandpa is a yummy, yummy cooker” and kept repeating “Thank you for this wonderful supper”.  Of course she’s going to love his new version of Peter Rabbit. 

Trouble is I’ll probably never be able to read her the real story; she’ll think I’ve got it wrong……

Family Reunion

It is hard to describe how much I love my family.  It’s a healthy love, not clannish or obligatory in any way; rather it is a connection so deep as to be unfathomable, and our desire to have gatherings regularly and spend time together has been there as long as I can remember.

My mom has often commented that we are fortunate to have what we have in our family, this bond that so many people do not have.  The longer I’m alive the more I agree with her.   As my sister said when we parted at our recent family reunion, how very blessed we all are!   We want to keep up with what is going on in each other’s lives.  We love our inside jokes and all the laughs that happen at our gatherings, we weep when one has a sorrow, we rejoice when there is an accomplishment or new grandchild, and we pray when there are concerns for we know that God is in control and He hears our prayers.  

As the self-appointed family scribe for our annual reunions, I can testify to the endless supply of quick witticisms that dart between us.  It’s so much fun, and usually so funny, that it is hard to keep up sometimes and hard to enjoy the last comment because the repartee is constant. 

Like all families we are a blend of our past, present and future.  Our ancestors on my mother’s side have been Texans for many generations, and as I like to say the blood and independent spirit of Texicans and American revolutionaries runs in our veins.  There are professionals, college graduates, those established in their chosen trade or field, teachers, project managers, stay-at-home mothers, administrative workers, bankers, fireman, financial decision makers, pilots, those who have traveled abroad for work and for pleasure, business owners, purchasing and warehousing, high-tech managers, HR managers – and that’s just in my immediate family of parents, siblings and our children.  As I write it I marvel again at the diverse paths our individual lives have taken yet the path we all return to is the one that starts with the umbilical cord.   With the passage of time some of us have married, divorced, been widowed or remain single, and while our group is blessed with the spouses we have added our unity transcends marital status.

My heart is filled with gratitude that once again we were able and willing to gather for visiting and eating and swimming and boating and matching shirts and watching after the little ones, and we have all returned safely home to resume our daily lives.  None of us knows what this coming year will bring, but we all know that, God willing, we will all be together again this time next year.   And we look forward to it.

The Rollaway Cart

As Emily would say, “Let me tell you about the rollaway cart!” 

Recently my daughter and family moved into their first house.  With the packing, moving, working, closing, Grandpa and I came to town for a few days to keep the girls.   We arrived on Monday.    We chose a nearby hotel with a suite so we could have kitchen, living room and a bedroom to put Molly down in a quiet place.  It also served a hot breakfast & dinner, which was perfect for us with a 4 yr old and 1 yr old. 

We checked in first to unload our baggage before picking up the girls and all the things that accompany little ones of that age group.   When we picked them up, the trunk of the car quickly refilled with suitcases, pack-n-play, favorite dolls and stuffed animals, diaper bag, and blankets that are a must at nighttime.  At the hotel, Emily became our official elevator button pusher:  3 for the floor to our room, 1 for the floor at mealtime and to get to the pool.   There were lots of mini-adventures during the first 24 hours – Molly’s haz-mat diaper, going to breakfast with wrong way Mouse and wrong way Molly, and Grandpa taking Emily swimming – before Grandpa had to leave to get back to work.  Dropping him off at the airport, I noticed both the girls were napping.  It would be my last moments of quiet since I’d be keeping them by myself on our last hotel night.  Back at the room we had a fun bubble-splash bath and we all slept soundly that night.

My plan was to check out the next morning and take them to their new home to get settled.  That morning Emily & I read her favorite Bible stories, built pillow houses for Mouse and Rudolph while Molly busied herself trying to open every door, cabinet, and window without success.   I began to corral our things for packing onto a bellman’s cart while they played.  We had suitcase, pack-n-play, diaper bag, pillows, toys, gift bags – some ransacked & some saved for opening at the new house – and groceries.  I loaded and re-loaded until everything was arranged and all I had left was the pack-n-play.  Molly had a fresh diaper and a full bottle, Emily was busy helping “ride herd” on this 13 month toddler whom Grandpa had dubbed Wrong Way Molly.  Every time you put her down she toddled off in exactly the wrong direction!  Wrong Way Molly also has a thing for hiding her bottle – she has a knack for throwing it into drawers, corners, couch cushions – anywhere it will be difficult to find. 

The girls followed me into the bedroom where I proceeded to collapse the pack-n-play.  I have one at home and they are SO convenient, easy to put up and take down.  At least mine is.  This one was a bear.  I re-read the directions and tried again, succeeding only in getting it halfway folded.  It was getting close to check out time, the girls were getting hungry and I was getting quite frustrated.  After a few minutes, Emily piped up:  “Grandma, do you know what my mommy does when she’s frust-erated?”  “No, Emily, tell me.”  “She just tries and tries 100 times until she gets it.  That’s what you have to do.”  Indeed.  I thanked her, calmed down and tried again.  But time won out, and I ended up cramming the ¾ folded contraption unbagged on top of the luggage on our cart.  It would have to do.

The next challenge was how to safely maneuver the loaded cart and Wrong Way Molly out the door, into the elevator, down to the ground floor and out to the car with only a 4 yr old to help me.  But then, Emily is no average 4 yr old – she stepped up into a leadership role.  While she held the heavy room door open, I held Molly firmly on one hip and with my free hand guided the cart out into the hallway, pocketing a room key at the last minute just in case I’d missed something.  Emily was our line leader, steering the cart and singing the whole way as I pushed from behind.  She pushed the elevator button, and when it opened I told her to wait in the hallway until I could position the cart inside the cab.  She did, but it took me a long time to get the cart in.  As I was just about to tell her to step in, the doors closed, leaving a stranded Emily in the hallway with her Grandma & sister inside the elevator!  Thankfully I found the “open” button quickly.  The doors opened and I could see on Emily’s face it was almost panic time.  She ran in and got right by my side – that was too close a call.  The thought of her left alone up there if I hadn’t been able to stop the elevator in time unnerved me.  I clasped her hand tightly and when we arrived at the ground floor we managed to get the cart and us out all together.

Feeling relieved, we started down the hallway.  Molly began to fuss and I reached for her bottle.  It was not in her hand or the diaper bag.  Yikes!! THAT was one item we had to have and quickly.  Emily and I looked up and down the hallway but no bottle in sight.  Slowly I realized she must have dropped it on the way or thrown it somewhere in the room.

Talk about a dilemma.  I wasn’t about to make that trip up to the room again with the kids and cart, and I certainly wasn’t about to leave Emily with our cart to go look for the bottle.  There was only 1 option.  I said a prayer of protection for the cart, took Emily’s hand and said, “Let’s go find Molly’s bottle.”  Emily was concerned about our things and what if they were gone when we got back.  So was I, but we agreed God would have to take care of it.

Back down the hall, push the elevator button, back to the 3^rd floor, down the hall to Room 327.  Thank you God for the room key in my pocket!  We entered the room and began the search.  After a frantic few minutes I spotted the bottle down in an empty brown shopping bag right where Molly had thrown it, probably while I was wrestling the pack-n-play, too busy to notice.

One final look around and then we were off – this time with bottle clutched in Molly’s hand.  Down the hall, into the elevator, push the buttons, spilled out onto the 1^st floor and down that hall.  Was the cart sill there?  YES!  Thank you God!  As we started pushing an angel disguised as a building maintenance man rounded the corner and offered to help.  We gladly accepted, and in moments we were safely outside.  We thanked Mr. Martinez and I assessed the situation.  My car was 4 spaces over from the ramp we’d have to use.  It was almost noon on a hot June day and I was sweating already.  I decided to have Emily stand by the cart at the sidewalk’s edge, and more importantly in the shade.  I instructed her not to move, to stay by the cart and watch me as I deposited Molly in the car and moved it closer so we could load it.  She assured me she wouldn’t move and I knew I could keep my eye on her.  I left her holding a gift bag with brightly colored tissue stretching up out of the top.

I unlocked the car and started the AC.  Then around to the back to secure Molly in her car seat.  Back in the driver seat I adjusted the air vents and pressed “max”.  With the car in reverse I turned to look over my right shoulder before backing out and did a double take as I saw our cart, packed to the gills, speeding across the parking lot by itself!  Holy Hawks!!  Where was Emily?  What if she ran after it??

I rammed the gearshift into park, flung the door open and heard, “Grandma, Grandma!”  I ran over to Emily, standing exactly where I’d left her, bag in hand, a totally bewildered expression on her face.  “Emily, are you OK?  Good girl for NOT running into the parking lot.  What happened?”  “Well, I was going to hang the bag on a hook on the cart but I never got to because the cart just rolled away!”  Looking to the direction she was pointing, I saw our Rollaway Cart.  Yes, that was definitely ours:  3 suitcases, pillows, a Cinderella sleeping bag, Bear & Mouse hanging on for dear life, bag of groceries, laptop bag, diaper bag, gift bags, & cpap bags hanging from hooks on the side topped off with Grandpa’s wet swim trunks spread over the top bars to dry.  Totally a Beverly Hillbillies look.  I looked back at Emily, waiting expectantly to see how I would react.  She didn’t know if she should be scared, worried, laugh or prepare for rebuke.  All of a sudden, I was done.  Toast.  The scare of Emily almost stranded alone on the 3^rd floor, anxiety over leaving the cart unattended, frantic search for Molly’s bottle, wrestling with the #$&(^$#)@ pack-n-play, and now the Rollaway Cart, stopped by a curb, openly displaying the guts of our hotel stay for all to see, but amazingly intact.  I just lost it.  I started to laugh.  And I kept laughing, big belly laughs, hysterical double-you-over laughter that caused laugh-tears to roll down my cheeks.  Emily started to laugh too. 

So there we were.  Laughing uncontrollably in a Hyatt hotel parking lot at high noon on a hot summer day with my baby granddaughter unattended in my car running with the AC full blast and door wide open, halfway backed out of the parking space, and our rollaway bellman cart illegally parked catty-wampus next to a curb in the middle of the hotel parking lot.

It was probably only a minute, but it seemed like forever before I could start to stop laughing.  Actually, Emily and I are still laughing about the Rollaway Cart, but that day we were able to get it under control enough to pack the car and drive to their new house where Mom & Dad awaited their girls.   Still chuckling, I gathered myself and got us back on track.  Telling Emily to use the sidewalk to go to the car to check on Molly, I headed over to the Rollaway Cart and hauled it back to where Emily was faithfully waiting.  Molly was happily drinking her milk, unaware of our hair-raising adventures.  As I strapped Emily in we looked at each other and started laughing again.  The entire rest of the day it went like that.  We’d be going about our business and exchange a glance and start laughing all over again.  At supper Emily said, “I’m still laughing about the Rollaway Cart!” so we told the story again to Mom and Dad.  Weeks later, she came to visit me at work and as we lunched with co-workers she would say to each new person who entered the room, “Let me tell you about the Rollaway Cart……”

Anniversary Adventures – The Beach

What is it about the beach and the sight of the endless ocean that has such an effect on me?  The feel of soft dry sand under my feet or the cool wet sand as I stand amid the waves in their rhythmic quiet crashing all around me, their soothing sound washing over me.  The contrast of the blues of the water with the lighter blue of the sky, and the wind blowing refreshingly over my skin.   The warmth of the sun, the lack of a clock anywhere, the absolute freedom to just be.  The specialness of a gorgeous new swimsuit (with the certainty that pictures of me in it will never, ever make it to Facebook).

We spent the last day of our trip at the beach.  All of it.  Paul convinced me that we could drive the Nissan on the beach, even though it was practically as low to the ground as a snake and is front wheel drive, and he was right.  As long as you drive close to the water where the sand is packed you can go for miles.  Of course, at times that presents a bit of an issue when other cars or people are parked right in your path.  That happened to us one night earlier, and in our effort to go around we got stuck.  Fortunately the beach was more populated that evening and within 30 seconds a couple of guys in an old beat up pickup stopped, handed us a shovel, and I got to drive on the beach – sort of – while my husband dug the car out.  One of those experiences I don’t mind saying I had now that it is behind me, and a welcome reminder of how good it is to help strangers.

For this beach trip we drove to the last access point before the roads were completely blocked with sand dunes.  We paid, were handed a plastic trash bag and told if we picked up some trash and brought it back upon exit we’d get half the fee returned.  Cool, I’m an unlitterbug at heart, plus that would give Paul something to jack with as I sat relaxing.

I did do some sitting and relaxing, especially later in the day as the sun became more intense.  But I found myself absolutely drawn to the hidden treasure of sea shells just waiting to be discovered.  There were literally miles of them – the recent storms had washed up thousands on the shore.  I have always loved sea shells, and each time I go to the beach I try to collect a few special ones.  This trip I packed an entire 6-pack size cooler with them.  I found tiny delicate ones, unbroken and perfectly formed with a small hole just the right size for stringing onto a necklace for a granddaughter.  We found several large, grapefruit size shells, unbroken yet pitted by sand and water.  There were a few unique shaped ones with colors that shone when you placed them under the water.  Some were smooth, some had ridges.  So many shades of blues, warm browns, tan and sand colors, bright white and a few in the pink family.  I searched for hours, marveling at the selection and hoping to find that perfect conch.  It is unusual to find one of those unbroken; I’ve only found one like that before, and this time all I saw were pieces that told me a few had been here, likely broken in the transfer from the deep to the surface.

Lunch was Leftovers with a Twist.  Paul is especially good at this.  Who knew you could take delicious fresh, caught-yesterday-and-prepared-by-a-gourmet chef trout with a side of garlic-creamed spinach and rice and use it as a dip for chips, Melba toast or rice cakes?  And if you are my husband you top it with homemade queso, place some lettuce leaves on your plate for salad, a side of cheese and crackers, and voila, a fancy feast beachside.   Delightful.

That was one of the most relaxing days I’ve had in years.   Good mix of conversation and silence against the backdrop of that beautiful scene and pleasant sounds that only God’s nature can make.  Time to beach comb, lie  in the sun, rest in the shade, walk in the water, and reflect on the blessings God has poured out on me.  In other decades I’ve had my share of tumultuous times; the thought of them enables me to fully savor the sweetness of times like these.  Yes, we made some memories this trip, one that will always rank among “the best ever.”

Anniversary Adventures, Part 3 - Fishing Can Be Fun, Who Knew?

My husband made it very clear when we first decided to go to S. Padre for this year’s anniversary trip that he wanted to go fishing – hopefully a day trip but minimum ½ day.  That was fine with me, but then he said he wanted me to go with him.  Fishing.  On our anniversary.   I love fish, but only eating it – I’m a city girl, not interested in trying to bait a hook or cast a line or heaven forbid clean it.    But I felt it was the least I could do, go on a fishing trip with him if it would make him that happy.  Especially since many of the things were doing were things I wanted to do.  We agreed on ½ a day trip with a guide, and he would make all the arrangements.

On Day 3 he found the captain he wanted, finalized the trip and returned to the condo excitedly telling me all about Captain Cliff and how great it was going to be and how we got a great morning time slot and all we had to do was be there at 7:00 a.m.   The Capt. would teach me everything I needed to know about how to fish.   I’m not exactly a morning person but a promise is a promise.  I dutifully set the alarm (one time during this vacation wouldn’t kill me) and the coffeepot for 6 the next morning.

It wasn’t the same as waking up naturally but it was doable.  Plus there was less than zero need to fix hair or do makeup.  We packed our cooler of water and snacks and arrived at the dock promptly at 7.   Capt Cliff was there waiting for us, leaning against the door frame, no doubt sizing up ‘the wife’, remembering what he had been told about my complete lack of knowledge of all things fish and wondering what he had signed up for.  

We walked out to the boat.   I don’t know what I was expected but it wasn’t very big, or at least it didn’t seem that way to me.  But once we went aboard, found our seats and settled in for the ride way out into the bay it was quite nice.  The weather was perfect – cloudy, cool but not too windy and only a few other fishermen were out.  Capt. Cliff is a very nice man with a calm voice, even temperament, decades of experience and plenty of patience.  As I would discover, he also had the heart of a teacher which made all the difference for me. 

He stopped the boat at the first spot and climbed down from his seat to show me the ropes.  Capt. Cliff has four rules for fishing:  1) grip the rod securely with the reel stem between middle and ring finger, 2) position the line correctly, 3) open the bail, 4) always have both hands on the rod.  I’m a rules and regulations kind of a gal, so I figured I could do this.  I learned that there are actually techniques to fishing – things like stance, when to release the line, how to set the hook, how to free your hook from grass, and how to land both small and big fish. 

As the morning progressed, I realized I was enjoying myself!  My dad and brothers would never believe Paul got me to go fishing.  I actually caught 3 fish, one of them a pretty decent size.  Got my picture taken with the Capt. and The Fish – and the brothers who would definitely want to see proof.   Capt. Cliff has a great sense of humor, and when he saw I was practicing what he taught he began to give me other ‘tips and tricks’ too.  How to store your rod safely with the hook in just the right place while the boat was in motion or you weren’t using it.  How to untangle a line that got crossed with another fisherman’s line (I had to use this one several times) and when to set the hook so your fish doesn’t get away.  I had to learn that the smaller fish got pulled into the boat on the hook but the bigger ones have to be brought in with a net.  When the net is used, you have to make sure to keep the fish under the water but not too close to the boat and definitely don’t let the fish go under the boat.  That I could do because it meant I was the boss of that fish – bossy I can do :)    Heck, he even loaned me a pair of polarized sunglasses so I could distinguish the different colors of the water and which areas make a good fishing hole. 

The time really went by quickly, although towards the end of our 5 hour journey I was starting to feel muscles I hadn’t used recently from the casting and reeling in.  When the trip was over and we arrived back at the dock, we had caught our limit – 10 beautiful speckled trout ‘in the box’ (that’s the technical fisherman term for ones that are big enough to keep as opposed to all the smaller ones you catch but have to release).   But here’s the cool part:  they clean them for you!! And bag them up too.  Now THAT’s the kind of fishing I can do.  I won’t say I’m chomping at the bit to go right back out for another fishing journey.  But I must admit that fishing really can be fun – who knew??