Birthday fun on April twenty-one.

April 21st is a special day in our family.  My eldest daughter whose birthday is that day gave birth to her son some 27 years later on the same day.  Double the reasons for a family party and this year was no exception.  We started with “Ronnie’s Chocolate Sheet Cake” which is our family’s favorite special occasion cake.  (One day I’ll tell you about Ronnie.)

As the younger generation grows up  these parties start to have more significance than ever before.  Two of our family had to drive some distance to be here for the festivities.  We very much appreciate their effort.

It’s fun to watch the gift-opening and to read the funny cards.  Often in our family we say “I love you” by finding the funniest card in the store and trying to make the celebrant laugh.  Does your family do that?

My birthday grandson gave these lovely cut flowers to his birthday mom because he knew they would make her smile.  They fit right in with the quirky colors on the cake and we didn’t even compare notes.  ( You probably noticed in the top photo that I’m not a decorator of cakes, just a baker.  To make it look festive I find candles and ribbons to fake it for me.)

Here you see the honored birthday folk with smiles on their faces right after blowing out the candles.  (They are deliberately in shadow because I failed to get permission to publish them.)  May all their wishes come true.

Meanwhile I’ll pack up the 9 x 13 cake pan and look forward to June when we will have another cake that will look eerily similar to the one pictured here.  But more important than the sameness of the cake will be the sameness of the faces and the laughter and the silliness and the dogs and the children–our family!  How lucky we are.

Dogsitting.

The average dog is a nicer person than the average person.                   ~ Andrew A. Rooney

This slightly fuzzy photo is Gus.  He didn’t really want to pose for me and that’s my excuse for the less-than-focused image.  I had the privilege of caring for Gus over the weekend.  He’s my neighbor’s dog and his usual “sitter” wasn’t available.

I could tell that K was a little hesitant to ask me to keep him, but I’m betting my enthusiastic response quelled any concerns she may have had.  “Of course, I would love to have Gus for the weekend!”  Here’s the deal–I’ve thought about having a pet again because I sometimes get lonely.  This was just the opportunity I needed to make up my mind.  Do I want a dog?  Or not?

For two nights Gus slept on the floor beside my bed.  He was a very good boy.  No noises during the night.  He doesn’t need to go out during the night.  He gets two meals a day, morning and night.  He will play fetch as long as his human will, but when the human gets tired and says, “OK, Gus, sit.”  Gus sits.  And grins.  And drools a little.  Of course he doesn’t sit for long because he wants to get as close to his human as possible.  He even tried to get in my lap once or twice.  Not a good fit, though.  Still, the effort on his part is endearing.

You’re probably thinking by now that I’m getting a dog.  I’m not.  Having him next door is just enough of a doggie fix for me.  He helped me to realize that I truly don’t want the responsibility and the inconvenience.  I can visit Gus when I want.  I can visit my granddogs Wilson and Charley.  And I can get up and go whenever I choose and don’t have to worry about vets and kennels, etc.  I can also change my mind at a later date.  For now, I choose to remain pet-less.

Getting to know me a la MRI.

I had magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) scheduled this  morning.  They told me I should fast at least four hours before coming in, so I figured the best time would be early in the morning.  I would go to the facility, have the test, go home and have coffee and breakfast.

Before I continue this saga, let me say this:  I am a good patient.  If I need tests I bite the bullet and carry on.  No whining.  Just do it.  Get it done.  I’ll be their pin cushion.  I’ll take their potions.  Mind over matter.  Get on with it.  I’ll be fine.

A little past my scheduled time, a friendly and apparently competent young woman came to the waiting area to take me back.  She introduced herself.  Let’s call her Mary.  Mary explained the process.  I asked a number of questions.  I think my most important one (to me, anyway) was “Why, if we  now have open MRI machines, do we still use these dinosaurs with their noise and that tiny enclosed space?”  Mary knows her stuff.  She explained in some detail why I needed this machine.  I was satisfied with her answer and appreciated her taking the time to reassure and educate me.  Then she continued to strap me in and gave me ear protection to blunt the noise of the process.  I had my call mechanism in hand and I was ready to roll.

I went in the apparatus feet first, just far enough to get my head inside.  There I stopped.  I felt weird.  My heart rate increased.  I tried deep breathing.  Timidly I said, “Mary?”  No answer.  I had entered the space with my eyes closed.  I opened them.  I closed them again.  I started to sweat.  My heart started to pound.  I squeezed my call bulb and called, “Mary!”  I squeezed again and yelled, “Mary!”  And she responded, did Mary, my angel of mercy.  I looked up at her with tears in my eyes, “I didn’t know I was claustrophobic.  I’m sorry.”

Choosing to bloom.

Flowers don’t worry about how they’re going to bloom.  They open up and turn toward the light and that makes them beauti- ful.          ~ Jim Carrey

Bloom where you’re planted.  ~ Proverb

Happy Easter aka Holidays are more fun with children.

It takes a laundry basket to hold all the eggs.  Inside each egg is one piece of candy, one small toy or one quarter.  Something for everyone.  It’s really fun to watch the children, large and small, barter for something another child has. 

Little S and I love reading about Peter Cottontail, Easter or not, so it’s a special treat to unwrap him at Easter and display him in a prominent spot.  When she’s older, I should give this to her. 

I love the pattern the pergola makes on my Easter tablecloth .

This colorful bunny basket from days-gone-by makes a cheerful statement on the mantel.  I love her cheery smile.

On the left is a basket of “special” treats which all children present have to divvy up.  They must have done it fairly because I didn’t hear one iota of bickering.  Have I mentioned how sweet my grandchildren were this year?

Notice here that Little S has found lots of eggs.  I think she had quite a bit of help because she’s the youngest.  We had to get her a back-up basket so she could start over.

This last image is my latest “project” which I did for the Spanish service at church.  I posted a photo of it in progress a while back.  Here  is the finished version.   It’s now hanging in the church.  It makes me smile.

 

 

I’ve had a lovely day!  I hope you have, too.  Happy Easter to those who celebrate it.

Today I mowed my lawn…okay, my weeds.

Her lawn looks like a meadow,              And if she mows the place,             She leaves the clover standing           And the Queen Anne’s Lace.             ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

I could tell you this is my lawn and you might believe me, but I’d be lying and I would eventually start to worry about deceiving you.  This is my neighbor’s yard (I’ll call him Left Neighbor).  I think it looks pretty good even though there is a good-sized weed pictured here.  Or is that just a clump of grass on steroids?  Those pretty little pink blossoms did not grow there.  They fell from a tree on my side of the boundary.  I don’t charge him a decorating fee. ; )  Actually he’s a fairly easy-going type who doesn’t spend a great deal of time on his lawn; and he doesn’t seem to care that mine is more weeds than grass.

Here you have a photo of my yard (I don’t think I’m allowed to call it a lawn.) before I mowed today.  I just love the little yellow flowers.  I don’t know what they’re called but they grow profusely when there’s no grass to impede them.  Notice they are thicker looking and quite nice at the top of the picture.  I’m thinking that the neighbors have just enough distance to get the best view and they surely must love them.  If you look closely you can see some spots that look brownish.  Those are little yellow flowers gone to seed which means I’ll have even more of them in the next cycle.  Then maybe they’ll fill those other little brown spots which are bare ground.  Given time, Mother Nature will take care of all obvious flaws.

Now here is Right Neighbor’s lawn with its lovely river birch which drops little dead branches on to my side of the invisible boundary so that I have to pick them up before I can mow.  I would prefer pretty little pink blossoms like the ones I donate to Left Neighbor’s lawn.

I mentioned that Left Neighbor is laid back and doesn’t get overly excited about lawns and boundaries.  Let me introduce Right Neighbor who is the opposite.  She pays great attention to boundaries.  Shortly after she moved in she told me one day that I was mowing on her side and I didn’t need to do that.  Last summer she put little marker flags across the yard where she perceived the boundary to be.  Her lawn is beautifully verdant and the part of my lawn that adjoins hers is the most green and lush part of my yard because it reaps the benefit (?) of her lawn-service chemicals.  Doesn’t it look nice?

I don’t mean to make RN sound like an ogre of some kind.  She isn’t.  In fact I’m quite fond of her.  She’s the same age as my oldest granddaughter.  Young!  She works very hard to have an ideal little family and a perfect home.  She is the one who takes care of the lawn–always.  And she wants it done right.  I’m sure she doesn’t want any little yellow flowers on her side of the boundary.  I think her thick, strong grass will choke them out if they try to migrate.

God bless the American Dream and all its dreamers!

On my mind…

Tiptoe through the window,             By the window, that’s where I’ll be,  Come tiptoe through the tulips with me. ~ Al Dubin & Joe Burke

I don’t know why this song was on my mind as I walked this morning.  I must have wanted someone to walk with me, but I didn’t see a single tulip.  The eye-catching beauty of the day was the ubiquitous azalea in all its glorious shades and hues and not one blooming at the same pace as another, rather like people, no?

I ponder as I walk.  Whatever pops in gets a bit of my time.  Today it was a bizarre incident from yesterday when I went shopping to pick up a couple of things I  needed.  As I was entering the doors of the store a sixty-ish white male walked briskly past me and tossed out, “What’s a liberal doing at the Wal-Mart?”  He didn’t slow down for an answer which is just as well since I stood there like a deer in the headlights wondering what the hell he meant.  Oh, yeah.  I have an Obama sticker on my car so he felt free to comment as if it were any of his business.  I decided I should come up with a retort for future reference in case there are others who feel inclined to challenge my views in public.  I thought of quite a few but most would not be appropriate as they would lower me to his level.  I decided on–”I find that question rather strange.  Why would you ask me that?”  I wonder what he would have done if I’d yelled, “Help! Police!”  After all I did feel somewhat accosted, threatened by him.

The fact that I felt threatened makes me a little sad, I think.  It speaks to the notion that I can still be intimidated by the physically stronger male in society.  Why is that?  I don’t really think I was physically in any danger.  If I were to take him on verbally and intellectually I would smash him like a bug.

Okay.  I’ve worked through the sadness.  Don’t have time for that.  Now I’m damned angry and I’m putting on my armor.  As soon as I finish this post I’m going to order t-shirts and yard signs and visors and everyone I meet will know I’m voting for Barack Obama.  I’m prepared to discuss it sanely with those who care to talk.  Those who simply want to stir it up are going to know I’ve been stirred.  (BTW, there’s nothing passive about that last sentence!)  Bring’em on!

Note:  This last photo is obviously not an azalea.  It’s a Lady Banks Rose and it blooms profusely every spring.  Then I whack it off and wait for it to come back next year.  I love it anew every spring.  It  makes my heart sing.