Color Me a Kid Again

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Ten: Childhood

Today's topic was a tough one for me because there were so many options. Should I post about my own childhood? My children's? Childhood in general? Those choices were narrowed down somewhat by the fact that it's storming outside and the photo I post needs to be shot today. Then I thought of something that's inside my warm, dry house and symbolizes practically everyone's childhood: crayons.

Which child among you didn't love them? The bright colors, the way they smelled, the way they felt in your fingers, the way they melted if you were able to sneak one outside and leave it there long enough to watch the process?

Each year at the beginning of school I begged for the big box, and, usually, I got it. Money was tight at our house, but one thing Mother understood was that art sometimes depends on having the right shade of pink.

In preparation for today's photo, I looked in the old file box that still contains cards and drawings my girls made when they were little. I lingered over each one, loving it as much now as I did the first time I saw it. Because I couldn't choose between them, I decided to go with the oldest crayon drawing in my house, one of my own:

This one, drawn when I was "3 years, 3 months" old according to Mother's handwritten note, is pasted into the yellowed pages of my baby book. Mother labeled parts of the drawing: "ears," "belly button," and (eloquently) "titties," presumably because that's what I called them when I pointed them out to her. She also noted, "Slightly crooked but she explained she was bending over looking for her shoes and stockings."

That drawing is one month shy of being 67 years old. And that pile of crayons under the book? Those are the ones I have now. Crayons were with me early in my first childhood and, by golly, they're with me in the second one.

I don't melt them anymore.

Reassurance

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Nine:  Daily Routine

My daughters and I agreed a few months ago that I would send a text message to both of them every day within a designated time frame. If they don't hear from me, they'll call; if I don't answer, they'll check with each other, then one or both of them will come. 

I knew I'd find reassurance in the addition of this safety measure to my daily routine, but it didn't occur to me beforehand that I'd look forward to their brief responses as much as I do. That little text exchange has become a happy connection, a bright spot in each day. They always send a few short words that make me smile.

It's raining hard today. Here's the message I sent (complete with typo):

Good morning! Hope you stay safe and dry today--and hope you can still tread water jist in case. Love you SO much!

When I Look to the Sky

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Eight:  Your Sky

Is there any other part of nature that can alter one's mood as easily and as frequently as the sky does? I can't think of another one. 

Usually, when the sky is blue, I am not. At dawn on the days when the sky is pink or yellow and at sunset when it's a fiery orange-red, I feel alive, inspired, energized, and über-lucky to have a ticket to that show. Even when the sky turns black and foreboding, there's an energy about it that stirs excitement. Who can be bored when lightning flashes, thunder crashes, and rain pours down in heavy sheets? 

Then there are the gray days. They range from drab to downright gloomy, and they settle around my shoulders like a dirty, wet, woolen blanket. I fight those gray days. Unless I stay indoors with the lights on and do something to generate some inner sunshine, I sink under the weight of that wet blanket and begin to brood.

Here's a photo of "my" sky from earlier this morning, when it still held a little patch of promise:

Right now it's rainy. Not thunderstorm rainy, just drippy, droopy, shades of gray, an ordinary rainy day. But I'm here with you now and happy to be here. 

Now, if you want to test whether or not the sky can really lift your spirits, click here (to go to my photo blog) and see the sky as I saw it from the same spot just four days ago. Trust me, it's worth a mouse click.  

Favorite Words to Live By

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Seven:  Favorite

It's been somewhere around forty years since I first heard Max Ehrmann's "Desiderata" recited by a group of sixth-graders, twenty-seven years that a framed copy of it has been hanging in my home, and nearly seven years since I wrote here about how much it means to me.

It now hangs over a bookcase near my backdoor, where I come face-to-face with it a dozen times a day and stop to read it more often than you'd expect after all these years. It covers many of the basic premises of the Bible, except they're mostly stated as dos instead of don'ts. I like that about it. I also like that it doesn't contain any references to hellfire and damnation. While threats can be motivational, I suppose, they've never inspired me at all.

Here's the text so you can "go placidly" and be inspired yourself:

DESIDERATA

by Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story.  <<>>  Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.  <<>>  Keep interested in your career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.  <<>>  Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.  <<>> Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself.  <<>>  You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.  <<>>  Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.  <<>>  With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.

Canine Comic

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Six:  Makes You Smile

There are plenty of things that make me smile on any given day, but as soon as I read this photo prompt, I knew I'd post a dog picture. Living with Levi and Gimpy is like living in the circus: They look like lions and they act like clowns. 

Even when they sleep, they're funny. Here's Gimpy, napping with his head tucked into a tight place, to prove it:

Golden Earrings

One-a-Day Photo Challenge

Day Five:  Something You Wore

When I was a child, it was rumored that there were two kinds of women who had their ears pierced: gypsies and floozies. Nice women wore earrings, of course, but they were the clip-on kind. The kind that inflicted torture on tender lobes.

By the time my daughters were young teens, pierced ears had become mainstream, and my girls were allowed to follow the fashion. I was chicken, though. I believe it was on my 42nd birthday that my mother and sister took me to an East Texas mall and convinced me to get my own ears pierced.

I was delighted with the look and with the fact that I could wear earrings that didn't pinch, but my body wasn't as excited as I was about the style change. Over and over my earlobes became infected until finally I gave up and let the pierced holes heal closed.

After that I tried for a while to go back to wearing clip-on earrings, but I was older then, and wiser, and no longer willing to tolerate the pain that went along with having something shiny dangling from my ears. I gave up earrings altogether. That was probably at least 15 years ago.

And yet I still have most of them, matching pairs tucked away in a drawer. I don't know why I've kept them. They aren't valuable. All but the smallest ones are gold-plated at best, and there are no special memories attached to any of them. Now that I've pulled them out to photograph them, it would make sense to get rid of them, but, honestly, I don't know if I'm ready to do it.

When I realized this morning that I'll probably put the earrings right back where they came from, I asked myself why I'm attached to them. The only answer that seems to make sense is that they represent a time when femininity was a larger part of my life than it is now. A time of earrings, high heels, flirty dresses, and strong attractions to good-looking men.

I've moved on from those days and haven't missed them in a long, long time. My life today is happy and full, and my style leans more toward casual and comfortable. But those days, those girlier days? They were mostly good ones, too.

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It's Day 5 of the photo challenge, and it's also Saturday, so I've selected a song that fits nicely with today's photo. (If I'd gone in a different direction for the photo challenge, you'd be listening to lyrics that contain the words, "blue jean baby queen.")

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The song is "Golden Earrings" by Willie Nelson.

Thanks to Panaglotis Giaourtsakos for posting the video on YouTube.
Click here for the lyrics.

Rural Route

One-a-Day Photo Challenge
Day Four:  Letterbox

My first instinct was to post a picture of a mailbox for today's photo challenge, but that didn't seem very creative. There are other kinds of letterboxes, after all.

There's the treasure-hunting hobby called letterboxing. It sounds like an interesting pastime, but it isn't one of mine, so I have nothing that relates to it to photograph.

There is also letterbox video, which is what you see when those black bands appear above and below the widescreen movie you're watching on your (old) television set. I probably could have flipped through enough channels to capture a shot of that, but I didn't want to spend my morning watching TV, and I get hooked so easily.

So I went back to Plan A:

(Mailbox lettering obscured to preserve privacy of neighbors.)

You know what? I had fun! I walked to the end of my driveway to see whose nearby mailbox provided the most scenic background and started snapping pictures. Our road is a busy one. To avoid alarming drivers by aiming my lens in their direction, I pointed it up into the trees a lot. And there were woodpeckers in there!

Photographing birds is much more fun than photographing mailboxes. Most of my woodpecker shots are blurry--all that rat-a-tat head motion, you know--but a couple of them are really nice. And on the way back up the driveway I captured a nice shot of a hawk landing in a tree in my neighbor's yard.

Not a bad way to spend a cold winter morning.

Better Late Than Never

In her comment on my last post, Alison, who writes at "Inspired Work of Self-Indulgence," invited me to participate with her in a one-a-day photo challenge for this month. Since I already post a different photo every day at "A One-Pic Pony," I wasn't sure if I wanted to accept another commitment. Then I asked myself, "What's the worst that could happen?"

It's not as if I've never broken a commitment. I've been married and divorced twice without being plagued by guilt, so I expect I can live through missing a photo deadline if I have to. Not that I intend for that to happen. Besides, this challenge is different, and it could be fun.

On my photo blog, I choose whatever image (old or new) appeals to me at a given moment--as long as it's my own photo and I've never published it before on that blog. For this challenge I'll be taking a new picture each day and tying it to a theme that's already been designated for that day. That concept appeals to me.

So, Alison, thank you for the invitation, and I'll be happy to join you. As I'm already two days late getting started, I'll catch up right now:

Day One: You

That's you as in me, not you as in you. Since time's a-wastin', I took my camera to the bathroom mirror a little while ago and shot this self-portrait, sans makeup:

That's my skeptical, I-don't-know-if-this-is-gonna-work expression. It's not glamorous, but hey, at least I was out of my bathrobe. (Note: For the record, the only touchup that was done to this image was the digital erasure of two spots of toothpaste from the mirror. I wasn't about to polish the whole thing just for this.)

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Day Two: Breakfast

What do you mean, "Yuck!"? It's water and a protein bar, and the best thing about it is I get hydrated and nourished without having to give it a lot of thought. Besides, that protein bar has chocolate and peanut butter in it -- and no sugar!

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Day Three (Today): Something You Adore

I adore Levi's eyes. He's been with me for two years now, and I still get a little rush every time I see how beautiful they are. Unfortunately, he wasn't particularly interested in showing them just when I wanted to take his picture, so you can see a piece of my hand at the bottom of the photo, lifting his face into the light.

P.S.  I'll bet he could hypnotize people if he could learn to maintain eye contact.
P.P.S.  I envy his natural eyeliner.

How Full Is Your Glass?

My daughter dropped me off at home yesterday just after dark. We'd spent the afternoon  seeing a really good movie (Life of Pi) with a new friend, and I was in a great mood. Coming from the cold and rain into my cozy house felt like walking into a warm hug, and Levi and Gimpy made me smile with their obvious delight at having me home again. Life is good, I thought for the umpteenth time of the day.

The good mood lasted through the evening, only beginning to wane after I read something online that oozed negativity. I know I'm susceptible to getting the blues after too much exposure to other people's bad moods. In fact, it's taken me years to learn that sometimes I can do or say something to lift someone's spirit, and sometimes, for the care and well being of my own inner child, I just need to step away.

Anyway, that set me to thinking about optimism versus pessimism. I know some people for whom the glass always seems to be half full and others who usually find it half empty. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that "half empty" and "half full" don't cover all the variations. There's a whole scale of possibilities in that glass.

My own optimism, for example, is frequently tempered by an innate ability to spot a potential problem the way a hawk spots a field mouse. (It's why I'm usually never caught in the rain without an umbrella.) My kids would be quick to tell you that once I think I've uncovered a possible glitch, I feel compelled to point it out. That's true, unfortunately, but only (as the lawyers say) out of an abundance of caution. I don't dwell on it. So, most days I could declare confidently that my glass is half full, but on other days I might say, "My glass is already down to half full; isn't it good that I noticed it so I can refill it before the reservoir goes dry?"

Consider another woman I know. I see her infrequently (by choice) because her glass is always, always half empty or below. Also, it's always someone else's fault. Her response to the half full or half empty question would likely be, "While I was away today, some sorry son of a gun (and I'm pretty sure I know who it was) came to my house and drank half my water. He thinks I'm stupid, but he's got another think coming! He prob'ly tells everybody, 'Oh, she's got plenty of water.' He believes he's, like, entitled to any and everything I have, and he couldn't care less whether I live or die. People can be sooo cruel."

So what about you? Is your glass clearly half full or half empty? If it's not so clear, how would you characterize it?

Repetition: The Key to Successful Training

The morning routine around here has been the same for a long time: get out of bed, use the bathroom, let the dogs out, give them a treat when they come back in, grab a protein bar and a bottle of water, and sit down in front of the computer to read while I eat breakfast. A couple of weeks ago the dogs added another item to that list, and it, too, has become a regular part of our routine.

While I'm sitting at the computer, Levi and Gimpy come running around the corner together--it's always both of them--put their front paws first on my knees as they rise up on their hind legs, and then on my shoulders. The trick to getting them down without using force, I've discovered, is to ask one question: "What?" As soon as they hear that word, they jump down, turn around, and walk away, watching me over their shoulders to make sure I'm following them. They go only a few feet away, then promptly drop into a sitting position and look back and forth from my face to the basket of dog toys that sits on top of Gimpy's crate.

The first time they did this, I was charmed by their collaborative efforts. I'd love to know how they communicate with each other when they come up with ideas like this. I still find it charming, in fact, so I'm always quick to move the basket down to the floor for them and wait while they choose a toy. Nine times out of ten they each choose a tennis ball, even if there are already half a dozen identical balls scattered around the den in plain sight, but they check out all the toys carefully before making their decisions.

Gimpy seems to get more excited than Levi does about the selection process. He watches Levi closely, waiting to choose his own toy until he sees what Levi takes out of the basket. Once Levi has made his choice, Gimpy quickly picks a toy of his own. Levi takes his toy to the futon, Gimpy takes his into the crate. About a minute later, Levi leaves his toy on the futon, jumps down and walks away. That's Gimpy's signal to drop his toy onto the bedding in the crate and go get whatever toy Levi left on the futon. And then--if you have dogs of your own, you already know this--Levi goes into the crate and gets Gimpy's toy.

That's it. Every day, like clockwork. They steal toys from each other all day long, of course, but they only ask me to get the toy basket down once a day. Since there are almost always other toys scattered around, I don't think this exercise is as much about their needing something different to play with as it's about training me to perform consistently at their command.

I don't know what kind of grade Levi and Gimpy would give me, but I think I'm doing a pretty good job.

Levi (rear) and Gimpy

We'll Take a Cup o' Kindness Yet . . .

2012: A Year of Ups and Downs

It took a while to decide on a title for this post. Yes, there were ups in 2012, and plenty of downs to balance them out. Except nothing felt balanced. The goods and bads weren't always separate and distinct, so it all felt jumbled. Sometimes the bad stuff bled into the good and tainted it, and sometimes the good stuff took the sting out of the bad.

The economy has improved slightly; that's an up, right? I guess it's a question of perspective. Acknowledging the improvement without acknowledging that the nation's finances are still stuck in the dumps is a little like being grateful when the surgeon announces he'll be amputating a shorter length of your leg than originally anticipated.

My candidate won the presidential election. I was happy about that. Even more than happy, I felt relief. Now, just remembering that election campaign season unsettles me,  because I've never before seen so much hatred and anger spewed out over the airwaves, the Internet, and printed media. It's hard to be happy when "we the people" are screaming at one another. But we won. That's an up, I think.

Assault weapons rose in prominence in 2012, primarily for the death and destruction they caused in Aurora, Colorado and Newtown, Connecticut, just to name the worst of the year's mass murders. This all falls under downs; not a single thing up about it.

The year brought ups and downs on a personal level, too:

Early in the year I lost my beloved Butch to melanoma. As heartbreaking as it was, that loss was put into perspective two months later when my nearest neighbor lost his beautiful, young wife to a different type of cancer. I still grieved for Butch, but I considered myself lucky.

Gimpy joined our family in April, bringing with him a steady supply of ups and, only occasionally, when he has experienced a behavioral lapse for which he has always been very sorry, a well-chewed down. He's not only Levi's brother, he's his best bud. Together, they keep me grinning.

I've had wonderful visits this year from Texas relatives, visits that have reminded me that the ties that bind are indeed blessed, and I've been fortunate to share big and small moments with generations of my family here in Louisiana. I love these people, and any one of them can turn a down moment into an up one with nothing more than a quick word and the flash of a smile.

You know, the more that I write today, the more that I think about it, some years are better than others, but all of them have their ups and their downs. All of us humans have them, too. Sometimes the distinction between ups and downs is a matter of luck or circumstances, sometimes it's a matter of attitude or perspective. Viewing 2012 through a wide angle lens, I see a lot that went wrong. Zooming in, though, everything and everyone close to me at the end of the year looks as good as ever.

Stay safe through the end of your New Year's Eve celebration, and I'll give the year a temperate "thumbs up."

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As I typed the next-to-last paragraph above, a little snatch of a song lyric flitted through my mind, and I had to Google the words to see if I could find where they came from. The song at the end of the search turned out to be one I'd completely forgotten about, though I had enjoyed it very much back around 1969. I don't usually include music videos in back-to-back posts, but this one fits too well to pass up:

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The song is "Life Has Its Little Ups and Downs" by Charlie Rich.

Thanks to 2much4mymirror for posting this video on YouTube.

Click here for the lyrics.

The Last Saturday Song Selection of 2012

The end of the year is always a time of reflection for me--and for many others, I'm sure. And if today's featured song isn't reflective, then I don't know what is.

I found this song online earlier this year and fell in love with it. It's different from the kind of music I usually listen to, but it's raw and pure and evocative. It takes me to a place and time I never actually experienced and lets me tap into the life of some of my ancestors. It speaks to my heart through my connection to them.

I'm dedicating today's song to the four blogging Powell sisters, Patsy, Fleta, Betty, and Helen, because it reminds me so much of the stories they've told.

Note: If you click on the video and get a message that it's restricted to certain sites, just click on the link to watch it on YouTube.

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The song is "Ellis County" by Buddy and Julie Miller.

Thanks to antoniostrohs for posting this video on YouTube.

Click here for the lyrics.

What I've Been Reading

A quick skim through the pages of this blog made me realize its been two months today since I last posted about books. Granted, I haven't read as much as I usually do -- it's the holidays, after all, and my new iPad has eaten up some of my reading time -- but I've managed to read at least a few chapters every single day. So, considering that we're right here at the end of the year, I'm just gonna dump all those books into this one post and start with a clean slate in the new year. Here goes:

For a description and reviews of any of these books,

click on its image below.

Auschwitz by Laurence Rees:

This book was lent to me by a neighbor, who highly recommended it. I found it hard to read on a couple of levels. First, it read like a textbook: lots of dates and place names, characters (real people) mentioned only anecdotally. Also, the subject matter was so atrocious that I had to read it in small doses. Read it I did, though, every last word. My thinking was that if all those human beings lived and died in the horrible circumstances of a Nazi concentration camp, then I, in their honor, could certainly suffer through reading about it in the comfort of my own home. It's informative, but not something you'd want to read for pleasure or entertainment.

Taken by Barbara Freethy: 

Hide in Plain Sight by Marta Perry: 

A Family Affair by Mary Campisi:

Keeping Faith by Jodi Picoult:

When Calls the Heart by Janette Oke:

Ferris Beach by Jill McCorkle:

In the Midnight Rain by Barbara Samuel:

Rock and a Hard Place by Angie Stanton:

Collision Course by S. C. Stephens:

The Hurricane by Hugh Howey:

What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman:

Long Time Coming by Edie Claire:

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern:

I've only begun reading this one, but it may be the last book I finish in 2012, so I'll include it here. Let me say that I am loving this book. It is so different, so intriguing, so well written that I'm torn between racing through the pages and pacing myself to savor every morsel. There is nothing normal about this book. If you value imagination as highly as I do, I don't think you'll be disappointed.

For a description and reviews of any of these books,

click on its image above.

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Note:  I read all the books on this list except the first and last ones as Kindle downloads. Some were quite good and none was so unimpressive that I regretted the time spent reading it. (I did encounter one book of the latter description recently but chose not to waste my time either by finishing it or by listing it here.) I'm telling you this because most of them were under $5 and several were free on Amazon.com--and still are at the time of this posting. You may want to check them out for yourself.

In the Afterglow

It was Two Thousand Twelve, twenty-fifth of December,
A day that it fills me with joy to remember.

Our families came to spend Christmas together

In spite of some terrible, threatening weather.

The skies, they were black, and the rains were torrential,

Yet Christmas lost none of its magic potential.

The weather forecasts for Christmas Day were dire at best, with violent storms, possibly including hail and tornados, predicted for precisely the time of our own Christmas gathering at my daughter Kelli's home. I don't like to leave my dogs at home alone in bad weather, and I don't like to drive in it, but there was no way I was going to miss a chance to be with that particular group of people on that special day. 

I decided to leave early and see if I could get there ahead of the storm. I just made it. The skies opened up and dumped rivers of rain, then, oddly but quite nicely, fizzled to a drizzle as each new carload of family members arrived.

The young and the older, arriving in shifts,

Brought smiles and good wishes and armloads of gifts,
And inside the house, with its lights all aglow,
The merriment rose with each paper and bow
Tossed aside by a toddler, a sweet girl or boy,
Whose eyes shone more brightly with each unwrapped toy.

The youngest of the grandchildren is twenty now, so the excitement torch has been passed to the great-grandchildren, Owen and Olivia. Olivia was more interested in the bows than in the presents, but Owen, at two and three-quarters now, enjoyed the whole shebang. He played Santa's helper, happily delivering gifts as directed by his Popeé, Troy. Among Owen's own gifts was a kid-sized tool bench. He, having a small amount of nasal congestion, promptly dubbed it "the tool bitch," and you can imagine how often we tried to work that phrase into the conversation over the course of the afternoon.

On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donder and Blitzen--

Just smell the aromas that come from the kitchen!

There's shrimp fettuccine and crisp crawfish pies,

And pot roast and meatballs and audible sighs

At the display of cookies and candies galore.

Taste one, then another, then sample some more.

There was so much good food that I didn't even get around to tasting all of it. God knows I tried. Last night, for the first time in over two years, I had to unzip my pants after I got home, just to find enough comfort and breathing room to last until bedtime.

The kids were the focus till late in the day
When we knew it was time for the grown-ups to play.
A Christmas Day game is traditional now,
So we pondered the options that time would allow,
And decided charades would be given a go--
There's an app for that now, in case you didn't know.

According to an earlier post, the Christmas games tradition began about 2004, with the men and women on opposite teams playing Battle of the Sexes. Charades, though an old game by almost every standard, was new for us.

This year we chose teams by size instead of by sex, playing tall against small, and the teams turned out to be fairly evenly matched. The best-acting Oscars would have gone to Jeremy on the tall team and Kandis on the smalls. Both of them seemed to have remarkable abilities to zero in on the most important aspects of their allotted words or phrases and act out clues that conveyed them almost instantly. The words weren't easy, either: claustrophobia and turbulence, for example.

It's often a leap of faith for people to step outside their vulnerable skins and throw themselves into the spirit of a silly game. It's an exercise in trust and, in the best cases, a heartwarming demonstration of love and acceptance--all played out amidst riotous laughter.

The echos of laughter, the joy that still lingers
From down by my toes to the tips of my fingers,
Remind me that love is where everything starts--
The thoughts in our minds, the peace in our hearts--
And if we let love guide the actions we take,
The words that we say, the decisions we make,
Though storms may rain on us and strong winds may blow,
Love will see us through safely, wherever we go.

Wherever you're going for Christmas . . .

. . . may you and your loved ones be laughing all the way!

Merry Christmas!

from Linda, Levi and Gimpy

Christmas on the Cheap

Cutting back on expenses has become a way of life this year. Almost everybody's doing it, and knowing that has made it seem like less of a sacrifice. Sometimes, unfortunately,  the need for a balanced budget trumps the desire to shop where I can feel morally superior, so I find myself at Walmart. One day last week a brief stop there brightened my day.

The man waiting patiently in the next express lane was hard to miss: He was wearing a Santa hat. He was also wearing a white, short-sleeved shirt with khaki pants held up by wide brown suspenders. His white hair sat comfortably on his collar, and his full white beard glistened as if it had never once encountered spaghetti sauce.

It was amusing to see Santa in his everyday clothes, and a quick look into his grocery cart made my smile grow even wider. The only item in there was a cellophane-wrapped Santa Claus suit.

Like I said, everybody's cutting back.

Sleep, Pretty Darlings

SANDY HOOK ELEMENTARY SCHOOL

NEWTOWN, CONNECTICUT - DECEMBER 14, 2012

Once there was a way to get back homeward,

Once there was a way to get back home.

Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry,

And I will sing a lullaby.*

* From the lyrics of "Golden Slumbers" by the Beatles.

Saturday Song Selection: Shenandoah

One of my all-time favorite songs is one I first heard when I was really, really young. The lyrics refer to the "wide Missouri"--the river, not the state where I spent my childhood. Nevertheless, every time I hear the song, it takes me to the state of Missouri again. It takes me home.

The song has been recorded by so many different artists I can't count them all, but I've never heard a bad version of it. This rendition just might be my favorite:

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The song is "Shenandoah" by Sissel.

Many thanks to Somewheremaybe--especially for the beautiful images--and for posting the video and lyrics on YouTube.

Why I Didn't Miss Thanksgiving

I've waited almost too long to write this post. The title suggests that the topic has passed its expiration date, but I assure you it's still very fresh in my own mind.

The Thanksgiving Surprise
About a month before Thanksgiving, my younger daughter, who always hosts our family celebration, asked if I'd mind having our get-together on the Saturday after the actual holiday. She explained that all the young adults in the family had conflicting obligations on Thanksgiving Day. I had no objection at all. Having the entire family together is the most important part of the day for me. That and sweet-potato crunch.

When I showed up on the appointed Saturday, covered dish in hand, only my daughter and her husband were in sight. There were other cars there, though, so I assumed all the kids were in the house. My daughter met me as I got out of my car, and we chatted as I followed her to the pool area, where she stopped. I continued talking, eventually turning around to follow where she was looking, and saw the rest of my family lined up in a row at the back end of the pool.

Why were they all standing there smiling? The lack of motion was completely unlike them. I did a slow double take. There was a "Happy Birthday" sign above their heads. And then I saw my sister, my sister who lives in Texas, whom I hadn't seen in more than a year. And then, through tears, I saw her husband, her children and their children, standing among my own daughters, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. All of their spouses and significant others were there, too. I could not believe it.

As hard as it was to wrap my head around the idea that this was a birthday party instead of a Thanksgiving dinner, it was even harder to believe they'd pulled it off without my being the least bit suspicious. It was truly overwhelming--and one of the best days of my life.

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Children in a Cage
My son-in-law built a backyard chicken coop earlier this year, and the six hens were the surprise hit of the birthday party. We already knew that Owen, my great-grandson, loved the chickens, but my sister's grandkids are "townies." Invited into the chicken coop (or chicken "hoop" as Owen calls it), they went nuts over those birds. Shown by adults how to hold the chickens carefully, the kids kept track of each time they picked up a hen. By six-year-old Presley's account, she personally caught 40 of them.

The hens were very gracious about being carted around by little hands and proved it the next day by laying their usual number of eggs.

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APPreciation!
Being surrounded by family was definitely the best part of the birthday party, but the gifts were pretty spectacular, too. My daughters presented me with an iPad--a luxury item I've wanted but never expected to have. Others gave me a leather cover/stand for the iPad and iTunes gift cards to use for the purchase of apps. And, boy, have I used them over the past couple of weeks. It shouldn't surprise you to learn that downloading and trying out iPad apps ate up a huge portion of the time I normally would have used to write blog posts.

The only non-iPad-related gift I got was a very cushy--and very purple--faux-fur throw. I knew when I opened the present that I'd enjoy the comfort of it while watching TV, and I also knew I'd have to fight to keep it for my own. Gimpy loves soft things.

Every time I've left it on the sofa, I've come back to find that he has either settled onto it right where it lay or moved it to the other sofa, pushed it into a ball, and cuddled with it there. Thank goodness he's been very gentle with it, probably because it contains neither stuffing nor a squeaker. I might let him rest his head on it once in a while, but I'll never let him think it's anyone's but mine.

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The Warm-Fuzzies
No, I'm not still talking about the purple throw. I'm talking about the happy thoughts and feelings that have stayed with me ever since the party and the surge of emotions  every time I've considered writing about it. "Overwhelmed" was the word I used earlier in this post; it still applies.

The truth is that app-time isn't the only reason I haven't written about this sooner. I haven't felt capable enough as a writer to adequately express how much it meant to me. I will always remember the joy of watching Owen interact playfully with the Texas cousins he's never met before. Of listening to my daughters swap stories and philosophies with the first-cousins they've seen too few times in their lives. Of having the beautiful person who is my sister right there beside me, watching all these familial relationships grow stronger.

My wonderful daughters worked a special kind of magic when they pulled this whole event together. It might have turned out to be a birthday party when I was expecting a Thanksgiving dinner, but there's no way in the world I could have felt more thankful.

So much laughter. So much love.