I have been collecting souvenirs; small collectibles to store away as reminders of this season. It has, so far, been a particularly fruitful time for these little acquisitions. Most everywhere I have looked, I have found some little token to treasure. So, I share a few with you, with the wish that you, too, have a cache of souvenirs that bring you joy.
Dinner around my table with a group of people I greatly admire and love. This group always reminds me that in spite of the darkness we see on the news and the idiocy displayed by various people in various walks of life, the world truly is getting better. It is a trajectory of goodness on planet earth, and if we will just take our vocation of working alongside God with a Jesus attitude, we can make our way closer to Eden. I give you a few statistics shared at my table during a lively, yet holy evening:
*in 1988 there were 23 ongoing wars in the world. In 2018 there are 12.
*in 1988 37% of the world lived in extreme poverty. In 2018 that number is down to about 10%, still too many, but progress is happening
*in 1988 there were 60,000 nuclear weapons in existence worldwide. Today there are around 10,000
No doubt, there is work to do, but things are improving. A precious souvenir to add to my collection.
A 3 hour lunch with friends. Four women, all of whom were in the same wedding some 46 years ago and we perused the photos of ourselves from that wedding. We were young then. We are not now. Four women who have lived lives that have included great joy, bone-crushing sorrow, highs and lows, happiness and sadness. Four women who sat in that booth in that restaurant and laughed and made connections and laughed even louder until a gentlemen came and said, "I don't know what you ladies have, but the world needs more of it." Another lively and holy time.
A full day with my friend, doing nothing of much importance, just being together. That day also included great laughter and deep talks about the things that matter to us. A friend who can be trusted with one's deepest feelings is truly a holy gift.
A day with my mother and sister placing flowers on graves, followed by lunch. There was great warmth and laughter in the day. Mom felt much better about the graves being "dressed" for winter and not lying there barren, unattended. Doree and I were so taken with the beautiful job we did, we talked about birthing a new business...Hubzer Grave Fluffers! Tacky? Maybe. I love old cemeteries, but I am not one who feels the presence of the deceased in the graveyard. But, that day, spent with my mother and my sister, contemplating how my grandmother would feel about the beautiful flowers on her grave and how my dad would be fussing at us for spending the money and for being out in the cold arranging flowers with a wire cutter that wouldn't cut tissue paper, made for a holy time.
An evening spent with women I love dearly. We try to get together every month. Our life circumstances are varied, but the one thing we do have in common is that we love our church family and we long to serve it well. It was a sweet, holy time in the home of our gracious hostess.
Days with our sweet Violet dressed in her Christmas clothes, wearing Santa hats all day as if that is the most natural thing in the world for a girl to do. Lunch at The Hermitage Hotel, an evening looking at Christmas lights, crafts and cookie making and cuddling while watching Disney Christmas movies (the same one like 8 times). These days are going quickly and each precious moment is a holy moment for me, even in my fatigue.
The boys' enthusiasm for all things Christmas and watching them at time display such generous spirits, truly in the spirit of Christmas. There are days that I wish I could just freeze a moment and live there forever, but I cannot, so I'm going about collecting my souvenirs as reminders.
I sat at a table with people I did not know. I had a bit of dread for the evening. Mr. L's office party. It was a most delightful evening. Delicious food, amazingly generous people; people who live their lives to serve their family and their communities. I chatted with people awaiting their first grandchild, people whose foster children have been returned to a bad situation with their father and these people do not let go and continue to be involved with the children and with the dad, people who work with CASA to help at risk children. These things are not their paid jobs, but they are their vocation in life. It turned out to be a God-blessed evening.
Two different nights we gathered with people we have known for years to enjoy delicious food and warm atmospheres and the love of friends. I sat and looked around the homes where we were, homes that I have been going to for over forty years, and I felt a holiness of community.
The most holy of my souvenirs was a candlelight evening at church for Lessons and Carols. The music was beautiful, the words preserved from long ago, the voices raised in praise and prayer. A quiet and holy time.
There have been countless other souvenirs collected. Opportunities to serve or participate in community or just sit at home in my cluttered den filled with Christmas joy watching yet another Hallmark movie, listening to Mr. L's quiet snores Mornings spent with my dear daughter, an entire day with my precious son. As my dearly thought-of minister is always reminding us ~ it is all gift. Holy souvenirs, tucked away as reminders of the gift of the season and of each day I am allowed to walk this earth.
Wishing you a joyful Christmas and a peaceful new year.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
Wednesday, November 7, 2018
Election Day
I looked forward to Election Day for many days. Probably not for the reason you are thinking, however. I did have very strong feelings about who I wanted to win. I voted early, so as to have Election Day free from encumbrances. Invitations were sent. Trips to the grocery and Michael's in preparation were made. Lots of conversation with others in planning the day were had. Anticipation ran high. There was some feeling that when election day was over, sadness would ensue.
Finally, election day arrived and Tuesdays with Mellie was revived. Yay!!
Both boys were here by about 9:00 and our day began. First stop, Kroger to buy groceries for the Y.E.S. bags for Harvest Sunday. Pencils were sharpened, lists in hand, explanation of Y.E.S. and its purpose and who it serves were made. The list was read aloud as well as the scripture, Psalm 9:37-38. We proudly declared ourselves "workers in His harvest field!" There is nothing quite like a service project to make a day go brilliantly. It's true, pride goeth before a fall.
I am not exactly sure what happened in the car on the way to the store, but joy and enthusiasm for the project had waned greatly in the 7 1/2 minutes it took to drive to Kroger. It was declared by one boy that maybe he should have made alternate plans for the day. Tuesday with Mellie was not much fun. The lists had been scribbled on, holes poked in them. But, Mellie will not be discouraged nor impatient. We hunted for stuffing and gravy and chicken broth. Teamwork was the name of the game; not really. One of my buddies stated that he wanted to just go home to his dad, but when I pulled out my phone to call, he recanted. By that point, Mellie's courage and patience were wearing thin. Finally, we paid for our groceries, got them loaded in the car, and attitudes were improving. Praise God, literally.
Off to visit Nunny and deliver some funky little flowers we bought for her. She mentioned that her deck was covered in leaves so I asked the boys is they wanted to sweep it for her. Amazingly, they both were quite excited by the prospect. Fortunately, Nunny has two brooms, so to work they went, with great enthusiasm, especially when Nunny promised a monetary reward for a job well-done. As Nunny and I visited inside, suddenly, I heard loud yelling, followed by wailing. It appeared that one precious little boy was being quite bossy and when asked to stop, he refused, so the other precious little boy whacked him in the head with his broom handle. There were some discrepancies in the accounting of the event, of course. I went out and did a bit of sweeping to help them see why they did not have to both be working in the same square foot of the rather large deck, all the time singing our beloved song loudly and off-key: "teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team. Teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team. We work together, we sweep together, we do not fuss and scream. Teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team." After multiple inquiries from one boy as to how much Nunny was paying, I assured him it would be based on how well the job was done. There came a time when one of the boys was growing weary and "needed a break," while the other one was enthusiastically making as large a pile of leaves as possible. The tired one was discussing the merits of equal pay if he did not work as much as the other, stating that it was the other one's choice to keep working. When it was time to leave, Nunny, in all her brilliance, asked the boys what they thought was fair pay. $3.00 was decided upon. A fair deal all the way around, because the boss and the workers were all happy.
Our next stop was Woodmont Park to play on the playground. The boys go there often with Fizzy on Sundays and the day was too beautiful to do anything but be outside. For the most part they played well, and we only had one meltdown and a few cross words. One boy loves all the height and speed he can get on swings or whatever, and the other one not so much. Sometimes, that helps on the playground and sometimes it causes arguments, but all in all, our time at the park was pretty peaceful. Perhaps, we were getting into the Election Day groove.
Home for a lunch of eggs, sausage and inedible hash browns. Then to Cheekwood! Both boys took their cameras, as did Mellie. We took lots of pictures, got fussed at in the mansion for using a flash, which I had turned off...I know I did. We also got corrected for touching the art, which was a bunch of hanging soda bottle tops. I'm sure touching them would have been a disaster, so said my sarcastic, snarky brain, but my mouth apologized and instructed proper art gallery behavior. I was most grateful to get out of there. We shopped at the gift shop by the stables where I made a typical Switzer financial decision, giving each boy $5.00 for the $3.00 he had earned at Nunny's. There is absolutely nothing to be purchased for $3.00 at a Cheekwood gift shop except for a bug repellant bracelet, which each boy was going to buy because, well, how can one possibly not spend the money in one's pocket? They ended up with 2 small books, one of Christmas mazes, and one of vellum pictures to be colored, cut out and hung in a window to make "stained glass." Then to a snack of about 6 sections of mandarin oranges each and a Diet Coke to the tune of $7.00.
By the time we got home, Fizzy was home, and all bets are off when Fizzy is around, so our art project had to be postponed for another day. We will paint those turkeys! I am determined. We built a fire, roasted hot dogs, had s'mores, and the boys and Violet ran around the yard in the dark howling like dogs until it was time for the Hendersons to go home. Max took a bath, put on his PJs and about that time his mom arrived to take him home. I collapsed on the sofa.
It was a day looked forward to with great anticipation. For the most part, it was wonderfully enjoyable on the perfect fall weather day. The day is over, but the memories and pictures will be lovely reminders of Election Day 2018. I say it often, but maybe it cannot be overstated; I am so grateful for the people who have been placed in my life and I marvel at how fortunate I am to have them to love.
Finally, election day arrived and Tuesdays with Mellie was revived. Yay!!
Both boys were here by about 9:00 and our day began. First stop, Kroger to buy groceries for the Y.E.S. bags for Harvest Sunday. Pencils were sharpened, lists in hand, explanation of Y.E.S. and its purpose and who it serves were made. The list was read aloud as well as the scripture, Psalm 9:37-38. We proudly declared ourselves "workers in His harvest field!" There is nothing quite like a service project to make a day go brilliantly. It's true, pride goeth before a fall.
I am not exactly sure what happened in the car on the way to the store, but joy and enthusiasm for the project had waned greatly in the 7 1/2 minutes it took to drive to Kroger. It was declared by one boy that maybe he should have made alternate plans for the day. Tuesday with Mellie was not much fun. The lists had been scribbled on, holes poked in them. But, Mellie will not be discouraged nor impatient. We hunted for stuffing and gravy and chicken broth. Teamwork was the name of the game; not really. One of my buddies stated that he wanted to just go home to his dad, but when I pulled out my phone to call, he recanted. By that point, Mellie's courage and patience were wearing thin. Finally, we paid for our groceries, got them loaded in the car, and attitudes were improving. Praise God, literally.
Off to visit Nunny and deliver some funky little flowers we bought for her. She mentioned that her deck was covered in leaves so I asked the boys is they wanted to sweep it for her. Amazingly, they both were quite excited by the prospect. Fortunately, Nunny has two brooms, so to work they went, with great enthusiasm, especially when Nunny promised a monetary reward for a job well-done. As Nunny and I visited inside, suddenly, I heard loud yelling, followed by wailing. It appeared that one precious little boy was being quite bossy and when asked to stop, he refused, so the other precious little boy whacked him in the head with his broom handle. There were some discrepancies in the accounting of the event, of course. I went out and did a bit of sweeping to help them see why they did not have to both be working in the same square foot of the rather large deck, all the time singing our beloved song loudly and off-key: "teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team. Teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team. We work together, we sweep together, we do not fuss and scream. Teamwork, teamwork, Sim, Max and Mellie are a team." After multiple inquiries from one boy as to how much Nunny was paying, I assured him it would be based on how well the job was done. There came a time when one of the boys was growing weary and "needed a break," while the other one was enthusiastically making as large a pile of leaves as possible. The tired one was discussing the merits of equal pay if he did not work as much as the other, stating that it was the other one's choice to keep working. When it was time to leave, Nunny, in all her brilliance, asked the boys what they thought was fair pay. $3.00 was decided upon. A fair deal all the way around, because the boss and the workers were all happy.
Our next stop was Woodmont Park to play on the playground. The boys go there often with Fizzy on Sundays and the day was too beautiful to do anything but be outside. For the most part they played well, and we only had one meltdown and a few cross words. One boy loves all the height and speed he can get on swings or whatever, and the other one not so much. Sometimes, that helps on the playground and sometimes it causes arguments, but all in all, our time at the park was pretty peaceful. Perhaps, we were getting into the Election Day groove.
Home for a lunch of eggs, sausage and inedible hash browns. Then to Cheekwood! Both boys took their cameras, as did Mellie. We took lots of pictures, got fussed at in the mansion for using a flash, which I had turned off...I know I did. We also got corrected for touching the art, which was a bunch of hanging soda bottle tops. I'm sure touching them would have been a disaster, so said my sarcastic, snarky brain, but my mouth apologized and instructed proper art gallery behavior. I was most grateful to get out of there. We shopped at the gift shop by the stables where I made a typical Switzer financial decision, giving each boy $5.00 for the $3.00 he had earned at Nunny's. There is absolutely nothing to be purchased for $3.00 at a Cheekwood gift shop except for a bug repellant bracelet, which each boy was going to buy because, well, how can one possibly not spend the money in one's pocket? They ended up with 2 small books, one of Christmas mazes, and one of vellum pictures to be colored, cut out and hung in a window to make "stained glass." Then to a snack of about 6 sections of mandarin oranges each and a Diet Coke to the tune of $7.00.
By the time we got home, Fizzy was home, and all bets are off when Fizzy is around, so our art project had to be postponed for another day. We will paint those turkeys! I am determined. We built a fire, roasted hot dogs, had s'mores, and the boys and Violet ran around the yard in the dark howling like dogs until it was time for the Hendersons to go home. Max took a bath, put on his PJs and about that time his mom arrived to take him home. I collapsed on the sofa.
It was a day looked forward to with great anticipation. For the most part, it was wonderfully enjoyable on the perfect fall weather day. The day is over, but the memories and pictures will be lovely reminders of Election Day 2018. I say it often, but maybe it cannot be overstated; I am so grateful for the people who have been placed in my life and I marvel at how fortunate I am to have them to love.
Thursday, September 6, 2018
Who's Game?
Because I spend way more time on Pinterest than I probably should, we sometimes eat interesting soups or desserts, I watercolor my own greeting cards though they be quite rudimentary, I have a quote on just about any subject, I dream about re-doing, well, just about everything in my house and yard, I know how to get rid of a fat belly and arm flaps (knowing how doesn't necessarily mean I follow the advice), I have all manner of handmade holiday decorations, and my grandchildren have done art projects of various kinds.
Also, because of Pinterest, I often find myself involved in unofficial challenges. One reason I do this, is it makes me think creatively. I truly believe one of the most obvious evidences of our divine spark is living creatively ~ not just art or writing or making music, but also in creatively solving life's many problems. Also, I do this because it is fun and it is good for me to set a goal and try to complete it. Because life is full, I do not necessarily put pressure on myself but I do try to meet the expectations of the challenge. I do this usually in January by writing a blog a day. I think I actually wrote 31 blogs only one January because grandchildren and the beach and life captured my attention instead. I can live with that as, I am sure, can the 4 people who read my blog.
On several occasions, the unofficial challenge has been taking a photo a day. There is a list of pictures to take, one for each day of the month, and those who accept the challenge take a picture expressing their interpretation of the "assignment" for the day. The picture is then posted on FB and everyone participating is tagged. It is not going to save the world. It is not going to solve many of life's conundrums. But, it has afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with old friends, and find new friends and be blessed by the associations, not to mention the opportunity to see beautiful pictures of beautiful places. It also opens a little window into the lives and thoughts of each person who participates. Bobby, you scare me a little...just kidding. I think you are amazing and wish I had just a portion of your extroversion. But, alas.....
Because this is quite the challenging challenge, I am posting the list earlier than usual, to give us time to peruse old photos and be looking for new ones to take. I hope all of you who have participated before will do so again, but, NO PRESSURE. I know life is busy. I hope there will be new ones to join us. So...drum roll, please
Idiom Photo Challenge List for October 2018
1. at the drop of a hat
2. back to the drawing board
3. barking up the wrong tree
4. beat around the bush
5. don't judge a book by its cover
6. are you pulling my leg
7. bent out of shape
8. don't put all your eggs in one basket
9. hit the nail on the head
10. hit the sack
11. comparing apples and oranges
12. miss the boat
13. not playing with a full deck
14. he's off his rocker
15. he's on the ball
16. piece of cake
17. seeing eye to eye
18. heard it straight from the horse's mouth
19. hit the books
20. twist my arm
21. up in the air
22. lost your touch
23. sit tight
24. pitch in
25. go cold turkey
26. face the music
27. does it ring a bell
28. rule of thumb
29. under the weather
30. a stab in the dark
31. hang in there
Start thinking, get out your cameras and start shooting. In the meantime, with bated breath, I'll be on deck, waiting in the wings and biting the bullet to see who accepts. See what I did there?
Also, because of Pinterest, I often find myself involved in unofficial challenges. One reason I do this, is it makes me think creatively. I truly believe one of the most obvious evidences of our divine spark is living creatively ~ not just art or writing or making music, but also in creatively solving life's many problems. Also, I do this because it is fun and it is good for me to set a goal and try to complete it. Because life is full, I do not necessarily put pressure on myself but I do try to meet the expectations of the challenge. I do this usually in January by writing a blog a day. I think I actually wrote 31 blogs only one January because grandchildren and the beach and life captured my attention instead. I can live with that as, I am sure, can the 4 people who read my blog.
On several occasions, the unofficial challenge has been taking a photo a day. There is a list of pictures to take, one for each day of the month, and those who accept the challenge take a picture expressing their interpretation of the "assignment" for the day. The picture is then posted on FB and everyone participating is tagged. It is not going to save the world. It is not going to solve many of life's conundrums. But, it has afforded me the opportunity to reconnect with old friends, and find new friends and be blessed by the associations, not to mention the opportunity to see beautiful pictures of beautiful places. It also opens a little window into the lives and thoughts of each person who participates. Bobby, you scare me a little...just kidding. I think you are amazing and wish I had just a portion of your extroversion. But, alas.....
Because this is quite the challenging challenge, I am posting the list earlier than usual, to give us time to peruse old photos and be looking for new ones to take. I hope all of you who have participated before will do so again, but, NO PRESSURE. I know life is busy. I hope there will be new ones to join us. So...drum roll, please
Idiom Photo Challenge List for October 2018
1. at the drop of a hat
2. back to the drawing board
3. barking up the wrong tree
4. beat around the bush
5. don't judge a book by its cover
6. are you pulling my leg
7. bent out of shape
8. don't put all your eggs in one basket
9. hit the nail on the head
10. hit the sack
11. comparing apples and oranges
12. miss the boat
13. not playing with a full deck
14. he's off his rocker
15. he's on the ball
16. piece of cake
17. seeing eye to eye
18. heard it straight from the horse's mouth
19. hit the books
20. twist my arm
21. up in the air
22. lost your touch
23. sit tight
24. pitch in
25. go cold turkey
26. face the music
27. does it ring a bell
28. rule of thumb
29. under the weather
30. a stab in the dark
31. hang in there
Start thinking, get out your cameras and start shooting. In the meantime, with bated breath, I'll be on deck, waiting in the wings and biting the bullet to see who accepts. See what I did there?
Thursday, August 2, 2018
Last Days
Week 4 Day 3
Today is the last day of Mellie Camp for 2018. We had plans to go to the Lane Motor Museum, but something told me that a more laid back day would serve us better. I consulted, sort of, with the boys, and it was agreed that doing something else might be a good plan. We delivered a book to Nunny and then began to drive, looking for a playground. It was decided that we would go to the zoo and play on that playground. I, unwisely, assumed that the zoo would be sparsely attended today, but I was very wrong. After standing in a couple lines, we were able to find someone who would look up Simmy's name and find his membership. My membership got Max and me in.
They played for about an hour, but it was hot, so we decided to leave. I had promised them a specific treat for the last day of camp and we had to go to Target to find it. Lots of moaning and groaning over not finding the exact kind of treat they wanted, until, after a thorough search, at last we found two of the kind they both wanted. These treats come with a toy and when we got home and opened them, tragedy or all tragedies, Simmy got the same dinosaur he already had. We are talking about a tiny little dinosaur, maybe an inch long. Now, I do not want to minimize the importance to him, but, frankly, I only have so much energy to put into a one inch dinosaur. Then, his Pokémon cards were missing and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. I let him work out his anger, call his dad, who had been in our house earlier letting Violet play, and !yay! he knew where they were. Tears dried up, lunch was eaten with much silliness.
It was then time for crafts. I had promised Max more string art, which really does make the coolest designs. We were also going to paint rocks. Max found his at Sevier Park on Tuesday, but Simmy had no interest at the time. I was pretty sure that would change, so on my morning walk, I climbed into someone's ditch to unearth a rock as close to the same size and shape as Max's; not because I think they should have everything even, but because, today, I was not up to an upset over a rock. It is almost as exhausting as an upset over a one inch dinosaur.
Our house has become a "no trade" zone. One sweet boy is a wheeler dealer, and I declare he could talk a starving man out of his last piece of bread. It's kind of unreal. But, because feelings get hurt, and good things get traded for crummy things, Fizzy declared our house a "no trade" zone. That causes upset feelings as well, but, oh well. Let me just say here, that Pokémon is a game I do not understand. They have spent quite some time cozied up in my bed with pillows all around "playing" Pokémon. From the noise coming out of the room, I sense that one boy sort of makes up the rules as they go along, guaranteeing that he always wins. I tried to stay out of that.
A few more craft projects and a couple Inspector Gadgets on Netflix, and our last day has ended. Last days are worth noting. The last day before school starts, the last day of a job, the last day before a college freshman goes off to school, last day of singlehood, the last day of vacation, or the last day of being any age. Moments such as these are meant to be mourned and celebrated and appreciated and noted. I know so many who don't live close to their grandchildren, and that would be very hard. This last day will be followed by the typical Sunday of boys at our house. I never take that for granted. Fizzy and I, we don't do much that is monumental. We don't travel a lot. We are pretty pedestrian. We are extremely grateful for the beauty of the everyday enjoying our grandchildren. They are the most magnificent little beings.
Today is the last day of Mellie Camp for 2018. We had plans to go to the Lane Motor Museum, but something told me that a more laid back day would serve us better. I consulted, sort of, with the boys, and it was agreed that doing something else might be a good plan. We delivered a book to Nunny and then began to drive, looking for a playground. It was decided that we would go to the zoo and play on that playground. I, unwisely, assumed that the zoo would be sparsely attended today, but I was very wrong. After standing in a couple lines, we were able to find someone who would look up Simmy's name and find his membership. My membership got Max and me in.
They played for about an hour, but it was hot, so we decided to leave. I had promised them a specific treat for the last day of camp and we had to go to Target to find it. Lots of moaning and groaning over not finding the exact kind of treat they wanted, until, after a thorough search, at last we found two of the kind they both wanted. These treats come with a toy and when we got home and opened them, tragedy or all tragedies, Simmy got the same dinosaur he already had. We are talking about a tiny little dinosaur, maybe an inch long. Now, I do not want to minimize the importance to him, but, frankly, I only have so much energy to put into a one inch dinosaur. Then, his Pokémon cards were missing and there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. I let him work out his anger, call his dad, who had been in our house earlier letting Violet play, and !yay! he knew where they were. Tears dried up, lunch was eaten with much silliness.
It was then time for crafts. I had promised Max more string art, which really does make the coolest designs. We were also going to paint rocks. Max found his at Sevier Park on Tuesday, but Simmy had no interest at the time. I was pretty sure that would change, so on my morning walk, I climbed into someone's ditch to unearth a rock as close to the same size and shape as Max's; not because I think they should have everything even, but because, today, I was not up to an upset over a rock. It is almost as exhausting as an upset over a one inch dinosaur.
Our house has become a "no trade" zone. One sweet boy is a wheeler dealer, and I declare he could talk a starving man out of his last piece of bread. It's kind of unreal. But, because feelings get hurt, and good things get traded for crummy things, Fizzy declared our house a "no trade" zone. That causes upset feelings as well, but, oh well. Let me just say here, that Pokémon is a game I do not understand. They have spent quite some time cozied up in my bed with pillows all around "playing" Pokémon. From the noise coming out of the room, I sense that one boy sort of makes up the rules as they go along, guaranteeing that he always wins. I tried to stay out of that.
A few more craft projects and a couple Inspector Gadgets on Netflix, and our last day has ended. Last days are worth noting. The last day before school starts, the last day of a job, the last day before a college freshman goes off to school, last day of singlehood, the last day of vacation, or the last day of being any age. Moments such as these are meant to be mourned and celebrated and appreciated and noted. I know so many who don't live close to their grandchildren, and that would be very hard. This last day will be followed by the typical Sunday of boys at our house. I never take that for granted. Fizzy and I, we don't do much that is monumental. We don't travel a lot. We are pretty pedestrian. We are extremely grateful for the beauty of the everyday enjoying our grandchildren. They are the most magnificent little beings.
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
Burps and Hiccups
Week 4 Day 2
Today was practice-our-table-manners day. Needless to say, after yesterday, I was questioning my sanity in following through with plans to have lunch at The Capitol Grille in The Hermitage Hotel, but I was determined.
They did brilliantly. Both dressed so nattily in shorts, button down shirts and ties. They were most handsome escorts. The first thing each of them did was put his napkin in his laps. Yay!! Rule one of good table manners followed. Who knew that the Hermitage Hotel actually had children's menus. They read the menu, chose what they wanted and ordered for themselves after a bit of practice with me before the waiter came to take our orders. "May I please have a grilled cheese, ketchup, and fries, and, do you have root beer?" The waiter assured him that root beer was his beverage of choice and that they certainly had it. The other young gentleman ordered "mac and cheese, French fries and root beer." Forty-five seconds later, there were discreet wails of starvation and "when will our food arrive?" I was grateful for the discretion shown in the quiet cries. I assured them that the 2 baggies worth of snacks they had on the drive to the hotel would sustain them until lunch arrived. The waitstaff at The Capitol Grille does not feel any need for harried scurrying about, so we did wait quite some time for our food, but we entertained ourselves with Matchbox cars and conversation.
Our food arrived, all but Max's fries. Max declared his mac and cheese the best he had ever eaten. Simmy seemed to be enjoying his sandwich. I had a pimiento cheese with fried green tomatoes and arugula sandwich and it was deeeeeelicious!!! Finally, Max's fries arrive, and I am not exaggerating when I say they brought him at least 4 potatoes worth of fries.
I had promised them dessert if they behaved well. I assured them that the grace-driven treat they got yesterday would not be repeated today. Dessert would have to be earned. They did brilliantly. So, Simeon asked our waiter for a dessert menu. He only brought one and handed it to me, so I read aloud the desserts offered. Sim wanted cheesecake and I told him that they did not have cheesecake..."they have chocolate cake, carrot cake, coconut cake, peach cobbler, and ice cream." When the waiter came to take our order, Max asked for ice cream. The waiter shared the kinds they have, "chocolate, vanilla cheesecake..." Max ordered chocolate and Sim ordered the vanilla cheesecake. He did not discover that it was an ice cream flavor until they brought the fancy ice cream spoons and laid them at each place. Simmy immediately asked why they gave him a spoon for cheesecake. I explained that, "they do not have cheesecake." "But, I ordered vanilla cheesecake," he said. I said, "no, you ordered vanilla cheesecake ice cream." His face fell. So, being the strict disciplinarian that I am, I asked, "do you want a piece of coconut, carrot, or chocolate cake?" He ordered coconut.
In the meantime, one boy had to go to the bathroom. I was having flashbacks to our marathon potty session yesterday. I delicately asked if that might be the case today, and he assured me that probably it would be. Oh, shoot. So off to the bathroom we go, but much to my surprise and delight, the potential marathon session was a false alarm and we got out of there in record time. Arriving back at our table, we found a piece of coconut cake that could easily feed an entire moderately-sized family. He ate maybe 3 bites, dug out the middle to make it look like an alligator and so, we got a to-go box.
Also, just as an aside, root beer makes little boys burp and have hiccups. Most of those were quietly expelled, while a few of them were not. I am a loud hiccupper, myself, so I could not be terribly dismayed. Besides, we had been there an hour and forty minutes, so we had pretty well stretched ourselves as far as possible. Thus, we went to the empty veranda in the hotel and ran laps before leaving.
Walking to the library, we passed the park where so many homeless are resting. Simmy asked if I felt sorry for the person sleeping on the cardboard and I assured him that I did. Max said that next time we came back to town he was going to give that person his piggy bank. So sweet. We walked back to the hotel to get our to-go boxes which they kept refrigerated for us, and to pick up our car where we had taken advantage of the valet parking rounded out our time in downtown. I handed each boy a few one dollar bills to tip the valet and after a small scuffle in the car as to who was to sit in which IDENTICAL car seat, we went on our way. 3:00 pick-up time. The house is quiet, and a huge mess.
Today was a much less tiring and stressful day. They boys did 900 times better than I was expecting yesterday at this time. I am having a hard time thinking of them being in school all day every day next week. Why can't school start after Labor Day like it did when we were still sane in this country? I will miss them. I'm pretty sure by tomorrow I'll be weepy over our last day...or I will be weepy because I am desperate for them go just go home. Either way, it has been a good, good summer, and I still contend, that being a Mellie is the best life gig!
Today was practice-our-table-manners day. Needless to say, after yesterday, I was questioning my sanity in following through with plans to have lunch at The Capitol Grille in The Hermitage Hotel, but I was determined.
They did brilliantly. Both dressed so nattily in shorts, button down shirts and ties. They were most handsome escorts. The first thing each of them did was put his napkin in his laps. Yay!! Rule one of good table manners followed. Who knew that the Hermitage Hotel actually had children's menus. They read the menu, chose what they wanted and ordered for themselves after a bit of practice with me before the waiter came to take our orders. "May I please have a grilled cheese, ketchup, and fries, and, do you have root beer?" The waiter assured him that root beer was his beverage of choice and that they certainly had it. The other young gentleman ordered "mac and cheese, French fries and root beer." Forty-five seconds later, there were discreet wails of starvation and "when will our food arrive?" I was grateful for the discretion shown in the quiet cries. I assured them that the 2 baggies worth of snacks they had on the drive to the hotel would sustain them until lunch arrived. The waitstaff at The Capitol Grille does not feel any need for harried scurrying about, so we did wait quite some time for our food, but we entertained ourselves with Matchbox cars and conversation.
Our food arrived, all but Max's fries. Max declared his mac and cheese the best he had ever eaten. Simmy seemed to be enjoying his sandwich. I had a pimiento cheese with fried green tomatoes and arugula sandwich and it was deeeeeelicious!!! Finally, Max's fries arrive, and I am not exaggerating when I say they brought him at least 4 potatoes worth of fries.
I had promised them dessert if they behaved well. I assured them that the grace-driven treat they got yesterday would not be repeated today. Dessert would have to be earned. They did brilliantly. So, Simeon asked our waiter for a dessert menu. He only brought one and handed it to me, so I read aloud the desserts offered. Sim wanted cheesecake and I told him that they did not have cheesecake..."they have chocolate cake, carrot cake, coconut cake, peach cobbler, and ice cream." When the waiter came to take our order, Max asked for ice cream. The waiter shared the kinds they have, "chocolate, vanilla cheesecake..." Max ordered chocolate and Sim ordered the vanilla cheesecake. He did not discover that it was an ice cream flavor until they brought the fancy ice cream spoons and laid them at each place. Simmy immediately asked why they gave him a spoon for cheesecake. I explained that, "they do not have cheesecake." "But, I ordered vanilla cheesecake," he said. I said, "no, you ordered vanilla cheesecake ice cream." His face fell. So, being the strict disciplinarian that I am, I asked, "do you want a piece of coconut, carrot, or chocolate cake?" He ordered coconut.
In the meantime, one boy had to go to the bathroom. I was having flashbacks to our marathon potty session yesterday. I delicately asked if that might be the case today, and he assured me that probably it would be. Oh, shoot. So off to the bathroom we go, but much to my surprise and delight, the potential marathon session was a false alarm and we got out of there in record time. Arriving back at our table, we found a piece of coconut cake that could easily feed an entire moderately-sized family. He ate maybe 3 bites, dug out the middle to make it look like an alligator and so, we got a to-go box.
Also, just as an aside, root beer makes little boys burp and have hiccups. Most of those were quietly expelled, while a few of them were not. I am a loud hiccupper, myself, so I could not be terribly dismayed. Besides, we had been there an hour and forty minutes, so we had pretty well stretched ourselves as far as possible. Thus, we went to the empty veranda in the hotel and ran laps before leaving.
Walking to the library, we passed the park where so many homeless are resting. Simmy asked if I felt sorry for the person sleeping on the cardboard and I assured him that I did. Max said that next time we came back to town he was going to give that person his piggy bank. So sweet. We walked back to the hotel to get our to-go boxes which they kept refrigerated for us, and to pick up our car where we had taken advantage of the valet parking rounded out our time in downtown. I handed each boy a few one dollar bills to tip the valet and after a small scuffle in the car as to who was to sit in which IDENTICAL car seat, we went on our way. 3:00 pick-up time. The house is quiet, and a huge mess.
Today was a much less tiring and stressful day. They boys did 900 times better than I was expecting yesterday at this time. I am having a hard time thinking of them being in school all day every day next week. Why can't school start after Labor Day like it did when we were still sane in this country? I will miss them. I'm pretty sure by tomorrow I'll be weepy over our last day...or I will be weepy because I am desperate for them go just go home. Either way, it has been a good, good summer, and I still contend, that being a Mellie is the best life gig!
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
Quantity vs Quality
Week 4 Day 1
Before I had children, I once heard a man say, "I don't get to spend a lot of time with my kids, but the time I do spend is quality time." Once I had children, I realized what an inaccurate statement that was. One cannot plan quality time with kids and expect it to work out that way. Oh, you might get lucky now and then, because as my daddy used to always say, "even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then," but you cannot ever be sure when kids are going to turn into wackos.
Today at camp was "Civics Day." Reservations were made for our tour of the Tennessee Residence (Governor's mansion), almost two weeks ago. We were all dressed in our Mellie Summer Camp of Excellence tee shirts, proudly claiming what a fine camp it is. We met at the "River" and prayed over our day. Excitement was running high. Cameras were all filled with fresh batteries and off we went, Mellie explaining about the three branches of the government ~ Legislative makes the laws, Judicial interprets the laws, and Executive enforces the laws. Repeat after me...the governor's name is Bill Haslam!
We arrive at the beautiful residence and the tour begins in Preservation Hall. As luck would have it, our tour guide was a friend of Mellie's and so we chatted and caught up as we waited for everyone who was scheduled for the tour to arrive. There were 12 of us. The tour began. Today, I was accompanied by Eeyore and Tigger. Oh.my.word. The bouncing and the pouting and the LOUD "whispers," and the semi-rough housing. The picture taking...Max took pictures of the bathroom door. I don't even know why; I don't. The time came to actually go into the mansion. Both boys ran off to the side of the house, but they did come nicely when I called them. Our guide, who was finding them so precious at the get-go was, just possibly, feeling the tiny bit stressed. We managed to make it through the foyer, but Simmy found the brochures. The boy never met a brochure he didn't like and so, for some unknown reason felt it his responsibility to make sure everybody had one, in spite of my admonitions that he could only get one. Finally, I turned and they were in each other's faces whispering like a deaf person in church, shushing each other. I asked the security guard if it was okay for us to leave, and he assured me without hesitation that yes, that would be fine.
One boy declared this the "worst day of Mellie Camp ever." When I asked why they could not behave with a bit more decorum, they both informed me that they didn't want to come to the Governor's mansion in the first place. I had promised them a treat if everybody acted nicely. As we were driving away, Simmy had the audacity to ask if they had earned their treat. I told him that they had not, but that Mellie Camp was a place of grace, and while they did not earn it, I was going to gift them with their treat. So, off we go to buy $12 worth of Mexican popsicles. After one lick, each boy declared that they would be getting a different flavor next time. That's fine, little dudes, but you will be eating this flavor today. Popsicles were eaten and one kiddo decided that he needed to potty. That started, for me, the nightmare of the day. Let's just say, that the pottying did not go quickly nor efficiently, and was accompanied by the other one turning in circles, talking loudly and sticking his head under the really loud hand dryer. I seriously thought we would never get out of there, but after 1/2 a roll of toilet paper, hands washed multiple times, and the XELERATOR hand dryer, which sounds like an airplane, being set off at least 100 times, we were ready to walk out of there. Every person in the popsicle store was looking at the door and laughing as we left.
Off to Sevier Park to do what little boys like to do....run free and play. A stop at The Parent Teacher Store for $2 worth of brass paper fasteners. $20 later we head home for lunch and our Civics project. I had to fight Simmy to not write "Fat Donald Trump" on his Executive of the Federal Government page, but I did win that one. Then, wonder of all wonders...we made cars. We worked with bottle tops, clay, cardboard, straws, wooden skewers, hot glue, straws, and duct tape. We made two powerful cars and took them to the hallway to have a race. Balloons were blown up through the straws ~ get ready, get set, GO! Nothing. They went nowhere. Not even an inch. I laughed hysterically. The boys were offended that I found humor in the debacle. I was just thinking that each car probably cost $7 considering all the supplies I bought. They did nothing. They went nowhere. A movie, dinner, baths, rounded out our day.
Don't speak to me of quality time with kids, with spouses, with friends. It takes quantity to get quality. Today wasn't our best camp day. It may have been the worst Mellie Camp day of all. But, we redeemed it, and all in all, I would say it was a pretty good day. But if it had been our only "quality time" day, we would have been sorely disappointed.
Before I had children, I once heard a man say, "I don't get to spend a lot of time with my kids, but the time I do spend is quality time." Once I had children, I realized what an inaccurate statement that was. One cannot plan quality time with kids and expect it to work out that way. Oh, you might get lucky now and then, because as my daddy used to always say, "even a blind pig finds an acorn now and then," but you cannot ever be sure when kids are going to turn into wackos.
Today at camp was "Civics Day." Reservations were made for our tour of the Tennessee Residence (Governor's mansion), almost two weeks ago. We were all dressed in our Mellie Summer Camp of Excellence tee shirts, proudly claiming what a fine camp it is. We met at the "River" and prayed over our day. Excitement was running high. Cameras were all filled with fresh batteries and off we went, Mellie explaining about the three branches of the government ~ Legislative makes the laws, Judicial interprets the laws, and Executive enforces the laws. Repeat after me...the governor's name is Bill Haslam!
We arrive at the beautiful residence and the tour begins in Preservation Hall. As luck would have it, our tour guide was a friend of Mellie's and so we chatted and caught up as we waited for everyone who was scheduled for the tour to arrive. There were 12 of us. The tour began. Today, I was accompanied by Eeyore and Tigger. Oh.my.word. The bouncing and the pouting and the LOUD "whispers," and the semi-rough housing. The picture taking...Max took pictures of the bathroom door. I don't even know why; I don't. The time came to actually go into the mansion. Both boys ran off to the side of the house, but they did come nicely when I called them. Our guide, who was finding them so precious at the get-go was, just possibly, feeling the tiny bit stressed. We managed to make it through the foyer, but Simmy found the brochures. The boy never met a brochure he didn't like and so, for some unknown reason felt it his responsibility to make sure everybody had one, in spite of my admonitions that he could only get one. Finally, I turned and they were in each other's faces whispering like a deaf person in church, shushing each other. I asked the security guard if it was okay for us to leave, and he assured me without hesitation that yes, that would be fine.
One boy declared this the "worst day of Mellie Camp ever." When I asked why they could not behave with a bit more decorum, they both informed me that they didn't want to come to the Governor's mansion in the first place. I had promised them a treat if everybody acted nicely. As we were driving away, Simmy had the audacity to ask if they had earned their treat. I told him that they had not, but that Mellie Camp was a place of grace, and while they did not earn it, I was going to gift them with their treat. So, off we go to buy $12 worth of Mexican popsicles. After one lick, each boy declared that they would be getting a different flavor next time. That's fine, little dudes, but you will be eating this flavor today. Popsicles were eaten and one kiddo decided that he needed to potty. That started, for me, the nightmare of the day. Let's just say, that the pottying did not go quickly nor efficiently, and was accompanied by the other one turning in circles, talking loudly and sticking his head under the really loud hand dryer. I seriously thought we would never get out of there, but after 1/2 a roll of toilet paper, hands washed multiple times, and the XELERATOR hand dryer, which sounds like an airplane, being set off at least 100 times, we were ready to walk out of there. Every person in the popsicle store was looking at the door and laughing as we left.
Off to Sevier Park to do what little boys like to do....run free and play. A stop at The Parent Teacher Store for $2 worth of brass paper fasteners. $20 later we head home for lunch and our Civics project. I had to fight Simmy to not write "Fat Donald Trump" on his Executive of the Federal Government page, but I did win that one. Then, wonder of all wonders...we made cars. We worked with bottle tops, clay, cardboard, straws, wooden skewers, hot glue, straws, and duct tape. We made two powerful cars and took them to the hallway to have a race. Balloons were blown up through the straws ~ get ready, get set, GO! Nothing. They went nowhere. Not even an inch. I laughed hysterically. The boys were offended that I found humor in the debacle. I was just thinking that each car probably cost $7 considering all the supplies I bought. They did nothing. They went nowhere. A movie, dinner, baths, rounded out our day.
Don't speak to me of quality time with kids, with spouses, with friends. It takes quantity to get quality. Today wasn't our best camp day. It may have been the worst Mellie Camp day of all. But, we redeemed it, and all in all, I would say it was a pretty good day. But if it had been our only "quality time" day, we would have been sorely disappointed.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
When in Rome/Greece
Week 3, Day 3
Today is Greco Roman day at Mellie camp. Simeon requested that we go to the Parthenon, which resulted in multiple Greco Roman type activities. After we went to "the river" and, yet again, asked God to help us only be concerned that the other person gets what they need rather than being all wrapped up in self-interests, and that Mellie please have patience, and that we all act more like Jesus, the boys each read aloud a passage about a Greek goddess. Simmy read about Athena and Max read about Nike. They did beautifully. That these gods and goddesses were not real but were, instead, myths is a concept with which they have a bit of trouble.
After reading, we headed to the Parthenon, listening to Greek music on Pandora by Sokratis Sinopoulos, or possibly Azizie Syrtos because I don't which one is the name of the song and which is the name of the performer. Upon arriving at Centennial Park, I shared what little knowledge I have about the original Parthenon, the replica in Nashville, the Centennial Exposition, and my limited information about Greek gods and goddesses and Rome overthrowing Greece. Max was totally bummed when I told him that the big statue of Athena was not solid gold and said, "I just wish you hadn't told me that." They both were astounded to learn that the statue of Nike in Athena's hand is actually as tall as Fizzy. One of the most fun activities was looking at the remnants of the Elgin marbles and the model of the statues in the pediment and figuring out which ones the remnants were. There was much guffawing over the nakedness of the statues and they came close to having apoplexy when I informed them that competitors in the first Olympics participated totally naked....and, no, we will not be re-enacting that, no matter how many times they ask! Boys!!
I bribed them with a stop at the gift shop if they had excellent museum behavior, and they did. The exhibit in the art gallery was really neat, photos and paintings of local parks, and they saw pictures of Radnor that they recognized. As we perused the gift shop (longer than we spent in the museum), a lovely young woman came up to tell them what excellent museum manners they had. I was quite proud. They bought ridiculously expensive plastic toys of Greek gods and goddesses and have played on my bed with them using pillows as Mount Olympus. Of course, a fight ensued over the clean up...2 hours later, fighting again. It is really hard to play a game where the rules are made up as the game goes along and those participating tend to have different notions of what the rules should be.
Our craft was brown paper Grecian urns to decorate. Simmy wanted to turn his into a mask...whatever. Max wanted to just not decorate his because "I can't do it!" Not doing it is never an option. Everyone has to at least try. It just goes against the grain to "give up" and not try. He put his mind to it and came up with a fairly lovely urn by painting a camel on it. I was glad he told me it was a camel before I guessed the wrong thing. Frankly, looking at the pictures (on FB because...well, because blogger and I don't jive well with pictures), I must say that, truly, only one of us grasped the concept of the "assignment." But, that's okay as long as everybody tries.
The Disney movie, Hercules, rounded out our Greco Roman day. I desperately tried to talk them into a toga party, and even got out the sheets to make togas for them, but they were having none of it. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I was terribly disappointed. We had a theme-appropriate (sort of) snack of hummus, pita chips, olive tapenade, grapes, and Greek yogurt (not really, but we called it that, probably it is French yogurt).
Three more days. That's all that is left. Max said this morning he wished we could go back to day one and start all over again. Me, too, little guy, me too.
Today is Greco Roman day at Mellie camp. Simeon requested that we go to the Parthenon, which resulted in multiple Greco Roman type activities. After we went to "the river" and, yet again, asked God to help us only be concerned that the other person gets what they need rather than being all wrapped up in self-interests, and that Mellie please have patience, and that we all act more like Jesus, the boys each read aloud a passage about a Greek goddess. Simmy read about Athena and Max read about Nike. They did beautifully. That these gods and goddesses were not real but were, instead, myths is a concept with which they have a bit of trouble.
After reading, we headed to the Parthenon, listening to Greek music on Pandora by Sokratis Sinopoulos, or possibly Azizie Syrtos because I don't which one is the name of the song and which is the name of the performer. Upon arriving at Centennial Park, I shared what little knowledge I have about the original Parthenon, the replica in Nashville, the Centennial Exposition, and my limited information about Greek gods and goddesses and Rome overthrowing Greece. Max was totally bummed when I told him that the big statue of Athena was not solid gold and said, "I just wish you hadn't told me that." They both were astounded to learn that the statue of Nike in Athena's hand is actually as tall as Fizzy. One of the most fun activities was looking at the remnants of the Elgin marbles and the model of the statues in the pediment and figuring out which ones the remnants were. There was much guffawing over the nakedness of the statues and they came close to having apoplexy when I informed them that competitors in the first Olympics participated totally naked....and, no, we will not be re-enacting that, no matter how many times they ask! Boys!!
I bribed them with a stop at the gift shop if they had excellent museum behavior, and they did. The exhibit in the art gallery was really neat, photos and paintings of local parks, and they saw pictures of Radnor that they recognized. As we perused the gift shop (longer than we spent in the museum), a lovely young woman came up to tell them what excellent museum manners they had. I was quite proud. They bought ridiculously expensive plastic toys of Greek gods and goddesses and have played on my bed with them using pillows as Mount Olympus. Of course, a fight ensued over the clean up...2 hours later, fighting again. It is really hard to play a game where the rules are made up as the game goes along and those participating tend to have different notions of what the rules should be.
Our craft was brown paper Grecian urns to decorate. Simmy wanted to turn his into a mask...whatever. Max wanted to just not decorate his because "I can't do it!" Not doing it is never an option. Everyone has to at least try. It just goes against the grain to "give up" and not try. He put his mind to it and came up with a fairly lovely urn by painting a camel on it. I was glad he told me it was a camel before I guessed the wrong thing. Frankly, looking at the pictures (on FB because...well, because blogger and I don't jive well with pictures), I must say that, truly, only one of us grasped the concept of the "assignment." But, that's okay as long as everybody tries.
The Disney movie, Hercules, rounded out our Greco Roman day. I desperately tried to talk them into a toga party, and even got out the sheets to make togas for them, but they were having none of it. I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I was terribly disappointed. We had a theme-appropriate (sort of) snack of hummus, pita chips, olive tapenade, grapes, and Greek yogurt (not really, but we called it that, probably it is French yogurt).
Three more days. That's all that is left. Max said this morning he wished we could go back to day one and start all over again. Me, too, little guy, me too.
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Slow and Easy
Week 3, Day 2
Today has been a relatively slow and easy day. I let each boy at the beginning of summer tell me one thing in particular they wanted to be sure that we do during Mellie Camp. Max chose going to a playground. The boy has loved playgrounds since he was a wee little boy. A playground could not have come at a better time, for I was feeling all 66 of my years last night when I went to bed.
We went to Crockett Park, a large, shady playground. On the way, we stopped to get big bottles of cold water and one not sweet snack per boy. I had also packed kiwi, oranges, apples, Persian cucumbers and grape tomatoes. As soon as we arrived, Max asked me to open his pretzels. Somewhere in there, I mistakenly heard Simmy ask me to open his chips. He did not want them then. Sadly, when he came a few minutes later and sort of jerked them out of the cooler bag, they were upside down, and, seriously, how in the world every last one of them fell on the ground is a puzzle to me. He was not happy and for the next half hour or so he lamented the loss and ranted about how it was my fault. I just smiled, told him I was sorry it happened, and he got to choose if spilled chips would ruin his whole day or if spilled chips would just ruin his pleasure in eating chips. He chose the former option for quite some time, but eventually moved on to bigger and better and more fun activities.
About ten minutes after we arrived at the quiet, sparsely populated park, a seemingly never-ending line of bigger, louder kids arrived. I was not happy. They did not stay even an hour and the quiet that resulted upon their departure was heavenly. We stayed and played for a couple more hours.
Arriving at home, we had a much anticipated water balloon fight that lasted about 2 minutes. Who knew that 2 boys could throw that many water balloons at each other and their Mellie so quickly. It was fun and getting wet felt marvelous. This was followed by pizza for lunch (thank you, Aunt P), writing in journals, tie dying another shirt (did not turn out that well), and playing cards on Mellie's bed.
Because I was so wiped out last night, I requested that if boys could be picked up early today, I would not be disappointed. Marsh called around 2:00 and said, "do you want to get rid of him badly enough to meet me somewhere in Brentwood?" Now, I probably would not have worded it quite that way, but I responded with "tell me where. I'm on my way." So, boys are home.
Tomorrow is another big day and could result in another day of obnoxious posting on FB. I am most appreciative of my FB friends who have such kind comments, and most understanding of those who must roll their eyes and wonder why I feel the need to so over share. It is to remember and to let Sheri, in particular, who is at work, see what Max is doing throughout the day. I hope it brings her some joy to know that he's having fun and is well taken care of.
For now, I have a good book (good, in that it's entertaining, not good in that I would ever recommend it), a fairly cool house, and a sofa calling my name.
Today has been a relatively slow and easy day. I let each boy at the beginning of summer tell me one thing in particular they wanted to be sure that we do during Mellie Camp. Max chose going to a playground. The boy has loved playgrounds since he was a wee little boy. A playground could not have come at a better time, for I was feeling all 66 of my years last night when I went to bed.
We went to Crockett Park, a large, shady playground. On the way, we stopped to get big bottles of cold water and one not sweet snack per boy. I had also packed kiwi, oranges, apples, Persian cucumbers and grape tomatoes. As soon as we arrived, Max asked me to open his pretzels. Somewhere in there, I mistakenly heard Simmy ask me to open his chips. He did not want them then. Sadly, when he came a few minutes later and sort of jerked them out of the cooler bag, they were upside down, and, seriously, how in the world every last one of them fell on the ground is a puzzle to me. He was not happy and for the next half hour or so he lamented the loss and ranted about how it was my fault. I just smiled, told him I was sorry it happened, and he got to choose if spilled chips would ruin his whole day or if spilled chips would just ruin his pleasure in eating chips. He chose the former option for quite some time, but eventually moved on to bigger and better and more fun activities.
About ten minutes after we arrived at the quiet, sparsely populated park, a seemingly never-ending line of bigger, louder kids arrived. I was not happy. They did not stay even an hour and the quiet that resulted upon their departure was heavenly. We stayed and played for a couple more hours.
Arriving at home, we had a much anticipated water balloon fight that lasted about 2 minutes. Who knew that 2 boys could throw that many water balloons at each other and their Mellie so quickly. It was fun and getting wet felt marvelous. This was followed by pizza for lunch (thank you, Aunt P), writing in journals, tie dying another shirt (did not turn out that well), and playing cards on Mellie's bed.
Because I was so wiped out last night, I requested that if boys could be picked up early today, I would not be disappointed. Marsh called around 2:00 and said, "do you want to get rid of him badly enough to meet me somewhere in Brentwood?" Now, I probably would not have worded it quite that way, but I responded with "tell me where. I'm on my way." So, boys are home.
Tomorrow is another big day and could result in another day of obnoxious posting on FB. I am most appreciative of my FB friends who have such kind comments, and most understanding of those who must roll their eyes and wonder why I feel the need to so over share. It is to remember and to let Sheri, in particular, who is at work, see what Max is doing throughout the day. I hope it brings her some joy to know that he's having fun and is well taken care of.
For now, I have a good book (good, in that it's entertaining, not good in that I would ever recommend it), a fairly cool house, and a sofa calling my name.
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Keeping Expectations Low
Week 3, Day 1
I had high expectations for the day. It was going to be a perfectly run, we're-all-on-the-same-team kind of day. That is not exactly how the morning went, even after we "went to the river" and prayed for strength and Jesuslike behavior for the day. One of my buddies had a really hard morning. I do not know what set it off, and when I asked if he could tell me what the problem was, he said he didn't really know. The other one was rowdy beyond description. When he wacked the other one in the head with a rather large jingle bell, he ran after him apologizing yelling, "I don't know what got into me!!" Flip Wilson comes to mind.
My plan today was to educate the boys on what is involved in having a dinner party. We have discussed this night for a couple weeks. They decided on their menu quite a while ago. The main dish is a frittata with bacon and cheese only, no veggies. It's their party, so I agreed. As a side, there is a salad in a parmesan cheese bowl. Well, only the adults will have the bowls because we ran out of cheese and the boys have parmesan wafers, which, frankly, are much more appetizing than the bowls, and I use the term "bowl" loosely. A shallow, cheese, shape of some sort is more accurate. Toasted French bread rounds out our main offering. The piece de resistance is chocolate bowls with ice cream and toppings. We each chose two toppings for the ice cream sundae bar we are setting up. I chose caramel sauce which had mold growing on it when I opened it and whipped cream, which I won't whip because it was supposed to go on the caramel sauce. The boys picked almond M&Ms, Swedish Fish, Sour Patch gummy worms, and gummy figures of varying design. Yum?
They set the table. I let them pick out the dishes to use. Shock of all shocks, they did choose matching dishes. We had to use clear glasses because our ice is fish-shaped made with 2 ice trays Max gave me for my birthday. For several days now, I have been making fish ice cubes, storing them in a baggie in the freezer. I let them organize the flowers and they have placed them in front of each person's place, which is lovely. Two sets of salt and pepper shakers each. This is what prompted the most avaricious dictating of which sets they wanted me to leave them in my will. They did not seem to understand that I have to be DEAD (maybe they did understand) before they are getting my stuff. So, on the table, on July 10, we have a 2-in-one shaker that Simmy has always loved. It's very delicate and beautiful. He also chose a set that looks like the hot and cold water handles on an old fashioned sink. Max chose a duck riding a beach ball, and two Christmas rabbits nestled in a Christmas shoe. Probably not what I would have chosen, but they are pleased, so I am pleased.
We took a little break from party work to make a craft. It is a stained glass sun catcher made with glitter glue and food coloring. I think they are going to turn out well once they dry, but Simmy looked like a accident victim, he had so much red food coloring on his hands....and the bottoms of his feet. I don't even know.
Then, a movie on the den floor where they made a cozy nest with the cushions off the sofa. I was a little sad when I heard the end of the movie. I must admit I was a little shocked when one of them came running back to Frisby Hall in his superman underwear only. What is that about?
Well, after lots of starts and stops and arguments and tears and messiness and trips to "the river," dinner was a huge success. The veggies in the salad were in rather large chunks, but they cut them themselves. The recipe called for 16 eggs for the frittatas and we only needed 17. Only one went "overboard." I think that's pretty great. Part of dinner may or may not have been sneezed upon, but I figure we're all family. When it came time to eat, they served everyone, ladies first, with great aplomb. They filled the glasses with ice and cleared the table and ate like champs. Some frittata was eaten without a fork. We still have a little table manners work to do, but all in all, I'd say it was a successful day. This tired Mellie is hitting the sack. Week 3, Day 2 tomorrow. Who knows what wonders await.
I had high expectations for the day. It was going to be a perfectly run, we're-all-on-the-same-team kind of day. That is not exactly how the morning went, even after we "went to the river" and prayed for strength and Jesuslike behavior for the day. One of my buddies had a really hard morning. I do not know what set it off, and when I asked if he could tell me what the problem was, he said he didn't really know. The other one was rowdy beyond description. When he wacked the other one in the head with a rather large jingle bell, he ran after him apologizing yelling, "I don't know what got into me!!" Flip Wilson comes to mind.
My plan today was to educate the boys on what is involved in having a dinner party. We have discussed this night for a couple weeks. They decided on their menu quite a while ago. The main dish is a frittata with bacon and cheese only, no veggies. It's their party, so I agreed. As a side, there is a salad in a parmesan cheese bowl. Well, only the adults will have the bowls because we ran out of cheese and the boys have parmesan wafers, which, frankly, are much more appetizing than the bowls, and I use the term "bowl" loosely. A shallow, cheese, shape of some sort is more accurate. Toasted French bread rounds out our main offering. The piece de resistance is chocolate bowls with ice cream and toppings. We each chose two toppings for the ice cream sundae bar we are setting up. I chose caramel sauce which had mold growing on it when I opened it and whipped cream, which I won't whip because it was supposed to go on the caramel sauce. The boys picked almond M&Ms, Swedish Fish, Sour Patch gummy worms, and gummy figures of varying design. Yum?
They set the table. I let them pick out the dishes to use. Shock of all shocks, they did choose matching dishes. We had to use clear glasses because our ice is fish-shaped made with 2 ice trays Max gave me for my birthday. For several days now, I have been making fish ice cubes, storing them in a baggie in the freezer. I let them organize the flowers and they have placed them in front of each person's place, which is lovely. Two sets of salt and pepper shakers each. This is what prompted the most avaricious dictating of which sets they wanted me to leave them in my will. They did not seem to understand that I have to be DEAD (maybe they did understand) before they are getting my stuff. So, on the table, on July 10, we have a 2-in-one shaker that Simmy has always loved. It's very delicate and beautiful. He also chose a set that looks like the hot and cold water handles on an old fashioned sink. Max chose a duck riding a beach ball, and two Christmas rabbits nestled in a Christmas shoe. Probably not what I would have chosen, but they are pleased, so I am pleased.
We took a little break from party work to make a craft. It is a stained glass sun catcher made with glitter glue and food coloring. I think they are going to turn out well once they dry, but Simmy looked like a accident victim, he had so much red food coloring on his hands....and the bottoms of his feet. I don't even know.
Then, a movie on the den floor where they made a cozy nest with the cushions off the sofa. I was a little sad when I heard the end of the movie. I must admit I was a little shocked when one of them came running back to Frisby Hall in his superman underwear only. What is that about?
Well, after lots of starts and stops and arguments and tears and messiness and trips to "the river," dinner was a huge success. The veggies in the salad were in rather large chunks, but they cut them themselves. The recipe called for 16 eggs for the frittatas and we only needed 17. Only one went "overboard." I think that's pretty great. Part of dinner may or may not have been sneezed upon, but I figure we're all family. When it came time to eat, they served everyone, ladies first, with great aplomb. They filled the glasses with ice and cleared the table and ate like champs. Some frittata was eaten without a fork. We still have a little table manners work to do, but all in all, I'd say it was a successful day. This tired Mellie is hitting the sack. Week 3, Day 2 tomorrow. Who knows what wonders await.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Love, Hate, and Facebook
I sort of have a love~hate relationship with Facebook. Political posts make me crazy. It doesn't matter if you are far left or far right...it is the word "far" that aggravates. Reconciling some of my FB friends who are professed Jesus followers and their political posts is pretty much impossible for me. Perhaps, I lack imagination and that prevents my being able to do that. Of course, certainly, my FB friends have no obligation to make sure their political posts are palatable to me. Thank Goodness for the "unfollow" button. If the same person's posts make me red in the face three days in a row, they are unfollowed because I do not want to allow FB posts to cause me to feel badly toward someone. I'm sure they survive that unfollowing without missing a beat. I do have two or three friends who post political commentary that do it thoughtfully and, in my mind, consistently with their beliefs. These I read and appreciate even if I don't agree.
I really dislike Fakebook. Personally, I think this is a bigger problem (I hope) for young people than for adults. I certainly hope no adults are looking at other people's posts and feeling intimidated and/or jealous. We are not in junior high school. But, for those who haven't matured enough to realize that those posts are the "highlight reels" (thanks to Josh Graves for that term) not real life, they can be extremely damaging. For me to feel jealous of someone's job, car, multiple homes, trips etc...is sort of like taking the gift of my own messy, mixed-up, sometimes sad, sometimes foul, wonderful, beautiful life and throwing it back in the face of the One who gave it to me. Twice in my life, I have had someone reject the gift I had given them. Once it was actually thrown down with the exclamation, "ewwwww, give it to a boy!" The recipient was a girly girl, and so in hindsight, perhaps, a pirate ship was not the best choice. That day I learned a lesson; don't give a gift that YOU want, but rather know your audience and find something special that they would want. The other time, I had handknitted a scarf for someone I loved dearly and who loved me dearly. I was taken aback when the gift was opened and they stated, "that's nice, but I'll never wear it." I learned a good lesson that day too; you still love people dearly after they have made what could be a hurtful statement and being "hurt" is a choice. Having said all that, I do not want to be guilty of thinking my life is not enough because of what someone posts on FB, or for any other reason for that matter.
I really do not like Vaguebook. You know the posts ~ "I can't believe that just happened!" This is only appropriate if a national sporting event is on TV and everyone is watching and something like the Music City Miracle just happened...in my humble opinion. Or ~ " oh, no!" What oh no? Stop, just stop. Or a post from someone who hasn't posted in three years and they put, "here we go again." No, no, no. Or the "virtue signaling" as someone close to me calls it. If you've done something mighty fine, just say it if you need it told. Please don't beat around the bush or passively-aggressively try to manipulate the rest of us into telling about your righteousness. Either keep it to yourself in your heart or boast about it from the highest mountain, just choose. You get what I mean. I don't mean the "will you pray for my friend" with no explanation. I don't need explanations to offer prayers on behalf of someone.
But, there are things about FB that I really love. I love seeing the pictures of your children, grandchildren, weddings, anniversaries, animals in your yard, Pinterest fails and successes, trips (I have enjoyed many a vicarious trip thanks to FB), birthdays, friend gatherings, etc. I love seeing all that. I have connected with many people, some of whom I would have no idea where they are or what their lives have been without FB. For a committed introvert, it is a wonderful way to stay in touch.
I have especially enjoyed the month of June on FB. I'm a little sad that today is the last day of our June photo challenge. 8 or 9 of us have pretty consistently (6 of us haven't missed a day) posted a daily prompted picture. The pictures are great and they have also been a window into the lives of those of us who have posted. Two of the other 5 I grew up with in church. They are brothers. Because of FB, we have reconnected. I have had lunch with them here in Nashville. They both have been on my walking tour at different times. They are fine men, husbands, fathers, and grandfathers. They are adventurers, and have afforded me, through FB, to see many beautiful places. It just gives my heart a little bubble of happiness to be reconnected with them and, indirectly, with their families. Thank you Bobby and Tommy (you'll never be Bob and Tom to me) for allowing me to know you and those you love so well. Oh, and thanks for teaching me about earthquake bolts. I never knew.
The only other female in our group I did not think I knew at all. She is friends of the brothers and a wonderful photographer, wife, mom, grandmother to lots of grandchildren...just a really nice person. Talking with a friend who attended the same high school as this new FB friend, I asked if she knew her. She said, "yes, she was in my wedding!" So was I in that wedding. Obviously, Debbie and I had met before ~ 46 years ago. When she and I were on FB messenger talking about this, she told me that her husband was in my split 5th grade class at Dalewood Elementary School. What a small, small world! Thank you, Debbie, for sharing parts of your life with me through this photo challenge. I have loved getting to know you this way, and look forward to the day that we meet face to face....again. And, thank you for your encouragement of the photos I have shared and of my grandparenting adventures.
Two of the men in our little crew, I have never met and possibly will never meet. They are also friends of the brothers mentioned above. One of these new friends lives in California and one in Arkansas. Both, again, are loving husbands, dads, and granddads. They both have had some grand adventures that I have enjoyed witnessing through their photography. They are creative and encouraging and so very kind. They enjoy and appreciate their lives. Thank you Gene and Byard for participating in the photo challenge. I count it pure joy to have had my life touched by yours in this way. Perhaps, someday, this whole little group will meet at Tommy and Janet's farm and go eat hot dogs.
None of this would have happened without this thing called Facebook. Moments matter. I have enjoyed the moments of our photo challenge. A group of six very different people with different lives, a fact made obvious by our different takes on the photo prompts. That has been fun too. On the 29th, the challenge was "someplace colorful." Posted were, ribbons on a Navy Command Master Chief's chest, a drawer of little girl dresses, a beautiful backyard, a donut shop, a rainbow over some amazing scenery, a field of California poppies, and a bird. I'm a firm believer that part of our divine spark is displayed in our creativity. So, again, Tommy, Bobby, Debbie, Gene, Byard and also, Ginger and Tom, thank you, and thank you Facebook! Until the next time, be well, and keep taking those pictures!
I really dislike Fakebook. Personally, I think this is a bigger problem (I hope) for young people than for adults. I certainly hope no adults are looking at other people's posts and feeling intimidated and/or jealous. We are not in junior high school. But, for those who haven't matured enough to realize that those posts are the "highlight reels" (thanks to Josh Graves for that term) not real life, they can be extremely damaging. For me to feel jealous of someone's job, car, multiple homes, trips etc...is sort of like taking the gift of my own messy, mixed-up, sometimes sad, sometimes foul, wonderful, beautiful life and throwing it back in the face of the One who gave it to me. Twice in my life, I have had someone reject the gift I had given them. Once it was actually thrown down with the exclamation, "ewwwww, give it to a boy!" The recipient was a girly girl, and so in hindsight, perhaps, a pirate ship was not the best choice. That day I learned a lesson; don't give a gift that YOU want, but rather know your audience and find something special that they would want. The other time, I had handknitted a scarf for someone I loved dearly and who loved me dearly. I was taken aback when the gift was opened and they stated, "that's nice, but I'll never wear it." I learned a good lesson that day too; you still love people dearly after they have made what could be a hurtful statement and being "hurt" is a choice. Having said all that, I do not want to be guilty of thinking my life is not enough because of what someone posts on FB, or for any other reason for that matter.
I really do not like Vaguebook. You know the posts ~ "I can't believe that just happened!" This is only appropriate if a national sporting event is on TV and everyone is watching and something like the Music City Miracle just happened...in my humble opinion. Or ~ " oh, no!" What oh no? Stop, just stop. Or a post from someone who hasn't posted in three years and they put, "here we go again." No, no, no. Or the "virtue signaling" as someone close to me calls it. If you've done something mighty fine, just say it if you need it told. Please don't beat around the bush or passively-aggressively try to manipulate the rest of us into telling about your righteousness. Either keep it to yourself in your heart or boast about it from the highest mountain, just choose. You get what I mean. I don't mean the "will you pray for my friend" with no explanation. I don't need explanations to offer prayers on behalf of someone.
But, there are things about FB that I really love. I love seeing the pictures of your children, grandchildren, weddings, anniversaries, animals in your yard, Pinterest fails and successes, trips (I have enjoyed many a vicarious trip thanks to FB), birthdays, friend gatherings, etc. I love seeing all that. I have connected with many people, some of whom I would have no idea where they are or what their lives have been without FB. For a committed introvert, it is a wonderful way to stay in touch.
I have especially enjoyed the month of June on FB. I'm a little sad that today is the last day of our June photo challenge. 8 or 9 of us have pretty consistently (6 of us haven't missed a day) posted a daily prompted picture. The pictures are great and they have also been a window into the lives of those of us who have posted. Two of the other 5 I grew up with in church. They are brothers. Because of FB, we have reconnected. I have had lunch with them here in Nashville. They both have been on my walking tour at different times. They are fine men, husbands, fathers, and grandfathers. They are adventurers, and have afforded me, through FB, to see many beautiful places. It just gives my heart a little bubble of happiness to be reconnected with them and, indirectly, with their families. Thank you Bobby and Tommy (you'll never be Bob and Tom to me) for allowing me to know you and those you love so well. Oh, and thanks for teaching me about earthquake bolts. I never knew.
The only other female in our group I did not think I knew at all. She is friends of the brothers and a wonderful photographer, wife, mom, grandmother to lots of grandchildren...just a really nice person. Talking with a friend who attended the same high school as this new FB friend, I asked if she knew her. She said, "yes, she was in my wedding!" So was I in that wedding. Obviously, Debbie and I had met before ~ 46 years ago. When she and I were on FB messenger talking about this, she told me that her husband was in my split 5th grade class at Dalewood Elementary School. What a small, small world! Thank you, Debbie, for sharing parts of your life with me through this photo challenge. I have loved getting to know you this way, and look forward to the day that we meet face to face....again. And, thank you for your encouragement of the photos I have shared and of my grandparenting adventures.
Two of the men in our little crew, I have never met and possibly will never meet. They are also friends of the brothers mentioned above. One of these new friends lives in California and one in Arkansas. Both, again, are loving husbands, dads, and granddads. They both have had some grand adventures that I have enjoyed witnessing through their photography. They are creative and encouraging and so very kind. They enjoy and appreciate their lives. Thank you Gene and Byard for participating in the photo challenge. I count it pure joy to have had my life touched by yours in this way. Perhaps, someday, this whole little group will meet at Tommy and Janet's farm and go eat hot dogs.
None of this would have happened without this thing called Facebook. Moments matter. I have enjoyed the moments of our photo challenge. A group of six very different people with different lives, a fact made obvious by our different takes on the photo prompts. That has been fun too. On the 29th, the challenge was "someplace colorful." Posted were, ribbons on a Navy Command Master Chief's chest, a drawer of little girl dresses, a beautiful backyard, a donut shop, a rainbow over some amazing scenery, a field of California poppies, and a bird. I'm a firm believer that part of our divine spark is displayed in our creativity. So, again, Tommy, Bobby, Debbie, Gene, Byard and also, Ginger and Tom, thank you, and thank you Facebook! Until the next time, be well, and keep taking those pictures!
Thursday, June 21, 2018
Plans Change
Week 2, Last day.
Our plans had included Crockett Park, Pizza, making cards and going to Post Office to mail them. Pretty much the pizza is the only part of our plan that did not change.
The weather was yucky so Crockett Park was not a good option. We went to the movie instead to see The Incredibles. I confess, I slept through part of it. Those recliner chairs are VERY comfortable. Everyone agreed that was a fun thing to do on a rainy camp day. Crockett Park would have been a whole lot cheaper.
We had morning work too, where they wrote invitations for their parents and Fizzy because they are cooking dinner for them on July 10. We have our menu set, so grocery shopping, setting the table and cooking with probably take a good part of that day....or not, so I will have additional plans. They did a math sheet, a "would you rather" sheet where Simmy put down the shortest answers, regardless of what he'd rather. That is not a conclusion I drew, it's what he said. Funny guy. They made pictures using stencils that I did not even know I had.
Last, but not least, we made crystals on sea shells. They turned out really well, except Mellie went a little crazy with the Borax so our shells looked less like sparkly shells and more like geodes, but either way, they were just lovely.
A quiet, slow, pretty peaceful day. It is uncanny when the boys get crosswise with each other, I tell them to "meet me at the river." They know the river is the sofa in the living room, and there we hold hands and I pray while they pay very little attention. Now, in case you think I am praying some fire and brimstone prayer, I am not. I simply ask that we all act like Jesus to one another, to only look in our cousin's "yard" to be sure he has enough and to give Mellie patience. They scoff, but it surely seems to help.
So, now I'm down to 6 days of camp this summer. It is true that I am pretty tired by the time they go home, but I would not trade getting to spend these days with these boys for anything. I am extremely fortunate that their parents allow me these opportunities.
Our plans had included Crockett Park, Pizza, making cards and going to Post Office to mail them. Pretty much the pizza is the only part of our plan that did not change.
The weather was yucky so Crockett Park was not a good option. We went to the movie instead to see The Incredibles. I confess, I slept through part of it. Those recliner chairs are VERY comfortable. Everyone agreed that was a fun thing to do on a rainy camp day. Crockett Park would have been a whole lot cheaper.
We had morning work too, where they wrote invitations for their parents and Fizzy because they are cooking dinner for them on July 10. We have our menu set, so grocery shopping, setting the table and cooking with probably take a good part of that day....or not, so I will have additional plans. They did a math sheet, a "would you rather" sheet where Simmy put down the shortest answers, regardless of what he'd rather. That is not a conclusion I drew, it's what he said. Funny guy. They made pictures using stencils that I did not even know I had.
Last, but not least, we made crystals on sea shells. They turned out really well, except Mellie went a little crazy with the Borax so our shells looked less like sparkly shells and more like geodes, but either way, they were just lovely.
A quiet, slow, pretty peaceful day. It is uncanny when the boys get crosswise with each other, I tell them to "meet me at the river." They know the river is the sofa in the living room, and there we hold hands and I pray while they pay very little attention. Now, in case you think I am praying some fire and brimstone prayer, I am not. I simply ask that we all act like Jesus to one another, to only look in our cousin's "yard" to be sure he has enough and to give Mellie patience. They scoff, but it surely seems to help.
So, now I'm down to 6 days of camp this summer. It is true that I am pretty tired by the time they go home, but I would not trade getting to spend these days with these boys for anything. I am extremely fortunate that their parents allow me these opportunities.
Wednesday, June 20, 2018
Young and Old
Week 2, Day 1
My mother thinks I'm young. She's almost 94. I understand from her vantage point that 65 looks young. Make no mistake, I am not feeling young at the moment. Week 2, Day 1 has been a great day. It has been a busy day. It seems at the moment that 2 of us are still going strong and one of us, not so much.
Today, we bought flowers for Nunny and delivered them. You would think that her lift chair (don't tell her that I said she had one) was a ride at an amusement park. They took turns dumping each other out, until, I felt it was time to go.
Off we went to visit Fizzy at his office. His office is filled with crafts done by the grandchildren and pictures of our family. He also has a favorite Mark Twain quote: "always do right. it will gratify some and astonish the rest." There is also beautiful black and white shot of the doors at the old Otter Creek building taken by the brilliant Jerry Atnip with a description entitled "Doors with a Patina" written by the wonderful Sandra Collins. I am blessed to know so many wonderful people, but I digress. We took pictures in a courtroom of an unnamed judge and pretended we were presiding over a trial.
Next, came lunch at Swett's. Lots of debate between Fizzy and me as to where we should go for lunch. We both were pretty sure that Chick-fil-a would be a better choice, but I am not eating at fast food restaurants this year, so Swett's it was. Both boys ate like champs, and even after one said in the car that he "would not eat no fried chicken (followed by a grammar lesson in double negatives," he proceeded to devour his friend chicken, mac and cheese, and fruit. The other ate beef tips, corn on the cob and at least 1/2 pound of butter on one roll. Sim eats a little slower, because he is pretty much constantly talking, so Max laid down to take a little rest. We rain would deter us from our other planned activity, but it did not so...…
They changed clothes in the car into bathing suits. Why do some people find being naked an invitation to a dance party? I don't know, but I was hurrying them to please get dressed and to quit exposing themselves out the car window so as not to have me picked up by DCS. Finally, they were dressed and off to the fountains at the Bicentennial Mall we went.
They had so much fun, in spite of two pesky (bratty) little boys that were a torment. Not to my delight at all, but Max and one of them accidentally ran into each other in a full out run and the little one fell and begged to go home. He was not seriously injured and we were not disappointed to see him go. I have to say here, however, that I was so proud of my boys for sharing and being kind to smaller and bigger kids there. That prayer we had to start the day, asking The Lord to help us be more like Jesus, seemed to have an impact even if they giggled through the whole thing and told me they felt awkward. The greatest activity was watching the balls we took being kept in the air by the fountains. Let that suffice as a science exhibit in Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence. Also, reading was introduced as I encouraged them to read the inscriptions on the wall at the fountains. That activity was met with not much enthusiasm.
At least we headed home, had strawberries and yogurt, and then did string art for the journals. That was so much fun and they turned out excellently. I am supposed to be somewhere tonight, but, frankly, I am not sure I am going to make it, but it was been a most marvelous day.
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Camp Lessons
Lessons learned today....in no particular order.
1. Tie Dye does not wash off hands very well
2. Chocolate cups are not as easy to make as Pinterest would have you think.
3. Multiple stabs at balloon forms for chocolate cups will make said cups collapse.
4. Six year old boys will not spend more than 4 seconds shaking up a bag of ice to make ice cream in a bag. Their hands get cold.
5. Ice cream in a bag makes soft serve look like a brick.
6. It is really hot today.
7. Sticks and rocks make very nice "stencils" for tie dye shirts.
8. A floor covered in plastic eggs is tempting for 6 year old boys to kick eggs as far as possible.
9. Security guards are not pleased with kicked eggs.
10. Why would there be an exhibit of fish hanging from the ceiling and not expect 6 year old boys to swing them about and bump them into each other?
11. Security guards do not care for swinging fish.
12. Mellie and the boys look quite official in our Mellie Camp shirts.
13. 6 year old boys have about a 12% success rate in snapping non-fuzzy photos.
14. Children love splashing in water of any sort.
15. 6 year old boys can only go 12 1/2 minutes without a snack.
16. 6 year old boys don't care for writing in journals, but when someone insists, they do a better-than-adequate job.
17. 6 year boys will climb on anything...as high as they can go.
18. Great pleasure is found describing in detail the delicate places where chigger bites can be found.
19. If an adult leaves the room, 6 year old boys will just take their shirts off at the dining room table while eating lunch.
20. We have some work to do on our table manners before dining at The Hermitage Hotel.
21. I am very lucky to spend days in the presence of 6 year old boys.
1. Tie Dye does not wash off hands very well
2. Chocolate cups are not as easy to make as Pinterest would have you think.
3. Multiple stabs at balloon forms for chocolate cups will make said cups collapse.
4. Six year old boys will not spend more than 4 seconds shaking up a bag of ice to make ice cream in a bag. Their hands get cold.
5. Ice cream in a bag makes soft serve look like a brick.
6. It is really hot today.
7. Sticks and rocks make very nice "stencils" for tie dye shirts.
8. A floor covered in plastic eggs is tempting for 6 year old boys to kick eggs as far as possible.
9. Security guards are not pleased with kicked eggs.
10. Why would there be an exhibit of fish hanging from the ceiling and not expect 6 year old boys to swing them about and bump them into each other?
11. Security guards do not care for swinging fish.
12. Mellie and the boys look quite official in our Mellie Camp shirts.
13. 6 year old boys have about a 12% success rate in snapping non-fuzzy photos.
14. Children love splashing in water of any sort.
15. 6 year old boys can only go 12 1/2 minutes without a snack.
16. 6 year old boys don't care for writing in journals, but when someone insists, they do a better-than-adequate job.
17. 6 year boys will climb on anything...as high as they can go.
18. Great pleasure is found describing in detail the delicate places where chigger bites can be found.
19. If an adult leaves the room, 6 year old boys will just take their shirts off at the dining room table while eating lunch.
20. We have some work to do on our table manners before dining at The Hermitage Hotel.
21. I am very lucky to spend days in the presence of 6 year old boys.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Oops, There Goes Another Rubber Tree.....
Day 3.
Honestly, yesterday by bedtime, I was only semi-conscious. I mean for dinner, Mr. L and I ate tiny burgers, no buns, slathered mayonnaise on his and mine wrapped in a piece of cheese....and I didn't even care.
Last night, in my delirium, a song came to me:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows that ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
so any time you're gettin' low
'stead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant,
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, I woke up with high hopes. I was at the grocery by 6:05 am to replenish snacks and to get something to fix for dinner for poor Mr. L. When the boys arrived, I told them we were starting our day a bit differently. We gathered on the white sofa in the living room, held hands, and I prayed. I prayed that we would all act like Jesus, that our only concern would be that the other person's needs were met before our own, that we would listen to what Mellie said, and that Mellie would not be grumpy because her knee hurts. There are those who would think that a dumb, self-serving prayer, and perhaps they would be right, but I believe The Lord cares about the details of our lives, and I needed some details of this day tended to by someone far more holy than I. It is almost 3:00 pm and, let me just say, every day of Mellie camp will begin with a petition for some Jesus attitude. I taught the song (a version of it) to the boys and they really enjoyed singing with me. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Krispy Kreme boasts the Hot Sign being on from 5:00 am to 10:00 am so we timed our visit there in anticipation of hot, melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnuts. The only thing hot at Krispy Kreme this morning was the inside of the place. Apparently, their air-conditioner was on the fritz. For someone who keeps her thermostat on 68 degrees, it was a bit unpleasant to me, but my campers were not deterred and enjoyed, immensely, the decadent breakfast. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Off to the Downtown Library. Nashville has a most excellent library, and the children's section is delightful. There is a playhouse, a small climbing wall, a puppet theater, nooks and crannies and all sorts of wonderfulness. We had a talk about having good manners, not running, and being ever aware of the smaller children with a reminder that once they were the little ones, and now they are the big ones. As is typical, Simmy made friends with a group of other children and, today, Max enjoyed them as well.
Because Max is in a summer reading and activity program through the library, one of his activities is to put on a puppet show. We seized the opportunity. The puppet theater in the library is made to look like the Ryman Auditorium. There is quite an assortment of puppets available to create stories of every kind. The plot was a bit thin in our show ~ a skunk sprayed a turtle, the turtle fainted and The Grinch came along to make life even more difficult, but the turtle was unconscious, so only the panda and the fox had to deal with the skunk. The best stories come from true life they say, so I suspect too many days at Mellie's after the skunk sprayed this house was the impetus for the show. I politely applauded and then texted Max's mom to say that she can mark "have a puppet show" off the list of library activities. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
Upon leaving the library, the boys wanted to get a souvenir. I took them to the free magazines, flyers, and newspapers that the library stocks. I told them they could each get two publications. Who knew Nashville Arts Magazine would be the six year old boys Playboy. Lots of giggling in the backseat over a guy without his shirt on and a "naked lady." Oops....just oops.
Afterward, we went to see Sheri for a brief moment so Max could tell her hi, then we came home for lunch and our art project for the day ~ t-shirts for Fizzy and the dads for Father's Day. I can't post pictures because we don't want the dads to see them, but they turned out better than I thought. We used bleach pens and an added bonus is my house smells clean. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
By this time everyone was a bit tired so the campers watched the rest of the Planet Earth they fought through yesterday, we did a directed drawing, they wrote in their journals, and now they are out having "free-play." They are back inside and I continue to have high hopes for the next 40 minutes, when Simmy will be picked up. Max's parents are taking advantage of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence aftercare today, so he and I will read and he'll do some sewing before dinner. All in all, a much better day than yesterday. Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, for today and always, I wish you, high hopes, high hopes, high apple pie in the sky hopes!!
Honestly, yesterday by bedtime, I was only semi-conscious. I mean for dinner, Mr. L and I ate tiny burgers, no buns, slathered mayonnaise on his and mine wrapped in a piece of cheese....and I didn't even care.
Last night, in my delirium, a song came to me:
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he'll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows that ant can't
Move a rubber tree plant.
But, he's got high hopes, he's got high hopes
He's got high apple pie, in the sky hopes.
so any time you're gettin' low
'stead of lettin' go
Just remember that ant,
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree
Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, I woke up with high hopes. I was at the grocery by 6:05 am to replenish snacks and to get something to fix for dinner for poor Mr. L. When the boys arrived, I told them we were starting our day a bit differently. We gathered on the white sofa in the living room, held hands, and I prayed. I prayed that we would all act like Jesus, that our only concern would be that the other person's needs were met before our own, that we would listen to what Mellie said, and that Mellie would not be grumpy because her knee hurts. There are those who would think that a dumb, self-serving prayer, and perhaps they would be right, but I believe The Lord cares about the details of our lives, and I needed some details of this day tended to by someone far more holy than I. It is almost 3:00 pm and, let me just say, every day of Mellie camp will begin with a petition for some Jesus attitude. I taught the song (a version of it) to the boys and they really enjoyed singing with me. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Krispy Kreme boasts the Hot Sign being on from 5:00 am to 10:00 am so we timed our visit there in anticipation of hot, melt-in-your-mouth glazed doughnuts. The only thing hot at Krispy Kreme this morning was the inside of the place. Apparently, their air-conditioner was on the fritz. For someone who keeps her thermostat on 68 degrees, it was a bit unpleasant to me, but my campers were not deterred and enjoyed, immensely, the decadent breakfast. Oops, there goes another rubber tree...
Off to the Downtown Library. Nashville has a most excellent library, and the children's section is delightful. There is a playhouse, a small climbing wall, a puppet theater, nooks and crannies and all sorts of wonderfulness. We had a talk about having good manners, not running, and being ever aware of the smaller children with a reminder that once they were the little ones, and now they are the big ones. As is typical, Simmy made friends with a group of other children and, today, Max enjoyed them as well.
Because Max is in a summer reading and activity program through the library, one of his activities is to put on a puppet show. We seized the opportunity. The puppet theater in the library is made to look like the Ryman Auditorium. There is quite an assortment of puppets available to create stories of every kind. The plot was a bit thin in our show ~ a skunk sprayed a turtle, the turtle fainted and The Grinch came along to make life even more difficult, but the turtle was unconscious, so only the panda and the fox had to deal with the skunk. The best stories come from true life they say, so I suspect too many days at Mellie's after the skunk sprayed this house was the impetus for the show. I politely applauded and then texted Max's mom to say that she can mark "have a puppet show" off the list of library activities. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
Upon leaving the library, the boys wanted to get a souvenir. I took them to the free magazines, flyers, and newspapers that the library stocks. I told them they could each get two publications. Who knew Nashville Arts Magazine would be the six year old boys Playboy. Lots of giggling in the backseat over a guy without his shirt on and a "naked lady." Oops....just oops.
Afterward, we went to see Sheri for a brief moment so Max could tell her hi, then we came home for lunch and our art project for the day ~ t-shirts for Fizzy and the dads for Father's Day. I can't post pictures because we don't want the dads to see them, but they turned out better than I thought. We used bleach pens and an added bonus is my house smells clean. Oops, there goes another rubber tree....
By this time everyone was a bit tired so the campers watched the rest of the Planet Earth they fought through yesterday, we did a directed drawing, they wrote in their journals, and now they are out having "free-play." They are back inside and I continue to have high hopes for the next 40 minutes, when Simmy will be picked up. Max's parents are taking advantage of Mellie's Summer Camp of Excellence aftercare today, so he and I will read and he'll do some sewing before dinner. All in all, a much better day than yesterday. Oops, there goes another rubber tree plant!
So, for today and always, I wish you, high hopes, high hopes, high apple pie in the sky hopes!!
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Ignore It
Day 2.
Wowza! Two boys? Not as laid back as one. Everybody, with the exception of Mellie, has cried at least once today; or if not cried, at least has had feelings wounded. Sometimes, it is really difficult to know why feelings were hurt. Usually, it's my fault, but, for the life of me, I don't know what I did. So, I mainly just ignore it until everybody is over it. Ignoring things is exhausting.
I started the day with high hopes. On the docket were an art project, a trip to Cheekwood, a second go at knitting (disaster), plastic canvas sewing, entries in our journal, and reading. One boy arrived in dismay and spent several minutes wailing upon arriving. I ignored it and used that time to explain the poured paint art project to the other. Eventually, the upset one ventured into the kitchen and decided, perhaps, he would participate. It may take 2 weeks for the projects to dry, but I think they turned out nicely. One, however, lamented that his was terrible and ugly. I ignored it.
Cheekwood was our next adventure, and for the most part it went brilliantly. Some sort of moping and hurt feelings occurred, but I was more interested in being sure that, in their enthusiasm neither boy plowed down a toddler nor a senior citizen. We were there all of about 8 minutes before there were cries of thirst and hunger. Do you have any idea how much a snack out of the vending machine at Cheekwood costs? I just ignored what was right in front of my face and bought them.
We made our way to the creek and ponds where the extraverted child attached himself to a trio of boys, aged 2 - 8. Their mom was quite entertained by the pretty much non-stop talking that went on. I had to remind Mr. Extravert that those other boys had an adult with them who would offer instructions on how to conduct themselves and that he could just relax and be a six year old. He dearly loves being "of service" whether his help has been solicited or not. He told me I had embarrassed him by saying that. The more introverted boy had a glorious time jumping in the creek and getting pretty much all around muddy and wet. What I thought would be a "throw away" day, weatherwise, turned out to be a perfectly beautiful day. I ignored the dark cloud moving our way, and we almost made it home without getting wet.
Home we came for lunch. One boy only ate snacks because, insult of all insults, he doesn't like my grilled cheese sandwiches. We worked some more on our table manners....it's not going well. Pretty much, the afternoon has somewhat fallen apart. One boy is worried to pieces that he's going to get in trouble for his wet shoes, the other is just pretty sure that nothing I say is of much consequence. I thought I had them comfortably cozied up in the den with all the couch cushions and pillows on the floor, tucked in with the "super sonic soft" blankets and big, fat, fluffy stuffed animals to watch an episode of Planet Earth. That lasted about 8 minutes. 8 minutes seem to be our limit today. Lots of yelling and begging for snacks etc. I tried to ignore it, instead, the TV is off and everyone has been relegated to the backyard...well, except, no one has gone there. I'm just ignoring it.
I am sure, once the little darlings have gone home, I will reflect upon the day and there will be more ups than downs. I've gotten several unsolicited and impromptu hugs and kisses. I'll take those every time. There have been quite a few "yes ma'ams" which I greatly appreciate. The truth is, they are six year old boys, very beautiful, intelligent, funny, active six your old boys and even the minutes that I find myself bumfuzzled, there is great joy. And, then as the Benedictine rule states, "always we begin again." Tomorrow is a new day with new plans. I'm sure it will be totally delightful.
Well, now they are acting as though they are doing me a favor because I said they could build something out of marshmallows and toothpicks. Being 6 must be really hard at times. Oh, my word, they are fighting over the marshmallows.
A conversation: Simeon: I'm going to make a roast.
Max: What's a roast
Simeon: It's a toothpick with lots of marshmallows stuck on it.
Another: Max: Let me tell you something Sim, pretty much everything that's bad for you tastes good.
Simeon: Do NOT tell me about the foot wheel. (An Uncle Marshall threat for those who eat too much sugar).
Made me laugh out loud. I do not want to ignore those little nuggets of gold. That is one reason I am blogging about our camp ~ so I will remember.
Wowza! Two boys? Not as laid back as one. Everybody, with the exception of Mellie, has cried at least once today; or if not cried, at least has had feelings wounded. Sometimes, it is really difficult to know why feelings were hurt. Usually, it's my fault, but, for the life of me, I don't know what I did. So, I mainly just ignore it until everybody is over it. Ignoring things is exhausting.
I started the day with high hopes. On the docket were an art project, a trip to Cheekwood, a second go at knitting (disaster), plastic canvas sewing, entries in our journal, and reading. One boy arrived in dismay and spent several minutes wailing upon arriving. I ignored it and used that time to explain the poured paint art project to the other. Eventually, the upset one ventured into the kitchen and decided, perhaps, he would participate. It may take 2 weeks for the projects to dry, but I think they turned out nicely. One, however, lamented that his was terrible and ugly. I ignored it.
Cheekwood was our next adventure, and for the most part it went brilliantly. Some sort of moping and hurt feelings occurred, but I was more interested in being sure that, in their enthusiasm neither boy plowed down a toddler nor a senior citizen. We were there all of about 8 minutes before there were cries of thirst and hunger. Do you have any idea how much a snack out of the vending machine at Cheekwood costs? I just ignored what was right in front of my face and bought them.
We made our way to the creek and ponds where the extraverted child attached himself to a trio of boys, aged 2 - 8. Their mom was quite entertained by the pretty much non-stop talking that went on. I had to remind Mr. Extravert that those other boys had an adult with them who would offer instructions on how to conduct themselves and that he could just relax and be a six year old. He dearly loves being "of service" whether his help has been solicited or not. He told me I had embarrassed him by saying that. The more introverted boy had a glorious time jumping in the creek and getting pretty much all around muddy and wet. What I thought would be a "throw away" day, weatherwise, turned out to be a perfectly beautiful day. I ignored the dark cloud moving our way, and we almost made it home without getting wet.
Home we came for lunch. One boy only ate snacks because, insult of all insults, he doesn't like my grilled cheese sandwiches. We worked some more on our table manners....it's not going well. Pretty much, the afternoon has somewhat fallen apart. One boy is worried to pieces that he's going to get in trouble for his wet shoes, the other is just pretty sure that nothing I say is of much consequence. I thought I had them comfortably cozied up in the den with all the couch cushions and pillows on the floor, tucked in with the "super sonic soft" blankets and big, fat, fluffy stuffed animals to watch an episode of Planet Earth. That lasted about 8 minutes. 8 minutes seem to be our limit today. Lots of yelling and begging for snacks etc. I tried to ignore it, instead, the TV is off and everyone has been relegated to the backyard...well, except, no one has gone there. I'm just ignoring it.
I am sure, once the little darlings have gone home, I will reflect upon the day and there will be more ups than downs. I've gotten several unsolicited and impromptu hugs and kisses. I'll take those every time. There have been quite a few "yes ma'ams" which I greatly appreciate. The truth is, they are six year old boys, very beautiful, intelligent, funny, active six your old boys and even the minutes that I find myself bumfuzzled, there is great joy. And, then as the Benedictine rule states, "always we begin again." Tomorrow is a new day with new plans. I'm sure it will be totally delightful.
Well, now they are acting as though they are doing me a favor because I said they could build something out of marshmallows and toothpicks. Being 6 must be really hard at times. Oh, my word, they are fighting over the marshmallows.
A conversation: Simeon: I'm going to make a roast.
Max: What's a roast
Simeon: It's a toothpick with lots of marshmallows stuck on it.
Another: Max: Let me tell you something Sim, pretty much everything that's bad for you tastes good.
Simeon: Do NOT tell me about the foot wheel. (An Uncle Marshall threat for those who eat too much sugar).
Made me laugh out loud. I do not want to ignore those little nuggets of gold. That is one reason I am blogging about our camp ~ so I will remember.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence"
Day 1
This summer, I will have the boys twelve days ~ three days a week for four weeks scattered throughout the summer months. Twelve days. Just twelve days with just the three of us before they go off to first grade. I find it so hard to comprehend. How did all those days of just the three of us, from the time they were infants until now, fly by so swiftly?
I have decided to write about each day. I have BIG plans for us. Some of those will come to fruition, some will not; like my plan to start teaching them to knit. Turns out, Mellie needs a tutorial. I have only been a rudimentary knitter at best, but "rudimentary" would be a most generous description of the skill I displayed today.
Max was my only camper today. Simeon is in Texas, making his way home this evening...the evening that President Trump is coming to town along with tropical depression Alberto. I am definitely praying travel mercies on Simmy and his family.
So, day one of Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence" 2018 was a very laid-back day. We ran some errands to get supplies for our Father's Day masterpieces that we will work on Friday. Max made a really neat suncatcher using construction paper, cardboard box, Saran Wrap, flower petals, and leaves. Any pictures will be posted on FB because my techy self cannot get pictures on my blog any more. I have no idea why. He did some sewing on plastic canvas, some worksheets to help improve his handwriting. He read a 65 page book. I was going to let him stop, but he really liked the story, so he continued on. He is in a reading challenge through the public library, so he got fifty more minutes toward the 600 he is determined to get for the summer. I am not sure how we are going to get reading done with both boys here because they do demand attention, but we will.
They each will have a journal that has the Einstein quote, ""imagination is more important than knowledge" written on the front. My plan is to have them write in it each day, add some snapshots, and include some directed drawings and other artwork. I hope they will keep the journals and that something in the years ahead will spark a memory of a fun time at Mellie's.
We will be working on table manners along with other areas of their lives where their manners could improve. I bought a book entitled "That's Rude, Dude!" There are ten rules for good table manners. It is my plan to have them memorize them. They will work on learning them well, for our last day of camp 2018 will be at The Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel where we will have lunch without smacking our lips, slurping our drinks, dropping food on our chairs or the floor, and refraining from intentional burping. We'll see how that goes.
Lots of outings and random acts of kindness and art projects and science experiments and fine motor skill activities are planned, along with just some playing outdoors and hanging out with probably a movie or two thrown in. I am looking forward to it. I hope the boys are. I know that I will be tired at the end of each day, but I hope it will be a good tired for us all as we work to build a body of good memories and worthwhile lessons.
I ran into two ladies as I was walking the other day. They are the grandmothers of baby Finn who lives next door. They had come into town to keep Finn while his parents were on a trip. Mr. L and I are busy and can be very introverted and backward, so I do not know my new neighbors, but the grandmothers spoke to me and we struck up a conversation. They asked if I had grandchildren and I told them that yes, I do. "Do they live around here," they asked. I replied that they all live in Nashville and that two of them live across the street. I made the somewhat insensitive comment that those two were in Texas and I was really missing them (they left that morning). In a sarcastic but not caustic response, one of those grandmothers responded, "well, I feel so sorry for you!"
I never take for granted how fortunate I am to live near my grandchildren and that my children and their spouses are gracious enough to allow their children to be actively present in my life. So, twelve days doesn't seem like nearly enough. I am realistic enough to know that twelve days on some afternoons will seem like too many if we have rough days of bickering and fighting and recalcitrance. I trust that will not happen. If it does, I will embrace that too and be grateful for every art project gone wrong, every glass of Mellie's "special tea" (it sounds bad but it's really not - just green tea, lemon and stevia) spilled, every muddy footprint tracked in, every glitter bottle, button box, googly-eye bag turned over. It is all a beautiful gift.
This summer, I will have the boys twelve days ~ three days a week for four weeks scattered throughout the summer months. Twelve days. Just twelve days with just the three of us before they go off to first grade. I find it so hard to comprehend. How did all those days of just the three of us, from the time they were infants until now, fly by so swiftly?
I have decided to write about each day. I have BIG plans for us. Some of those will come to fruition, some will not; like my plan to start teaching them to knit. Turns out, Mellie needs a tutorial. I have only been a rudimentary knitter at best, but "rudimentary" would be a most generous description of the skill I displayed today.
Max was my only camper today. Simeon is in Texas, making his way home this evening...the evening that President Trump is coming to town along with tropical depression Alberto. I am definitely praying travel mercies on Simmy and his family.
So, day one of Mellie's Summer Camp of "Excellence" 2018 was a very laid-back day. We ran some errands to get supplies for our Father's Day masterpieces that we will work on Friday. Max made a really neat suncatcher using construction paper, cardboard box, Saran Wrap, flower petals, and leaves. Any pictures will be posted on FB because my techy self cannot get pictures on my blog any more. I have no idea why. He did some sewing on plastic canvas, some worksheets to help improve his handwriting. He read a 65 page book. I was going to let him stop, but he really liked the story, so he continued on. He is in a reading challenge through the public library, so he got fifty more minutes toward the 600 he is determined to get for the summer. I am not sure how we are going to get reading done with both boys here because they do demand attention, but we will.
They each will have a journal that has the Einstein quote, ""imagination is more important than knowledge" written on the front. My plan is to have them write in it each day, add some snapshots, and include some directed drawings and other artwork. I hope they will keep the journals and that something in the years ahead will spark a memory of a fun time at Mellie's.
We will be working on table manners along with other areas of their lives where their manners could improve. I bought a book entitled "That's Rude, Dude!" There are ten rules for good table manners. It is my plan to have them memorize them. They will work on learning them well, for our last day of camp 2018 will be at The Capitol Grille in the Hermitage Hotel where we will have lunch without smacking our lips, slurping our drinks, dropping food on our chairs or the floor, and refraining from intentional burping. We'll see how that goes.
Lots of outings and random acts of kindness and art projects and science experiments and fine motor skill activities are planned, along with just some playing outdoors and hanging out with probably a movie or two thrown in. I am looking forward to it. I hope the boys are. I know that I will be tired at the end of each day, but I hope it will be a good tired for us all as we work to build a body of good memories and worthwhile lessons.
I ran into two ladies as I was walking the other day. They are the grandmothers of baby Finn who lives next door. They had come into town to keep Finn while his parents were on a trip. Mr. L and I are busy and can be very introverted and backward, so I do not know my new neighbors, but the grandmothers spoke to me and we struck up a conversation. They asked if I had grandchildren and I told them that yes, I do. "Do they live around here," they asked. I replied that they all live in Nashville and that two of them live across the street. I made the somewhat insensitive comment that those two were in Texas and I was really missing them (they left that morning). In a sarcastic but not caustic response, one of those grandmothers responded, "well, I feel so sorry for you!"
I never take for granted how fortunate I am to live near my grandchildren and that my children and their spouses are gracious enough to allow their children to be actively present in my life. So, twelve days doesn't seem like nearly enough. I am realistic enough to know that twelve days on some afternoons will seem like too many if we have rough days of bickering and fighting and recalcitrance. I trust that will not happen. If it does, I will embrace that too and be grateful for every art project gone wrong, every glass of Mellie's "special tea" (it sounds bad but it's really not - just green tea, lemon and stevia) spilled, every muddy footprint tracked in, every glitter bottle, button box, googly-eye bag turned over. It is all a beautiful gift.
Thursday, March 29, 2018
My Life With a Self-Diagnosed Jinx
Mr. L. is an easy going, easy-to-live-with kind of guy eleven months of the year. He can, however, make watching NCAA March Madness an experience in frustration. You see, he is convinced he is a jinx. Personally, I think this over-inflated view of his powers to control the outcome of a basketball game from his den, is quite befuddling. He is not amused by my teasing and, actually, I believe, is quite terrified by his powers for evil.
This is not a new phenomenon in his life. When we married, I became a University of Kentucky fan because, well, the Bible tells me to submit to my husband and my loyalty to any other team would not have been a good display of my wifely submission. So, a UK fan I became. The problem is, I really don't get to watch UK play ball because Mr. L. is a jinx. Because of his jinxing powers, I only get to watch 30 seconds of a game every 12 minutes. Short bouts of viewing the game seems to neutralize the jinx power somewhat. Oh, and he has equally strong powers over the radio waves as well. Yep, you guessed it, 30 seconds of listening every 12 minutes.
When I first observed this behavior, I was a newlywed questioning the decision I had made marrying this man. I found his behavior shocking. The first TV we owned was a 4 inch screen. No, I am not kidding. Four inches of screen for your viewing pleasure. It was a fancy TV for it was also a radio and an alarm clock. Kids today just don't know what they are missing with their 40 inch screens. The only way we could watch the TV together was to lie in bed with it balanced on Mr. L's chest. Please do not assume I exaggerate for the sake of a story. This is the honest truth. Of course, this was before these days when we each need three pairs of glasses of different strengths and a scorecard as to what pair to wear when. This TV worked perfectly fine, until March Madness. On the occasions that UK was playing in the tournament, we went to Charles and Phyllis Trevathan's house, our beloved mentors, and watched the game there. The truth is, I could have just stayed home and put the TV on my own chest and watched the game by myself because Mr. L. spent major parts of the games hiding in the Trevathan's bathroom only to stick his head out every 12 minutes to check on the score. Truly, I kid you not.
A few years later, when we had children, it seems that one particular game (I'm certain he could tell you which game and the final score) Mr. L. laid very still on our living room floor with a lucky half dollar on his chest. UK won, a game possibly one they were not expected to win, so from that day forward, he laid on the floor with his lucky half dollar, children climbing on him, me stepping over him. Panic ensued if the half dollar was misplaced.
On the occasions when I express a desire to just watch the game, please, he leaves the house to drive around or sit at Sonic only to listen long enough to hear the score and then 12 minutes later to check again. If he is just too tired to leave, he will go to the other end of the house and warn me not to make any sounds that might indicate what is happening in the game until he shouts for an update on the score. I have stuffed a pillow in my mouth on several occasions in order to comply. Unless Kentucky is ahead by 77 with less than 2 minutes left in the game, the jinx is still in play.
Going to the actual game is much easier. Mr. L., except on the rarest of occasions (usually inappropriate hysterical laughter), is able to control his outward behavior when in public. He is the model of decorum at a game. Now, of course, he is likely to leave if Kentucky falls behind, well, because, of course it is his fault they are losing. It could not possibly be because the team cannot hit their free-throws, or get the ball inbounds, or stop fouling. It's Mr. L's fault! Oh, if he could only harness this power and use it for good. He still is better off than his poor father who once spent an entire game in the bathroom because of a nervous stomach during a tournament game between Auburn (think Charles Barkley ~ we're getting OLD) and UK . Here we had another fan who believed that somehow he was responsible for the outcome of a game. Mr. Switzer also almost got in a fist fight with an Indiana fan who was waving a big flag that periodically came very close to his face. I was there at that game in Dayton, Ohio, and I was most fearful there was to be a fracas.
As the years have gone by, I have come to accept Mr. L.'s eccentricities. He is extremely gracious in accepting mine. I will say it seems uncanny that he can jinx the Cubs, the Titans, the Predators and any other team in any other sport in which he states a preference as to who wins. It is this very reason that Duke is not in the Final 4 this year ~ he refused to watch the game. He despises Duke. UK fans just cannot get past Christian Laettner's last second winning shot in 1992! The world thinks Kentucky lost because of that shot, but we know, yes we know, Mr. L., the jinx, is the reason. We still haven't gotten over it.
Perhaps, it is just coincidence, but I will say that I have become a bit of a believer in Mr. L.'s ability to jinx teams. If I can just get him not to say that he is for Loyola of Chicago in the next four days, the Cinderella team just might have a chance. I am hoping the Switzer jinx is not as strong as Sister Jean's prayers.
This is not a new phenomenon in his life. When we married, I became a University of Kentucky fan because, well, the Bible tells me to submit to my husband and my loyalty to any other team would not have been a good display of my wifely submission. So, a UK fan I became. The problem is, I really don't get to watch UK play ball because Mr. L. is a jinx. Because of his jinxing powers, I only get to watch 30 seconds of a game every 12 minutes. Short bouts of viewing the game seems to neutralize the jinx power somewhat. Oh, and he has equally strong powers over the radio waves as well. Yep, you guessed it, 30 seconds of listening every 12 minutes.
When I first observed this behavior, I was a newlywed questioning the decision I had made marrying this man. I found his behavior shocking. The first TV we owned was a 4 inch screen. No, I am not kidding. Four inches of screen for your viewing pleasure. It was a fancy TV for it was also a radio and an alarm clock. Kids today just don't know what they are missing with their 40 inch screens. The only way we could watch the TV together was to lie in bed with it balanced on Mr. L's chest. Please do not assume I exaggerate for the sake of a story. This is the honest truth. Of course, this was before these days when we each need three pairs of glasses of different strengths and a scorecard as to what pair to wear when. This TV worked perfectly fine, until March Madness. On the occasions that UK was playing in the tournament, we went to Charles and Phyllis Trevathan's house, our beloved mentors, and watched the game there. The truth is, I could have just stayed home and put the TV on my own chest and watched the game by myself because Mr. L. spent major parts of the games hiding in the Trevathan's bathroom only to stick his head out every 12 minutes to check on the score. Truly, I kid you not.
A few years later, when we had children, it seems that one particular game (I'm certain he could tell you which game and the final score) Mr. L. laid very still on our living room floor with a lucky half dollar on his chest. UK won, a game possibly one they were not expected to win, so from that day forward, he laid on the floor with his lucky half dollar, children climbing on him, me stepping over him. Panic ensued if the half dollar was misplaced.
On the occasions when I express a desire to just watch the game, please, he leaves the house to drive around or sit at Sonic only to listen long enough to hear the score and then 12 minutes later to check again. If he is just too tired to leave, he will go to the other end of the house and warn me not to make any sounds that might indicate what is happening in the game until he shouts for an update on the score. I have stuffed a pillow in my mouth on several occasions in order to comply. Unless Kentucky is ahead by 77 with less than 2 minutes left in the game, the jinx is still in play.
Going to the actual game is much easier. Mr. L., except on the rarest of occasions (usually inappropriate hysterical laughter), is able to control his outward behavior when in public. He is the model of decorum at a game. Now, of course, he is likely to leave if Kentucky falls behind, well, because, of course it is his fault they are losing. It could not possibly be because the team cannot hit their free-throws, or get the ball inbounds, or stop fouling. It's Mr. L's fault! Oh, if he could only harness this power and use it for good. He still is better off than his poor father who once spent an entire game in the bathroom because of a nervous stomach during a tournament game between Auburn (think Charles Barkley ~ we're getting OLD) and UK . Here we had another fan who believed that somehow he was responsible for the outcome of a game. Mr. Switzer also almost got in a fist fight with an Indiana fan who was waving a big flag that periodically came very close to his face. I was there at that game in Dayton, Ohio, and I was most fearful there was to be a fracas.
As the years have gone by, I have come to accept Mr. L.'s eccentricities. He is extremely gracious in accepting mine. I will say it seems uncanny that he can jinx the Cubs, the Titans, the Predators and any other team in any other sport in which he states a preference as to who wins. It is this very reason that Duke is not in the Final 4 this year ~ he refused to watch the game. He despises Duke. UK fans just cannot get past Christian Laettner's last second winning shot in 1992! The world thinks Kentucky lost because of that shot, but we know, yes we know, Mr. L., the jinx, is the reason. We still haven't gotten over it.
Perhaps, it is just coincidence, but I will say that I have become a bit of a believer in Mr. L.'s ability to jinx teams. If I can just get him not to say that he is for Loyola of Chicago in the next four days, the Cinderella team just might have a chance. I am hoping the Switzer jinx is not as strong as Sister Jean's prayers.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
Water, Water Everywhere...
Tomorrow is World Water Day. Below are some words I shared at The Living Water Project dinner last August. I am hoping that in some small way, these words will strike a chord with you, and that you will choose to celebrate World Water Day by helping to save lives. There are many organizations in the world who minister through supplying clean water to those in need. I am just partial to this one.
“Nashville
Tennessee is the filthiest city on the North American continent,” Dr. Berrien Lindsley 1873.
Between 1833 and 1873, Nashville had several outbreaks of a water-borne disease called Cholera. There are documented cases of stout, grown men getting up, having breakfast, going to work and being dead by sundown. Children died in far less time. In the 1833 epidemic, there were 88 prisoners in the state penitentiary, all but 3 were stricken by the disease. Former President James K. Polk died in the 1849 epidemic after battling cholera for 2 weeks. The day he was buried in the Nashville City Cemetery, 34 others were buried, all of whom died of cholera. Hundreds upon hundreds of lives lost for want of clean water. By 1873, the connection between unclean water and this deadly disease was beginning to be understood.
Maya
Angelou is credited with saying, “do the best you can do until you know
better. When you know better, do
better.” By the late 19c, cholera had
been eradicated in the United States.
Still, in the 21c, cholera continues to cause deaths in other parts of
the world. Lives lost for want of clean
water. As a lover of history and a
teller of stories, it seems to me that the only proper response to the lessons
of the past is to heed them and use them for the common good. As one of the newest members of the Living
Water Project board, I am grateful to be part of a group that goes about
showing the love of Jesus by using knowledge gained from lessons of the past to
benefit others.
I am
going to be a bit personally honest here.
I am a very geographically-challenged person. Several years ago, our family went on a trip
out West. As we were planning I
excitedly asked what wonderful things we would see in Iowa. I am not a financially minded person. If I write a check for $35 I subtract $50
from my check register. I realize that
possibly the most alarming words in that statement are check and check
register. I am not very tech savvy. At board meetings everyone else opens up
their laptops. I have a notebook of
hand-made paper and a purple ink pen. I
don’t know anything about water purification, how well pumps work, or where the
best place is to dig.
But, this
I do know. Proximity has nothing to do
with who my neighbor is. I know that
people all over the world just want to be able to care for their families and
keep their children healthy. I know
clean water is vital to that pursuit.
So, I
invite you to celebrate with us the almost 400 wells that have been dug and are
saving lives. I invite you to celebrate
with us the opportunities that lie ahead.
Some of you are geography people.
You love maps and globes and traveling, so you get excited about all the
different places Living Water has wells.
Some of you are financial folks and you might be searching information
for how much these opportunities will cost.
Some of you are engineers and tech people and so you find yourselves
fascinated by all the different methods used to garner that God-given clean
water so desperately needed. And, some
of you are looking for how many people will be affected, how children’s lives
will be saved.
Will you
join me in contributing the amount of your last water bill to The Living Water
Project to celebrate World Water Day? Such
donations are the reasons that there are fewer children in the world dying of
water-borne diseases.
www.livingwaterwells.org
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
Yes...but
Yes, her morals have been compromised. Yes, she broke her marriage vows. Yes, she used her position as mayor in unwise ways. Yes, she appropriated city money for her own benefit. Yes, her decision-making is highly questionable. Yes, it is possible, had the whole sordid thing not been discovered, she would not have confessed. Yes, it is likely, had she not made a deal to stay out of jail, she would not have resigned. Yes, two families have been publicly humiliated. Yes, our city has been in the news for less than stellar reasons. Yes, I believe she needed to resign. Yes, it is all true.
But, I hope focusing on her moral failures does not blind us to our own. But, I hope those of us who are married understand there are many ways other than sex outside of marriage to break marriage vows. But, I hope each of us looks into how we might be using our position at work, at church, at school, and in our homes in questionable ways. But, I hope we ask ourselves how we use money to pamper and benefit ourselves when a wiser choice would be to use it for the common good. But, I hope we understand that not all our decisions are brilliant. But, I hope we recognize that which we have done that might need confessing but will remain hidden unless pressure comes to bear.
I did not vote for Mayor Barry. She has not been a sympathetic protagonist in my mind. But, my heart aches for her. She has lost a son to drug addiction. She has lost her marriage. She has lost her job. She has lost face. Finding pleasure in her pain, especially for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, is hypocrisy at its most profound.
But, I hope focusing on her moral failures does not blind us to our own. But, I hope those of us who are married understand there are many ways other than sex outside of marriage to break marriage vows. But, I hope each of us looks into how we might be using our position at work, at church, at school, and in our homes in questionable ways. But, I hope we ask ourselves how we use money to pamper and benefit ourselves when a wiser choice would be to use it for the common good. But, I hope we understand that not all our decisions are brilliant. But, I hope we recognize that which we have done that might need confessing but will remain hidden unless pressure comes to bear.
I did not vote for Mayor Barry. She has not been a sympathetic protagonist in my mind. But, my heart aches for her. She has lost a son to drug addiction. She has lost her marriage. She has lost her job. She has lost face. Finding pleasure in her pain, especially for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, is hypocrisy at its most profound.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
Angry
I just did something I never recall ever having done before. I stood in my house and screamed to the tops of my lungs out of sheer anger and frustration. No, it didn't help. Now, I actually have a headache from screaming, and I realized afterwards that 2 windows were open in my house, so I am expecting the police to arrive any moment ~ just kidding, I think.
If you don't know me, let me tell you that I am not inclined toward histrionics. Not even a little bit. Well, that might not be totally true, as I do have a lot of drama that goes on in my imagination, but outward exhibitions of drama not on a stage are abhorrent to me. I mean, if you want to be all over the top, that's your right and I'll still love you, but I am highly unlikely to be even moderately moved by your performance. Perhaps, that is a flaw in my character.
So, here I am, red-in-the-face-pressure-in-the-chest angry. My frustration comes in the knowledge that any comment I made would not be welcomed and would, perhaps, exacerbate the problem. So, what does a person do? I don't know. I wish I did. Trust me, if I knew, I would do it.
People my age, I always thought, were supposed to be wise and capable of speaking good things into any situation. Maybe others are, but, it seems I am not. Actually, and I'm not proud of this, my first inclination was to hit somebody upside the head. I won't. With my orthopedic prowess, I might smack somebody and end up breaking some bone of my own. Besides, I don't hit people. I think hitting people is stupid. I think stupid people hit people. So, if you care, I think you're stupid if you hit people.
Most of my blogs are good indication of my Enneagram 9ness. If you're not familiar with the Enneagram, that previous sentence sounds as if it is from a foreign language. Well, let me just tell you that 9s are The Peacemakers or Mediators. We nines can keep our mouths shut because by opening them we might cause conflict and conflict is right next to spreading the bubonic plague as far as desirable behaviors go. So, for the most part,I try to write sweet, cheerful blogs so everybody will be pleased with what they read in order to feel all warm and cozy.
But this one is a personal catharsis. So, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!!!
Oh, and please know, I am not angry at Mr. L, just in case you wondered. Only a whack job would get mad at that man.
If you don't know me, let me tell you that I am not inclined toward histrionics. Not even a little bit. Well, that might not be totally true, as I do have a lot of drama that goes on in my imagination, but outward exhibitions of drama not on a stage are abhorrent to me. I mean, if you want to be all over the top, that's your right and I'll still love you, but I am highly unlikely to be even moderately moved by your performance. Perhaps, that is a flaw in my character.
So, here I am, red-in-the-face-pressure-in-the-chest angry. My frustration comes in the knowledge that any comment I made would not be welcomed and would, perhaps, exacerbate the problem. So, what does a person do? I don't know. I wish I did. Trust me, if I knew, I would do it.
People my age, I always thought, were supposed to be wise and capable of speaking good things into any situation. Maybe others are, but, it seems I am not. Actually, and I'm not proud of this, my first inclination was to hit somebody upside the head. I won't. With my orthopedic prowess, I might smack somebody and end up breaking some bone of my own. Besides, I don't hit people. I think hitting people is stupid. I think stupid people hit people. So, if you care, I think you're stupid if you hit people.
Most of my blogs are good indication of my Enneagram 9ness. If you're not familiar with the Enneagram, that previous sentence sounds as if it is from a foreign language. Well, let me just tell you that 9s are The Peacemakers or Mediators. We nines can keep our mouths shut because by opening them we might cause conflict and conflict is right next to spreading the bubonic plague as far as desirable behaviors go. So, for the most part,I try to write sweet, cheerful blogs so everybody will be pleased with what they read in order to feel all warm and cozy.
But this one is a personal catharsis. So, aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!!!
Oh, and please know, I am not angry at Mr. L, just in case you wondered. Only a whack job would get mad at that man.
Friday, February 16, 2018
A Kind and Gentle Man
There are many gifts in growing older. There are hard things too. As you age, you lose the ability to enjoy physical activities as you did when you were younger. Your hearing is not so keen, which sometimes is a blessing, like when the Grammys are on. You need a scorecard on which glasses you should have on, readers, distance, driving, computer? One of the hardest parts of aging is losing people in your life.
This past Tuesday, I received a message from a friend telling me that her daddy had passed away. He and my mom were the last two of a group of couple friends. Now, there is one. Mr. Leech or Unca Dan was not just a friend of my parents.' He was one of my best friend's dad and growing up, a second dad to me. It would be unfair for me to say that I will miss him, for I have not seen him in some time, but it is fair to say that I will miss knowing that he walks this earth. I have no doubt where he is on this next leg of his eternal journey. I am sure that he and Mrs. Leech are having a grand reunion. I pray it is so.
Mr. Leech was above all things a kind and gentle man. He treated me as though he thought of me as a 4th daughter. I have vague memories of being in Florida with my family when I was about four or five years old. I sometimes wonder if my memories are more from seeing pictures of that trip rather than actual memories. There are no pictures that I have seen recently of a trip I made with the Leech family to Florida in 1969, but I still have vivid memories of moments with them. It was the first time I had seen the ocean since the trip with my family, and I think Mr. Leech was the most satisfied by my excitement.
Mr. Leech liked cars and golf and telling a story. If he started a story, you best sit back and relax because it was going to take a while. It seems to me that he always had a smile on his face. He loved his girls, Becky, Barbara, and Maribeth. He was proud of his daughters. He did not approve of Becky and me being mean to her younger sisters, which, we were from time to time, but his reproofs were always gentle and kind. I am fairly certain I never heard him yell, even when he had to send one or more of us from the dinner table for foolish behavior, and yes, I got sent from the table just like his daughters. There is comfort in that.
I don't remember any long conversations or his pontificating on his faith and beliefs, he just simply lived them in love. I always felt safe and comfortable in his presence. That was not necessarily true of everyone's dad. There is something so marvelous about a humble person who draws no attention to himself, who spends his life striving to serve others, who feels no competition as he reaches down to give another a boost. That was Unca Dan.
My mom will miss him terribly. Even as hard as I would try every October 14 to be the first to sing "Happy Birthday" to my mom, more times than not, Mr. Leech beat me to it. He was thoughtful that way. He is the one who actually called my mom to tell her when Mrs. Leech passed away, just a couple days after my brother, Mike, died. As sad as he was at the loss of his beautiful wife, he was compassionately concerned about how the news of her death would hurt his friend who was reeling from the loss of her second son.
This world needs a lot more Dan Leech type folks. Kind and gentle people who live their lives loving and caring for those around them, without fanfare, without the need for recognition. What can be said more of a man than that he was loved, that he loved well, and that the world was a much better place for his having been here? That was our dear Unca Dan. So, those who loved him will mourn his loss as well as rejoice in the gift of having him in our lives. His daughters, even in their grief, will continue to live and love and laugh, for to do otherwise would dishonor him. I am grateful to have known him.
This past Tuesday, I received a message from a friend telling me that her daddy had passed away. He and my mom were the last two of a group of couple friends. Now, there is one. Mr. Leech or Unca Dan was not just a friend of my parents.' He was one of my best friend's dad and growing up, a second dad to me. It would be unfair for me to say that I will miss him, for I have not seen him in some time, but it is fair to say that I will miss knowing that he walks this earth. I have no doubt where he is on this next leg of his eternal journey. I am sure that he and Mrs. Leech are having a grand reunion. I pray it is so.
Mr. Leech was above all things a kind and gentle man. He treated me as though he thought of me as a 4th daughter. I have vague memories of being in Florida with my family when I was about four or five years old. I sometimes wonder if my memories are more from seeing pictures of that trip rather than actual memories. There are no pictures that I have seen recently of a trip I made with the Leech family to Florida in 1969, but I still have vivid memories of moments with them. It was the first time I had seen the ocean since the trip with my family, and I think Mr. Leech was the most satisfied by my excitement.
Mr. Leech liked cars and golf and telling a story. If he started a story, you best sit back and relax because it was going to take a while. It seems to me that he always had a smile on his face. He loved his girls, Becky, Barbara, and Maribeth. He was proud of his daughters. He did not approve of Becky and me being mean to her younger sisters, which, we were from time to time, but his reproofs were always gentle and kind. I am fairly certain I never heard him yell, even when he had to send one or more of us from the dinner table for foolish behavior, and yes, I got sent from the table just like his daughters. There is comfort in that.
I don't remember any long conversations or his pontificating on his faith and beliefs, he just simply lived them in love. I always felt safe and comfortable in his presence. That was not necessarily true of everyone's dad. There is something so marvelous about a humble person who draws no attention to himself, who spends his life striving to serve others, who feels no competition as he reaches down to give another a boost. That was Unca Dan.
My mom will miss him terribly. Even as hard as I would try every October 14 to be the first to sing "Happy Birthday" to my mom, more times than not, Mr. Leech beat me to it. He was thoughtful that way. He is the one who actually called my mom to tell her when Mrs. Leech passed away, just a couple days after my brother, Mike, died. As sad as he was at the loss of his beautiful wife, he was compassionately concerned about how the news of her death would hurt his friend who was reeling from the loss of her second son.
This world needs a lot more Dan Leech type folks. Kind and gentle people who live their lives loving and caring for those around them, without fanfare, without the need for recognition. What can be said more of a man than that he was loved, that he loved well, and that the world was a much better place for his having been here? That was our dear Unca Dan. So, those who loved him will mourn his loss as well as rejoice in the gift of having him in our lives. His daughters, even in their grief, will continue to live and love and laugh, for to do otherwise would dishonor him. I am grateful to have known him.
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