The Giant Green Lady

"What difference if I hail,
From North or South?
Or from the East or West?
My heart is filled with love
For all of these.
I only know I swell with pride
And deep within my breast,
I thrill to see Old Glory paint the breeze."

I remember hearing a rendition of This Is My Country, sung by the Army band (or was it the Air Force? Or the Marines?--well, some branch of the military when it was all male voices anyway), and feeling an upswell of emotion. I don't think I'm sloppily patriotic. I see the things my country does or at least some of its people and I am appalled. But it is such a big place, America. It has room for both good and bad, rich and poor, noble and ignoble. It has so much. And it symbolizes so much as well. What brought this on, you are probably asking. Or to poke fun at my blog readership, is anybody asking?

Anyway, hubby and I took a day trip to see Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty. I've never been there although it is only a couple of hours away. I've been to New York City a bunch of times and for heaven's sake, it's just across the river! But for one reason or another, neither one of us had been. We bought tickets on line, picked a time to take a tour and arrived with five minutes to spare. You have to stand in line to be screened, similar to the airport. As you stand in line you can look to your right and see the tall green lady with the uplifted arm and she seems not as big as you had imagined. To the left of the screening tent you see an incongruous sight, though. The shell of the railroad tracks which took those millions of immigrants to their destinations is there surrounded by chain link fence. A massive building which I assume is the place where currency was exchanged, train schedules were posted and the final leg of the long, long journey was at hand. I only assume as it was being refurbished and we only had so much time so we couldn't check it out. The incongruity though, was the New York City skyline immediately across the water from this place. Rising from the Hudson, jagged buildings and blocks of concrete straining up, the image of modern city life juxtaposed with the place of history--where we came from--where we are going? I don't know. It just struck me, especially upon seeing the new skyscraper place where the Twin Towers used to be.

You take a ferry to Ellis Island, the place where all immigrants were "processed". It is a massive U shaped set of structures. The building on the right was the first stop where you were determined to be either accepted or rejected into the new land. If rejected, we learned, the ship who transported you here had to take you back where you first boarded. It wasn't an option, that was the way it worked. The conditions of the voyage didn't' make going back a particularly encouraging prospect. The buildings on the left were the dormitories, hospital, and other facilities if there was a wait for your processing. Hubby and I kept asking ourselves, "what would that have been like?" Coming to a new place where no one spoke your language, where you frequently didn't have any relatives or anyone to meet you. You didn't know how you would make a living, or even where you would live. That sense of bewilderment overridden by the sense of hope that this place could be the start of a new life. I can't imagine it, really. I tried all day, but it just seems too big, too different from my life now.

Where Did That Come From?

Our son works in the music industry. He can play a keyboard, the drums and the guitar. He can hear nuances in chords, refrains and other musical things that I never knew existed. Where did this ability come from? His father, the hubby I refer to often here, is fond of an eclectic mix of musical styles. He can strum a guitar, but I can't say he's gifted necessarily. I certainly don't have any talent in this area. Well, I can play "My Country 'Tis of Thee," one fingered on a piano but I don't really think this counts. So where did this come from? This gift of music? I don't know. But I can't imagine him without it, that's for sure!

A New Phen-er-uh-Experience

We are having a snow day in the bubble. It's pretty, but a pain to don all the outside stuff to shovel it around. But as long as I'm inside, I can appreciate it's beauty. As long as the power holds out!

The daughter and son-in-law work in school districts in the same state and they have a snow day as well. And with the hubby retired, well, its one big happy family! We've been sending messages back and forth all day, via texts and emails. Sharing stories, kidding around about things. Its really a nice experience. Communicating across the miles electronically. Well, you can scoff, you've been doing that for ages. I know, I know. But for some reason today, it just really feels good to be able to share funny videos and asides and goofy sayings, almost as if they were here and sitting around the table. And I guess there's the crux of the thought. I wish we were all sitting around the table. Even the son, so far away, is as close as the text message on the phone. Or even Facetime, if he wasn't working, which he is.

As that Lincoln car commercial with MM says, "I just liked it."

By the way, the title is one of those words I can never seem to spell correctly...phenomenon. I had to look it up to do that and I wanted to get the words down before they left me.

The Gray Days of Winter

the cold slips under the door
And steals through the window sills.
The sun may be out, but no
Warmth permeates the air
Smoky, frosty breaths escape the hoods
And scarves wound around triple strength.

Snow is predicted
As is sleet and rain
But not hail-thank goodness
Although it wouldn't really make
Much difference to the
Bundled masses trudging the streets.

Winter is not really that much
Longer than say, Spring
But it's hoary attitude makes
It seem longer and darker
And grayer and colder and...

Warmth and Nodding Off

I was a busy day today. Lots of emails to be answered. Phone calls to take and make. People coming in and going out. Before I knew it, it was afternoon. I have a small space heater at my desk and it punked out on me. So I was cold most of the day. The sweater on my chair wasn't enough. When I got home I had to go out again to the gym. Then home again and dinner. By the time I settled down to eat I was still cold. This winter has felt colder than others. Is it truly colder? I don't know, it just seems that way. I wrapped myself in a small lap blanket thingee while I ate dinner. But I still feel chilled. In a little bit I'm going to go upstairs, turn in the bed warmer and finally, finally get warm and toasty. And then, as is my wont, I will nod off while reading some romantic novel.

Only to get up at 6 and do it all again tomorrow. Heavy sigh. I know winter will end eventually, I just wish it would end soon.

A Day Off?

So I took a random day off from work. I didn't have any specific plans for the day and was kind of looking forward to sleeping late and putzing around the house without an agenda. Because of my job, however, I'm never far from my email (work or regular), but particularly on those days I take off, my work email demands my time somewhat as people are prone to contact just me instead of my department. I must therefore forward their emails on to the appropriate people so that their needs are met. It's something I've gotten used to doing and it isn't necessarily a problem. At least not to me, I'm home after all.

But on this particular day, after checking emails and forwarding the ones that needed attention, I received one that seemed to need a little more research. I went to my home computer, fired it up, realized it had been some time since I updated things on it, updated them, cleaned up the workspace a little. Rearranged the notes I leave to myself. Changed the date on the flip calendar--re-read a few of the quotes on the days previous to that one. Saw the accumulated dust on the poor hard drive on the floor, got out the small vacuum to take care of that and then settled down to take care of the problem on email. I looked up to see what time it was...10:00! It was two hours later! How could doing those minute, tedious tidying up things have taken two hours?? Well, I reasoned, fine, it was still morning and the day still stretched ahead of me. I pulled up the email, then opened up a web browser and got to work. Sort of. I needed to research some area businesses to firm up my response to the email, so I punched in a name or two. I then saw some intriguing sites that practically screamed for my attention. So I went to them. Anyone who has sat at the computer and tried straight researching for something will doubtless know what I'm talking about when I say, I emerged from the world of internet two hours later almost completely off topic, but full of new and interesting sites to read, watch and peruse when I had down time. Except it was now afternoon and I still hadn't addressed the email problem!

With firm resolve, I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. I returned to the keyboard, refreshed and renewed. I jotted down some information that I had gotten before being sidetracked. But I needed to look a little further for some details which would truly address the emailers concerns. Back to the internet I went, but cautiously this time. I found some sites, found some information, jotted it down and strictly adhered to only the information needed. I backed away slowly from the sites which I knew would ensnare me and finally sat down and wrote a clear and concise response to the email from the morning. Only to have the person I responded to reply that they had found out the information about an hour after they emailed me and not to worry, "but thanks for the response."

In the future, I think I will only forward the emails which need to be forwarded and try to remember to put an away message on my account (not that everyone reads these things!) for the times in the future when taking a day off seems like a good idea.

Ice and Snow

It's really cold here in the bubble these past few days. Well, it's really cold in the general part of the ol' US where we reside. In the morning there is frost on the window. Some windows, like the ones in the bathroom are completely covered in frost. I noticed the cold especially this evening as I sat in a committee meeting. The cold from the room seemed to creep up my pantleg and hover at the top of my socks. By the time the meeting was done, I don't think I could feel my toes and the ride home didn't really give the car enough time to warm up. It had snowed a couple of days ago and the plows sort of packed it down on the street surface, so it was interesting turning corners, never really sure if the tires were going to grab or not. I am not a fan of this weather and probably never will be.

And yet, tomorrow morning when I don't have to get up and go to work, when the snow will be fresh and white on the trees, I like it. When the sound is muffled from the snow blanketed over the area, I am comforted. Of course, I will be inside and not out in it. But it is pretty and quiet and restful. So its's not really true that I'm not a fan of this weather. Perhaps I just enjoy looking at it, as opposed to feeling it.

Just Observing

In the last few days, I have received news about people I love. There are challenges in their lives, some of them interesting (how DO you fit the sofa through that door?) and some of them scary--forcing me to look outside of myself. I've been rather self-centered lately, working through grief can do that to you. But hearing about these various things my loved ones are facing reminds me that everyone in life must face things they would rather not. Everyone, if they are living at all, has to meet the things life throws at them either deciding to overcome them or rolling over to let time and circumstance have their way. My grief, their physical maladies, his logistics, her incomprehension are all part of breathing in and breathing out each day. We don't always see that around us as we stumble around, hands outstretched in the dark hallway. But it is true nonetheless. I could spout scripture now, but I think I'll ponder the world and its workings a little longer. And maybe I can come out of myself a little bit more tomorrow.

A Sudden Knowledge of Self

Tonight the hubby and I ventured out into the bitter, blowing winds to a class held at the local high school. The blurb written up in the Adult School brochure promised us a wealth of information about retirement, Medicare, Social Security and other white or gray-haired nuggets needed for the "golden years." It did not deliver. The classroom was overheated, which could have been a blessing except the presenters were less than stellar, so nodding off began to look like a comfortable alternative to listening to them. But I, being me, began to observe the others in the room.

There was a woman with a largish bandage on her brow, a guy with a baseball hat pulled down to his wire framed glasses, a portly couple both wearing matching flannel shirts. In one corner of the room I spied a woman whose children attended nursery school with my oldest. Wow! I hadn't seen her in years! And in another corner of the room was a woman who used to live down the street from us. She still looked the same. And after the class when we hugged, she said I looked the same, too.

And I got to thinking...retirement, growing older...usually means moving out of the family home you've occupied for a number of years. I frequently lament to hubby that our house is too big! I can't keep it clean anymore. I have other things I like to do with my time. Well, if I'm honest, I've always had other things I've wanted to do besides clean; but it seems more of an onerous task these days. And then I truly thought tonight about what it would mean to leave the bubble. There are people who are part of the scenery of our lives here. The old man and old lady who have walked a sucession of dogs through rain, sleet, snow and hurricanes. The guy with the gray ponytail who wears a trench coat in the dead of summer and frequently speaks out loud to himself. And all those parents of all those kids whom I have talked, laughed and cried with as their children marched through elementary then high school. I will see kids returned from college who remember me at the local grocery store, parents who still remember my own kids and ask after them. Some police officers I have known through their community projects for years! When we leave the bubble they will probably still be here, but I wouldn't see them any more. The scenery will be different. I will not have the points of reference I had. It made me somewhat anxious and sad. And made me realize that I am not ready to move yet, no matter how I nudge the hubby. I think we're content for now. But I still hate to clean.

A Bird on the Porch is Worth...?

One of the quirks my hubby and I share is that we like to keep small white lights strung up all year. But not everywhere. Just over the front door. We have a roof over the front steps that has a hanging light in the ceiling, but it doesn't illuminate much. You can't really fit a larger light bulb in the fixture so the entry to the house always looks somewhat gloomy and ominous unless properly enhanced. Several years ago we put up these small lights around Christmas time and well, they just sort of stayed there. In the bubble, this is probably a faux paux, but I really don't care, it looks better to hubby and I, so I guess the "critics" will just have to get used to the idea.

Anyway, the lights are just sort of strung up under the porch roof which arches up from one side to the other. They aren't closely connected to the roof, so they kind of look like starlight, in my whimsical observation. But because they aren't closely attached, there are gaps in the criss-crossing of the wires. I never particularly paid attention to this before, until I began noticing something when I would go out to get the paper this winter. In the dark of the morning, the aforementioned dingy hanging light automatically comes on when the storm door is opened. So when I go out at 6 am to retrieve the paper that never quite makes it to the front porch, the light comes on and I can see for a few moments as I scurry out and find the errant paper amongst the bushes or the ivy. In the few moments of light, I noticed that there were bird droppings around the front door. I looked up, but of course, I was looking at the small ledge directly over the door. Nothing there. I shrugged, figured some poor frozen bird used the ledge as a shelter and forgot about it. Until I began noticing that the droppings were increasing. I never saw a bird in the morning anywhere. But it had to be nesting or something there as the droppings were so evident. But I could never see one.

My husband was observing the same thing and he couldn't figure it out either. Until one early evening, right after dinner, he came out to the kitchen and asked me to follow him out to the front door. We have a semicircle of glass over the door which allows us to see the lights without opening the door. And sure enough, there on the criss-crossed wires was a bird fluffed up and holding onto the wires. It was out of the wind, rain, snow and whatever else Mother Nature threw at it. It was safe and warm and dry. Mystery solved. It kind of looks like a cardinal, only slightly bigger.

Of course, I have dreamed up myriads of stories about why its there and not in some tree somewhere, or even hiding out in the bushes with the rest of the birds. He's an outcast, he's got bad eating habits, he insulted the "head bird" and has been cast out and shunned for the winter. Anyway, I check to see if it is there from time to time and so far he is (I am calling it a he, but I'm really not sure of that--males of the cardinal species are usually brightly colored and this one is not particularly red). It's kind of like having a pet, only not really. And I really need to clean up the step under where it has been relieving itself. But it is sort of interesting to see it there, so close to the house, resting in the swaying wires of the small white lights. Waiting for the warm weather like the rest of us.

A Splash of Color

Life can just seem to go on sometimes, plodding and uneventful. Sometimes though, something will happen. Sometimes those things are joyful, exuberant events and sometimes they are just the opposite. The effects of these events is what makes life interesting, vibrant, something to greet each new day. The big events: a new house, a new job, sometimes even a new dress add a lift to your days. But sometimes that lift is caused by a person. We meet people all the time who come and go and stay and leave. I thought about the people that I know and began to assign colors to them, likening their personalities to a color. Why not? Beats chewing my nails!

Let me explain: some people you meet are like the color fluorescent green—all flash and dance. They can take over a room if you let them. And when they leave, the room is not quite as colorful, but after they’ve gone it can be more restful. Some people can be more like muted shades of natural things, like the beige of the sand, the pink in a sunset, the green of spring. These people are usually kind of quiet and yet, the color they bring to your world is necessary to the way you see things. They are part of the fabric of our “coming in and going out.” They are the base coat of our lives-- listening, painting alongside of you as you create your painting on the canvas of life.

And then there are people who are blend of the vibrant splash and the understated hue. If you find someone like this, you know you are blessed. If you are friends with someone like this-- your life is more colorful, rich, more—well—more something.

And so I come to my friend we pay to tribute today. This colorful friend was a mix of the splash of humor—that fluorescent green I talked about and the muted hues of understanding and compassion. And he has gone on ahead without me. He left me standing in the middle of the room without a paintbrush or even some paint. BUT—I can hear the color of his laughter and see the gold sparkle of his understanding. I can feel the warmth of his brown bear hugs, even though I will never physically feel them again. And oh, I really hate that. Because he brought so much color to me. So much love and joy and exuberance and even passion for our God and his life, that my paintbox is suddenly devoid of much. And I want it back. I want him back.

We get to go on. We add some more brown or green to our day. We splash a bit of cream into the fluorescent blue of the sky so it will seem not as bright. We hug. And hold hands. We pray and we slowly, slowly see the Master Painter has left us a canvas to keep on painting. To show others the colors that are in the world, even though our friend the giver of color, is not.

But I am so thankful for that colorful man. So very blessed to have had him as a friend and a painter along the way. Rest well, Carl and save a paintbrush for me.

Another Way to Look at Things

So I did a post the other day, full of poetic imagery and lofty words. Today I'm left wrung out and my poetry is decidedly flat. And I guess "deflated" is kind of how it feels these days. Not defeated, but the air has billowed out and I'm feeling less than buoyant. A friend of mine died last week. He was a good friend. Cantankerous and funny and kind and passionate. He was all those things and will be forever in my mind. So many people have said both today and other days since the news has spread, "I can't imagine church without him." Personally I can't imagine life without him. And yet...

I didn't see him every day. Wasn't even guaranteed a conversation with him every Sunday. His wife, a saintly woman if ever there was one, and he would visit other congregations on Sunday mornings for various reasons. But their (and my) "home" church was where we saw each other. He came to my Adult Sunday School class and hammered out what it means to be a Christian in today's world. We talked theology and biblical texts, but we also talked work and children and spouses and everyday occurrences. This is so rare; so rare to be able to share faith in this way with someone. When we would go out for breakfast at the local diner, we would share laughter and philosophies and waffles, and crunchy hash browns and eggs.

When he would be absent from us for a few weeks, I would text and he would cryptically respond with one or two word answers, leading me in my imagination to fill in the spaces of what was going on. He had been sick, but they were adjusting his medications he would say or more annoyingly, he wouldn't say and would swear his wife (I said she was a saint!) to secrecy, not wanting to share whatever was going on privately in his life. But lest you think he was stingy with himself, that is not the case. He was generous and honest. Giving hugs freely when he knew you needed one and even sometimes when you didn't think you did. But those great big arms would enfold you and, glasses askew, you would know this was just what you needed at that moment. He had a mischievous sense of humor. And if there was irony to be found, he was there like a magnet, with a twinkling eye and smug smile.

He was so many things for me, I will be picking apart my memories and thoughts and dissecting my heartache for some time yet. I can't imagine life without him, week to week. But my life has been enriched for his presence. And my soul has been warmed by his light.

Down For The Night

As opposed to down for the count. I went to a viewing tonight. I wasn't particularly close with the deceased. I know the rest of the family marginally. But felt compelled to go out of respect for someone I hold dear. But this post won't be about the viewing as interesting as it was. This post is about the fact that I had a tough time getting warm today. And after standing outside in a line, waiting to get into the funeral home, then having the door stand open for all the other mourners, then finally getting far enough away from the door so that the cold air didn't creep up your pant leg, I paid my respects to the family and...had to go back out in the cold again.

Hubby came with me and he drove. But he is stingy with the heat usually and I kept thinking that just a little more fan on the heater would do nicely. But he wasn't  doing that. So we drove home and I couldn't feel my toes any more. I rushed upstairs to the bathroom to get a hot shower, when I realized the radiators weren't even that warm! How could that be? It's freezing outside! They just hadn't cycled around, the hubby explained. They would be warming up again soon. So I took a hot shower and shivered while toweling off.

And now? Well, we have this nifty thing for on top of the mattress. It's like a blanket heating pad. And I am currently reclining on top of it. And I'm finally, finally warm! Ah, bliss.

There's No Place Like Home

I went to the movies today to see The Wizard Of Oz. No, not a remake. The original 1939 version in all its black and white then Technicolor blaze of glory. Saw it on a regular movie screen. It was pretty good that way. Noticed a few nuances I hadn't seen the few millions of times I'd watched it before on the little screen.

Maybe because I was with some women I hold most dear to me, that I pondered the tag line of the movie, "there's no place like home." Two of the women with whom I attended (my mother and sister) helped to define what "home" meant to me growing up. And indeed, home was almost always where they were. With me. And our two brothers and father and cats and assorted dogs and even turtles and birds. There was no other household like ours. I suppose it wasn't particularly unique in the small town in which we lived. But the assortment of characters within that house were unique as compared to what I witnessed in my friends houses. There was no place like that house on the corner to me.

Another woman in attendance to this movie with us, was the wife of what we have always considered another brother, if not a blood relation. He has been with our family in some fashion for almost as long as I can remember. This woman so seamlessly blends in with us and our relationship with her husband that she is like another sister to us. Same quirky sense of humor, same no nonsense caring for each other. Her presence brings a sense of home to me through her laughter and conversation. She is comfy and not demanding and, well, just like family.

The last young lady is my daughter. She represents the home my husband and I have made. She is my partner in laughter, in observation of life's injustices, in loving kindness and generosity...she is the part of my heart that walks around yet is tethered to me.

Home has changed for me over the years, but wherever these women are, that's where home will be. And indeed, there's no place like it.

Winter Bite

Oh, artic bite
Oh winter chill
Thou findst a space
With which to fill
Betwixt the scarf
So soundly wound
And wooly hat
Upon brow pulled down

The roads are ice
The windshield, too
Thy fingers gloved
Are turning blue
It matters not
How much you've blown
The mucus from thy nose
Is flowed

To bed, to bed
The covers pull
The windows rattle
As the sill
But warm beneath the blankets drift
Until the clock, at six
Will miff
And bundled up against
The day
You brave the crunch on
Sidewalks way
Return to face the sullen sky
Another winter to get by.

Fuzzy Ears in The Dark

There's a new fashion trend. I don't know what this fashion "thing" is called, but it is a hat with ears on the top and a loooonnnnggg scarf attached to it with mittens or gloves at the end of the scarf. I'm sure it's meant to be cute on little kids and perhaps pre-teen girls. But I've noticed that older kids are wearing them, too. Largish teens, males especially, appear almost menacing when they 'round the corner at the local shops downtown wearing what I assume is meant to be a cuddly teddy bear, but gives the impression of a grizzly when perched atop a 6 foot football player. They, the guys, don't appear to notice the small squeak of a little old lady when she is confronted with this sight. They continue lumbering on their way to the local Starbucks, looking more like a herd of foraging beasts than the cute, cuddly, innocuous beasties they are meant to be. Or maybe they do know how intimidating they appear. Who knows what goes on in the minds of large teenage boys? Certainly not me! But it can be a jolting sight.

Let me explain. I was on my way home from a committee meeting the other night. My sight in the evening is not the best, so I'm careful while navigating back streets especially, where pedestrians roam and frequently come out from behind parked cars in an effort to test my reflexes. Suddenly, in my peripheral vision I saw a large fuzzy head, with ears standing straight up. It was coming up on my right rather quickly. It appeared to be getting ready to cross in front of me, but it was walking upright!  I had seen deer dart in front of me, but what was this hairy beast approaching on two feet? Could Bigfoot be in the neighborhood? And would he be wearing a flannel shirt and sneakers? But no, it was a large young man with a cat-like thingee draped on his head and around his neck. It even had a little pink tongue sticking out, which could have appeared cute on someone else, but on this hulking brute it looked like a demon from hell. Needless to say, I stomped on the brake and waited until the apparition has disappeared before shuddering and driving on. I hope this trend doesn't last too long. My imagination is getting away with me.

The Wreath is Still on the Door

Christmas day is past. Christmas is NOT done yet, but December 25 is past. I'm a firm believer that Christmas isn't over until at least Epiphany, which is January 6th. The Wise Men figurines are plodding their way across my mantelpiece towards the manger scene even as we speak. There are still candles in the window. The tree is still in the corner, occasionally plinking down its spiky evergreen leaves, reminding me to water it. There is still LOTS of candy in the house, lots of cookies, lots of "bad for you food" and very little good stuff like fruit and vegetables. I'm going to pay for this holiday for quite some time.

But we came together, the families, over the two-week time span. We laughed and smiled and drank and ate and laughed some more. We texted and Facebooked and Insta-something-or-other our friends until the batteries ran out on all our devices. This is the part of Christmas that fills my soul. This part nourishes me as no other time in the calendar. Even the blessed Sibling Reunion does not do as much filling up the "tank" as Christmas. I don't know why that should be. Maybe it's a vestal appendage from our father, like a sixth finger. He was Father Christmas to us. Gruff and rough around the edges, but at Christmas he was fuzzy and blurry. Loving as he was at no other time. Christmas is like no other time to me. Scrooge's are reborn at every turn and having a "Holly, Jolly" Christmas happens with very little effort on my part.

So ho-ho-ho everyone. And Merry Christmas! And Happy New Year, too while we're at it. The wreath is still on the door, the candy is still in the dish and the Wise Men are still making their way to their destination. Let's keep the good cheer going for at least another week!

Whew!

I had a near miss tonight. I was on my way to a meeting at church. I wasn't late or anything, but it was sort of rainy and the glare from the oncoming headlights was amplified by the water on the windshield. I stopped at a light, looked left and began to ease my foot off the brake to turn right on red,  when I saw something out of the corner of my eye. A person coming up on the right, walking with a huge black umbrella stepped directly in front of me. Sincerely, I do not know how I missed them as I'm pretty sure my foot had already migrated over to the gas. I suspect he noticed my inch forward as he yelled and scurried across the intersection. My knees were like jello. I pulled over after turning the corner. I was afraid to drive.

I have had misses before. They are not a common occurrence though and they always leave me shaken. I always re-evaluate my driving for days afterward when this happens. Am I being too careless? Am I paying attention as I ought? I don't text or answer the phone while driving, but that doesn't make me a saint behind the wheel by any means.

All I can say is that God was surely watching out for that person as I evidently wasn't. Whew!

The Anticipation Is Almost Too Much

I'm taking a trip this week. It's a place where I haven't been for quite a while, but some pretty great people will be there with me and I'm so excited! I've started packing already. I've started cleaning up around the house and putting things in order so that when I get back I won't have to worry about it. I'm trying like the dickens not to think too much about the happenings when we get there. I really want to just let the days flow as they will. But when you wait so long for something and then suddenly it's imminent it's hard not to get giddy. And think about the time away. And how much I'm looking forward to it.

I'm taking a trip this week...

An Unusual Position

Sometime today, I think this afternoon, I will be attending a party. I'm not exactly sure who will be there. I'm not sure where it will be held. I don't know the kind of food available nor the entertainment nor the proper way to dress, even. You see my family is indulging me by throwing a party for me. I haven't had a birthday party for some time. Our daughter and my hubby planned it along with some help I'm sure from son and son-in-law. I know my sister and brother-in-law will be there as well as my younger brother. Oh, and Mom and step-dad. I think they will have left the dog home, but I really can't be sure of that.

I'm a little nervous and of course, feel somewhat guilty at the same time. Nervous as I always am when I don't know what to expect. Guilty because I asked for this outright. I didn't hint or give sly clues. Of course, originally I was going to plan it, which meant I had some control over the contents. But our daughter who is filled with so much love for her family, took this on with the hubby that I confess can be something of a wild card, if not channelled into more conventional ways. They are off doing something or other as I write this.

My family is everything to me. My hubby, whom I frequently needle in this venue, but whom life would be desolate and maudlin without. Our son, so handsome and caring, so sure sometimes of what he wants while struggling to do the right thing-which may NOT be what he wants. Our daughter, who makes me gasp at her beauty both in and out, who believes strongly in justice and you can never have enough cats. Her husband who has been so very caring this week as she struggled with vertigo while putting the finishing touches on her Mother's whim. My sis, my buddy, my traveling companion/planner, and my best confident who knew me when we shared a room, a bathroom and an occasional box of tissues. Her husband, who might as well have been born into the family, he's so much a part of the fabric--he makes me laugh, he hugs me when I need it and listens when I try to work something out. My younger brother whom is such a kind and kindred spirit, that even when not having a conversation, we can guess what we are both thinking. My mom, I am so blessed for having this woman be my mother and my friend. And my father of step who laughs with me at the things we both do--mom and I! And my older brother, who I miss almost all the time, if I give myself  into it. Who is facing some horrifically sad stuff right now. I wish I could hug him and his wife, but they know, they know. All of these people love me and will be there. I'm excited to be with them and share laughter and conversation.

But it's a surprise mostly who will be there. An unusual position for me.