Counting down the days....

...until my vacation. Last year was such a blur, with having two major surgeries and recuperative time. I don't think I had an actual vacation. Believe me, regaining strength and stamina and health is not a vacation. I asked Dear Hubby if I'd had one -- his memory is much more reliable than mine -- and he thought it over for a moment and said no, I hadn't. The kids had had to use their vacation time last year to take care of the grandboys while I got well.

Lord willing, this year I'm having one, starting this coming weekend. 9 days of doing nothing much except resting, reading, working in my yard and putting it to bed for the season. And spending some hours with my best friend Lizzee. I can't even remember the last time we got together...a couple of years ago? And we only live about 30 miles or so from each other! How pathetic is that?!

I was talking to my neighbor Sharon the other day about friendship. She said, "And you have a lot of those." Like she was assuming I did. I said no, not really. I'm too busy. Acquaintances, yes...many of them. Friends I spend time with? No. Some days that bothers me. Some days it doesn't. I don't even find time to spend with myself, and I enjoy my company just fine, thank you.

Another Monday.

I hope it sunshines today.

Sunday Silly....

My friend Mary sent this via email the other day and I got such a kick out of it, especially since I'm in the midst of potty training Dylan. Cooper, who wants to do whatever Big Brother is doing, has also been going 'potty' as well. When I read this I just had to laugh....


THE POTTY

A LITTLE THREE YEAR OLD BOY IS SITTING ON THE TOILET. HIS MOTHER THINKS HE HAS BEEN IN THERE TOO LONG, SO SHE GOES IN TO SEE WHAT'S UP. THE LITTLE BOY IS SITTING ON THE TOILET READING A BOOK BUT ABOUT EVERY 10 SECONDS OR SO HE PUTS THE BOOK DOWN, GRIPS ONTO TO THE TOILET SEAT WITH HIS LEFT HAND AND HITS HIMSELF ON TOP OF THE HEAD WITH HIS RIGHT HAND. HIS MOTHER SAYS: "BILLY, ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? YOU'VE BEEN IN HERE FOR A WHILE." BILLY SAYS: "I'M FINE, MOMMY.. I JUST HAVEN'T GONE 'DOODY' YET." MOTHER SAYS: "OK, YOU CAN STAY HERE A FEW MORE MINUTES BUT, BILLY, WHY ARE YOU HITTING YOURSELF ON THE HEAD?"
BILLY SAYS: "WORKS FOR KETCHUP!"

Blue Sky, sunshine, what a day to take a walk in the park....

Some days I wonder just how well-recognized my grandsons and I are around our part of Portland. As I maneuvered my big double-stroller in thru the doors of the library -- with the much-appreciated help of a Good Samaritan (usually I'm stuck doing it all by myself) -- a not-so-familiar librarian spoke up and said, "It looks like someone's out for a power walk today!" I smiled as I passed by her and replied, "Every day!" Her eyebrows shot up -- she was probably a few years older than me -- and said, "Every day?!" And another librarian who's worked there forever said, "Yes, every day. They're in here all the time."

I got to thinking about our walks. I got to thinking how so many women my age aren't healthy enough or physically capable of doing what I do on an almost-daily basis -- we do take time off when the weather is crummy -- and I took a moment to thank the Lord for strong bones and for restoring my health after last year's debacle. For the opportunity to give this gift to my grandsons, because it is a gift...getting out into the fresh air and sunshine every day, learning about the world around them. So what if by the end of the day my joints are a little achy? I hit the pillow at the end of the day and it's a rare thing for me to suffer from insomnia...I'm out like a light.

I always half-joke and say I dunno if caring for them will kill me off early or keep me young forever. I think I'll vote for keeping me young.

The corners of my mind....

....seem to be filled with too many thoughts lately. Focusing on any one thing is so hard to do. What especially grieves me is my "to do" list because so much has to be put off and I am not, by Nature, a procrastinator. I was raised to do things when they needed getting done. Now I look at my tangled flowerbeds, the front and back porches which need painting, house trim that's dingy and in need of touch-ups. The windows are streaked on the outside...when was the last time I washed those?! The basement is getting filled up to overflowing with all the cast off junk I no longer need, as well as stuff that belongs to the rest of the family that has nowhere else to be stored. I could make a killing on a yard sale, if only the packrats in the family could let go of things. There are hunting clothes enough to dress 10 people, let alone Dear Hubby, and boxes and boxes of books I'm sure are the delight of silver fish. Stacks of stuff here, stacks of stuff there. Clutter drives me absolutely bonkers!

And yet, what would I rather be doing than what I'm doing now, helping in raising my two grandsons? So what if things have to lie low for a few years? It'll all be there waiting for me when my tenure as care taker is over. The hours spent wandering around this city with the two boys, little boys who are enthralled with everything they see, truly are limited when I get down to it. The days of ferocious temper tantrums like I experienced yesterday - Cooper screamed for 1 1/2 hours straight, to the point where he was so worked up nothing would appease him - will soon be nothing but a memory. Hearing "Mommy" and "Mama" all day long will be distant echoes.

So, my version of this beloved poem.....

I hope that my (grand)child(ren), looking back on today

Will remember a (grand)mother who had time to play;

Because children grow up while you're not looking,

There are years ahead for cleaning and cooking.

So, quiet now cobwebs, dust go to sleep.

I'm rocking my (grand)baby, and babies don't keep.

Celebrating a friend's joy.......

Congratulations, Lynette!!

(...and very well deserved, if you ask me!)

My Book, I guess....

So I began writing my book. Three weeks ago. I got one chapter written and then I got so overwhelmed with Life's interruptions I haven't had enough computer time to really sit. Not think, so much. Just sit. I have this idea in my head that if I think about it too much it's going to ruin it for me. And I am not going back and rereading what I've written. Are you like me, where the more you read what you've written, the harsher you criticize your own words? Is 'harsher' a word? Whatever. The thing is, when I took a creative writing class in high school my teacher was a big believer in stream-of-consciousness writing. It was so deeply ingrained in me it's the only way I know how to write. Just like with my blog. I rarely ever have anything thought out, plotted out, or even vaguely in mind for the most part when I sit down here at my desk. I just turn on the computer and begin writing. And the same goes for my poetry. What you read of that on here is composed as I type. Words flow and my mind feels like the old ticker tape used for stock prices? Like Gomez Adams used to pour over on the "Addams Family"? Just a steady stream, tick-tick-ticking away.

I've come a long way in my blog writing, tho. My first blog is filled with mile-long entries. I had a lot I needed to work my way thru emotionally and needed to get off my chest. And, boy, did I do that. I purged myself clean until I got to the point where I'd written myself into such a corner I didn't know how to find my way out of it, other than to start a new blog. Which I did, here, in December of 2007. What's the old saying, "Less is more"? Or something to that effect. I think what changed my 'volume' of writing was when I read the average blog reader doesn't spend more than a minute reading a blog. Goodness. And I realized I'm one of those, tho I usually spend more than a minute. But I prefer the to-the-point entries myself. I have so little time to read, I want to read as many friends' blogs as I can in the time I can visit. So, I try to be as concise in what I have to say as I can and I try not to ramble ramble ramble. I try hard not to be too boring. Tho I must admit there are times it just feels so gooooooooood to sit here and let the words pour out I get carried away. Oh well. I'm only human.

So, if you've gotten this far with me this evening, I just wanted to let you know the book is started. And I do plan on finishing it, even if it takes me 10 years. I remember reading about Jean Auel, the Oregon writer who wrote the phenomenally successful "Clan of the Cave Bears" series of books, how she began writing her books on an old type writer at her kitchen table. And the lady who writes the "Harry Potter" books...pretty much the same thing. That gives me hope for myself. They had an idea and they went with it. Maybe that will work for me, too.

What a disappointment....

Another favorite writer with a very disappointing book, or so it was for me. In fact, I didn't get past the first 50 pages or so. I'm not sure...was it fiction? An allegory? I have never read such weird dialogue coming out of characters' mouths in my life. I'm not sure what happened to Mr. Conroy on this one. Three of his previous books -- "The Prince of Tides", "The Great Santini", and "Lords of Discipline" -- are some of my all-time favorites. Not this one. I'm glad I got it at the library and didn't pay any money for it. I would've taken it back and gotten a refund.

Bloggy Thoughts.....

I read occasionally about bloggy friends meeting.

Nothing much is said about it for the most part, so does that mean it was successful?

Unsuccessful?

So-so?

Disappointing?

I've met pen pals in the past.

No one ever seems to be,

face-to-face,

quite who they were

on paper.

Am I?

Are you?

Yesterday was today before tomorrow happened...

"Hi, World!"

Oh, I am just so...so...wordless tonite. I think. But here I am, sitting at my Grandma's desk, keyboard in front of me and a soft breeze blowing in thru the dining room windows. Coldplay on my Discman. Dear Hubby softly snoring away in the recliner. Kick back time.

I don't know what urge hit me today but I've been very domestic. Grocery shopping took almost two hours, wandering aimlessly up and down the aisles of Walmart and Fred Meyer. Oh. What. Fun. I am two hundred dollars poorer. And what do I have to show for it? Well, I must admit I did buy some rather offbeat items this week, besides the usual groceries. The salad and marinades and chicken breasts and milk and juices. Fruit looked pathetic so I settled on bananas only. I can't wait until the new crops of apples come in. I bought a birthday card for my friend Babe. She'll be 78 in a few days and I wanted to get it off in the mail so it reaches her in Maryland in time. She is the mother of my childhood best friend and the funny twist of our friendship is the fact that her daughter and I have kept only marginally in contact for the past 35 years. It's Babe who has become such a lovely friend. She'd lived in my hometown until earlier this year but her health has declined and she moved back to Maryland to live with her daughter's family. I got a note from her in the mail the other day telling me she's back there and settled in now, in a big house with 7 kids, 4 dogs, and 3 cats. She told me she's not as patient as she used to be so she knows she's getting old. A household that busy would be a little overwhelming no matter what age a person is, don't you think?

Dear Hubby and I took a drive out to the Goodwill in Oregon City this morning. On the way we passed a yard sale and stopped to look. I got a solid wood mid-century modern (I love that term) 4-drawer chest for $10 that was in very nice shape. I plan on using it for storing the grandboys' books and art supplies. Dear Hubby found a two-man pup tent that looked brand new -- the seller said he'd only used it once, and by the condition it was in we believed him. Another $10 well spent. At the Goodwill I found a couple of heavy-duty boys' winter coats for the grandboys for our cold weather walks and a lightweight Nike jacket for Dylan for Autumn. All three coats look brand new and I spent $18 for them. My son used to think thrift store shopping was for poor 'trashy' folks but he's become very impressed with the things I find for the boys for practically nothing. It's amazing what you can find if you take the time to search thru the racks and know your labels. The Columbia Sportswear coat I bought for Cooper for $6.95 cost $99.95 new. I rest my case.

I swept the porch. I dusted. I cleaned the bathroom. I did a few loads of laundry. I started reading Pat Conroy's new book that I picked up at the library on our way home. I sat out on the front steps and visited with my good neighbor Sharon for a while. I felt at peace and content and had a very good day.

I read this post over at "Fat, Frumpy & Fifty" a few days ago and it has stuck with me so I thought I'd put in my two cents' worth about the subject, about whether or not we are who we are online:

I am me,

only more of me,

whoever

me

is.

I once was

a shy young girl.

I believed in

human

decency.

I still do,

sometimes.

I never cried then.

I grieve now.

I was endlessly restless.

Now I am just

restless.

I loved then.

I cherish

now.

Time was measureless,

endless.

Now I know

how precious

time

is.

I was young then.

The funny thing is,

deep down,

I

still

am.

...and this is Dylan at almost 3 1/2

Have you ever been stuck here????

I absolutely detest having to buy greeting cards,

especially for people I'm not particularly close to.

They never reflect the feelings I have very accurately.

For instance,

cards for brothers.

Don't get me wrong.

I love my brothers.

But the soppy, gooey

"Don't we share wonderful memories?!"

cards????

Nope.

Sorry.

Not us.

I think I'll start writing my own line of cards.

Name it

"Keep it real!"

Time has come today....

Remember that old Chambers Brothers song? You had to be alive back in the 60s, I guess. I had a sobering thought yesterday. Next year, people born in 1980 will be 30. 1980! It makes the decade I was born in, the 1950s, seem like ancient history. Have you noticed things that come from or were made in that time period are now being referred to as 'mid-century'? For some reason I find that unsettling. As the grandboys and I were out walking the other day we came across an old '57 Ford Ranchero for sale, parked along the street. Mint condition. And as I looked it over, admiring it, I got to thinking about how much the car industry has changed since then, how gadget-less and streamlined the makes are nowadays. No fins and steering wheels the size of super-duper pizzas. No big ol' bench seats you could stretch out and go to sleep on. Some of those seats were as comfortable as beds, or so it seemed to my kid-sized body back then. The old radios you tuned in by twisting a dial, radio stations that crackled and fizzed out as you drove out of their broadcasting range so you'd twist the dial some more until you could find something you could hear. Nowadays your car talks to you. Imagine that.

We're headed back up into 90 degree weather for 4 days this week until it settles back down into the 80s by the weekend. I am so not looking forward to it. The grass is so parched. The trees look about as wilted and dried out as I feel. Lack of rain for them. Lack of LACK OF for me. Mentally I am just not into this game lately.

And so it goes.

And goes.

And goes.....

Cooper, his hard hat, and "big dig truck"

Is this about the cutest "worker dude" you've ever seen?

I have this to say about my week:

I'm exhausted.

Priceless Photos.....

I went to catch up on a neighborhood blog this morning and I came across this photographer. Because I have a deep love of all kinds of photography -- one of my grandfathers was a top-secret Navy photographer in WWII -- I followed the link out of curiosity. I was simply amazed at her talent! I sure wish I had an extra $200 on me to have photos of Dylan and Cooper taken by her. Go check her site out...you'll be glad you did.

I Want to be a Paperback Writer......

I know many of my readers love to read. I came across a nifty site on my friend Danielle's blog and thought I'd share it with you. It's called "Paperback Swap".

25

I've been getting some new visitors lately so I thought I'd do a list of 25 things about me. How exciting is that?! Just some basics, things my readers who've been around a long time probably know quite well, but they might help the 'newbies' feel a little bit better acquainted. Now, if they'll just reciprocate and do the same on their blogs, life would be sweet:

1. I am 55 with a birthday stuck smack-dab in between Christmas and New Year's.
2. I am left-handed.
3. I have silvery-white hair.
4. I have green eyes.
5. I still claim to be 5'7" but at the rate the rest of me is beginning to 'settle' I'm probably 4'11 by now.
6. I weigh somewhere between 125-175. I am not skinny but I am not fat. Just righttttttttttt.
7. I have no sense of taste, resulting from an illness in 1999.
8. I have to have music playing when I write, usually on my Discman so I don't disturb anyone around me...my computer is in the dining room.
9. My parents are both deceased.
10. I have no sisters.
11. I have 3 brothers, two older and one younger.
12. I was a tomboy until well into my teens. One of my brothers nicknamed me "Ramona Gabriel", the female version of a quarterback from way back named Roman Gabriel. I could throw a perfect spiral, and I could throw far and hard. Even at 55 I still love to be active and walk, walk, walk!
13. I've been married to my Dear Hubby since 1974. We met on a blind date and got married 5 months, 4 days later.
14. I have two grown children, a daughter and son, both in their 30s.
15. I have two grandsons aged 3 and 1. They're my son's children. I do full time day care for them an average of 55 hours per week.
16. I type something like 75 words per minute. That's probably the only reason I find time to blog.
17. I have lived in the Pacific Northwest my entire life. My parents came from New England and moved here after WWII. My brothers and I were all born and raised out here.
18. I have lived in this house, a Craftsman bungalow, for 27 years. It's a constant fixer-upper but it's home.
19. I have worked in medical records in two different hospitals...loved that job. I did day care, house cleaning, secretarial work, was a companion to a 96-year-old woman who lived independently and still had all her wits about her -- she was like a substitute grandma to me. Tons of volunteer work. Worked voluntarily on a team with 2 other women for 3 years, writing Sunday School curriculum for primary-aged kids. I did freelance data entry. I worked as a middle school lunch lady for 7 years. And I raised not only my kids but most of the neighborhood kids as well. Now, how would all that look on a resume?!
20. When people describe me, the word that pops up most often is "nice". I used to be rather offended by that, it sounds so bland. But nowadays there isn't a whole lot of nice in this world so I'm rather proud of that title!
21. I hate having my photo taken. My left eye is lazy and most of the time it isn't noticeable. But it is in photos and I'm rather self-conscious about it.
22. My Dear Hubby tells me I'm one of the most laid-back, easy-to-get-along-with people in the world. He ought to know, after 35 years with me.
23. I am basically very solitary. I can be very outgoing when I need to be but beyond that I could easily be a hermit. Social situations with more than a couple other people exhaust me.
24. I write soooooooooooooooooooooooooo much easier than I speak.
25. And speaking of 'speaking', I suffer a lot from 'left speak'. I'll tell you to put the milk in the sink and the ice cream in the coffee maker. Seriously.

So, Betty and Pam and anyone else who'd be willing to participate, please do so and let me know when/if you do. The feeling is mutual...I'd like to get to know you better too!

Sometimes Life's trials can be a bit

overwhelming,

can't they?

In Defense of the Spirited Child -- Part II

I've been getting all kinds of feedback as I've been out and about walking with the grandboys this week. A checker at one of the stores I frequent told me, "You are such a good grandma." A woman in a van who came up to a Stop sign as I also approached it waved me across giving me the right-of-way and as I mouthed "thank you" as I walked in front of it she poked her head out the window and called to me, "I see you guys out walking all over the place!" My neighbor Sonny told me, "I don't know how you do it," about half a dozen times, then told me I have the patience of Job. I saw another neighbor, Alex, over on a busy street a couple miles from home and he waved at me like, "You're over here, too?!" Yup. Crazy woman that I am. Crazy. I spoke to my son on the phone this morning...he's been taking care of the boys on his own this weekend while his wife is at her high school reunion...and he told me, "I'm their dad and even I don't know how you do it!" I told him it's because I know these years won't last forever, and it's also because I love them to distraction. It's hard some days. I admit that. But I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing. The joys far outweigh the negatives.

When the boys are in the stroller they're usually well-behaved and calling out "Hi!" to everyone who crosses our path. They're handsome boys and many people comment on that or tell me how "cute" they are. As long as Cooper stays facing forward and Dylan sits back and doesn't start messing with Cooper from behind, things stay peaceable and we have a very pleasant time together, noting every car and truck and bus and big dig and bird and squirrel and butterfly and chicken we see. Every jet, plane, or helicopter in the sky. Both boys are chattering and pointing in every direction.

And most of the time they're very well-behaved in stores or when we stop by the fire station to look at the fire trucks.

Most of the time.

Then there are days like Friday where I took Dylan out on a 'big boy walk', one where he walks along with me and Dear Hubby distracts Cooper so Dylan and I can sneak out of the house undetected. We walked over to the fire station and as we approached the open doors in the back, one of the fire fighters who was tinkering around at a work bench invited us in so Dylan could see the trucks up close. My grandson is crazy about fire trucks. Obsessed with them. I've lost count of how many toy fire trucks we have here at our house. To get up close was more than his system could handle as far as stimulus and excitement go. So when I grabbed him by the hand and told him we needed to get back home, Dylan went into meltdown mode. He cried like his heart was breaking and he twisted and pulled every which way, trying to get out of my grasp. At this stage I've had my fair share of coping with this kind of behavior out in public. I keep calm, I talk to him soothingly, and don't give in. I don't get flustered. I don't get embarrassed. I don't really care what anyone around me is thinking. I know why Dylan's acting the way he is and I deal with it as effectively as I can, trying to get him thru it without making too much of a scene. I kept steadily pulling him out of the fire house and as we got into the parking lot, the fire fighter pushed a button and the door to the trucks rolled shut. That got Dylan's attention. I told him from now on, when we come to the fire station, it will be in the double stroller and he won't be allowed to get out and go inside anymore, at least until he can behave. I told him it's a privilege to be allowed in there, that naughty behavior will take that privilege away. The fire fighter was letting him know that how he acted wasn't acceptable so he shut the door. If nothing else, Dylan is a very intelligent little boy. He understood what I was saying. So, the next few times we go there will be in the double stroller with Cooper. Then, we'll try another 'big boy' walk and see how it goes. Baby steps.

Grocery stores. The horror chamber for parents - and grandparents! - of spirited kids. I've learned to push the stroller down the center of the aisle, keeping everything out of reach. We pause to look at what catches their attention but we don't touch. And at the checkout stand I stay back out of reach of all the racks of goodies. I won't go in to it until the person/people ahead of me are completely out of the checkstand. Then I'll push the stroller all the way thru, parking it outside of the checkstand, out of reach of anything...garbage cans, boxes of fans on display, whatever. The boys are right there where I can see them but they can't touch. And it saves a lot of grief...mostly for me!

I am not going to make excuses for the actions of spirited children. But I am going to say I'm beginning to understand them better. I'm realizing what triggers off most of their actions is frustration. The way I define it is this: they're very intelligent and it's the lack of ability to communicate on their part that drives them to distraction, that causes the meltdowns and the constant inquisitiveness...the busy fingers reaching for everything, the inability to settle down in restaurants or anywhere else where they're confined and surrounded by people. It's the constant background music everywhere, in stores and restaurants. It's the bombardment of stimuli. I'm not sure if it's because their nervous systems are more finely geared or if it's because those systems haven't had a chance to mature enough yet. At home, where they know the routine of their day, where they feel secure and have the freedom to move about at their own will, meltdowns are almost non-existent. I learned early on when venturing outside that if I reacted in a frazzled, panicky way to their behavior, it only served to trigger off a larger, wilder meltdown. I had never experienced spirited children before these two entered into my life, and I had no clue whatsoever how to cope. Experience has been the best teacher for me.

A week or so ago, during our hot weather, I'd taken an early morning walk to the store with the boys. Cooper, who's teething molars right now, was cranky and out of sorts from his teeth and the heat. I'm not even sure what triggered him off but as we left the checkstand he came unglued, screaming at the top of his lungs and writhing around in his seat. I pushed the stroller out of the way and hunkered down next to him, stroking his hair and talking quietly to him until he calmed down. Two senior men were sitting on chairs nearby, stoically watching the scene without comment. I could see their thoughts, tho: "Another brat!" But Cooper did quiet down and as we passed by them one spoke up and said, "Well, she got him to shut up pretty fast, didn't she?"

Yup, I did.

I was given this Meme Award from a relatively new reader of mine from Paraguay named Betty. I've done similar memes in the past but since she's new and said she'd like to learn more about me I thought I'd give this a whirl and see if I can come up with 7 things about me that aren't common knowledge. If I repeat myself, long time readers, please bear with me:

1. I never wear pajamas. No, I don't sleep in the nude, I wear comfy old night shirts. But I can't bear to have my legs encased in anything while I'm sleeping. A therapist would probably have a heyday helping me figure that one out, but it's a true phobia.

2. It takes a lot to get me angry. I rarely ever lose my temper. But when I do...oh my, the sparks do fly!

3. I bit my fingernails for 43 years. I stopped cold turkey one day when I first started working as a middle school lunch lady and my forearms were immersed in goo-up-to-here in a clogged sink. As I drew my arms out of it and saw my fingers dripping with all kinds of gunk I thought to myself, "And I'm going to stick my fingers in my mouth after this?! I don't THINK so!" And I never did again.

4. I suffer from terrible claustrophobia. When my grandsons pull out their big Spongebob quilt and want to play 'fort' I can only stay under it for a short time without feeling panicky. I know where this phobia comes from...I had a fat little friend who'd straddle me across the chest either on a bed or on the floor, trapping me so I couldn't get up, and then she'd tickle me until I'd get almost physically sick. Also, we had Foster Children in our home when I was growing up, several of them being teenaged boys. My parents installed a little latch-lock on the inside of my bedroom door and I had to lock it every nite to keep myself safe. I'm sure my dad could've knocked my door down easily if he needed to but I was so terrified we'd have a house fire and no one would be able to rescue me. I can't sleep easily in any room where the door is shut, even to this day.

5. I have an older brother who disowned me 17 years ago this month. I have tried several times to make amends but he won't forgive me. I have had no physical contact with him or his family in all these years. The last time we saw him and his family, my children were 12 and 14. A couple of summers ago my son and his wife attended a concert at the Amphitheatre in Vancouver and who was sitting a couple rows in front of them but one of my brother's daughters and her husband. My son decided he'd speak to her so as the concert ended he went up to her and said, "I bet you don't know who I am, do you?" It took her aback, but she said no, she didn't. He told her. She hadn't seen him since before he'd reached puberty and now he's a man, 6'3" tall and 220 pounds. What was so strange is she was nice to him, even told him to "Say hi to Uncle D and Aunt Kris for me!" like she'd seen us yesterday. Strange.....................

6. Because my parents couldn't find my hospital birth certificate for years, I just knew I was adopted! When I was around 18, I think it was, my mom finally found it, stuck to the back of another document. I don't know if I was disappointed or relieved.

7. I should've had a twin. When I was born there was a whole extra placenta but the baby had died in utero. I have always felt like there was a part of me missing. I think this may be why.

WHY?

Our neighbors Pam and Keith planted a bunch of melons in the curbside strip of grass in front of their house. As the grandboys and I walked past the other morning, Pam happened to be outside and she called out, "Kris, can you believe this?!" I asked her what and she said, "Someone came along last nite and stole every melon off the vine!"

No, I can't believe it! And the stupid part of it is the fact that none of them were even remotely ripe yet.

People!

Today my older grandson Dylan stopped me in my tracks with a question. As he and Cooper and I stopped on the sidewalk across from a construction site where two houses are being built he asked me, "Meez (me) and Mommy (grandma) build big house?"

"You and Grandma?"

"Uh-huh."

"You mean someday?"

"Uh-huh."

Without thinking about it I said, "Well, when you grow up to be a man you might build a house someday."

"Meez and Mommy?" he asked again.

That stopped me cold. In 20 years my grandson will be 23. I'll be 75.

"No, baby. Just you. Because grandma will be an old lady."

And the sobering thought is yes, in 20 years I will be one.

20 years.

Whoa.

Speak to me, people!

If ever I needed encouragement from my readers,

it's now.

Do I have what it takes to be a writer?

A real writer?

Or am I just fooling

myself?

I've begun my journey....

...and where it will end,

I have

no

idea.

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”- Maya Angelou

I have so little time to write this evening but I dozed off for half an hour in the rocking chair this afternoon with my two little grandboys tucked in beside me so even if I end up staying here at my computer a little longer than normal...past 7:30!...I'm hoping I won't be too tired to drag myself out of bed at 3:15.

I have so much...bubbling...inside of me.

I have so much I want to say.

It is a great agony, bearing an untold story inside myself.

But what story?

Do I make it fiction? Do I make it fact?

Do I write it for adults? Or write it for young adults?

Or should I do what I've always done here.....

Write it for myself.

Sometimes

it is very lonely

here,

in the middle of

my life.

Should I scratch it?

I'm getting a very strange itch lately.

I want to write a book.

Here's something to put a smile on your face!

I'm sure just about everyone has seen this video.

Can you watch it without smiling?!

Let's hope this one does last

"Forever"

Another book I couldn't put down....

Do I have to come back to the real world?

Couldn't this book go on forever?

It was that good.

We got an email from a friend this morning.
This is his front yard.