It's but little good you'll do a-watering the last year's crops. ~ George Eliot

Another chapter of their babyhood gone.

Today,

I put the double stroller out in the front yard

with a

"FREE"

sign attached.

When I came home from church

it was

gone.

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart. ~ William Wordsworth

Once upon a time there was a young girl. There wasn't anything special about her, not to the naked eye anyway. She wasn't born with beauty or grace. But her love of life and thirst for knowledge was apparent at an early age. Throughout her life she recorded her joys, her sorrows, in the best way she knew how...thru the written word. She put it out there for the world to see when she reached her 50's...she grew up, by the way...never dreaming anyone would ever come read it. Never dreaming it would ever impact anyone.

She's really a pretty simple woman. On the outside, anyway, the 'side' most of the people around her see. She's not a woman of a lot of verbal words, verbal thinking. She observes and ponders and wonders and stews. Oh, she has opinions...yes, she does. But she doesn't dole out advice. If you want to know what she thinks you have to come to her and ask. Just like it is with the physical side of her, too...affection isn't always easily given, but it's appreciated and taken gladly when it's given to her. She appears to be open. She appears to face the world around her with a friendly, easy demeanor. She appears to be a lot of things. But she isn't.

It always boils down to her words, her written words. That's where you find her, tucked in to her almost-daily musings. You read about her life, her loves, her heartaches, her losses. You come to know the woman behind the name of "Grandma". You feel her contentment with her life even amidst the busyness and fullness of her days. You can feel the peace in her soul as she writes about her love for her grandboys, for her books, music, and her garden. For The Man She Loves and her family.

And that is where this is taking me this evening, to my written words. To those of you who asked for, received, and responded to my life story. It is to thank you for opening your hearts to me, for not judging me. For reading my written words and knowing it was written from my heart, which is where all my written words dwell anyway.

Home is a shelter from storms - all sorts of storms. ~ William J. Bennett

Looking out at the mouth of the Columbia River from our motel.

It was peaceful. It was restful.

But, truly...there's no place like home.

Learning is a treasure that will follow its owner everywhere. ~ Chinese Proverb

Guess what we had for dinner!
And guess who cooked it!
The grandboys!
Dylan, aged 4, browned up the turkey meat and added the spices.
Cooper, aged 2, helped stir.
Both added all of the kidney beans.
They stirred it up well.
We put a lid on it.
It simmered on the back of the stove.
Delicious!

Begin at the beginning and go on till you come to the end; then stop. ~ Lewis Carrol

Dear Moi...

Are you really here? Are you really writing? More than just a few-lined filler to post in otherwise empty space? Is it Friday evening? Or are you dreaming this like you dreamt during your short-lived nap this afternoon, that it was already Saturday and you were out walking in the sunshine? Sunshine? What's sunshine?

Ever hopeful,

Point-me-in-the-right-direction-and-I-might-reach-my-destination-but-then-again-I-might-not

--------------------------------------

Dear Moi...

It's an age-old question: Why do you buy 'real' toys? Or maybe I should say, why do you buy expensive toys? Children don't know the value of money. Be thankful most of what you have overflowing from your toy bins are things you've picked up in thrift stores for next-to-nothing. Why? Because, as of today, the grandboys' favorite toys are a couple of bags of colored dinosaurs you picked up at Fred Meyer for $2.99 each that they put in to their little plastic garbage cans and fill and empty into their toy garbage trucks all day long; two extender tubes from the vacuum cleaner they use as telescopes and imaginary ice cream cone makers...the choices are endless -- "Would you eat a gravy ice cream cone?" "Ewwwwwwwwww!" "How about pumpernickel ice cream?" "Ewwwwwwwwww!" See what I mean?

Sincerely,

On-my-budget-they'll-never-go-to-Disneyland-but-that's-ok-they're-still-having-the-time-of-their-lives

--------------------------

Dear Moi...

Would you even know what to do to keep a little granddaughter occupied if you had one? When my neighbor Sharon brought her 2 1/2 year old granddaughter Lily over to visit today, they caught us right in the middle of playing "Alvin". "Alvin" is the name the boys have given to our yard debris collector. Our real human yard debris collector. The game of "Alvin" consists of the boys taking two of their toy-sized garbage cans and placing every toy they have here, no matter what size it is, and putting it 'in' the can and handing it to me. It originally started out where it was small toys only that I would dump into the green recycling truck and say, "And here's some more, Alvin". Well, of course they thought that was hilarious and now it's an elaborate game that includes every. toy. in. the. bins. The nice thing is, they do help me pick it up. But! The mountain of toys is...well...a bit overwhelming. It takes up the entire middle of the living room and is about 3 feet high. So when Lily and Sharon came in, we'd just finished putting the last toy on the pile. Lily stood there in wide-eyed wonder sucking on her fingers. I don't know whether she wanted to stay or run. Sharon said, "Boy, Kris...that's a LOT of toys". I know. But every time I try to purge it seems I think "Well, they could use this for this" or "use that for that". The only toys really gone now are the baby toys.

In all honesty,

I'm-ducking-my-head-in-embarrassment-because-I-know-I'm-hopelessly-over-indulgent-but-that-is-a-grandma's-right-so-there

-------------------------------

Dear Moi...

I am still gobsmacked (I love that word and use it whenever I can) by what happened to us at Little Caesar's pizza the other day. We ordered a cheese pizza and when the employee took my debit card from Dylan -- Dylan likes to pay and 'buy' my pizza -- to slide it thru the machine...nothing happened. He slid it again. And again. Ditto. Zilch. A much younger woman and her little girl had come in the door behind us and was watching it all transpire. There was no internet connection on either of the debit/credit machines. Uh oh. I'd have to pay cash if I wanted to buy a pizza. I looked in my wallet. I'm notorious for never carrying cash and, true to form...actually, better than usual!...I had $2! But $2 wasn't going to pay for it. So as Dylan stood there saying, "Grandma, I really wanted a cheese pizza!" the young mother had gone up to the other employee to pay for her order. With cash. And the next thing I know, the other employee is handing me a pizza, too, and telling me, "Here's a cheese pizza for you!" "No, no!" I told him. "I can't pay for it! I don't have cash!" And he nodded at the young mother and said, "I know, but she does and she just bought you this pizza." I stood there and gaped for a full 10 seconds or so, then told her, "You didn't have to do that! My goodness! How kind of you!" And she smiled and said, "They had to get their pizza. They're kids and I couldn't let them be disappointed." By that time, the employees were smiling, too, and I'm flabberghasted and thanking her all over the place! And as she went out the door I said, "I'm going to write about you in my blog tonite!" But never found time to sit down and do it justice until now.

With a very grateful heart,

A-grandma-who-could've-had-a-disaster-on-her-hands-if-it-hadn't-been-for-the-kindness-of-a-stranger-and-I-know-the-good-Lord-must've-blessed-you-the-rest-of-the-day-for-it-lovely-lady

----------------------------

Dear Moi...

Isn't it wonderful to find handymen who still take pride in their work and do an excellent job? Who are honest and show up when they tell you they're going to show up? Who finish the job? Aren't you glad you found Andres? Aren't you glad you paid him $40 more than what he originally charged you, just to say an extra thank you for a job well done? And you'll recommend him to anyone in the Portland area who needs an odd job done like putting up a bit of fence and gate, won't you? And didn't it warm your heart that he put the latch up high enough and with a hole in it where you can padlock it shut to keep the grandboys safe inside?

With great appreciation,

A satisfied customer

------------------------

Dear Moi....

Do you realize every letter you've written to yourself tonite has referred to the grandboys in one way or another? Do you care?

Love,

These-are-my-babies-and-this-is-my-blog-and-if-you-don't-like-it-oh-well-put-a-cork-in-it-like-I-tell-Cooper

My Dear Hubby is a quiet, unassuming man who never pursues the limelight. But when asked to do something, he rises to the occasion. Easter Sunday was one of those occasions. He took part in a musical our church presented in the morning and evening services and he and the rest of the cast, musicians, and choir did an AMAZING job. You can't see his face here...he's the guy in the glittery robe...but aren't these costumes authentic? I was very proud of him.