A little faith will bring your soul to heaven, but a lot of faith will bring heaven to your soul. ~ Author Unknown

Oh, it has been an interesting day. I wrote this blog entry this morning asking for advice and two people have responded so far, both with very wise words of caution and support. I am very appreciative for what both had to say and I am going to follow it. Betty had a great suggestion of printing it up and giving copies to both grandboys. There are so many internet publishing companies out there now I think I'll do just that, make each grandboy a special book copy of it.

Back to the day being interesting. Around 3 pm the phone rang. Both grandboys were still napping and Dear Hubby was already home so I answered the phone even tho I didn't recognize the Caller ID, something I rarely ever do. But the other afternoon the phone rang with the same Caller ID and when I didn't recognize the name I let the answering machine pick it up and whoever was calling hung up. I figured it was a wrong number and never gave it another thought. Today when I saw the same name, same number, I answered it thinking I'd let whoever it was know that this was a wrong number. Except that it wasn't. A person very hesitantly asked me if I was the lady who'd written the article about being delivered from the occult. They told me they'd picked up a copy of the magazine and they wanted to let me know how much it had impacted their life, knowing someone else 'out there' had experienced a lot of what they had. As we spoke at length we found out we're both the same age, had similar childhoods and life experiences, were both introduced to the occult by receiving Ouija boards as gifts at the same age. They asked me at the beginning of the conversation to promise I would never, ever share any of what they were going to tell me with anyone and I gave them my word. Then they went on to tell me their life story. The similarities were eerie. I could say, "Yes, I know exactly what you're saying. Yes, yes, yes....." At the end of the conversation, when Coopy came out to the kitchen to see me after waking up, this person began to cry. They told me they couldn't even begin to tell me what it meant to them to be able to talk to someone for the first time in their life about what had happened to them. To know they could talk to me about it and know that I knew exactly what they were talking about. To know they truly aren't crazy. This person has gone on to become an established professional, a person who's won all kinds of awards for community service and contributions, who's visited many different countries around the world. But yet, for all they've accomplished, they've had this deep dark secret, this horrible burden, clouding all their happiness. They asked how I coped, if I'm still plagued by visits from the 'dark world' and I was able to pass on some advice to help them cope. It was an absolutely amazing conversation. I never dreamt when I wrote it that it would impact even one person's life, let alone to such depths in another human being. As we got ready to hang up they told me they couldn't thank me enough for being 'brave enough' to share it with the world. My only intention when I wrote it was to show God's love and tender mercy in reaching out to someone as lost as I was, and how He has the ability to turn a life completely around. If I never hear any other feedback, just knowing how much it helped this person is something I will treasure all the days of my life.

Why can I not get my hair to behave like this?

You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith. ~ Mary Manin Morrissey

I found out yesterday that the article I wrote for a religious magazine is now published and out there for the world to read. It is a strange feeling, to open a magazine and find something you've written printed right there. How vulnerable it makes you feel, especially if it's a personal piece about yourself. You know people are reading it, that it's being shipped all around the world. You've exposed the heart of you and you know people are reading it and forming their opinions of you from it. Hopefully not judging you, but I'm sure there are those out there who are doing that, too.

I am having a hard time making up my mind as to whether or not I want to print it here as well, on my blog. This is my online journal for my grandboys and I think it's important to include it for them because it is so vital as a part of my history. And yet...any one from anywhere from any walk of life and state of mind could read it here if they do the right kind of search. And that really scares me. Really scares me. Because I know the minds of those who delve in satanism. And I know how savvy people can be on here, finding out personal information. So I sit here and think and ponder and hem and haw. Procrastinating. Weighing the pros and cons.

I don't know.

Those of you who've read it who still stop by...what do you think?

Each day comes bearing its own gifts. Untie the ribbons. ~ Ruth Ann Schabacker

A couple of days ago as I went out to get the mail I found a package sitting on the porch ledge underneath our mailbox. It came from my friend Betty in Paraguay and what an unexpected surprise it was! I don't know who was more excited, my grandboys or myself, but as soon as I found some scissors the three of us sat down and started working on taking off all the paper. Beneath the top layer was all kinds of security tape and paper..."Inspected by US Customs - Homeland Security" criss-crossed every which way, but thankfully whoever inspected it was careful not to hurt what was inside. As I unwrapped each piece the grandboys "Ooooooh!'ed" and "Aaaaaaaah'ed!" over each treasure. Betty was thoughtful enough to send them each a figure of native animals handcarved out of wood...some kind of heavy, dense, and very beautiful wood. Coopy saw this:

and claimed the little tortoise for himself. Dylan loved what I think is some kind of armadillo? And when I told them they'd come from a faraway place from a lovely internet friend of Grandma's named Betty they both piped up and said, "Thank you, Betty!"

And this one was for me:

A Paraguayan hand-painted mask made out of clay by a local artisan. Betty was afraid it was something I wouldn't pick out for myself but I told her I happen to love this kind of art...I love handmade pottery, too, and collect various pieces. I have my mask hanging on one of the wooden posts of our archway between the living room and dining room. The boys have their animal figurines close at hand with their other toys. We are three very happy campers!

Thank you again, dear Betty, for such thoughtfulness in sending these lovely gifts our way!

((((((((((HUG))))))))))

Which is more fair,

The star of morning or the evening star?

The sunrise or the sunset of the heart?

The hour when we look forth to the unknown,

And the advancing day consumes the shadows,

Or that when all the landscape of our lives

Lies stretched behind us, and familiar places

Gleam in the distance, and sweet memories

Rise like a tender haze, and magnify

The objects we behold, that soon must vanish?

-- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Silence is more musical than any song. ~ Christina Rossetti

I don't know why it seems like forever since I've posted on here. I wrote something on Friday. But my mind has been so far away, my writing spirit dim. I don't 'do' depression. When I feel myself falling into that pit, I shake myself off and claw my way up again to the light. I don't believe in wallowing in my own mire. I've overcome too much to fall victim to that.

I had a wonderful half-day of solitude yesterday. I'm glad to settle for even that. I finished a book. I putzed around the house. I sat on the couch and watched the birds at the feeder and listened to the wind chimes. I ate when I wanted to. I stayed away from the computer. Dear Hubby is on a ridiculously early shift all thru the summer, starting around 3:30 am, so he was home a little past 11 and we sat down and had a heart-to-heart about spiritual things and Life. He is one of my favorite people in the world to talk to, even after 36 years together. We have so little time to ponder on deep things together at this stage...it felt good.

I watched several taped episodes of "Obsessed" and "Hoarding: Buried Alive". The human psyche fascinates me. Dear Hubby doesn't understand people who seem to have no control over their thoughts or actions. At least he doesn't seem to mind my fascination with it. He is the most self-disciplined person I've ever known. Too bad he isn't able to pass on his ability to the rest of human kind. He'd be a bazillionaire.

Time is on my side...no, it ain't

I know I'm my own worst enemy. I always have been. I never know when it's time to stop and, on those rare occasions when I do know, I push on anyway. It drives my Dear Hubby insane. In years past, tho, I've always had endless reserves of energy I can tap in to. Tons of stamina. But in the past few years a lot of that has left me. Permanently, it seems. I know it's signs of aging and I don't have a problem with that, with aging. What I do have a problem with is giving in to it and admitting I'm not that 'strong as a horse' Swede I've been my entire life. A woman who now struggles to open new pickle jars not so much because of lack of strength in my hands, but arthritis that has crept quietly into my finger joints and lets me know it hurts to try and do something they no longer want to do. Or are capable of doing.

Dear Hubby took the initiative of calling our son the other day and telling him I need a break. One that comes before their scheduled vacation the first week of September. At first I was insulted. Then I was grateful. Is it pride? Is it just plain stupidity? What is it in me that senses I'm getting worn down, worn out, and yet I don't take it upon myself to say, "Hey, somebody. Help!! I'm exhausted!" More than anything I think it's more a matter of being so confounded busy all the time I don't have the time to stop and assess where I'm at physically and emotionally. Let's face it...I don't have time to think 99% of the time. I get up and I get started on my day and I go and go and go for 11 + hours straight. When Dear Hubby told me what he'd done he also told me he knows me better than I know myself at times and he can see that I need some more days to myself, to get some rest. He wanted me to have a week. But I don't think that's workable because of the kids' work schedules and because they have to sign up and have vacation approved way ahead of time as well. So after talking to my son yesterday morning when he dropped the boys off, what we came up with is some extra 3-day weekends. Starting with this one, and then next week will be the 4th of July so there is another one. That will help.

I know it won't kill the grandboys to have someone else watch them now and then. In all actuality, it will probably be good for them to have more exposure to other people. Our little daily world is quite insular, outside of contact with neighbors or people we see when we're out on our walks. Being a stay-at-home grandma is a very isolated life. When I was a young mother I had several friends who were stay-at-home moms as well and we'd get together often for visiting and letting our kids have time to play together. That networking isn't available for someone my age. And when I do venture out, like to play time at local recreation centers, I'm the only woman there who's past the age of 30 or so. The younger mothers look at me like they don't know what to do with me. I don't know what to do with them, either. So, again, I'm pretty much isolated. It can be a lonely existence at times. Well...maybe 'lonely' isn't the word I'm looking for because I don't require much 'people' time as it is, but I do get concerned for the boys' sake. When we first moved in to our house almost 28 years ago our neighborhood swarmed with kids and our house was the gathering point for all of them. But neighborhoods transition, and ours is in the older folks/young professionals phase. We're either too old to have kids, or the younger ones have dogs instead. Don't any young people have babies anymore?!

Oh well. I'm going to the library later on to gather up some books to enjoy. Dear Hubby and I have a couple of excellent DVDs to watch this weekend. It'll be nice and relaxing. And I am thankful for it. I really am. It's nice to know that even when I'm too frazzled to look out for myself, I have loved ones around me who do.

Oops-a-daisy!

How pathetic is this?
Around 3:30 yesterday afternoon, Dear Hubby looked at me and said,
"Isn't today our anniversary?"
Umm....yeah.
It was.
And we both completely zoned it.
With good reason.
We've both been absolutely plagued
with allergies.
And just lots of everyday stuff going on.
Oh, well...
we might've forgotten the day but
we're still going strong.
That's the important part.

If I knew I should die tomorrow, I would plant a tree today. ~ Stephen Girard

There's been a whole lot of sneezing going on around here. I think Dear Hubby, our daughter, and I are all allergic to the Japanese Privet tree growing outside our front windows. It's almost in full bloom...a day of warm weather -- if we ever get one this summer -- and I'm sure the blossom pods will burst forth into smelly flowers. Actually, I think they smell pretty good. I'm not sure, tho, because when they are in full bloom I have to go in and out the front door with a handkerchief over my nose. Otherwise, once I get a whiff of them, I'm done for.

What a dilemma. The tree is beautiful. It's a perching spot for dozens of birds. It brings shade and privacy to the front porch. We can see everything going on outside thru the branches but when it's in full leaf no one can see inside. Do we keep it, or do we chop it down? Is a couple of miserable weeks out of the year worth sacrificing something we love so much? Oh, but during these couple of weeks we are stuffed and plugged and sneezing and wheezing! I think I can handle it...I think our daughter can, too...but we'll see what Dear Hubby's verdict is once this season is out of the way. It seems especially bad this year, but it could have a lot to do with our wet, cold summer weather too. Not every summer out here is a swamp.

This beautiful tree...its leaves shimmer and dance in the slightest breeze. Its delicate branches aren't meant for the big birds...it's the chickadees and sparrows and hummingbirds who find shelter there. A time or two I've seen a Cooper's Hawk explode in to the midst, looking for lunch and scattering the little ones in a hundred directions at once in confusion. It's not a tree meant for climbing...it's a tree meant for gazing at and thru. A tree meant for daydreaming and assessing the strength of the breezes before heading out for a walk. It's a tree the grandboys perch on the couch countless times thru the day to look at. A tree where they can see the birds mating, then not long after watching the parents feed the fledglings as the puffy little balls of wings teeter precariously awaiting their next bite.

There's a lot of life lived in a tree, if a person only takes the time to sit quietly and gaze out at its branches. Whole networks. Contless generations come and go. You can come face-to-face with many of them as the flutter on the other side of the glass and stare in at you while you stare out at them.

I think I'll go hide the saws.

Beautiful....

"If you have a mom, there is nowhere you are likely to go where a prayer has not already been."

Robert Brault

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go, instead, where there is no path and leave a trail. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

When Dear Hubby and I were out driving around on Saturday he mentioned the movie "Shutter Island". He'd said he'd heard a review on a talk show and the reviewer had given it an A- grade. I remembered hearing and reading that it'd been delayed a time or two as far as releasing it to the public. He said it'd recently been put out on DVD and he'd like to see it. I said I wasn't sure I wanted to. I had read the book when it first came out and it was one of the best thrillers I'd ever read. My daughter, who also read it, and I both agreed we didn't think we'd want to see a movie adaption of it because we were afraid it'd ruin the book for us. I'm still on the fence about it. I looked on the DISH schedule for Pay-Per-View yesterday and "Shutter Island" is available on there now. I am still undecided, tho I did tell Dear Hubby it's there. We'll see where we go from here.

Have any of you seen it? Did you like it? Had you read the book first? Did it ruin it for you if you had? How bad was the language? Neither of us like movies where the "F" word is used much, if at all. I know that's almost impossible, to find something without it cropping up at least a time or two, even in books now. But we both detest it. Even moreso, taking God's name in vain. Why does it seem movie and book dialogue have so much more bad language in it than most everyday people use in real life?? THAT is one of life's little mysteries. AND one of my greatest pet peeves.

Just because "everyone" likes it or "everyone" does it doesn't necessarily make "it" right. Most people nowadays would call our view "old fashioned", our preferences "out-of-date". No. We just try to live by a code of decency, that's all. And bad language and explicit sex are not a part of it.

Long, beautiful, gleaming, steaming, flaxen, waxen... I adore hair! ~ James Rado and Gerome Ragni, Hair

She is 7 years older than I am.

We share one thing...silvery white hair.

She wears hers long and flowing.

It looks amazing.

When I wear mine the same way,

I look like the

Wicked Witch of the West.

Life is not fair.

15 Meme

slippery noodle salad

help with dinner

rainbow web

music for the soul

sleepy dream

time

Now that it's all over, what did you really do yesterday that's worth mentioning? ~ Coleman Cox

I spotted this on my friend Dori's sidebar. Needless to say, I loved it:

"If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write things worth reading, or do things worth writing." ~ Benjamin Franklin

Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass. ~ Anton Chekhov

I asked a question yesterday about how we feel when we see another blogger hanging it all up and quitting the blogosphere. Also, have any of us ever felt like quitting? The responses were varied and then Anita turned the question on me and asked me if I'd ever considered it.

A time or two. Especially when I first began blogging and before I learned what to reveal and what not to reveal on here. When I realized there can be some really nasty people out there who are sugar 'n' spice on the surface and then rip you apart behind the scenes in an email. When someone told me I lived a 'boring and paltry life'. But those were minor bumps among the 1600+ blog entries I've written over the past 5 years. If I would've given up on life every time there was a bump in the road during the 56 years I've lived on the earth, I wouldn't have been much out of the womb. I don't give up easily.

Time is my worst enemy. My nemesis. I do get frustrated. I get despondent. Not because I feel I might be disappointing my 'audience', whoever and however many that may be...tens, hundreds per day? Two or three? I have no clue. No, why it bothers me so much is because writing to me is like daily vitamins are to Jack LaLanne...necessary for my well-being. For my mental health. For keeping me balanced and functional.

What keeps me going back and reading other peoples' blogs? I'm not sure, exactly. In the past few months I've found a few new ones I thought I'd be visiting for months or years to come, only to fizzle out on them quickly. The ones that I've read religiously for a long time are by ladies every bit as busy as I am, who rarely comment but I almost feel like we're mentally connected somehow. I can relate to them in a visceral way. I'm finding I'm too distracted to venture out much from my own little corner in the blogosphere at this stage. I try to visit and leave comments when I can and have to be satisfied with that. But what triggered off my question yesterday was finding a blog in the wee hours of the morning, and the writer's entry at the top of the page was one saying goodbye. She'd been blogging a long time. A long time. Well, when one considers most blogs die within a few days or weeks after they've been established, mine's been around a long time, too. I think it'll be around a long time to come. I happened to visit my dashboard this morning and I noticed a couple of Followers have 'abandoned' me. Funny thing is, both of them are two of the newer ones that had fizzled out quickly for me, too. Great minds think alike, and all that. Don'tcha know. But when Followers leave I don't ever get discouraged. I've found friendships and acquaintances in real life ebb and flow the same way. Some friends are forever, some for a moment. They change. We change. It's just the way Life goes.

Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton asked why. ~ Bernard Baruch

How do you feel when you read about another blogger giving it all up?

Are you ever tempted to quit blogging yourself?

Before I Was A Woman...

I was once a feisty little girl who hit boys so hard I could make them cry.

I loved paper dolls.

I was a tomboy.

I threw footballs as hard and as accurately as boys could.

One of my brothers nicknamed me "Ramona Gabriel" after the quarterback

Roman Gabriel.

I loved waking up to the sound of chainsaws far off in the forests on

warm summer mornings.

I wore lots of hand-me-down clothes.

School was very easy for me and I was often very bored.

I was deeply afraid of bats.

I could eat a whole watermelon if I could get away with it.

I loved bubble gum.

I loved drive-in movies.

Being the only girl in the family I never had to share a bedroom.

I was very secretive.

I loved playing Hide 'n' Seek past sunset on summer evenings with all the neighborhood kids.

I was very jealous of my youngest brother when he was born over 6 years after me.

But I grew to love him.

Deeply.

I was my Dad's "Missy McGoo".

I loved riding high on his shoulders and dancing on top of his feet.

My mother would tell me, "I hope if you ever have a daughter she's twice as stubborn as you are so you'll know what it's like trying to raise you".

(I know now.)

I was always "Sis".

I was always on the outside looking in.

My Swedish grandfather didn't like me very well.

But I didn't like him either.

I once received a beautiful fancy Valentine in 3rd grade and never did know who gave it to me.

I loved going to the docks at Westport and watching the fishing fleet coming in with their catch at the end of the day.

I loved picnics at the lake.

Bonfires on the beach.

Butter clams cooked on the fire at Hood Canal.

Rowing across the waters with my Dad towards the Navy ships and never seeming to get any closer, they were so far away, singing "I've Got Six Pence" and "Row Row Row Your Boat" at the top of our lungs.

I loved hamburgers from "Mr. Gene's"

and milk shakes at "The Beehive".

And chocolate ice cream cones.

Little League baseball games were the highlights of our summers.

I loved the first day of school.

I loved the last day even more.

I loved the penny candy table at Bullard's.

I loved Dairy Day parades.

I loved Grape Nehi soda.

I loved swinging bridges and lazy river bends that were perfect swimming holes.

I loved riding my bike.

I loved summer evening walks with my mom after the dishes were done.

I loved it whenever Uncle Winky would come to visit.

I loved my calico cat Knucklehead.

I loved sour green apples and sour green cherries, picked from the tree before they were ripe.

I loved my childhood best friends Laura Ruth and Angela.

I loved my small town childhood.

Knock on the sky and listen to the sound. ~ Zen Saying

Forgive the memes, please. I know I've been doing quite a few lately but I've come across some good ones that I haven't been able to pass by. And since this blog is a living legacy to my two grandsons to have someday I think they're a wonderful way to show them how I'm truly thinking at this time in my life, the years they're here with me on a daily basis.

I told Dear Hubby this afternoon as we drove home from one of the archery ranges he enjoys going to that I need to write down a word Cooper says before I forget it and it gets lost in the little cracks and crevices that seem to eat up memories as time goes on. This is the word he says for 'helicopter':

"Hote-a-totta"

I don't know about you, but I think it's darling.

Even at age 4 Dylan still calls them by the name he gave them when he was not much past the infant stage: "Caw-caw". He simply doesn't care to call them by any other name. That is fine with me.

I am....so thankful for sunshine and warmth after endless days of rain and clouds

I think.... in very complex ways. I know, when I talk to people, just how differently my mind seems to work.

I should...give more of myself on emotional levels.

I dream....every nite, many dreams

I want....simple things. It really is true that Life's simple pleasures are the best.

I know... I don't have all the answers.

I don't like....shallow people.

I smell...soft fresh air blowing in from the window near my desk. It's rich and damp.

I hear.... Susan Boyle's CD playing in my headset.

I fear.... any type of physical harm coming to anyone I love, especially my grandsons.

I usually... let someone else answer the phone. I hate phones.

I search...deep inside myself. A lot.

I miss....the carefree summer days of childhood.

I always... put my glasses on as soon as I get out of bed.

I regret.... never learning another language.

I wonder....about all kinds of things. My mind is always on the move.

I crave....one full body massage in my lifetime.

I remember...a lot of memories from the past I'd like to forget.

I need..... more personal time.

I forget....my train of thought a lot, I get so distracted during the day.

I feel....happy to be alive.

I can....wiggle my ears.

I can't....knit or crochet. Or sew.

I am happy....when either one of my grandsons will stop in the middle of whatever they're doing, run over to me, and give me a hug.

I lose..... my keys a lot

I sing.... lullabies.

I listen... to whatever music suits my mood when I sit down to blog.

I shop.....in retail stores only when I absolutely have to.

I eat....without any real enjoyment. I have no sense of taste.

I love.....the Life I have.

What, another meme?!?

I found this buried in my Drafts from 6 months ago...can't remember if I posted it or not otherwise but I enjoyed reading it again, ha!

Part I -- Describe:

Your hair? Wash 'n' Wear

Your mother? In heavenly places.

Your father? There as well.

Your favorite food? A really good Chef's Salad.

Your dream last night? I slept in shifts last nite and don't remember dreaming.

Your favorite drink? Cold water.

Your dream/goal? I would like to make it to Heaven someday.

The room you are in? Dining room.

Your hobby? Writing on my blog. Well, actually...it's my passion.

Your fear? Becoming senile.

Your TV? On quietly in the background...Dear Hubby fell asleep on the couch watching it.

Your Pets? Painfully, none. But hopefully happy living in Texas now. Long, long story. But she's still with family and that's the only thing that makes it bearable.

Friends? Treasured.

Your life? Blessed, no matter what.

Your mood? Mellow and sleepy.

If you're missing someone? No one at the moment.

Your best friend? Lizzeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! (Author's Note: THIS will never change!)

Part II -- The Where's:

Where do you want to be in 6 years? Exactly where I'm at right now, unless the Lord comes.

Where were you last night? Here at my desk.

Where did you grow up? A small town in Washington State.

One place that I go to over and over? The bathroom.

Your favorite place to eat out? The Canton Grill here in Portland. But, actually, it's take out that I like. Don't have to cook! And it's much quieter here at home. And if I drop any chow mein on my shirt at home no one notices. Or cares, anyway.

Wish list items? To see my grandsons grow to adulthood.

Last time you laughed? This morning with Dear Hubby.

Part III - The What's?

Something that you aren't? Selfish.

Last thing you did? Caught up on some blog visiting and actually had time to COMMENT on most of them!!

What are you wearing? My nite shirt and ratty old bathrobe -- it's too comfortable to throw out. (Author's Note: 6 months later and some things never change!)

Something you're not wearing? Shoes or slippers (Author's Note: This, either!)

Your favorite store? Thrift stores!!! Right, Judy?!

In search of my mother's garden, I found my own. ~ Alice Walker

On my 'old' blog....and, I think, even on this one for a while....I had this picture of our front porch as my header photo. It looks a lot like this still, tho a little more worn by wear. The clematis on the trellis has taken over that side of the porch, which faces east. It completely blocks off the view of our neighbors Sharon and Alex and their porch. It is where I've spent countless hours, drifting slowly back and forth on the glider while I read. I haven't spent much time there in the past few years but I clean it up each spring with hopes that I'll find an hour here or there to sit and muse and drink my sun-up cup of coffee while summer mornings dawn. There isn't a more peaceful, tranquil way to greet the morning than to watch the robins hop-hopping across the dewy grass, looking for that first worm of the day. Or listening to the song of the house sparrows as they prepare for their day. Or the mournful cry of the early-morning trains.

Oh Lord, my God, when I in awesome wonder consider all the worlds Thy hands have made! I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder, Thy power throughout the universe displayed!

Yes...

Lately the Lord has been crossing my path with some pretty amazing people. Sunday evening was a perfect example. I had to attend a work-related franchise open house at the business where my husband is supervisor and I had the dreads like you couldn't believe. I didn't want to go. At all. But duty called and away I went. Things like that are so far out of my comfort zone, especially now. I spend 11 to 12 hours per day asking, "Do you need your diaper changed? Are you poopy?" or answering endless "Why?" questions -- do 4-year-olds have any other word in their vocabulary? The thought of carrying on adult conversation with a huge crowd of people almost put me in panic mode. Most of them were strangers...I barely know his co-workers or their spouses. It wasn't too bad once I realized most of the people there pretty much felt the same way I did, watching their body language. I relaxed a bit. I was standing near Dear Hubby as he talked to a couple of visitors when a woman approached me. She introduced herself and we began chatting. And 3 1/2 hours later we were still immersed in deep conversation. We both felt and commented on how it seemed like it was meant to be, our meeting in this world. Dear Hubby teased me as we drove away and said, "I think you just met your new best friend". In a nice way. I said, "I feel like I have".

I don't feel like I have a fragile sense of self worth. I don't need to be constantly reassured or have my ego stroked on a regular basis. But in these past few years where it's almost like I've sequestered myself off into a little world that my two grandsons and I inhabit during the day, where my contact with adults outside of my family is limited to the bits of conversation I carry on here and there with store clerks, librarians, and people at church on Sunday, it takes a lot of effort for me to break the surface and function on a social level. I never required much interaction with people anyway, but at least I felt I could hold my own whenever I had to. So this encounter I had with this lovely woman I met on Sunday helped to re-establish something in me that's been dormant for a long time. The ability to reach out and touch someone mentally on a personal level. I have missed that. I realized that evening I've missed it a lot.

I got an email this evening and part of the message said this:

"Always good to hear from you, MissKris, and although I think you are perhaps a glutton for punishment (you do SO much all the time...), I enjoy getting to know you. One of these days I'm going to take a drive to Portland - I love to go for drives, and think you'd be the type of friendly soul who'd offer a stranger a cup of coffee!"

And do you know, if this lovely person writes and says she's headed my way, I'm meeting her somewhere along the road for coffee. Every now and then I like to drive, too. I'll meet her halfway.

A Grandmother's Best Friend

I've found a dandy new use for duct tape.

It works great as a temporary fix on wood floors

where slivers lie in wait for the

tender feet

of little boys.

Ponderings

I am finding myself stuck in a vortex of sorts. Even my postings have backed up with I don't know how many Drafts that have been started and then stuttered to a halt. Stored up in a cyber holding tank with nowhere to go.

I have tons of mental enthusiam. I have a very limited source of energy, focus, and stamina. I have to tap my reserves carefully to spread it all out. That's where the problem lies.

I sit down. I put on the headphones, plug in to music. I try to write with the clock ticking, the corner of my eye shifting always downward to the check the time on the corner of my screen. 25 minutes. 15. 5. Pressure's on. I'm tired. I want to go to bed. I'm stoked. I need to relax. My head is full of what I want to say. My fingers hover over the keys. I stare at the screen.

Moments fly by. Bedtime.

And I get up. And start all over again.

It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion. ~ Horace

I harvested lettuce from our garden patch last nite. We had it on our bear burgers for dinner. Why is it food you've planted and grown yourself gives so much satisfaction? Even with 20+ straight days of rain the seeds I planted a month or so ago have managed to break the surface and are showing healthy growth and color. Nature triumphs.

The grandboys and I walked over to the library yesterday morning. Without the double stroller and pushing the single one along in case anyone gets too tired of walking, a walk that once took us maybe an hour and a half round-trip has stretched into one that can lasts upwards of three. Cooper is not a fast walker. He meanders. He loves to go up to trees and feel the different textures of bark. Hardly a dandelion he comes across manages to dodge his keen eyes. Each one is presented to 'Ahma' as if it was gold. (It is.) We all squatted down on the sidewalk to watch a new ant colony breaking thru a crack in the sidewalk, pushing bits of dirt and rock out of the hole. We saw two insects mating and Dylan got a rudimentary explanation of the Facts of Life. My two were also around the age of four when questions about "What are they doing?" began to surface. We have been seeing the chickadees mate, the 'couples' picking up twigs and bits of grass to make their nests. I think one pair might be nesting in the huge clematis on our front porch. I'll have to investigate later...we will find the nest and carefully take it apart so the boys can see the care and artistry involved in the weaving of a baby bird's first home.

There is a Russian meat market along one of our routes. We've passed it countless times in the four years we've been out walking. When the air vents are open whenever the owners are smoking their meats and sausages the aroma, the smoky warmth, blows softly down on us and wraps us in its tendrils. Yesterday Dylan spoke up as we passed under it yet once again, all of us breathing deeply and going "Mmmmmmmmm!", and said, "Grandma, we need to go in there and buy some!" So we did. A small rope of chicken sausage and strips of teriyaki jerky. The smell of the shop was enough to make our mouths water. And my fussy Dylan, who survives on chicken sandwiches, chicken nuggets, and pizza, devoured his sausage in seconds. Go figure. I guess he decided if something smells that delicious it has to taste delicious, too.

As we walked yesterday -- and we did a lot of walking, 3 other short walks after our early morning venture; the sun was shining, don'tcha know -- Dylan said, "Grandma, you need to bring up all those books from the basement and read to us." You could've knocked me over with a feather. When our children were little, we didn't have television by choice. We spent our days listening to music, playing, walking...and reading and reading and reading. We had hundreds of books. And some of the sweetest moments of their childhood were the ones when we three cuddled together on the couch and I'd read to them for hours. I tried with the grandboys. In fact, I'd tried several times. But they were so busy. Flit here, wiggle there, up, down. Never sitting still. I gave up. I boxed up the books I'd bought at thrift stores and put them in the basement. But lately one of their favorite pasttimes is watching "Thomas the Train" DVDs, which are told in storybook fashion. And they are fascinated by them. Enthralled. Glued to their seats. And a few days ago in passing I told Dylan, "You know, these are just like stories in books, Dylan." His deep little mind must've finally put it all together. So this morning, after I post this, I am going down in to the basement before they arrive. I am going to bring that big box upstairs and find a big basket and put those books in it. And I will read. And read. And read. Again. Life is a cycle of circles.

Angels deliver Fate to our doorstep - and anywhere else it is needed. ~ Jessi Lane Adams

I am the earth,

rich, dark, and loamy.

I steam in the sun after a spring rain

with my face raised

to the heavens.

Eyes closed.

Senses singing.

My hands dig deep,

reaching for roots

buried within.

Vines twist above me.

Choked but winding

always upward.

I do not let go.

I am the earth

and I

survive.

You are water,

the essence of Life.

You ripple and dash.

You spill and refresh.

You are the Pool of Siloam.

You are winding rivers

always leading home.

Your face breaks the surface

and glistens in

the sun.

You are water,

the essence of Life.

In your hands

the surf breaks

eternal.

If you don't like how things are, change it! You're not a tree. ~ Jim Rohn

Oh, what a FUN challenge I found over at Ratio of Failures! It has to do with creating 6-word memoir titles for your life. I hope I can do it justice:

"Living Right-brained In A Left-brained World" (I cheated and count left-brained/right-brained as one word each)

"Home Alone - Will It Ever Happen?"

"The Past Is What It Is"

"Skinny Does Not Compute In Me"

"Food For Thought Is Consumed Here"

"Quirks Included Inside - Open With Caution"

"Dysfunction Survival Manual For Broken Spirits"

"Grandchildren Are The Breath Of Life"

"Clarinets Are Not My Chosen Instrument"

"Being Allergic To The Outside World"

"It Takes Guts To Learn To Cry"

"Hugging Is Harder Than it Looks"

"Sissies Can't Live In My Shoes"

"Being A Sister To Three Brothers"

"Life Can Be Born Once More"

"Never Assume Life Stays The Same"

"Finding One's Self Takes Deep Digging"

"Say It Anyway -- No One's Listening"

"Getting Older And Loving It Anyway"

"You CAN Change -- Yes, You Can!"

"One-Way Heavenly Ticket Sold Here"

"Wisdom Comes To Those Who Seek"

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be only the beginning. ~ Ivy Baker Priest

(Photo by Leenie)

1. I've come to realize that my health......is a precious gift and something never to take for granted.

2. I've come to realize that my job......is one that most people would never want to do, not at my age. And yet, as frustrating as it can be some days, as tired as I am by the time Friday evening rolls around and I know I have a couple of quiet days ahead of me, I can't imagine myself doing anything else.

3. I've come to realize that when I'm driving......I'd really rather be anywhere else but where I am.

4. I've come to realize that I need......to ask for help more often. Since having two surgeries in 2008, I am finding I've lost some of my physical strength that I always took for granted. I can't lift weight like I used to. And opening a jar of pickles has become a challenge!

5. I've come to realize that I have lost......a lot of the magic of my childhood. I wish I'd never gone back to visit my hometown recently, outside of taking my son to see it. There are too many ghosts there now. Too sad.

6. I've come to realize that I hate it when......people won't let me finish a thought without jumping in and talking over me.

7. I've come to realize that when I used to drink to get drunk......I had a lot of inner pains that needed anesthetizing.

8. I've come to realize that money......is something for the here and now. You can't take it with you.

9. I've come to realize that people.......aren't someone you can depend upon much, outside of a few.

10. I've come to realize that I'll always be......different from most of the world around me.

11. I've come to realize that my mom......had so much potential. I find it very sad she never saw it in herself.

12. I've come to realize that my cell phone is......necessary sometimes, but not essential.

13. I've come to realize that when I woke up this morning......I felt no back pain.



14. I've come to realize that last night before I went to sleep......I pillowed my head without fear.

15. I've come to realize that right now I am thinking about......nothing much. My brain is too tired to think tonite. That's why I'm doing this meme.

16. I've come to realize that my Dad......was a lot more complex than I knew.



17. I've come to realize that today......was difficult but I made it to the weekend.

18. I've come to realize that tonight......I miss my estranged brother.

19. I've come to realize that tomorrow I will......not do anything more than I have to. And the sun is supposed to shine. I hope to spend at least a portion of it alone working in the garden.

20. I've come to realize that I really want to......live to see my grandsons reach adulthood.

21. I've come to realize that the person who is most likely to read this will be......someone I don't know in real life.

22.. I've come to realize that life......goes on. And it's up to me to live it to its fullest potential.

23. I've come to realize that this weekend......will be appreciated.

24. I've realized the best music to listen to when I am upset......is quiet.

25. I've come to realize that my friends......ebb and flow with the various cycles of my life.

In America there are two classes of travel - first class, and with children. ~ Robert Benchley

Last week it was a vacationing grandson who threw our schedule out of whack.

This week it's the other one who is sick who's doing so.

Next week it IS supposed to sunshine.

I'll believe it when I see it.

The reluctance to put away childish things may be a requirement of genius. ~ Rebecca Pepper Sinkler

Barbie is 51 now.

I heard on the news last nite they're creating a newer, svelter version of her.

Just what the little girls of America need,

an anorexic Barbie.

If any little girls in America even play with Barbie any more.

I'd heard little girls don't play much with dolls now.

I don't know why,

but I find that incredibly sad.

Wisdom begins at the end. ~ Daniel Webster

I am on a one-way path it seems. And I keep plodding and plodding towards the horizon and I know there is light there. I sense it. I feel it. I know it. The destination grows ever closer. And I try not to arrive there any sooner than I need to. I know when I get there the arrival will be bittersweet and full of sorrow. What is 'freedom', anyway?

I am on a one-way path it seems. I've been on it for thirty-three years. I am heading ever onward towards my destiny. And where that lies is somewhere beyond the blue. I sense it. I feel it. I know it's there. I know it, and it gives me the incentive to move on. The faith in believing it's there and attainable is what motivates me to scatter bits of light here and there in the darkness, pinpoint beacons that will take others to my destiny, too.

I am on a one-way path it seems. I've been a motherless daughter for twenty-one years. I pick up the pieces of her puzzle as I stumble here and there. I turn the pieces this way. And that. And I think some day I may know my mother for the woman she was. I sense it. I feel it. I know it. And it causes me to be an open book for my children and grandchildren. I want every piece of my puzzle to fit. No treading the water, no wallowing in confusion, for them. They will know me as I am.

I am on a one-way path it seems. And I've used the lessons I learned in my youth as I journey along that path. Retrospect is every bit as helpful as hindsight. I sense it. I feel it. I know it. And it causes me to put the blame on myself. And to feel pride in myself. Depending on the new lesson learned. For we are always, always learning. Always. No one, truly, when it comes down to the end, is responsible for our decisions except we ourselves.

I am on a one-way path it seems. And sometimes I've tried to go back to revisit certain points along the way. It is not a wise thing to do. I sense it. I feel it. I know it. You can go home again but home is never the way you remembered it. You can stand there on the sidewalk in front of your childhood home. And it is the same. Yet not. Only the ghosts from your past are there. Not you. You left. And those ghosts float around you, and engulf you, and you find yourself turning away. You find yourself stumbling back to the one-way path, struggling to get your footing back. There are slippery slopes and brambles that will reach out to snag you sometimes. Wolves and hounds. Dark corners where you can't see what's ahead of you. But you find...you always find...that flame of light ahead of you. It calls you on. And you find yourself forever heading towards it.

Rain, Rain, Go Away...

I admit it.

Our endless days of rain are getting to me.

Oh...and lack of time.

But what else is new?

This says it all.