Oh, the wonders of technology!  Dear Hubby is 2400 miles away in Portland and a friend of mine took a photo of him at our church's camp meeting and sent it to me on Facebook via her telephone.  Imagine that.  For a woman who thought the world would look like the Jetsons by now...flying cars!  Picture phones!  Robot maids!...this isn't too far off.  Would I ever have dreamt my grandsons would have the techie toys and computers they have to play with now, and that age 5 my oldest grandson would be a video game wizard?  I think not.

Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration continues to this day. ~ Gene Perret

Last nite Dear Hubby flew off to Portland.  I can't wait to hear how surreal it feels to him to be 'back home'.  He was scheduled to land around 9:40 pm, which is 12:40 am our time here.  He asked me, "Do you want me to call and leave a message to let you know I arrived ok?"  I said no, the phone would ring...our oldest grandson spent the nite with me last nite.  I'm sure he arrived safely.  I don't sweat stuff like that.  So with juggling around the time differences, I most likely won't hear from him until some time mid-morning.  I'm sure he was exhausted.  He got up at 4 am yesterday our time...which was 1 am their time...put in almost a full day's work...then a 5-hour non-stop flight from Detroit to Portland...then the excitement of being picked up by an old friend...then going to our favorite aunt's house to stay...and visiting with her...and then winding down.  I have no idea how his mind worked its way around all that excitement.  I'm tired just writing about it.

So I have almost two weeks until he arrives home again.  He's on a week's vacation and is attending an old-fashioned Camp Meeting at our church in Portland.  He'll also be visiting his mom and his sisters and their families.  And then he'll be driving a new vehicle cross-country for the company he works for.  He'll be one busy man.  This is the longest amount of time we'll be apart in 37 years of marriage.

I was looking up marriage quotes for my title.  The vast majority were sarcastic and snarky.   What a pessimistic and negative outlook people have towards matrimony.  I heard in passing on the news a week or two ago where studies show only 40% of couples who live together are married.  If everyone goes in to marriage with the thought in the back of their minds "If I don't like it, I'm leaving!" of course it's not going to succeed.  If a person listens...truly listens...to the words of their marriage vows they'll realize even those don't say "Happily ever after".  It's a lifetime commitment for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health till death do us part.  It doesn't promise fireworks and wealth and sexual bliss.  There's a lot of living that goes on between "I do" and goodbye forever.  There are days where everything your spouse does irritates the living daylights out of you.  And other days where you fall in love all over again.  There are moments where you sit and wonder how you're ever going to make ends meet.  And moments where you sit and share a cup of coffee out on the porch on a peaceful summer evening.  It's not something you sit back and take for granted.  At least, you shouldn't.  No...a good marriage is something worth its weight in gold.  Especially in this day and age, it's something precious, something worth treasuring.  Not to say it doesn't take work, but we have found in our many years together that communication is the 'cement' in keeping the 'structure' sound and firm.  And compromise.  Selfishness does not make a happy union.

With that said...and where it came from at 4:30 in the morning I have no clue...I'll keep the home fires burning the next couple of weeks.  And wander around like half of me is missing.  Because half  of me is.

The Possible's slow fuse is lit By the Imagination. ~ Emily Dickinson

My front porch spent a couple hours today as a Cor-Mor space ship.  What is Cor-Mor?  I don't know.  But to my two little grandsons it was as real to them as if they were on an actual space ship flying thru the Milky Way.  I bought them a couple of cheap foam pirate swords a month or so ago that have fought more battles, killed more bad guys, than I can even count.  Today they were light sabres fighting the four-handed robots.  My finger was a laser gun that 'killed' all the robot ships (any car, truck, or school bus) that drove past our house.  I was Cor-Mor Grandma and every time Captain Dylan and Cor-Mor Cooper left the ship Cooper would wave at me and say, "Bye, Cor-Mor Grandma!  I love you!" as he dashed off to battle.  Cooper had an imaginary computer at my end of the porch, Dylan had his at the other end.  They would stand there and pretend-type on their keyboards and then meet by the steps and make up their battle plan for attack.  My job?  It was to push a nail every now and then on one of the posts that was the "On" switch for turning the space ship on.  I also had an imaginary lever on my chair I had to shift every now and then for more power.

I don't know who had more fun, them or me.

Isn't imagination a wonderful thing?  Isn't it sad, the day we 'come of age' where all of a sudden we've lost the ability to imagine, where playing isn't really fun anymore?  My Dear Hubby remembers his day very well.  It was a day where he went to play GI Joes with a cousin and realized he didn't feel like playing it any more.  For me, it was a day I sat down with my childhood best friend Angie to play Barbie dolls, and I couldn't think of a thing I wanted my Barbie to do.  I put the doll down and told Angie, "I don't feel like doing this any more."

Not that we adults don't 'imagine' things.  But our imaginary images tend to be more negative..  We can imagine the world economy crashing.  We can imagine a tornado coming straight at us and demolishing our home.  We seem to have lost the whimsy side of imagination...the world where whatever we dream is as real as the nose on our face.  Where horses can fly and cats can play fiddles.  Where cows truly do jump over the moon.

I feel very privileged to have two little grandsons who know I'll imagine right along with them, to be included in their games and never "pooh pooh" whatever their minds are dreaming up as we go.  I have to dig back 50 years or so to take myself  mentally to their ages and remember how real my space ships and horses I rode thru the mist on the school playgrounds on cold autumn mornings were,  But I still can.  And I feel very blessed to be able to do so.  If nothing else, I hope my little grandsons will still turn to me one day and say like they do now, "Grandma, we sure have fun at your house!"

I don't think the day will come when I'll completely shut down my blog.  In the past few months I haven't spent much time here, but as the dust settles from our whirlwind experience I'm hoping to come back and 'stay' once again.  I miss my blog.  I miss writing.  Writing has always been my emotional barometer, my emotional outlet.  Something I do to clear my head.  To relax and refresh myself.  I've had precious little time to do that.  I've had precious little time to do much of anything I truly enjoy doing.  Such as reading, listening to music.  Well, real music.  There are so many song birds in the midwest I am serenaded by them from the predawn hours until I go to bed at nite.

I was just looking my sidebar over and I'm noticing that fewer and fewer of us seem to post regularly on our blogs any more.  I read an article a while back saying blogs have passed their zenith of popularity and it's a downhill slide from now on.  Maybe for those who got on the band wagon just because everyone else did, the ones who have to do what everyone else is doing.  But for someone like me, where my writing is my lifeblood, I don't think I can ever close the doors to my little niche in the world where I come for peace of mind and sharing thoughts.  I had thought recently until I felt like I've recovered my 'voice' I'd go private and then reactivate it when I feel like I have something of substance to say.  But that's not really fair or right to do.  Those who stop by and read here need to know I have my ups and downs just like everyone else.  Well, maybe need to know isn't the right phrase.  Maybe it's me who needs to tell.

We have fireflies here in the midwest.  Those of you who've lived here your entire lives probably take them for granted, but for someone who grew up and lived my entire life in the Pacific northwest, fireflies are magical.  I can stand at the door and gaze out at them for spans of time.  They make me think of Peter Pan and Tinkerbell.  Of shooting stars and the endlessness of the nite sky.  You can tell me they're just an insect.  But I won't believe you.

Another busy week ahead and the morning is flying by.  The grandboys will be here soon.  The day beckons.  Are fireflies out during the day, too?  Do they just turn on their lights when the sun goes down?  I'll be pondering that one all day....

Father's Day

I once had another blog.  It was a blog where I purged a lot of very old, very hurtful baggage.  And I closed that blog and left that baggage behind.

But...

I have been able to forgive.  But forgetting...well, forgetting is not quite so easy.

I once wrote a blog entry about how I should start a line of greeting cards for all the dysfunctional relationships in life.  The birthday cards for family members you are not now nor ever have been close to.  The family members who've molested.  The sibling relationships that have always been fraught with rivalry and bitterness and jealousy.  The parents who never cared.  The children who hate you.  What a gold mine.  But that was written tongue-in-cheek...it goes totally against my nature to do such a thing.  I'm the 'fixer'.  The 'nurturer'.  The one who'll give a million chances to those who've hurt me before I check them off my list.

My Facebook page is filled with friends and family members paying tribute to their dads today.  I posted nothing about my own dad.  My relationship with my dad was very complex.  I don't have many memories past the age of 8 or so that are very happy memories.  He was a good dad as far as facing up to his responsibilities...providing a roof over our heads, food on the table.  But emotionally my dad was a lot to be desired as far as making me feel secure and safe.  He kept me off balance. I never knew what to expect.  And as an adult, my relationship with him was never easy, never very happy. 

He died 8 days after my first grandson was born.  I spent a lot of time with him in the last few months of his life.  I was able to make peace with him.  I could let him go with no regrets.

I did love him, but I can't lie.  I can't tell you that thinking of him on this day brings tears to my eyes.

But I sure wish I could.

Time is NOT on my side

No time to really look up much of an illustration to go with this post...time is once again something fleeting in my life now that I'm taking care of my little grandsons once again.  At least this time around the hours are more sane than insane.  Only 9 compared to 11 1/2.  These hours I can live with.  And now that we're living in Michigan we live more humane hours than we have in the past 30 years.  We get up around 4:30 and go to bed around 9.  Much better than up at 2:30 and in bed by 7!  In fact, that was quite an adjustment for us, the 3 hour time change as well as arriving here when it switched over to Daylight Savings Time.  We wandered around for a week or two never sure what time it was.

I've been busy getting our yard in decent shape the past few weeks.  I've also put a bird bath outside that gets traffic all day long, sometimes up to 6 birds at a time.  Also, a feeder out front the boys can see from our big picture window.  What a variety of bird life...cardinals, sparrows, grackles, mourning doves, cow birds, starlings, robins, tri-colored black birds.  We also have a thistle sock that a pair of American gold finches are coming to every day.  They are shy visitors...if we pass by the window they're gone.  But once the boys leave in the afternoon the pair show up and are so beautiful to watch.  We also have a pair of opossum who are nesting under a blue spruce tree in the far corner of the back yard.  Big squirrels everywhere.  Oh, and we can't forget the little chipmunk Dylan has named "Whoppy" who comes to the feeder, too.

Boys are here...must go.  But one of these days I'll be back.  Or so I keep telling myself.