The Long and Winding Road......

One of the things about getting older is learning to treasure what you have when you have it.  That day.  That hour.  That moment.

As we get older, one of the most poignant losses is being able to go home.

The places that have been our homes have been sold, moved away from, burnt down, changed beyond recognition.  They no longer contain the people who loved us or any traces of our ever having been in them.

You can't go home again.

We all know this at some point in our lives, and yet we really never get over that particular heartache.

Unless we get Alzheimer's of course, may God forbid it.  Bad as that would be, it may offer it's own comforts, should it give us the opportunity to return to our home, if only in our mind.

No?

Which brings me to the point of this post and lovely song.

I have a friend who is blessed to still have her family home that she can visit.  It is true, her parent's are no longer in residence, but to be able to sit in her mother's kitchen, to look at the books her dad was reading, is still very, very good.

She came home and I drove to see her.

I drove this road.

The farmers have already been in the fields.  Don't you just love farmers?

This road that I have driven since I was 19 years old.

This road is long and indeed winding.

I have grown to respect the potholes.

I used to drive it at 60 or 65, except up hills and around corners, for fear of farm machinery.

I am certain it used to be in better shape.

But, then ,so did I.

Now, in the last 3 years, I have noticed that I top out at about 40.  Not out of fear of anything whatsoever, but just to enjoy the memories.  The scenery isn't bad either.

I look like I'm driving somewhere on purpose but really I'm many years away.

I'm remembering when we used to drive it in our little hatch back cheapy cars, remembered chiefly for what color they were instead of what model.  We could push those cars by ourselves for quite a ways when we ran out of gas.  We were tan and our hair was mercilessly whipped around and snarled from having the windows down.  Our sunglasses were actually picked out then, and we were willing to pay more than $1 for them.  Our hair was big and permed.

  The best times are always when you are the only car on the road.

Between 3 and 4 in the morning is the best time for this to happen.

Some things never change, thank God.  Just sayin'.

There are family cemeteries.  One is on the left here.

So many trips have I made down this road.  Trips as a teenager, in the wee small hours of the morning, to be met by my friend's mother, and harangued for coming in (staying out?) so late (early?).  It is a testament to your age when you can look back lovingly at being yelled at by any mother, whether your own or someone else's, with fondness.

May you be so lucky, and live so long.

Trips as a mother with my babies, because any mother who cares enough to harangue you for being out and about "at all hours of the day and night, smelling like cigarettes and alcohol!  I know what you girls have been doing.  I wasn't born yesterday, you know!!"  will not rest until you bring your babies for her inspection.

So I drove this road then too.

And then, once I was considered an adult, (notice I did not say "once I was grown up") I basked in the glow of the pride she took in me.  (Then.  After I had straightened up). And her smile is still there, in her house, for me.

Over the years there have been additional trips.  Trips for weddings on nights with huge, full moons.  Trips for funerals, with brazen, sunlit fields standing sentinel in the afternoons.

I know these roads like I grew up on them.

In some ways, I did.

 I rarely go past a certain point on this road, because this home is the one that has always held the people I love.  I have never had any reason but that house to drive this long and winding road at all.

In the last few years I have been haunted by the thought that the day will come when this house will no longer by my destination.

Either I will drive past this house or I will not drive down this road ever again.  I don't think I will want to see the changes that will come, as changes always must.  I think I might want to keep it the same in my memory.

I am old enough to know that this is just a natural part of life.  It comes to us all if we live very long at all.  We do not have to like it, but we do have to accept it.  In this, we have no choice.

I am extremely aware of the privilege and the pleasure that driving this road has always been for me, and remains to be still.

 I am treasuring every moment of it, right there in the moment.  I am trying to fix in my mind how good that feeling is, that going home feeling, while I still can.  I have learned not to take things for granted, to mindfully be grateful for having them.

My friend's mother is in heaven now, but I know she is with me in that car, in my memories and in the anticipation of being around things that are the same.

The forks are still in the same drawer, and I can get a glass of water without looking at the cabinets before opening them.  Nothing has changed much, and how wonderful that is to me.

I still see my friend's mother in her kitchen, laughing.  I hear the echo of that laugh in every single one of her daughters.

I still see her father, sitting in the driveway, sipping on his own beer and looking at the place where the "other house" sat.  That spot has been empty for years, but not to him.

That house was his home once, for many years, and while I never saw it standing, I listened to every story he told me about it and

I see it too.  In it, he was young.  They had their babies in that house.

So if you see a lady driving slowly along and you notice her wiping tears away, don't be sad.

Because she is not.

She is just lucky enough to have known them.

She is so very grateful, and even joyful, to be there, to be driving that road, and to be headed to that house, and to her friend who waits for her there.

   Always, and through everything in her life, right up to this point, including the haranguing.

Still.

"That's where the old house was, right over there......."

Getting Lost In The Summer.....

We have had a solid two week period of either hosting or being hosted by family, and vacations.  I have gotten to feel like Nana, having company and making pallets and getting clean linen on all the beds.  The Beautiful Redhead has lost the mattress on her old bed to one of her younger brothers, so she has to sleep with me now when she is home, and we have the best talks this way.  My beautiful bonus daughter and her family have also graced us wither their presence lately, and I have happily been slurping on that oh-so-delicious baby.

I have been glorying in just "being home" and what my family is becoming, as the years bring changes both exhilarating and painful to us all.  How well I remember when I got to the age where things changed from "the way they had always been" to "what would be".  It's bittersweet at best, the age where it occurs to you that now it's your job to *be* home, as it feels like all your "homes" are either disappearing altogether or newly vulnerable, in your eyes, to disappearing in the future.  It makes you feel silly because you have been insisting for several years that you are all "grown up" and yet go to pieces as soon as you are called upon to act like one for the first time.  Life is like that all the way through, a series of surprisingly obvious crises and how we find the strength to come through them.  This Song has been getting a lot of play around my house lately.  I used to identify with the child watching cartoons.  Now I've graduated to identifying with being Mam Maw in the kitchen, stirring up some sugar cookies.  It's a song that only gets better the older you get, with a message that is simple eternal truth

So far into the "summer vacation" mode have I been that I got all confused last Saturday morning.  Thinking it was Sunday, I got my coffee and went to Postsecret.com, and they hadn't updated yet.  I started to wonder what in the world was going on with this site.  Had someone died or hacked their website?  Where was my updated Postsecret.com??  Then I realized that it was only Saturday!!!  I was overjoyed!   I can't tell you how wonderful it is to have made a mistake like this, having my weekend suddenly get twice as long as I was thinking it was, and I doubt I need to tell you!  Is there anything better than that? If there is I don't know what it is.

I stopped to appreciate the days, far and few between lately, where I wake up and can't remember what day it is, and it doesn't really matter either way.  Time off is precious, even if you just stay home.

This revelation made the domestic Goddess in me come out of hiding and I started cooking.  I mean, she  started and kept at it and couldn't seem to stop.  I was just along for the ride, really.  The Domestic Goddess evidently has a quota that I had not yet met, so we had to catch up.  Or something.  I try not to question and just "go with it" more these days. ;)  This method has worked wonders for me, and I highly recommend you try it.  No pre-conceived plans at the start of each day may seem terrifying at first, but give it a try and I think you will find freedom and joy instead of resentment and obligation.  These are just the two different sides of the same coin, but a deeply important difference.  When you are feeling really under the gun, check and make sure you aren't the one putting the pressure on yourself.  If you are, give yourself a break.  It's your life, just live it and be happy.

 I had to try Trisha Yearwood's Sweet & Saltines Dessert after I had tried it at a garden party.  This is awesome! And the thing about Trisha Yearwood is that she is one of us.  She doesn't give you lists of things you never heard of or have to buy online from stranger's who you don't think it would be a good idea to trust.  Nope.  Not our Trisha.  When you look at her recipe's, you not only know what all the ingredients are, you actually already have them in your pantry. I had a little bump with my brown sugar, which had the audacity to turn solid on me.  But I just microwaved it and then beat it into submission.  "Oh, come on, brown sugar! You are never going to win this battle!  Not with ME!!" The Domestic Goddess is not one to be trifled with.  And that brown sugar, it crumbled in it's shifting, sugary way into submission.  Mine didn't turn out quite as good as the picture in the link above,  so be sure to boil the syrup for the full 5 minutes, and then don't panic when it looks like it's burning in the over.  It's not burning.  It just has to bubble up so that it will get a little harder.  In this way I give you not only recipe's but I go ahead and make the mistakes you might make the first time, if you lack patience but are long on willfulness. I think this is a worthy service to provide.  Mine was still a bit gooey but I just pressed on as always and it lasted almost 2 days.  It only lasted 2 days because I hid some of it in a Tupperware container in the fridge.  Why boys refuse to examine what might be in these containers is beyond me, but I count on it immensely.  You will love this dessert.  It's easy, cheap, salty, sweet, everything anyone wants, all at once.

Then I had found a crock pot recipe for the Hot Fudge Cake that is always such a hit, so I put that in the crock pot.  And made the Strawberry Cobbler that can be found on the same page in the link above.  I know! It was like a miracle!!  I haven't even made the noodles I planned to give as Christmas gifts last year yet.

So then for lunch I made meatballs (the sauce consists of equal parts grape jelly --not jam--and chili sauce--Heinz or the generic in the glass bottle)  and pasta (does it matter? I used Penne) with garlic Alfredo sauce (the generic in the store for about $1) and artichoke hearts (also generic, although more like $2.50).  The boys will eat this but consider artichoke hearts "girl food".  This is just fine with me, being the only "girl" in the house.  The important part is that I had left-overs and was foolish enough to think I wouldn't have to cook anymore at this point, on this day.  The Domestic Goddess knew better, and on I went.

Then I decided to make some potato salad, even though the boys usually won't eat that at all after it's cold.  We have a thing about warm potato salad at my house.  It really is best right then, when it's still warm.  The boys, however, draw the line when it's cold for some strange reason.  By the time I got that done the boys had polished off the meatballs and so I decided to make a meatloaf.  At some point during the smooshing of the meatloaf, which I use my handy-dandy disposable gloves for, The Cyclist finally asked "When are you going to stop??" (I think I was wearing him out, just watching) and I could reply "I think this should just about do it."  I probably spent too much time cooking that day, but The Rock Star was coming with his wonderful girlfriend and we were going to have a fire in the back yard, and I didn't want to have to worry about anyone being hungry.

I slightly misjudged the appetite of boys for meat products, as we ran out of all the meat first.  Luckily this nudged them in the direction of the desserts and all I had the next day was the potato salad, pasta, and a little  Strawberry Cobbler left over.

However you are spending your summer, I wish you days where you wake up and truly cannot remember what day it is, not that it really makes any difference.  Your time is the one thing that will always be your own.  I wish you enough of it that you can squander some and relax enough that you no longer feel the time ticking by in the back of your mind.  Put away the clock and let the slant of the sunlight determine what you do with your time.  I promise it will seem like you have a lot more of it.

Take time to reflect on the changes coming towards you, say what you need to say when you have the chance, have peace with all things, as far as possible, and remember these days.  They will soon be past us and we will have other pressing issues to deal with.  With any luck, our Domestic Goddesses will not forsake us during these times, and we will dine on Meatballs and Hot Fudge Cake, come what may.

If you are still slaving away with the clock ticking down the time in your head, you still have plenty of summer left.  Go float.  Sleep late.  Take some time off and then let yourself forget about what day it is.  Listen to the wind instead of the news, watch the sun transform the sky, and then the moon. You will not regret it, of that I am quite sure.  

Things I Don't Want To Forget.....

We are road tripping to South Missouri today.  Here is something that I wanted to jot down from last week though, just so I don't forget.

The twins' best friend, the boy who I call my 4th son, recently got his driver's license.

He came over very pumped because his step dad had let him drive his truck.  The boys all wanted to go "riding around".  I said that would be fine.  I watched them excitedly climb into the truck and thought how much easier this gets, as a parent.  When my first son got to be this age I think my soul physically left my body to follow him.  I could feel it.  I was so worried and conscious of his being "gone", "out there alone".....what if something happened?  What if he needed me and I wasn't there?  What if I wasn't even thinking of him and therefore missed the psychic warnings all mother's can receive?  I went through hell, but had only myself to blame.  I don't know why I worried so much, certainly no because my oldest son warranted it.  I think all mother's do it, at least with the first one.  We can't help it.  That's just the way it is.

I smiled, sighed, and felt no worry what-so-ever, thinking how much easier this was now, and went in the house to find my book. 

Five minutes later the boys were back, looking dejected.

"What's the matter boys?" I asked.

Fourth son replied "Well, we wanted to go to McDonald's, but there isn't enough gas in the truck and I'm afraid we'll run it out of gas."

They all looked very sad.

"Hmm.  Well, you want to take my car?" I asked.  Their faces all lit up, and my own son's eyes got big.

"You would let us do that???" My youngest baby said, incredulously.  I thought how sad it was to see my own children be so surprised that I would offer this.  I thought about how I wanted to change that.  It's like I got on a certain track, with 4 children, where all the rules were written in stone and now I only had 2 left at home.  My last two, who would never dream that their mean mom would let them take the car.  It broke my heart, and I really don't expect anyone who is not a mother to understand that.  I can't explain it any better either.  Maybe it's time to let that "everything equal" thing slide a little.  Yes.  It felt like time.  It felt right, and it was really such a small thing.

"Well, yeah!  You've got your license, don't you?" I said.

They all jumped up, in joy, I do believe, and then Fourth son asked "How much gas do you have in your car"?  How quickly they learn, I thought, and couldn't help but laugh.  It was a great question, and he had already learned to look ahead and make sure he was prepared.

I laughed and said "Plenty!  And don't worry, I'm fully insured.  Be careful, but don't worry."

"I got insurance on me too, Melinda!" Fourth son exclaimed, on his way to the car with the keys in his hand.  He has always been like a little old man.  Of all the boy's friends, it was always him that would just sit down and start talking to you like an equal.  He is very polite and very open, not intimidated like so many adolescents are.  The first time I ever asked him what kind of bike I should get for the boys he sat down and told me what kind and why, and reminded me of my grandfather talking about Chevrolet cars.  We've been friends ever since!  

They all thanked me and climbed into the car.

There followed a period of adjusting seats, rolling down windows, and most importantly of all, radio selection.  They were very excited.  I think they were seeing their future's rolling out before their eyes, just like I was while I watched them.  My babies are taking the car, and I am not having a heart attack, I thought.  It was surreal, but I knew it was really happening.

I watched them as they carefully pulled out, all the windows down, every boy with one arm out their respective windows.  The car picked up speed, but not too much, and the volume came up, but not too much, and away they went.  Just 3 young men out on the town, seeing what's up and who's out and about.

I thought again how much easier this has gotten.  This time I'm ready.  The first time it sent me into panic and tears.  I tried very hard to hold those years back, to somehow make time stand still.  I failed at that, and did a lot of kicking and screaming and protesting, to no avail.

Now I have given up fights I can't win and learned to go with the flow.  I don't expect it to ever be pain free, but it does get easier.  Practice always makes perfect, if you do it enough.  Letting go can be just as hard as holding on, it's all in the timing.  I think I've finally got it down.

Vacation! I Need A Vacation!!

As of Friday, I am off for a week's vacation.

Our vacation, like most of my vacations growing up, will consist of going to Southern Missouri and visiting with family & friends.  We didn't go last year and it's just about to kill us all!

This whole upcoming week will be spent drinking tea, floating down rivers, doing Silver Dollar City one day, cook-outs, and............there are a couple of important birthday celebrations we are going to celebrate.

The Beautiful Redhead recently turned 21, so we have some straight up partying to do on that score!  Plus the twins will turn 16 this summer.  That is a very important birthday, perhaps the best EVER, as The Beautiful Redhead has sadly learned.  We have had many conversations about how life is never as good as when you can finally DRIVE.  Nothing really compares to that, we have found.  What do you think?

Stay tuned for what I can capture on my camera and get blogged, because we are going to be at the mercy of free wi-fi for my laptop, as we are going to the country.  The real country, where wi-fi is not pervasive as of yet.  

One thing I want to do for sure is get pictures of all the barns we pass on the way.  The same barns I have passed and re passed all my whole long life, making this (at least) annual trip.  Slowly the barns are disappearing and being replaced with metal ones, when they are replaced at all.  So sad, to see barns falling down.  On the other hand, it's a fitting description of America and our culture.  Pay attention, people, it's happening all around us, all the time.

Anyway, we are off.  I myself am even going to try to avoid the news for a whole week.  I doubt I will make it, but I'm going to do my very best.  You can go ahead and watch and worry about it for me.  Just for a week.  Deal?  I promise not to turn into a zombie during my time off.

As for now, I have to make my lists.  Pack.  Make arrangements for the dogs.  They are going to get their own vacation this year, because I couldn't deal with imagining them thinking we had died, or worse, just left them, for a week.  I know that is probably pathetic.  However, I considered it, and I would rather be considered pathetic than have my dogs think we would ever just leave them.  Even though we are, indeed going to do just that.  I guess I could also be considered a hypocrite.  What parent can't???  It made me crazy wondering what they would think if some just showed up to feed them twice a day and they didn't know where we were or if we would come back.  It is entirely possible that they wouldn't think anything, I tell myself.  But in this case my heart handily beat my head, hands down.  So the dogs will spend vacation with their own mom and brother.

Are you taking a vacation this summer?  Will it involve running water and good music?  We can't live without it.  Years ago I during a conversation about how pretty the rivers and creeks were in south Missouri, as compared to north Missouri, because of all the rocks, the twins dubbed the river there The Rock Bottom River.  We thought that was hysterically funny.  It is rock bottomed, as is every body of running water in that area, and I'm sure it has seen a few "rock bottom" moments, mostly to do with float trips, so we just call it that now. Many is the relationship that has hit the rocks during a float trip. True story!  In fact, a float trip is a good way to judge your suitability for each other in tense situations, not to mention how well you work together as a team.   It may say Elk River on the map, but my kids know it as The Rock Bottom River.  Oh, and if you are a people watcher, you can be happy on the river ALL. DAY. LONG.

Soon we will be off, and taking time off.  Time off from the news in order to sit and discuss things that matter on more personal levels.  Spending time with family, floating, looking at rocks, sitting with our feet in running water while we drink sweet tea and laugh helplessly, mostly at ourselves.  Old memories will be aired and new ones will be made.

Visiting the cemetery, where I almost always find a sad new surprise, then down to 43 bridge, where I always feel bad if I drive by without stopping.  We will drive under the bluffs of Noel, something that always freaks people who've never been there OUT!  I can't even tell you how many times I've tried to prepare people for this, only to be told that they have seen "bluffs" before. Like it's no big deal.  By the time the bluffs are over us the same people are scrunching down in their seat asking if this is really safe.  I just shrug.  I would not have ever sworn it is "safe", mostly because that would depend on some lawyers interpretation or definition of "safe".  What, in this life, is really safe?  *shrugs*  Good question!  Or the times I've been assured by first-timers that they have seen "chicken houses" before and then if we arrive at night they thing the chicken houses are an airport because of the lights and the "chicken houses" being as long as a football field.  Good times!  Good times!!  They thought they had seen bluffs and chicken houses before, but they hadn't REALLY see bluffs and chicken houses before until they came to the southwest corner of Missouri, where it meets Oklahoma and Arkansas.  Red dirt roads and seed ticks, we will take it all in.   I can already feel the tension lessening in my shoulders.

I need a vacation.  I will report as I am able, but plan to take a lot of pictures.  It's getting hard to get us all together at the same time anymore.  My children are in the process of making their own lives.  The nerve of them!! ;)  It's a process we are growing into.  Priorities are a very important part of life, make sure yours bring you only joy.

Spend your time only on what is truly important to you, and you will have a happy life, always.

Plowin' On Through

Sometimes I miss my children being small. When I think about the days when I could scoop them up and bury my nose in their little necks, the way their skin felt, how safe I always thought they were in my arms...it's easy to miss those days.  I comfort myself with the fact that they will give me grandchildren.  It's been a long wait already and those days are not yet in sight.

So I comfort myself instead with how much fun we can truly have now that they are grown.  Not only can we talk about the price of gas or eggs, but we are finally on the same side of everything.  There is no more hiding certain parts of reality from them.  If only there were!  More importantly, they no longer feel the need to hide certain things from me.  When you think about it, looking back, parents and children do a lot of lying (if only by omission) for the sole reason of "protecting" each other.  It's really silly but so far no one has come up with an alternate plan that ends with children being responsible adults.  Oh, there have been parents and children without these barriers, but they usually end up as a movie of the week.  Not my style.

This post is about some of the lesser secrets of life.  This post is about secrets in the kitchen.  Women are usually the sole conspirators, but the Lord knows that men are not immune, if they happen to spend much time in the kitchen.

Some of the best memories my daughter and I have (so far) is in regard to these secrets.  

When either of the older kids come home now, there is a flurry of activity with greetings and going here and there and catching up. Then we eventually drift to our natural environments, which with me is the kitchen.

The Beautiful Redhead and I had the best time making pies last Thanksgiving.  She left out ingredients and I spilled them all over the counter before we got them in the oven, but I told her not to worry.  "No one will ever know", I said.  "They have never questioned any kind of food I have given them in their entire lives, with the one exception being the time I sprinkled cinnamon over the chicken/broccoli/rice casserole instead of paprika", I said.  She remembered that and we had a good laugh.  That was the year I got bifocals, by the way.  heh heh heh.   But the pies were a roaring success that year, even if we did leave the evaporated milk out.  So if you ever "forget" the evaporated milk or anything, I advise you to plow right on ahead and dare anybody to be able to tell the difference.  My money is on you, my Wooden Spoon Brigade, and I am not even a betting woman.  I will have you know we served those pies just like we knew what we were doing.  And we had a bonding moment as I met my daughter's eyes while all her brothers were eating the pies without any comment except compliments. "Toldjah!"  my eyes said to hers.  "I can't believe we pulled it off!" her eyes answered.  We were in it together, come what may.

So with Easter coming and me being about chocolated out from all the recipes on Facebook last week, (what was the deal with that, anyway?!?!) I was dreaming of something fruity. I found this recipe jello ribbon cake.  It seemed simple enough, so we got started.

As we caught up on our personal lives the cakes were in the oven.  The orange one got done really fast. This was due, I believe, to it being in a glass pie pan, as I have only one round cake pan. I think I used to have another one but it got used in a sandbox or maybe the dogs ate it.  I forget the details. Forgetting the details is what keeps mothers sane.  I highly recommend it.  The cherry one overflowed and burnt in the bottom of the oven. "Do you smell something burning?" I asked, "It's the coffee" she answered. A few minutes later I took out the orange one and let her know the cherry one may be in trouble.  We mixed the filling layer, with me doing the steps and her reading it off, two or three times just to be sure, because this is how we left out the evaporated milk at Thanksgiving.  Learning from your mistakes is very important and a skill that I actively cultivate.  It is especially challenging when you forget details,  just one of the double edged swords of motherhood.  We got the filling done right. 

By then the cherry cake had quit smoking in the oven but it had, unfortunately fallen by the time it cooled.   "Oh well", I said, "we are going to paste this baby together with cream cheese and Cool Whip Frosting, no one will ever know the difference."  About that time the twins were cheering for some basketball team that was making them very happy indeed, and she just smiled.  March madness is a wonderful thing, especially if you don't follow basketball but need privacy in the kitchen.

The cherry cake ended up being able to be sliced in two.  The orange cake came out mostly in pieces, well, more like limestone layers, if you know what I mean. If you don't, you should be feeling superior right now because your cakes probably always turn out normal.  You are lucky if this is the case, but you also have no idea what you are missing.  Where is the challenge if your cakes turn out perfect? What fun is that?  You have no idea how much fun it can be to overcome these obstacles.

So we made a 3 layer cake, with extra filling between both layers.  We were actually starting to look forward to this cake. It did not look like much at this point, it was true, but we were sampling right along and everything tasted wonderful, so we plowed ahead.  I would have taken pictures but I haven't figured out if I can use the camera and the Chromebook together yet, plus I was too embarrassed.  It was all crooked and listing to one side pretty bad.  I could already tell we were never going to forget this cake!

The Cool Whip frosting is wonderful, as I'm sure you guessed.  You should make sure it's all the way defrosted. I don't know why they keep it frozen and it irritates me to death, but only because I have no patience.  I tell you now, IF you insist on frosting your cake too soon, it will smoosh the layers of filling out of the middle of your cake.  Oh, you can get (most) of it back in, but it takes a delicate touch and patience. This is why we have children, it turns out.  They will keep going while you lose your mind and open windows and complain about how hot it is, while drinking coffee.  I love my daughter.  I mean, I love all my kids but who keeps my secrets?  She does.  Who knows my objective when I am in such a state and works along like nothing is wrong?  She does!  Without her I would be lonely in a way that I cannot even begin to express.

By the time the twins were joyously yelling about "Kansas being out" (sorry about your bad luck, there, Kansas) we got the frosting on, threw some jelly beans on top, and it looked a little, well, amateurish.  But I never claimed to be a professional when it comes to cooking.  Never.  Not one single time.  Ever.  This is very important, in case you are making a plan for future disasters in the kitchen. You probably should be.  They come around on a regular basis.

Into the refrigerator it went, to set up (Lord hear our prayer) or possibly break down overnight.  Whatever else Easter brings, it will bring a very tasty if not beautiful cake.  "Don't worry", I said, "they'll never know", I said.  She just smiled at our beautiful creation.

I know that she will hear my voice in her head saying these words, comforting her and giving her strength to plow on through, all the days of her life.  With me or without me.  It's a family tradition.  One that I have no doubt she will pass on.  Someday.  Sigh.

Have a blessed Easter and never lose a chance to make a good memory. Some of my best ones involve what I regarded at the time as complete catastrophes.  Here's to making good memories.

She's Still Gone.....Update

I got a new canister type vacuum cleaner and took a week of vacation and seem to have been possessed by a cleaning demon.  Of all the demon possessions I have ever contemplated, the cleaning demon would probably have to be the one I would ask for.

I have a Christmas post coming, but the demon, having taken over possession of my soul recently, has produced this instead.

At first, the canister type vacuum freaked me out and made me itch for several hours after I used it.  I can report that I am way past that now.  In fact, with every canister of dust that I collect now, I am only inspired to collect more.  I have used every attachment on it, love them all, and have instructed the boys in it's uses as well.  I am foolish enough to keep thinking that one of these times I will not suck up much, what with all the cleaning I've been doing.  That has yet to happen, but I live in hope.  Small, manageable, can afford to be disappointed hope, but hope all the same.  One of these days it could happen.  If it does, you will be the first to know.  I'm not holding my breath and I would not suggest you hold yours either, you understand, but we will make a note.  It could happen.

Remember when I was unable to bring myself to deal with The Beautiful Redhead's room?  Well, I have arrived at a compromise.  I told her at Christmas that I didn't think I was going to be able to bring myself to pack up her stuff.  She laughed.  I told her that it would be different when she got her own house and came in and told me she was taking it.  She rolled her eyes.  She left me here without touching a thing.  Again.

Ok, the wedding dress was still hanging there and I just stuffed it in the closet.  I don't count the closet when I am working on the room.  My mind can't encompass the whole process at once, ok?

Then the cleaning demon took possession and I just started doing stuff.

I did one side of the room at a time.  If I have to explain that, I would say you have never had a child who left home and then you used the room as the "throw it in and shut the door, quick-like(!)" room.

I packed up all her personal stuff.  I did not look through it.  I am 98% sure I packed up 3 boxes of trash for her to go through herself one day, but that's the way I roll.  I told God when I had kids that when I erred, I would always try to err on the side of caution, and I have kept my end of the bargain.

I got up today and drank a pot of coffee.  I did not shower, dress, or brush my teeth.  I warmed up taco soup for the boys and then directed them to remove an old television, a bicycle (yes, really), and a shelf from that room into the basement.

My hallway looked like this:

That's Shadow's tail because she is my constant companion when doing anything.

And just to show my appreciation, here is a picture of Shadow, who is always sure I am taking her picture.

Wew, yes I wuv her.....she's my sweet baby bupkes.......

I found a pair of angel wings that I bought for her when she was 5 and cried over how fast the years went and how I can still remember how the crevice of her neck smelled when she was that age.   I smiled at how I bought a pair of fairy wings for Abigail this Christmas and she loved them as much as Mackenzie once loved these.  Then I carefully arranged them in the crib she and her brother used when they were infants along with a big teddy bear that she acquired when she was just a few years older.  I did not touch her little redheaded dolls or tea sets or rock collections.  They are just as they have been for 12 years, although I do plan to give them a good wash and I still have to get all the books and stuffed animals cleaned up too.  Perhaps the cleaning demon will make more appearances.  We will see.

Not gonna touch.  Well, maybe clean.  But not put up.  EVAH!  And that little truck actually says Mackenzie's Ice Cream through no design of our own and was the only little car that child EVER wanted and I always found it after her twin brothers had stolen it and you can see who was victorious here.  Me.  I did it for you, Kenz, only and always for you.

The angel wings are laying in the cradle, in front of the foot pillow I got for a Christmas present when I was about 12.  It was all the rage, man, I speak the truth.  And yes, that's Shadow again, supervising operations as always.  And yes, my problem with throwing things away is not new.  Not by a long, long shot.

I cleaned the cool electric lamp she had to have when she was 12 or 13.  I dusted the picture of her she was a naked infant and smiled and cried a little more.

I cannot believe she didn't take this.  I still have fun playing with it.  Maybe she is the more mature of us.  Oh well.

I dug out the mosquito netting that I got for her when she was 10 and put it back up.  In it I found the pearl ring I got her for her 16th birthday and she thought she had lost for the last 4 1/2 years.  She never stopped talking about that ring and I never found another one like it so I could replace it.  It has been found and replaced in the one jewelry box (out of dozens she had) I didn't pack up.

Ok, so she never liked the netting.  I liked the netting, OK?  As it turned out, that was all that mattered.

The boys fled the house and soon the room looked like this:

I couldn't bear to put up Raggedy Ann.  She has been a faithful companion not only to the Beautiful Redhead, but to me after she ran off and left us to live her life.  We've been through  a lot, Raggedy Ann and I.....Besides, this is the redhead wall, with the naked redhead baby picture and I am not breaking up the set.  I cannot.  I will not.  This discussion is over.

and this

I'm never  giving up this photo.  She can have it when I'm dead.  Or the Mardi Gras feather boa or the only surviving float trip hat that I got for $5.  Not at the Dollar Shop, obviously. And that dangling sparkly stuff is attached to a crown of stars.  Never know when the need to wear one of those will take a girl over.....Just come on over, I saved that too!

I put the both the quilt her grandmother made back on the bed and set the fearless white lion she coveted (and got) when she was 11 on top.  I propped her favorite teddy bear when she was a child against her pillows.   

Ready for a traveling princess to stay.  And her little sister, too, with the cradle and all....

I was touched and thrilled to discover that the note her grandmother Paula had written in lipstick, along with lipstick kisses, had been there so long that it didn't easily clean off.  I left it there.

Clean this off?  NOW?!???!!?  Are you nuts?  Obviously, I am not good at that.  Accept it and move on.  I cherish my memories, right down to making them part of the permanent decorations!

I found the keyboard she learned on before we had a piano.  This same keyboard was later co-opted by her brother and the boys in his band (s)......one of her favorite boys of all time put the cheat sheet tape on the keys.  I smiled through tears as I remembered the years of not being able to talk on the phone inside my own house for the bass beat that kept our house hopping.  Years of calls at 11 pm to bring a guitar or an extra amp to a gig.   Years of 6 boys showing up without much time but needing to eat and throwing frozen lasagna in the microwave and watching them eat it while it was still cold.....but they didn't care.  Years in which I watched her get to hang out with the older kids and have a really good time in safety because she had an older brother who was 10 feet tall.   I didn't touch a thing, but now have to find a place to keep it.  Perhaps the closet.......

If this keyboard could talk........All we have is youtube videos of Our Last Run.  Go look one up now.  You may or may not need Kleexes.  No shame.

So her room has been tackled, mostly, and that leaves my list of things to do a little shorter.  Ok, no shorter, since I can cross off Mackenzie's room but now have to add Mackenzie's closet.  Still.  It's progress and I count it all.

And that is my progress, if you can call it that. I choose to call it that. The closet is still to be dealt with on another day, but this is her room now.  Undoubtedly hers, but not recently.  Proof that she lived here and will always be able to come back.  Her childhood still displayed, but not able to be picked up easily.  Just still there.  Always.

I feel very badly about the Christmas post, but will work on it soon.  Perhaps by Valentines day?  I kid.  Kind of.  I think.  I really don't know anymore.  I just get myself out of bed and go in whatever direction I am pulled.  It doesn't usually make sense to me, but still I go, and am even getting some things accomplished.  I had to ask what came next, right?  Well, this is it.  Proof that God listens, not to mention a reminder to always think about whether you really want to know the answer before you ask.

It's going to be a long winter.  It always is, in Missouri.  I wish for you a canister vacuum and the raw courage to face what it will dang shore collect.  Buck up and suck up, folks, spring is coming but not for awhile yet.

Domestic Tranquility

It's Thanksgiving.

After the year we have had it practically feels like a duty to come up with a list of things to be grateful for.   After ruminating on it for a while, feeling terrible for having that attitude, and then asking forgiveness as usual, I have come up with quite a few.

I start at home, as always. 

I have 4 beautiful, healthy children who think for themselves and love each other, two of the sweetest dogs who love us all the time no matter what, extended family who are all healthy, friends who are faithful, a bonus daughter and her husband, and my beloved pretend grandchild Abigail has been joined by a brand new baby, Adriana.  I am humbled by this, as I should be.  I quickly add all the other babies who have come into this world this year, it seemed from out of no where, dropping like jewels to brighten our whole world.  Many of my friends are now grandparents for real, and all the new babies have given us reasons to on, do better, keep the faith, as God no doubt designed.

Adriana Rose.  I've loved her since the day she was born.  I got to be there!!  I will take a picture of my own children tomorrow when we are all together.  Until then, enjoy this.

Despite spending many months in a drought, causing most of the farmers to get rid of their livestock, the roses were inexplicably wonderful.  The colors were so rich and they even looked velvety from a distance, and lasted well into the fall.  I, who feel like I can't really see anything anymore, noticed this for months on end until just the last few weeks.  It was wonderful, even with all the other heart stopping action going on in the world.  For that I am thankful.

I met some of the best new friends, who have shored me up and commiserated with me, and one of them even made me a quilt!!  For that I am thankful and touched and, well, I really just don't even have words.  Suffice it to say that I keep this on my bed and no boy or dog has ever touched it.  They are too afraid to!!

Patricia Dorman ROCKS!!

The fall leaves were gorgeous this year and they lasted for several weeks.  I think the poor trees were confused, as most of them had pretty much shut down during the drought and then when we got some rain in the late summer, they played catch-up as long as they had the sun.  I noticed on one tree in October that the berries were out as they should be, but also there were a few blossoms, born by accident, thinking it was already spring again.  These things God gave to us every single day.  I took time to notice them.  I hope you did also.  For that I am thankful.

I bought an electric heater that looks like a wood stove, and the effect upon both children and dogs has been hypnotic.  They gather close around it and feel relaxed and safe and warm.   For that, I am thankful.  Also, the gas bill is down.  The blessings just keep piling up.

See the stove?  It's electric but don't tell anybody!

Abigail turned 4 this year.  I'd be lost without this child, she brings me unspeakable joy every time I so much as think of her, and this girl has turned into a singer and a dancer.

Dancing on a chair after cooking scrambled eggs.  Do not try this at home.

Also, she is brushed my hair to within an inch of it's life and offered to turn Jack into a "rainbow horse" with fingernail polish.  Which I did not allow, alas.

Sorry for the bad quality, but the flash was showing in the mirror, plus every time I moved my head an inch she would sternly tell me to stop moving with her sweet little hands on each side of my head, pointing me back to the front.  Little seeds, people, little seeds.

In times of stress I find it very calming to bring my focus down to what is right in front of me.  My grandparents had an old saying, "Save up the pennies and the dollars will take care of themselves".    I mention this not only because we are on the verge of another depression fiscally, but because it translates perfectly to the spiritual realm of our lives.  

The pennies saved turn into dollars you can spend toward your needs, or just save to feel safe and prepared.  In this same way we should start and pay attention to the gifts God gives us and the lessons to be learned from Him.  There may be nothing we can do to halt the steps our government or others take in the larger world, but we can make sure we are informed and teach our children the truth. We can set an example of having honor and principles that we will defend to the death, and not bow down or live any way but free.  When we do this, we plant little seeds that grow and reach fruition and multiply.

The important thing to remember is that no matter what you do, or don't do, as a parent, plants little seeds (or saves the pennies) and multiplies (and hopefully adds up to dollars).  We now have to face the fact that we as parents are responsible, whether we look away and let them spend hours each day in front of  a television screen or turn it off and talk to them about their day, or our world.  It all counts.  Whether it adds pennies into dollars or runs up a big deficit, it all counts.  It all multiplies.  Are you raising children who think things through and take responsibility, or kids who spend hours in fantasy land and think the rules don't apply to them?  These are the people who are going to be in charge for the rest of our lives.  This thought may make you rejoice or weep.  It's a crap shoot, to tell you the truth, but do not despair.  There are a lot of kids out there with no one looking out for the adults they are going to become.  It's not hard to influence them, one way or another.  Think of the future, picture it bright and good, and show them how, tell them why, listen to how their minds work.  If you don't, someone else will. 

They are very easy to influence.  It is this thought that can stop a parent's heart.  Make sure your influence is the best it can possibly be.   It can feel like a war that will never end, but end it will.  One day you will look back and see what your influence was, one way or the other.  Make every day count, and take time to be thankful.  Take time to teach them how to be thankful.  It's a good place to start, anyway.

Happy Thanksgiving America.  Let us be truly thankful for our blessings, of which we have many.

I just spent the best evening with my only daughter making lasagna, PW's Olive Cheese Bread, two pumpkin pies and a brownie cheesecake to be covered with raspberry sauce.  She left the evaporated milk out of one pie and I slopped the other one all over the counter, but aside from that, I think everything will be great.  All we have left to do is make the salad and put stuff in the oven.  When we discovered the missing ingredient left out of the pie, we just laughed and wondered if the boys would notice.  We will see.  I told her "That's all right.  It doesn't have to be perfect.  That's how memories are made!  And I'll tell you another thing,  you will never make that mistake again, no matter how old you live to be."  We will never forget this Thanksgiving, and it hasn't even happened yet.

Vacations: Worst is Best

It's been several years since I have taken a family vacation, and I may never to be able to afford to really take one again.  Instead of a big vacation these days, we have a lot more sleepovers and short trips to visit family.

This seems surreal to me because when I was a child we always took a vacation, even though we lived on a very modest income.  Most often we went to places where we had family to stay with, which meant spending hours and days in the car.  At the time I thought it was undoubtedly the most miserable times I would ever have in my life, and that turned out to be both true and not true, but the bigger point is that those memories have survived and become treasured, moreso for the misery they contained.

I remember it like it was yesterday.  My step father would drag out the Atlas and plan our route all winter long.  The morning vacation "started" meant that we would all get up around 3 in the morning, even earlier if we had to cross Kansas.  Living in Missouri, we often had to cross Kansas, and while I love many people in Kansas, I would rather slip into a coma than have to cross it during the day.  It's like the ocean, only without water.  Or trees.  Just endless prairie grasses to the horizon for days at a time.  Occasionally you will see a tree.  You will be able to see it for a very looooongggg time before you pass it.  It was like being in the twilight zone.  But I'm wandering again.  Enough of Kansas.

My brother and I would sleepwalk from our beds to the bed made for us in the backseat of our family car, and proceed to go straight back to sleep.  Only sound asleep would we ever share the backseat without fighting.  We would wake up hours later, never close to our destination, sadly,  but always ready to put up a good fight over our half of the backseat.  Every child who had only one sibling knows about the imaginary line.  There is actually nothing "imaginary" about this line.  It exists.  Your mother teaches you about it and once seen, it can never really be unseen again.  Parents may forget about it after their children turn into teenagers, but make no mistake, the imaginary line is real, and battles will be fought over it until someone leaves home, even after the children who see it are old enough to know how childish and really, beneath them it is.  Nevertheless, the imaginary line remains, and many cars have been stopped and punishments handed out over violating the sacred rule of the perfect half division of the imaginary line in the backseat.

Once, when my younger brother was about 8 he, brilliant strategist that he is, figured out a way to get his revenge without bringing the imaginary line into play.  Picture a trip to Colorado and New Mexico, an eight year old boy with a pretend plastic machine gun, and 3 other irritated people, two of whom are trying to read and one of whom is trying to drive, listening to the constant rolling of the plastic mechanism that makes a pretend plastic machine gun a gem to any 8 year old boy.  When he got in trouble for pulling the trigger and making us all want to scream, he simply turned it around and tooted it like a trumpet, to the tune of Rhinestone Cowboy, a big hit that summer.  Big enough to have been listened to on every station we could bring in, and to have already worn out it's welcome without it being tooted through a pretend plastic machine gun.  But you know what?  I can still remember the resigned look on my mother's face, and the way I intuited that instead of arguing on and on, she would wait him out.  He couldn't toot forever and he wasn't the only one with the patience to make a subtle but full blown assault.  Eventually he fell asleep.  And someone may have stepped on his pretend plastic machine gun........It may not surprise you to know that the boy grew up to be a soldier.  I know it wouldn't surprise you to know that I grew up to have 4 children, and a van that played movies!

The year we went to Galveston I was about 10.  It was the first time I had ever seen the ocean.  It was also the year that I got such a terrible sunburn that we spent a bunch of money on bottles of pop out of a machine at the motel for (glass) bottles of pop (remember that? Glass bottles of pop out of machines?) for no other reason than that I could lay on them, so burnt was I.  I always got hurt.  It's always been what I do.  Turned out the bottles hurt too much to lay on, or to have laid upon my back.  I also learned that jellyfish are much, much prettier in the water, and will sting you regardless of where they are.  Sigh..............

There was the year we visited my Papa in New Mexico and he thought I was old enough to drive a little scooter he called a Tote Goat.
"Just don't get out of the yard, see if you can handle it, " he said.  I was old enough to drive it.  I was not old enough to remember how to stop it, which is what caused me to shoot right out the driveway and down the blacktop road that he lived on, scared out of my mind and able to think of nothing but "Just try not to wreck!!!"  I managed not to wreck long enough to remember where the brake was and by the time I got pulled into a driveway a couple miles down the road, there my Papa was, on his motorcycle, coming after me.  Once he saw I was all right, he stopped and laughed until he cried, bent over at the waste with his hands on his knees, until I was ready to cry I was so embarrassed.  He said that was nonsense, I hadn't wrecked and was fine, and for a first lesson he thought it has been just fine.  My mom was PISSED at my Papa!  I did not get back on that scooter, something my mother and I agreed on, for once.  Oh, and that was the year I caught me arm on a barbed wire fence feeding a horse and had to get a tetanus shot.  Fun, fun, fun!  OK, not fun, but you have to admit, memorable.  What I would not give for footage of the look on my face, not to mention Papa's, when I shot out the driveway and down the road!

We had very memorable vacations.  I think everyone does, and let me tell you this: it matters not where you go, as long as you are together, even if you are miserable.  In fact, the more miserable you are, the more memorable it will be.  Just wait and see if I am not right. 

Every year we spent time at Nana's with all or at least most of our cousins around.  Heaven.  We did nothing more than walk up the lane to get the mail, or sit in the porch swing, drink tea and visit.  We ate constantly.  Nana should have probably run a Bed and Breakfast full time.  During my teenage years we all compared and discovered that we all gained an average 5 pounds per week, at Nana's.    This is probably why I rarely spent two weeks consecutively.  If I had it to do over, I would care less about the weight gain and write down every thing she ever said to me, especially the recipe's.  We never wanted to leave Nana's and I never did it without tears.

One year Nana's husband wanted to drive my uncle's new motor cycle.  It worked out just about exactly like my first time on a Tote Goat, but with the added hilarity of him running straight at the trash barrell, which went straight up and vomited a shower of ashes over him, my poor uncle, and the motorcycle.  The motorcycle and Nana's husband were both driven into the ground and covered with debris, several yards from each other.  My uncle, true to form, laughed until he cried, bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees.  It's how my family rolls.  To this day, when that memory is recalled my uncle still laughs until he cries.  We all do.  So the next time you do something really stupid that you KNOW no one is ever gong to forget, take heart:  You have added a memory that will live on through your family for what, at least for you and probably your children, will be the equivalent of "forever".  Don't be embarrassed.  That's how memories are made!

Eventually we would make grown up memories there together also, we would bring our babies and stay up all night talking and eating.  To this day, I get a certain yearning in the summer to be drinking a Rt. 44 Sonic drink in a car with a bunch of my cousins, at night, all the windows down, headed to see the Spook Light, headed to 43 bridge, headed anywhere in the warm night with the trees and the bluffs all around us, our feet stuck in running water over a rock bottom creek and confessing our hopes and fears to each other, safe with each other and never alone, no matter how dim the future may seem.  One year a bunch of us got drunk, a cardinal sin to Nana, who either knew through her psychic abilities or just forgot we were there and locked us out. I think our average age was 40 at the time, and if you've never dealt with Southern Baptists, I could not possibly explain what a sin this was. I laugh until I cry remembering my cousins trying to figure out how to break in without hurting anything and me waking up my best step mother ever, who was peacefully sleeping after taking care of her very active grandchildren that night, poor thing.  She took it well, as she takes everything.  Nana never know FOR SURE we were drinking, but we are sure she suspected because she said we had it coming if we weren't home by the time she went to bed and locked up for the night.  

I have been yearning a lot for these old times lately.  It's summer time, and just to get my own children together between working and school vacations is a pretty neat trick.  Add to that the fact that we are all in the same boat now, with our children and grandchildren, (grandchildren?  Is that really possible?  Yip.  Sure is.  We are OLD!)  and I think we are going to have to start an annual tradition where you have to show up or pay a fine.

Kidding again.

We are old enough to want to show up.  

It's the kids we have to put in the backseat only to do battle over the imaginary line that we have to convince.

At least we don't have to go through Kansas.....

Blindsided by TLC

Before Christmas, one of my oldest, dearest friends stopped by.  At the end of her visit, she and I were at the top of the stairs that lead into my basement, which has become the man cave and where the twins hang out most of the time.  The twins were both at the bottom of the stairs.

She was making her goodbyes when she mentioned something about hoping that Santa came to see the boys.  My youngest baby blurts out "Oh, Santa.....the God of the whores."

Both she and I went very still and very carefully did not look at each other.

I said "What?  What did you just say?"

He repeats "Santa Claus?  Saint Nick?  He was the God of the whores, isn't that right?"

We are still both frozen there, not moving.  Barely breathing.  I am kind of in shock, trying to make sense of these words coming out of my Youngest Baby's mouth while he looks at me with the same expression that he would ask me if I sent lunch  money to school with his brother.

So I say "Can you spell that word?" in a desperate bet that I have heard wrong.

My friend is holding her breathe trying not to laugh or change her facial expression in any way.  Thank God she was the one this happened in front of!  I mean, honestly, when you are a parent you are vulnerable in ways I don't even want to tell you about. They can ruin your life at any moment!!  Your mission (and only hope) is to keep them as ignorant of that fact as is humanly possible.

He could not spell that word, and instead of trying he looks at me as if I am stupid (which, I admit I kind of have to give that one to him), and says, "You know, like women.......?"

I say "WHO TOLD YOU THAT??!!!  And you should never use that word!!"

And he says "I saw it on The Learning Channel!  It was a documentary and it said that St. Nick is the God of the whores because he saved them!"

I do not, at first, believe this.  I accuse them of getting around the controls on the computer.  Both twins insist that this story is true,  Apparently they both watched it but only one was fool enough to open his mouth and reveal what they had learned.  So, I Google it:

http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/family/christmas-traditions-around-the-world-ga.htm

And while he is not big on details, he got the gist of it.

Apparently, in Thailand, St. Nick is the patron saint of prostitutes, because he took young girls likely to be sold into prostitution and put them in an abbey instead, where they became nuns.   The moral of the story is that St. Nick is not be confused with the God of the whores.  I won't even offer any guesses as to whom that might be.........  but I would expect he is probably ensconced in Hollywood.  In any case, I expect the prostitutes need all the patron saints they can get.

Just a cautionary tale to any parent still under the impression that documentaries are safe and boring.  It all depends on the interpretation.  You may want to watch with them to clarify points that could be misconstrued.  It could save you a very embarrassing scene that, with any luck, will occur in the privacy of your own house with only your trusted friends as witnesses.

We girls laughed for about 20 solid minutes after this, in private, while we railed equally against the Learning Channel and Thailand, in that order.  Santa was spared any acrimony.

Another memory made!

Little Altars Everywhere....Pt. 2

I was the first grandchild on my mother's side.  For three years I ruled the kingdom and during this time I proclaimed my grandmother "Big Grandma".  This was not because my grandmother was big.  In fact, the first time I called her that I can remember how she laughed for a very long time and finally asked me why I called her that.  She didn't seem especially touched by it.  I had two grandma's that lived in her town, as I thought of it, her mother lived there also, my great-grandmother.  The only explanation that I had then, and the only one that I still have to this day, is that my grandmother  was taller than my great-grandmother, ergo, "Big" Grandma and "Little" Grandma.  Little Grandma didn't seem especially pleased by her name either, but it seemed completely obvious to me.  I, being naturally shorter than either of them by quite a distance, did not know that they were both actually very small women.  Be that as it may, they were both referred to by those names from that day forward.  Nobody argues with the first grandchild, I tell you.  Nobody.

Big Grandma always had a bird nest on her Christmas tree.  She said it was good luck for the next year.  I can remember her getting excited about finding small abandoned nests.  She sprayed the holy living crap out of them with Lysol and put them in trash bags, to "kill all the bugs", for weeks and then shellacked them.  Probably to seal in the bugs, just in case any survived.  Or laid eggs that could hatch.  She did not suffer dirt, she put on a whole uniform including a scarf over her hair and attacked it mercilessly. 

It's not a real one.  It was a gift from my mother, in memory of the one Big Grandma had, for my own house.   It's the oldest tradition I have.

Big Grandma was very crafty, even artistic.  She was always whipping up something or other and there wasn't much space between us, which is probably why one year I made my own ornaments as gifts.  The Santa below is another of the cute wooden ones that move around, but to the left of it and below with the pink and blue swirl is one.  You simply buy an empty ornament and whole bunch of paint, pour it in, swirl it around, and waa-laa!  Beautiful ornaments that will last as long as you don't break them, but hey, that will just be the year you broke the pink and blue ornament that you made when the twins were small, and waa-laa!  There's a memory.  That's the way it is with Christmas ornaments that you know.  They never leave you.  This cannot happen with new ornaments.  Unless it's the only new ornament, in which case it will probably be special, in which case you could make a memory if you broke it.  But only if you cared about it. 

You can swirl any colors you want, in case you have a different "theme" going, or want to match your furniture or something.   However, if you make these please give them as gifts.  They will be treasured forever.  Unless they are sold at a garage sale.  

Another good use for the empty ornament is to put cute stuff inside.  Pictures, confetti, in this case golf tee's.... these are unique and one of a kind gifts, inexpensive to make, depending of course on what you put in them.

One of the Beautiful Redhead's, from her golf coach in high school and safe from garage sales forever and ever, amen.

If you knit, and I am ashamed that I don't, this is an excellent choice.  In fact, so ignorant am I that I do not even know for sure whether this is knitted or crocheted.  Probably crocheted.  Isn't that the one with all the holes?   Whatever it is, we should all learn to do it and I am pretty sure my Nana is rolling over in her grave right now because I would never learn this most basic skill when she tried to teach me.  I regret it.  It can't be that hard and I need to get that started.  It's been on my list for decades.  This one was given to me by a friend I worked with named Janet Turner in 1993.  I have put it on my tree every year since and I always stop and think of her.  I always thought I would do that for the kids every year, if I could......do that stuff, but I've not gotten around to it.  My babies are 14.  I need to get started soon.

They say no two are alike.  That is just one added plus if you are nervous about making mistakes in knitting. Or crocheting.  Maybe by next year I can inform you further on these mysteries.