On a whim my daughter text messaged an invitation to go riding today. I was happy to agree and we realized we had not been to the stables in a very very very long time. Perfect morning for it with a temperature in the low 70's and a wrangler who knew all the shady areas but without an overwhelming urge to chatter. Heaven.
Each of us happy in our own thoughts and realizing this is a perfect exercise where you reap the benefits of maintaining a straight posture, and experiencing a challenging thigh-master workout each time you trot. My boy, Chad, was feeling frisky and teasing for a nip of leg which of course I did not allow. A few tentative tree scrapings were attempted and thwarted, so he settled down.
The corn was as high around us as the proverbial "elephant's eye" and it looked like the passing horses have been reaching in for quick bites as the front row of each field was neatly filed down by eager teeth. I explained to the other two ladies that it was similar to the three of us walking past a table laden with dark chocolate. Regardless of good intentions, we are going to sneak a nibble.
As the horses are commonplace in this area, and they have a stronger randier odor than the humans astride, the other animals in the area usually stick around to say "howdy" without noticing the extra, insignificant appendage atop each one. We were treated to Mama does and their spotted offspring who watched and waited until our paths crossed before sliding into the thick vegetation. I understand that often the elder deer will sacrifice the smaller, younger ones by sending them out first or leaving them out last. Which explains why they are the elder deer, duhh. An abrupt stop to enjoy wild turkeys and their offspring perfectly camouflaged by the greens and browns and shadows of the deeper woods.
Altogether a beautiful start to Sunday morning worship in a tree topped cathedral supported by a choir of noisy peacocks, and concluding with a homily of joy from the barn kittens pouncing on sunbeams.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
BUTTERFLY SCENES
It happened overnight! My Rose of Sharon bush (affectionately named Rosie) we planted in hopes of attracting butterflies has stubbornly refused to blossom. In fact she showed nothing but terminal signs ever since we planted her; bending as each horrific storm struck her; leaves drooping and weeping down from the plant. Petal by petal dropping to form a puddle of yellow at her feet. We watered, we didn't water. We fed her plant food and talked to her (well I did) trying to explain the significance of her survival in that little spot by the corner of the house.
And then this morning the Burt man led me to her and said "Look"! There proudly shimmering from the highest branch the most delicate and beautiful pink blossom so much like the carnations our Lady loved. As we looked closer, dozens of little buds are forming getting ready to dress our little Rosie in her summer finery. And anti-climatic as it may seem, a translucent little white butterfly floated triumphantly around the plant giggling a little B-Fly giggle as if to say "oh ye of little faith".
You see the boy researched and found that Rose of Sharon attracts butterflies and as those who have followed my blog know, I believe they are Mother's representatives checking in...
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
JULY 17,2007
I found the words from that day when I sat in a chair to one side and he sat next to her stroking her hand. They have the ability to hurt as much as they did when I wrote them one year ago.
"I saw my Father grow old today-60 years loving, fussing, laughing and crying. Keep her breathing. Sitting in silence when once it was "JIM" until you wanted to scream. Please holler at him-can't you hear me? Stay with me. I am not ready for her to go, he said today."
"I saw my Father grow old today-60 years loving, fussing, laughing and crying. Keep her breathing. Sitting in silence when once it was "JIM" until you wanted to scream. Please holler at him-can't you hear me? Stay with me. I am not ready for her to go, he said today."
ELECTION SCENES
Our question this week for the Lansing State Journal was "What is the number 1 Issue that will influence your vote for President in November?" Duhh-though I agree and concede the economy and the endless costly war, I wrote something different which even my more conservative spouse related to:
"We need a government that recognizes what made America great. The freedom to achieve whatever our aptitude and daring allow. A government that focuses on national issues and stays out of our churches and bedrooms. Stop destroying and over-regulating our ability to choose our own path. Take care of those issues that we as individuals cannot. Take care of the hopeless, the children, the working poor. Otherwise leave us alone to forge our own way without detours. Do I get to vote for that?"
"We need a government that recognizes what made America great. The freedom to achieve whatever our aptitude and daring allow. A government that focuses on national issues and stays out of our churches and bedrooms. Stop destroying and over-regulating our ability to choose our own path. Take care of those issues that we as individuals cannot. Take care of the hopeless, the children, the working poor. Otherwise leave us alone to forge our own way without detours. Do I get to vote for that?"
Thursday, July 17, 2008
ANNIVERSARY OF SORTS
Today marks one year since Mother electrified us all with her first, tentative visit to the other side. Only a strong set of genes and unwillingness to let go brought her back as we now understand.
For a year I have carried a notepad with the thoughts that were going through my head as I watched Dad stroking her hand and asking her to come back. It is easier for me to write than to think what I cannot bear. But oddly enough today when I wanted to write it, the notepad has disappeared. It will be painful to write and even more painful to read if I do come across those words.
Apparently my butterfly has decided this week of play and celebration should not be marred by thoughts of sorrow. Ok you win again my dear......
For a year I have carried a notepad with the thoughts that were going through my head as I watched Dad stroking her hand and asking her to come back. It is easier for me to write than to think what I cannot bear. But oddly enough today when I wanted to write it, the notepad has disappeared. It will be painful to write and even more painful to read if I do come across those words.
Apparently my butterfly has decided this week of play and celebration should not be marred by thoughts of sorrow. Ok you win again my dear......
MORE BIRTHDAY SCENES
What a birthday week. Mother would have had a fit! Roy boy played golf Monday and Tuesday on leagues and then came over to pick up Burt Man. They proceeded to bang another 18 holes in. Dinner was succulent pork chops and general collapse on the couch after Dad and I killed a bottle of red wine. He really likes wine, when you give him some good stuff. He even drank it at room temperature. I made a reservation online for Golden Ide and Diamond Jim for early Wednesday and they were not too proud to take advantage of the 84-years young birthday boy's senior discount. They hit the road before I left for work!
They had a lousy breakfast on the way and had to wend their way through the Junior League at the Emerald; playing through when they could and whining old age when they couldn't. Finished in record time and meandered up to Soaring Eagle for a little entertainment. Dad of course had "freebies" coming for his birthday that covered gas and lunch and, oh I don't know, a little bit of gambling. Waiting in line to get B man a Players Club card they read a sign indicating another $10 when you sign up a friend-I suppose it can be an enemy or relative or dog or whatever-$10 is $10. Consequently, Dad ended up losing $2 and Burt made $15. I arrived home to find them collapsed on the couch again in the fetal position. The first cocktail of the evening had already been drunk.
Of course I wouldn't force the B man to make dinner after "playing" all day, so we went to Dads favorite Italian place for dinner where we indulged in further martini time and good food. Kristen joined us and we ended up talking about babies and labor, etc for some odd reason.... hmmmm. With Dad's selective hearing, all he heard was baby and exclaimed "What you're pregnant?" No, no, but nice of you to drop into the conversation. After an extremely hilarious dinner we trekked back to the ranch and indulged ourselves with "Birthday Pie"-who needs cake. However, I had to make a mad dash to the store for ice cream as apparently whipped cream is not what you put on "birthday pie". Who knew? After stuffing our turkeys, dead silence reigned as the three of us lay in stupors digesting the day. Fortunately our couch is big enough for three.
Dad finally tootled off to bed and the boys were back up and at it again this morning for another 18. I saw the fading taillights of the big red "Broozer" heading down the street as I came back from exercising at 6:10 am. I am speculating that the big guy arrived home and has not been heard from again. How many years can he pull off this birthday caper. RIGHT ON DAD!
They had a lousy breakfast on the way and had to wend their way through the Junior League at the Emerald; playing through when they could and whining old age when they couldn't. Finished in record time and meandered up to Soaring Eagle for a little entertainment. Dad of course had "freebies" coming for his birthday that covered gas and lunch and, oh I don't know, a little bit of gambling. Waiting in line to get B man a Players Club card they read a sign indicating another $10 when you sign up a friend-I suppose it can be an enemy or relative or dog or whatever-$10 is $10. Consequently, Dad ended up losing $2 and Burt made $15. I arrived home to find them collapsed on the couch again in the fetal position. The first cocktail of the evening had already been drunk.
Of course I wouldn't force the B man to make dinner after "playing" all day, so we went to Dads favorite Italian place for dinner where we indulged in further martini time and good food. Kristen joined us and we ended up talking about babies and labor, etc for some odd reason.... hmmmm. With Dad's selective hearing, all he heard was baby and exclaimed "What you're pregnant?" No, no, but nice of you to drop into the conversation. After an extremely hilarious dinner we trekked back to the ranch and indulged ourselves with "Birthday Pie"-who needs cake. However, I had to make a mad dash to the store for ice cream as apparently whipped cream is not what you put on "birthday pie". Who knew? After stuffing our turkeys, dead silence reigned as the three of us lay in stupors digesting the day. Fortunately our couch is big enough for three.
Dad finally tootled off to bed and the boys were back up and at it again this morning for another 18. I saw the fading taillights of the big red "Broozer" heading down the street as I came back from exercising at 6:10 am. I am speculating that the big guy arrived home and has not been heard from again. How many years can he pull off this birthday caper. RIGHT ON DAD!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
RANDOM SCENES
SCENE 1
Yes, we attended the SEX in the CITY en masse-the committee-great fun. We were pleasantly spread out in the first row of the upper deck feet comfortably resting on the railing in front. In marches a lady and her 10-11 year old boy. How stupido! This show was never for children and the movie has quite graphic sex scenes every 10 minutes (my bod should look so good at their age). Well the lady will have a wonderful time explaining that to the boy.
Oh heck no. This is GR where you get sued if you teach anything except abstinence, but heaven forbid if you actually explain anything to your own children. I imagine "just don't do it" should be sufficient-look at how well that works....
Anyway good show-lots of cliches, fabulous clothes, giggles and tears while ingesting that famously diet killing movie popcorn. Well I did drink designer water with it. Then the four of us marched out side by side exactly like the ending when the camera kept popping from the four of them to foursomes around New York city and the four of us (oh yeah we probably weren't on camera). Over to a local bistro for the requisite cosmos-pretty in pink.
SCENE 2
What started out as a $100 fire pit to roast, oh I don't know, marshmallows and stray branches, became $500 plus many hours of back-breaking labor to create a place to ahh ahh put it. In retrospect, I think it would have been cheaper to pay to dump our branches at the local landfill, however roasting the marshmallows would have been a tad tricky. Although the Burt-man did the majority of the heavy lifting, I assisted in the sand leveling (why one must drag that 2X4 47 times to make sure it's flat explains why I would never choose landscaping as a career-or perfectionism for that matter), loading, and unloading and laying blocks. I finally wised up and put on gloves as these lily white hands are made for writing not laying stone. Trust me there was a pattern involved and it is there, it's just that you have to make it all fit don't you know-so ease up on the critiques thank you very much.
Then fool that I am and obviously not one who learns from experience, I decided to buy a couple of stepping stones to transition from "High Patio" to "Low Patio". Of course several dollars and hours later, we now have a full pathway. ARRRGHHHH. But since the 4th of July extravaganza moved from Lansing to Spring Lake we will have to postpone the inaugural smashing of the champagne glass (accidents happen) until a later date. At least we have filled in part of the ungrowable to something besides dirt, but we have a way to go to finish the entire project.
Yes, we attended the SEX in the CITY en masse-the committee-great fun. We were pleasantly spread out in the first row of the upper deck feet comfortably resting on the railing in front. In marches a lady and her 10-11 year old boy. How stupido! This show was never for children and the movie has quite graphic sex scenes every 10 minutes (my bod should look so good at their age). Well the lady will have a wonderful time explaining that to the boy.
Oh heck no. This is GR where you get sued if you teach anything except abstinence, but heaven forbid if you actually explain anything to your own children. I imagine "just don't do it" should be sufficient-look at how well that works....
Anyway good show-lots of cliches, fabulous clothes, giggles and tears while ingesting that famously diet killing movie popcorn. Well I did drink designer water with it. Then the four of us marched out side by side exactly like the ending when the camera kept popping from the four of them to foursomes around New York city and the four of us (oh yeah we probably weren't on camera). Over to a local bistro for the requisite cosmos-pretty in pink.
SCENE 2
What started out as a $100 fire pit to roast, oh I don't know, marshmallows and stray branches, became $500 plus many hours of back-breaking labor to create a place to ahh ahh put it. In retrospect, I think it would have been cheaper to pay to dump our branches at the local landfill, however roasting the marshmallows would have been a tad tricky. Although the Burt-man did the majority of the heavy lifting, I assisted in the sand leveling (why one must drag that 2X4 47 times to make sure it's flat explains why I would never choose landscaping as a career-or perfectionism for that matter), loading, and unloading and laying blocks. I finally wised up and put on gloves as these lily white hands are made for writing not laying stone. Trust me there was a pattern involved and it is there, it's just that you have to make it all fit don't you know-so ease up on the critiques thank you very much.
Then fool that I am and obviously not one who learns from experience, I decided to buy a couple of stepping stones to transition from "High Patio" to "Low Patio". Of course several dollars and hours later, we now have a full pathway. ARRRGHHHH. But since the 4th of July extravaganza moved from Lansing to Spring Lake we will have to postpone the inaugural smashing of the champagne glass (accidents happen) until a later date. At least we have filled in part of the ungrowable to something besides dirt, but we have a way to go to finish the entire project.
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