Early to Bed

I actually went to bed at 8 o'clock tonight. We leave the house at 4:15 a.m. tomorrow to catch a ride with our good neighbor Doug to the local bus connection that will take us to Denver International Airport. From there we'll be on the 10:03 United flight to Houston where we'll change planes and continue on to The Netherlands. We'll land the next morning in Amsterdam at 8:20 in the morning.

Now it's almost 10, two hours later, and sleep has evaded me. I have mental images of grandchildren running up to greet me, warm hugs from my son and daughter-in-law warming my soul. I guess I can sleep on the plane. I've got a Karen Kingsbury novel all queued up on my iPod to keep me company on the plane if I don't sleep, but since we arrive in the morning, I hope I'll drift off at some point. Still, I'm sure an afternoon nap will be in order the day we arrive.

Swallowing my pride, I decided to take along my cane for use in the airport. My hip has been giving me fits lately. It's painful, which I'm used to, but it's also been collapsing under me unexpectedly at times, which is disconcerting to say the least. It won't hurt to have the extra support if I need it. The can is light weight and collapsable for when it's not in use. If there are stairs, or we hit rough weather on the cruise ship, I may find I'm glad I took it. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. I'm also taking along some extra empty zip lock baggies so I can ask for ice if the hip or my shoulders get really bad on the plane.

I'm asking myself the same pre-travel question as always. What am I forgetting? The only thing I'm sure of this time (so far) is wrapping paper for Kate's 3rd birthday gifts. I already warned Ruth, and she says we'll handle that when we arrive. At least I'm happy with the presents, and I can always use tin foil. My mom often used tin foil with pennies taped onto it. As a kid, I thought that was awesome.

We had friends from church over tonight, and it made me think about how difficult it is for me, as an adult, to make close friends. I can count on my fingers the number of tight friendships I have. Still, those I count as friends remain that way indefinitely, because I don't put up a mask. What they see is what they get. Tammy and Matt didn't stay long, but we made plans for S'Mores when we get back. We originally met them through the Financial Peace class we took. That class was a blessing in many ways. Matt is one of the men John works with now in the sound booth at church. It's so nice when both halves of the couples really like each other. I'm glad we got to see each other before we leave.

It'll be difficult to post much while we're gone, but I'll try to write once in a while. Photos of the trip will come after our return on the 27th, most likely few if any earlier than that. I hope you each have blessings in your life during this next month. I know I will—new places to visit, and my arms full of grandchildren.

Ode To So Cal Friends

After a couple of days in California, I've stopped to think about my attitude toward the State. People I love live here, and many of those who have moved away can't wait to visit. If I could get the people I love to visit us in Colorado instead, I probably wouldn't come back unless we were going to Disneyland. I do love Disneyland, especially on a drizzly day when there aren't too many people around.

I'm not sure how a person can live somewhere for over 35 years and never feel like that's where their roots are. It was home, but my heart wasn't in it. We had some wonderful years in California. Friends worth driving two days to see still live here and have never driven out to see us—yet. Sooner or later they will also retire, and travel will undoubtedly go both ways. It's beside the point.

What I'm trying to discern is my emotional distance from an area that holds so many ties for me. I have friends, relatives and a history here. I drive past the home where we lived from 1976 until 2006, and there isn't even a twinge of nostalgia. We raised three sons there, and I feel all the emotional impact imaginable when I think of them, but looking at that house that used to be our home? I feel nothing beyond what I would feel staring at an old piggy bank used to save up to buy what you really wanted.

We used to drive through Hidden Valley together, John and I, and he'd say, "Someday I want an acre of my own." Even then John felt about the suburbs the way I did. Now we have that acre and a little more. One of the things we first liked about the home we chose in 1976 was that it was at the end of a dead end road, turn right, and pass three vacant lots. They put the road through, made it a major traffic artery, and put homes so close together on all those vacant lots there were twice as many students in the classrooms at the local school.

Crowding, of course, combined with traffic is bad. Weather is something very few people complain about in Southern California. Except me. I always did. I think you have to have seasons. I don't like Summer to begin with. If I don't get a Winter to balance it, then I'm really cranky. If it's just one of four seasons, then I can deal with it (as long as I have air conditioning.) The rumor in Southern California is that it really doesn't get that hot, so you don't need a/c. Lies, I tell you—lies! You need it. My air conditioning system was about four showers a day and a fan in every room.

But...today my friend Sherrie (one of the people worth a 20 hour road trip to see) took me for a drive. We saw Lake Sherwood and Hidden Valley. She drove me up Potrero Road, and we saw the old hills where John and I used to drive and dream together of our 'someday' acre. The beauty is still there. It was hot, but it's Summer, so it's probably hot at home, too. There was traffic, but there's traffic aplenty in Denver. I wouldn't be able to live in Denver, either.

As always, I come to a point where I know that I'm glad I came. Even though I never managed to grow roots here, so many wonderful people did, that part of my heart will always feel welcome to visit.

Plans Are Good

It's said that life is what happens while you're making other plans. I suppose that's why people buy trip insurance. Sounds like a good idea to me. Seems like forever since I actually got around to my blog. It's been nearly four months, and that's definitely too long. I'll begin by saying there's no excuse. Then I'll give you no excuses, but tell you what I've been doing.

I've been writing. Remember my novel? I decided it was high time I got busy re-writing the entire thing and getting it ready to offer up for publication. Is it ready? Nope. But I'm taking some editing classes and business for writers classes. Tomorrow I have a class on copyright law—just an hour at the Northern Colorado Writer's Studio. We'll all bring lunch and listen to some really important information. It's so great to be surrounded by professionals. Then on Friday I'll be back at the studio for my Critique Group. I just got word from one of my critique partners that he thought this week's submission was my best yet. They're all helping me work through some of the rough spots on the novel.

Now I'm pushing backward for a couple of weeks, trying again to be satisfied with the first chapter (I'm not) because I'll be pitching said novel to an editor on May 21st. As I told some of my email buddies, pitching is such a great word for it. My stomach has already started.

The next day we'll take off for California to visit my mom. We'll stop on the other side of the Rockies to visit my brother Pat and his wife Betty on our way there, then stay overnight in Henderson, outside Las Vegas. Before we leave California to return home, and it'll be a fairly quick trip altogether, we'll make a run up to San Francisco to see Tighe, our oldest son. Our return trip will take us through Salt Lake City to see Stacey and Ryan, friends who deserved a visit in December and didn't get one. I was an emotional mess then and was afraid to meet their baby son. Sorry, Sully. I'm much better now.

We need to be home by June 9th or 10th, since I believe I'm singing in church again on the 12th. I should double check that on Sunday, shouldn't I...

Then we'll be running back to California for a flying trip in July to meet our newest grandson, Aiden and see our beautiful granddaughters, Kate and Ashley. It's hard to see them so seldom, but so special when we do get together. They're flying out for their annual leave, timed for her family reunion, so part of the time there they'll be unavailable to us. That being the case, we'll only be with them a short time, but it won't be a problem since we'll be seeing them again shortly after that.

We'll return home only until August, when we'll have a grand celebration of our 35th anniversary. Like I tell John—ten wonderful years! (And he's starting to understand my sense of humor.) We'll go to The Netherlands, Sweden, Estonia and St. Petersburg, Russia. Sounds beyond wonderful to me... Time to start looking at travel blogs again.

Am I ever glad we spent thirteen weeks going to Dave Ramsey's Financial Peace Institute classes at our church! We're in better financial shape for taking a trip like this than we've ever been. Ever. And I may never see London or Paris, but I've never chosen the best traveled path in my life. Why should I start now? Thanks, Ben, for wanting such an interesting adventure. I can hardly wait. And yes, I did buy the trip insurance...

Photo Update

This is sort of a tribute to having two cameras. When I only had one camera, I never got the photos that we'd see from the car, like elk roaming close to the neighborhood, or concerts in church. So many times we'd say to each other that some day we were going to get a very small but decent camera to keep in the car all the time so that when we wanted one, it would be there.

About two months ago, more or less, we were in CostCo and saw a huge discount on one of the small cameras they keep out for people to test. What's that called, a floor model? Whatever it is, we saved about 40% by purchasing it. It had a couple of very small scratches, but was otherwise perfect. It's not as fancy (or as heavy) as my good digital, but it's the same basic brand, a Panasonic Lumix. Here are the first photos we took with it, interspersed with photos I took around the house on it's big brother, the Lumix DMC-FZ18. I can tell the difference. If I blew them up to 8x10 or larger, anyone could.

I'm going to start with the photos of the elk. This morning they came closer to the house than ever before. I'd guess they were about .2 miles by road, or less as the crow flies. We don't have any crows, though...

{Editor's comment... I've been trying to download photos to Blogger for over an hour, and I'm giving up for tonight. I guess they're having some type of problem with the site, since I've done it many times before without getting an error message. I'll try again in the morning. For now, at least this much will let you know what's coming, and that I am trying.}

I spent several hours during the morning and again during the afternoon, and finally (at son Ben's suggestion) went to his slide show page and did it that way. I got it done, but am not sure I know how to connect it. So hopefully, you're going to click here and see a slideshow. If you don't see it here, just wait (again) until he gets up. Remember, he's in Holland, and they're eight hours ahead of my time zone. When we connect, he can walk me through it. I'm pretty frustrated at this point. I really do have other things I was supposed to be doing today.

Wednesday, April 14th, 1:15 p.m. here (and 9:15 p.m. in Holland)— Ben was so good as to look at what I had done and send me the fix, so if you were here and tried to see the slide show, you got a message that said "Access Denied." Sorry. I think I mentioned that there's no fool like an old fool? Well, try it again. It should work now. If it doesn't, this entire blog post is going to disappear. That will fix it.

BYU International Folk Dance Ensemble Comes to Town

My friend Sherrie sent me an email to let me know the BYU International Folk Dance team was coming to several cities in Colorado. I emailed back quickly to let her know we had already ordered tickets. It went over my head that her niece, Erin, whom I had met several times, and really enjoyed, was part of the Mountain Strings band accompanying them.

What a great performance. John and I were truly entertained. Now, I love music and dance. My tastes are eclectic, and my iPod has some varied (some would say strange) offerings. I'd wager Sherrie's going to make a comment on that. She loves to poke me about my music. Nobody knows my music, or something like that. Anyway, John loves music as long as it's country, and dance as long as it's somewhere else. I can't believe he agreed to go. Maybe it was the way I worded it? (Wow, John! Guess who's going to be at the Fine Arts Plaza in Fort Collins? I'm going a week from Saturday at 3 o'clock. Do you want to come with me, or should I just go by myself? Order two tickets? Will do!) Call it priorities or pick your battles. I wasn't going to miss this one.

He not only enjoyed it, his foot kept rhythm during the entire performance. He wouldn't let me take the accordion player home, though. (Gee, John... I just wanted to play with him.)

It was so good to see Erin afterwards, too. She's got a smile that lights up a room, and seemed stunned to see us there—rather like when you see your banker in the grocery store and can't figure out where you know her from? She never knew we had left California. To have me hail her from the aisle in Colorado after the show was somewhere between an out of body and an out of mind experience, I guess.

I do wish I had been up on the stage with the musicians, though. That's the only thing that would have improved the show for me. Watch the show a couple of times, then jam with the musicians. I could play the guitar. I could play the accordion. I'm learning banjo (very very slowly) and could sure use a jamming partner there. We could just have a grand old time. Then I'd cook for everyone. I think the whole band could fit in our basement. Let's see. Two fiddles, one bass, banjo/accordion, mandolin (Erin), guitar, and percussion... don't think I missed anyone. And the substitute (me). Yep. We'd all fit.

Can you imagine them getting back to the college and going to the Dean (or whatever) and saying, "So sorry, sir, but we seem to have lost the band in Colorado." It's just too bad that Schmath isn't still with them, playing her bass.

Wake up, John. Can we go to Longmont for their next stop on 7:30 on Tuesday night? Please?

Healthy Pain

Praying tonight over dinner, I had to offer some serious thanks that what I'm feeling is just pain that will eventually diminish.

We noticed the absence of a familiar face around the neighborhood last night. Darrel is one of the first people who welcomed us to our new home. He's been living up here with his wife Betty longer than almost anyone else, and everyone knows and appreciates him. In fact, he's the one who bought and operates the road plow that keeps our local roads cleared after each snow fall.

He and one of his sons came out and cut down one of our trees that died before we moved in, because we asked if he knew someone we could hire when we returned to move in. It was a potential fire danger. We came back to find that they had cut it down and chopped it into firewood for us. He's just a perfect neighbor.

When John called his house last night to see what he was up to, Betty let us know that he's been in the hospital for the last two weeks, in intensive care, after surgery for pancreatic cancer. That pretty much coincides with my hibernation with the broken rib, so I haven't been walking around seeing and talking to people. We had no idea.

We drove into Fort Collins today to visit him, and it was a blow to see him looking frail and sad. He's always so full of life and mischief. He insisted there was nothing we could do for him or Betty, but we can pray. We can visit and hope. Also, seeing him made me stop and think. There are so many kinds of pain, and mine is the easy kind. It's just physical.

Forward This to 10 Friends in 15 Minutes...

My inbox fills with email, and I check it frequently throughout the day when we're home. I love it, but will admit to a few things that really make me nuts. Since we all have things that tend to push our buttons, I finally feel the need to push back a bit.

The first thing I don't want to see when I open an email is that I'm one of forty addressees, and all their email addresses are there with mine for everyone to see. I don't usually know the rest of the people, and It's been forwarded several times. By now there are two hundred email addresses at my fingertips. If I were an unscrupulous person, I could probably think of many things to do with this new database of contacts. It also means I need to scroll way down before I get to the actual message.

It only takes a moment or two to copy and paste into a new email to be sent, and your list of addressees can be placed in the BCC box. That means blind carbon copy, which might only make sense to us older folks, but it means that nobody sees who you sent it to (or their addresses) except the sender. It also means the person opening the email gets a nice clean copy.

My second hot button is getting really great stories that aren't true. Hasn't anybody ever heard of snopes.com? Whether it's an inspirational story, a political rumor or a letter supposedly written by a famous person, please check its validity on someplace like Snopes before passing it along to hundreds of your friends. If you send me an unverified story, believe me when I say that I will check it out and do a "reply to all" (since you didn't do a BCC, I can let your entire email list for this mailing know at once) to inform them if it is a fake.

My final and biggest pet peeve, causing more frustration with email than anything else I deal with, is that little sentence near the bottom of so many emails. It cheerfully tells me to forward this email to a certain number of friends within a certain number of minutes. It implies that if I don't, I'm either not a patriot, not a Christian, not interested in supporting our troops or beating breast cancer. Or it will promise me treats, rewards or blessings as soon as I do forward it to so many in a certain amount of time.

If you send me something that says that, it won't ever be forwarded on, no matter how otherwise impressive it might be, unless I can remove that entire statement. And I rarely send anything to more than three people. I don't have "group lists," and if you receive something forwarded from me, you'll no doubt understand that when I read it, it made me think of you—either your sense of humor, your political leanings, or something you as an individual might need to hear.

I treasure the email friends I have, the blogs I read, and the connections we are able to maintain across so many miles. Email and the internet give us so much. I'm just begging for a bit of responsible mailing practices. Now, if you will just forward this to everyone on your contact list within fifteen minutes, next Tuesday you will receive...

String Crochet—The Agony and The Results

In a recent email with my friend Schmath I was commending her on her recently taken up knitting and crochet skills, and how quickly she's come along. We sent about 15 emails or more back and forth. I think it started with me sending her a link to one of my favorite places that sends me a monthly newsletter with free patterns. Obviously they'd love for me to buy their yarn, as well, and I do that on occasion, too.

On one of the messages I mentioned that I had finally kept one of the doilies I made for myself, and that someday when she was ready to try string crochet with the little bitty hook, she should let me know because I have so many gorgeous patterns. The one I kept is a type of 3-D crochet, and it's only about twelve inches, but has a raised pattern on one side. I said it wasn't nearly as difficult as the "circle of doves" I made for a few special people, and she sent me back this small photo.

You can't tell, but it's big. I'll have to ask Schmath to comment on point to point inches, but I'd guess 30?

I had to laugh. How could I forget that I had made one for her when she got married? I will admit that a lot of memories got blown away when I had a couple of very long seizures a couple of years ago. It's just strange that I have absolutely no memory of it at all, even though I can remember buying her an Intellitouch guitar tuner for her wedding shower. She said I also made her a music book to go with it, but that's gone from the memory banks as well. Weird.

So, Schmath, thanks for helping replace some of the empty spaces in my head. It keeps what's left from rattling around. And I hope people will visit your new knitting blog to see how quickly you've learned two of my favorite hobbies and what great things you're already making. I'm impressed. I do wish we lived close enough to distract each other with our music, though. I feel some country gospel coming on.

Baby Blanket and Hat for Max

I don't always get to see the new little lives that my friends and their offspring bring into the world. I've tried throughout the years to at least make something before the baby arrives. This year one of my dearest friends, Jeanne (I was going to say oldest, but...) was expecting a new grandchild. We each had three kids, and raised them pretty much side-by-side.

Jeanne's middle kid, Kelley, has moved to Massachusetts, and we were lucky enough to get out there for the wedding a few years ago. She and Marty were expecting a little boy, and I had the blanket and hat all planned out. Then we got back from our trip to Europe and I had the worst arthritis attack on my hands ever. The work slowed down unbelievably. Poor Max is a couple of months old now, and hopefully received his blanket today, so I can finally post the photos of what I put in the mail last week.

I made these extra warm for a Winter baby in one of the snowiest parts of the country. I'm just so sorry it took so long to complete... By the way, when I need to make it extra warm, I use two strands of yarn at a time, which gives me three colors, one of each, plus one of the two together for a tweed effect, which is great for little boys.

This is one of my favorite patterns. I call it the star blanket, but I've also heard it called a snowflake blanket. I like it because of the way you can put the baby's head on one of the blanket points and fold the kid up inside it for extra snuggly comfort.

The hat is something new I kind of "ball-parked," and I'm not sure how thrilled I am with it. I mailed it, but I'm still deciding if it meets my standards. (Yes, I do have some standards.) You may recognize the doll at the top as my little model, who is nice enough to sit uncomplaining on my shelf until I need to make sure things are big enough for a newborn. She appears in other blog entries wearing some of the things I've made.

Early Thanksgiving

Our youngest son not only gave us a wonderful daughter-in-law, he brought us some great friends in her her family members. Her brother Matt and his wife Heather moved to Longmont, a neighboring community not too long after we relocated to Loveland.

Last Sunday they invited us to their home to share an early Thanksgiving dinner with them and their five children. All I had to bring was dessert, and since baking is one of my favorite pastimes, it was a joy. I know the photos in my slide show are going to make Ruth homesick for her brother and his family, since she's so far away, but at least she can see their sweet smiles and share vicariously in a wonderful evening.

I have to say, we always have such a wonderful time when we get together with Matt's family. Their good people who always make me think of the expression "salt of the earth." It was a perfect meal, a perfect night, and they even sent us home with some leftovers. It doesn't get better than that.

Near the end of the evening, the twins must have decided that if the put their coats on, they'd get taken somewhere. They looked really cute, and didn't seem to mind that no outing followed their getting "snow ready."

The only other thing I should add is that I made pecan tarts and a pumpkin pie in a pecan crust, and will be putting both recipes up here within the next few days. Right now I've been cleaning and organizing cupboards. (You could come and help. I'll bake for you...)

Celebrating Guests

It's just impossible to explain how much joy there is when a visit comes together just right. This has been one of those special times, when a guest just clicked. If we could keep Stacey here longer, we would. It's been fun, but too short, and with her leaving tomorrow, today just flew by much too quickly.

It's amazing how many memories can be shared in a few short days. There were things I hadn't thought of in nearly ten years, like the gag gift of an ugly (we're talking really pathetic) dress Tighe bought her for her graduation. Of course, he had some wonderful jewelry stashed away, but she proved how polite she could be before she ever got to see that. She opened the dress in front of her entire family (and me) at a party in her honor, and was as gracious as anyone could ever ask a person to be. More so, if you had seen the dress.

Besides laughing and eating (yes, there was plenty of that), game playing and sight seeing, we just enjoyed being together. It was a good diversion for all of us, and I hope it gave Stacey time to recharge her batteries before heading back for the job hunt. Her teaching position had been eliminated in the downsized budget in Newbury Park, CA, so she's been interviewing. That's not a lot of fun. I'm going to end up this piece with the promised photos, showing that we gave her some smiles while she was here. I hope she had enough to take some home with her.

You know the way here, now, Stacey. Don't be shy.

Benson Park:
Some day I should make a collage of all my friends romping with this ring of children. They're all such good sports to jump into the ring and play when John asks them to. (Now, who could say no to John?) Besides, if he didn't ask, I would.

This quiet old gentleman is one of my favorites. I'm glad Tighe sat down with him. My telephoto lens was perfect for capturing him from far away, but I was unable to catch any of their conversation.

Like me, Stacey really seemed to appreciate the native sculptures. There is a majesty to some of them that goes beyond strength and beauty. I find myself going back to stare at this one every time we visit the park.

Last night's BBQ rib dinner was good, and the ribs kept falling off the bones, so we nearly didn't have our s'mores. It was pretty dark by the time the marshmallows and Hershey bars got anywhere near the graham crackers. It's a good thing my camera works so nicely after dark. (Thanks, Jeremy, for the recommendation of the Lumix!) It was the end of a fine day, even if we did eat too much.

Some things are worth doing two at a time.

This is the spot we picked out for our picnic at the Rocky Mountain National Park. Before we drove up here, though, we stopped at Estes Park and walked through the Scandinavian Festival. We got to watch some folk dancing and hear some music, as well as see some crafts. I always go straight for the pottery. I'm hopeless.

The streams are all full this year. We've had a good amount of rain, most of it falling in the late afternoon and evening, which is mighty convenient if you ask me. Temperatures have been in the low 80s at our home, but were about ten degrees cooler up in the park. It takes us about forty minutes to get there from home.

I know these people. It's Tighe and Stacey, posing in front of the snow. It wasn't the snowiest peak around, but it was the one they were standing in front of, so that's where I took the photo. I hate moving people around if they're smiling where they are. It seems like that's more important than the background.

I think it's time to replace that bra. I mean, that's me with Stacey. I guess I look like I'm in my 60s. At least I'm not having to color my hair yet. I'm glad you can't see the big dent in my forehead from the cupboard door I bashed into that morning. We smiled so much my cheeks hurt tonight.

This was Stacey's last sunset here, so I wanted to make sure she got a photo of it. Unfortunately, I waited a little too long, so I missed some of the color, especially in the foothills under the sky. Well, it looked much better in person. Happy trails, Stacey.

Another Day in Paradise

The four of us hit the road today, John and I showing Tighe and Stacey what a wonderful area we live in. Of course we had a wonderful breakfast first, and I still have to remember to type out that recipe for impossible breakfast pie for Stacey. I'm sure I'll remember all the changes I made, won't I?

We headed to town with a cooler full of sandwiches and soda, apples and trail mix. We came home with most of it, since breakfast stuck to our ribs better than I had thought it would. We started by heading into Loveland for a nice stroll through Benson Park. That's the park with all of the statues and sculptures in it. John and I really enjoy walking there, and it's a favorite spot for artists as well. I'll post some photos tomorrow, although I'll admit we were there almost exactly at noon, not the best time for photography.

From there we went to the Budweiser Plant for their tour. We always like taking our guests there, because the tour is so interesting, and the tasting room is very accommodating for guests. I'm still trying to remember why we didn't take Ben and Ruth there... I'll have to try hard to remember.

Anyway, when we went through the stables there, we were looking at the beautiful Clydesdales when a little boy asked if they were boy or girls horses. The guide explained that they were all geldings, which meant that they were males that had been gelded. He stopped there and all got quiet in the stable. Then he asked if there were any more questions. The same little boy said, "Yes. If they're all geldings, how do you breed them?" His mother took him by the arm and said, "That's another tour, Son." Some mothers are priceless.

We had ribs for dinner, and then relaxed until sunset, when it was time for our evening campfire. Once in each visit, whenever we have guests, we like to build a fire in the pit and have music outside, build s'mores and play guitar, light off sparklers and have the fun of camping out without the air mattresses and sleeping bags. It was a wonderful night.

Now, if only I hadn't cracked my head nearly open this morning, it would have been a totally perfect day. Oh, well, we can't have everything. If I slam my forehead into the edge of an open cupboard door at full speed once in awhile, I guess I have to live with that. I haven't yet figured out a way to make myself stop it. I just start doing too many things and I don't see it. Well, this time it was bad enough so I think I'll remember for awhile.

Happy Half A Birthday

Three days after Christmas, my oldest son Tighe was born. That was a long time ago, of course, but I learned a few things about having a child so close to such a major holiday. The main thing was that even if you're very careful about making the birthday and the holiday totally separate, there's still a very long time before the next gift-giving day comes along.

Six months after his birthday, I got out my cake layer pans and made a special cake. I cut each one in half and layered them as a very tall half cake. We sang "Happy Half a birthday to you," etc. We gave him a gift and celebrated as if it were a natural celebration for every child. We did this until he started school, and did it for each of our three boys the same way, until they started school. They don't seem to remember it very well now, but at the time it was very special, and they looked forward to it.

Now I have a special friend whose daughter was born on December 30th last year. Her half a birthday is quickly approaching. One of my—well, I won't exactly call it a regret, but almost a disappointment in my life—is that I didn't have another son who could have fallen in love with this wonderful young woman. She honestly wasn't the right young lady for any of my sons, and fell in love with a man my husband and I really enjoy. However, I really wanted to keep her. I've done the best I could to make that happen in the only way I could. I keep in touch, and I make things for her daughter. She's not really my granddaughter, but she's grand.

Stacey and Ryan, I hope you always allow me to spoil your kids a bit. It's a privilege. Thanks for sending me a photo of Hanne in the little half a birthday outfit. If it was her whole birthday, I might have sent pants, too.

Back at the Firestation

John is looking at me, like when are you going to get dressed so we can hit the road, but I need to get this posted first. Then I'll gladly go. I'll be ready in fifteen minutes. I promise.

When we first arrived in California, we had a grand weekend with Dave and Jeanne. One of the highlights was our trip to the fire station where their son James was taking the place of one of the fire fighters injured in the recent Santa Barbara fires. James is actually the reason our two families are friends.

Way back when Tighe, our oldest, was in seventh grade, he started baseball, and was on a team with James, also playing for the first time. Tighe had been playing basketball since he was old enough to get on a team. Very athletic, he quickly showed himself to be star material. James was very likely the slowest runner on the team, with the poorest batting average, the best attitude and the biggest smile. I fell for that kid over the weeks I sat watching the pre-game practices. As team mother, I didn't miss any of them. Most of the parents wouldn't show up until the real games started.

The afternoon before the first game, I asked James if his mother was going to be at the game. He told me that, of course, she'd be there. I sent him off with a message to her. "Look for the lady in the railroad cap. I'll have an empty lawn chair next to me, just for her." He wanted to know why I'd be bringing a chair for his mother, and I told him the truth, which has lasted to this day. "Anyone who's raised a son like you is someone I want to know.

We've been great friends for over twenty years. Thank you, James. And thanks for taking the photo of me while we were there. He used his cell phone camera. My cell phone can't deal with that sort of thing, so I had him email it to Jeremy, our middle son in Louisiana. He's up on all things text and photo. He forwarded it to my email. You might want to know—that coat weighs a ton. I can't imagine working in it. Firefighters are amazing. James is one of my heroes. He has no idea how often I pray for him, but I think he knows how much I love him.

LBS

I tell people I've been diagnosed with LBS. It sounds important. A technical term, and an acronym, it nevertheless pretty much controls my life, but I still admit it to my friends. It stands for Leaky Brain Syndrome. I just don't always retain things the way I used to.

If you're still young, and you're laughing at this, just make a mental note of the expression. Some day you might need it—to describe your own mental failings. I know, it'll never happen to you, right? (I think I hear my sons snickering in the background somewhere.) 

I was playing guitar today and couldn't even remember the words to a song I wrote. I only wrote one song, so how hard could it be? Now, that's embarrassing. Um, I think it went like ... well, I guess I forgot the words. They were pretty funny, too, if I remember right. So after a wonderful visit with Chris today, I ended my evening by emailing her an mp3 of me singing the song I couldn't quite remember when we were together today. I guess I need to relearn it. 

LBS. It's hard to get rid of it once you've contracted it. Stuff just leaks out.

Water Leaks and Pea Soup

When Matt's Heather sent us home from Easter dinner with the leftover ham bone laden with meat, none of us could that predict it would end up feeding a neighbor during a difficult time.

Poor Doug. He's the HAM radio fanatic friend and terrific neighbor we enjoy so much who lives on the top of the hill, just one home above ours. We share meals and laughs, occasionally sitting on our deck in the evening. This hasn't been the best week for him. He had a shock when he opened his water bill. 

We all get the same water bill, paying $90 quarterly for more water than we could ever use. We could turn our acre and a quarter into a veritable landscaped showplace without going over our quota. We, of course, wouldn't consider doing that. I lived in Okinawa during high water rationing periods. What is that? That's when the water is turned on from the main source for two hour intervals every other day. That's rationing. You learn to revere water. You learn not to squander it, turning faucets on and off while brushing your teeth, and things like that. You walk up the stairs to get cold water from the fridge if you need cold water rather than letting it run.

Okay. Put down my soapbox. Doug opened his water bill and it was nearly $300. He called and was told that a worker from the water company would come out. He waited. The man never showed up. Doug wasn't amused. He called again. The guy had been detained at another appointment, but would be there the next day. Doug stayed home. The guy came, but the news was bad. Somewhere beneath the acre and a half of Doug's little portion of foothills, buried beneath the granite and pines, the wildflowers and shrubs, was a leak. It was on Doug's property, not the problem of the water district. 

Several days have passed. Dozers and diggers have been moving earth at Doug's place. He's got one of the oldest homes up here, built probably twenty or more years before ours. His water's been turned off during the day while they dig up his water lines, trying to find the leak. He's having them put new lines in next week, but since they didn't find the leak yet, they're not ready to do that. He just doesn't want to go through this again in a few years.

We convinced him to eat at our place, just to relax and get away from the strain and worry. He loved the pea soup from the Easter Ham. I'm just so grateful that Heather sent it home with us. I'm even more thankful that I didn't make it sooner and scarf it down without Doug. Last night we had our chicken tacos, and while we sat around the table eating, I asked if there was going to be any way to get some of this back from the water district? No, he admitted, he was going to be out at least $6,500, and that's if they find it Monday. If it drags on much longer, of course, it'll be even more.

"$6,500... Wow," I said. "That's a lot of books." I guess I was trying to lighten the mood. Maybe I was just putting things in perspective of how I relate to money. 

"Books!" he said. "That's two HAM radios and a new antenna!"  I wouldn't have thought I had cheered him up at all, except that he and John started laughing so hard. Sometimes I just don't understand men at all.

Loose Ends

Sometimes problems gets solved before they really are problems. They're just little nagging worries about things that might become complications, or decisions that must be made. This week seemed to have a few of those, and since they've been resolved so neatly, I thought I'd include those together here.

John got a call from his contact at the Naval base, telling him that the missile operation in May has been "slipped" into June. That's great, since the HAM fest at Estes Park is the last weekend of May, and we've invited some good friends from Utah to stay with us that week. I really didn't want anything to mess up that weekend, since they haven't had a chance to visit us here before. So everything is a go for that weekend, Stacey and Ryan. Life is good.

The other concern, of course, was what to bring to the Easter feast tomorrow. I owe a debt of gratitude (one of many) to my friend Sherrie. She reminded me that there's no reason I can't just bring everything I want to bring. People are likely to eat it all. So the three things I wanted to bring, none of which seemed quite right on its own, are perfect if I bring them all, and that's what I'm going to do. I'll bring my "Methodist Jello," which is named after a funny event I'm not sure I should recount. I'll bring my "Juicy Lucy Salad,"  fresh greens with strawberries, caramelized pecans, gorgonzola cheese and poppy seed dressing. And we'll finish the list by bringing dessert—Italian Cream Cake with fresh Nectarine Topping for those who want it. 

I realize that Easter isn't about eating. The friendship on special days, though, makes me want to offer something extra nice from our home and hearts to add to their table. This should do it.

Guests for Easter Dinner

It's always fun putting together a menu when we have guests coming. It's more difficult to select a single item to bring when you're going to be a guest at someone else's home. This Easter we'll celebrate with good friends in Longmont. They're actually almost family, being two of our daughter-in-law's brothers and their families. We always have fun together, and whatever I bring will be sure to be fine. That's what they always say, and yet... 

Why do I do this to myself, making a big decision out of the choice? I've already thought of three things that would be perfectly acceptable—and then rejected them for one reason or another. Since I need to make sure I've got all the ingredients by tomorrow, I guess I'd better make up my mind pretty soon. 

Suggestions will be cheerfully accepted, but it's as my sons tell me. They're glad to listen, but they're going to end up doing what they want in the end anyway. I guess that's what I'll do as well. As soon as I figure out what that is.

Time to Wash Out My Ears

Talking with my friend Sherrie tonight on the phone, we covered a multitude of subjects, from our grandchildren, all girls, to time zones, and how our television programs come on Central Time, even though we're actually in the Mountain Time Zone. When something starts at my house, it'll start two hours later at her home in California. The early programming is nice, especially on nights when a body might get tired earlier. That could happen. Some day.

Out of the blue, Sherrie shocked me. I couldn't believe my ears. 

"Have you ever been unfaithful?"

"No, I've never been unfaithful. Why would you ask me that?"

She started to laugh. Finally I understood. She hadn't said what I heard at all. She had asked, "Have you ever been on Facebook?" 

We had a good laugh. I guess my ears are as congested as the rest of me. It's just a good thing I could honestly answer the way I did, or we wouldn't have ended up laughing about the misunderstanding. It's always good, though, to have that one person in your life who could actually get away with asking you anything. She could if anyone could. I just wasn't sure why she'd want to, for a minute there.

Autumn Gold Festival

What a wonderful week we had. First Ellen and Johnny, my sister and brother-in-law, came for a fly-through visit on their way to the wine festival with our brother Pat on the other side of the Rockies. The trip was all too short, but wonderful nonetheless. We celebrated Ellen's birthday at the local steakhouse, then spent a day roaming around, driving through Rocky Mountain National Park, having a picnic at Benson statue park in Loveland, and seeing the local sites. I made my not yet famous Bison Chili for dinner. Crock pots are such a wonderful invention. I considered hiding their suitcases, but knew it wouldn't be fair. I didn't really want to be fair.

They no sooner left than we got the sheets changed and welcomed our friends Dick and Carol from Denver. Together we spent two days at the Autumn Gold festival at Estes Park, gateway to the Rocky Mountain National Park. The festival is better known as "Beer, Brats and Bands," and we partook of the latter two. Free admission gives you two days of music. It's a beautiful spot for concerts in the park, and the festival welcomes in the autumn colors, although the leaves are just now beginning to turn. We'll go back in a couple of weeks and take photos when the aspens are in their glory.

At the end of two days, my fingers were itching for my own instrument, but I was so too tired to play by the time we returned Sunday night. Bed was too tempting to ignore, and I'm not sure I'm recovered yet. The old saying is that variety is the spice of life, but it's not true. It's friends who add the spice. This week was spiced perfectly.