My Biggest Smiles

So many things make me happy. Those who know me are no stranger to my smile. Perhaps the one thing that makes me the happiest, though, is when I make a gift for someone and it turns out to be just right. 

On our recent trip to California, I spent a couple of weeks sitting on the bed in our hotel room, following a sweater pattern line by line as I made sweaters for my two granddaughters. When I saw the pattern picture, I knew the girls had to have these sweaters for Easter. They have inset tulips along the bottom, front and back, and the tulip has always been their mother Ruth's favorite flower.

Whenever I make something like that, I realize that several things can go wrong. I've made things that weren't to people's taste. I've even made things that didn't fit. My friend Stacey's baby Hanne got one of the little outfits that Kate outgrew before it was finished. It was an old fashioned jacket with a lace bottom. 

I'd never done lace knit before, and kept having to start over. It was pretty confusing, but both little girls finally ended up with their jackets and hats. I don't have photos of my granddaughter yet, but got a few of Hanne, so I'll include them. 

Of course, the sweaters I started in California weren't finished there. I completed Ashley's, and finally finished Kate's. When I made Kate's, though, I figured out a better way to make the buttonholes, so I took Ashley's apart and re-knitted the front section and sewed it back together. What's another week to a Grandma when you're retired, anyway?

Well, I'm smiling now, because the sweaters arrived at Ben and Ruth's home today, and they not only fit,

but Ruth loved them. 

Ashley wore hers today, and Ruth says it looks like Kate's will fit as well. When she said they were the nicest things I'd ever made for them, my smile was as big as it ever gets. You sure can't buy that! When Ben called later to add his thanks and say how pretty he thought they were, I was practically dancing.

There's little enough a Grandma can do from so far away for family and friends she loves. This makes me happy. I'm so glad it makes others happy, too.

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.

The Brain is Working

Today I forced my still-sick body into the car to go for my annual neurology checkup, and found out my brain is still working. That's always good to know. I lost a considerable amount of memory tracking after the last seizures, and I'm beyond grateful to have been referred to Dr. Joseph Schmitt in Loveland, Colorado. 

He saw me frequently at first, and ran so many tests I knew he wasn't leaving anything up to chance. He asked questions about my childhood. He adjusted medications. He explained why listening to audio books would help reconnect the synapses that weren't connecting in the communication center of the brain. I felt like the Scarecrow in the Wizard of Oz, singing, "If I Only Had a Brain." 

Today the only question I missed was, "What day of the week is it?" I sure thought it was Wednesday, but it was only Tuesday. Being sick probably had something to do with that, but as I told him, since we retired, the day of the week doesn't mean much to me anymore. My knitting needles don't care what day it is. Neither do my books or camera. And when I write, it doesn't matter at all what day it is. If I had to miss something, that would be the least problematic. I can get the day of the week from my watch. 

Now I don't have to go back for a year, unless I start having seizures again. He'll call in a few days to let me know the results of the blood test. It determines whether or not my medication levels are still correct. He takes good care of me. And it's nice to know that my memory hasn't gotten worse from a year ago. Some days it seems like it has. I suppose I just forgot how much I didn't remember then.

Queen For A Day

When I was quite small there was a television program called "Queen For a Day" where several ladies would be featured. They would each have a sob story, some reason their lives were really hard, tragic or pathetic. At the end of the half hour, one of the ladies would be crowned Queen for a day, and given many gifts to ease her life and bring her joy. That show always fascinated me. I got my turn this week, but not on television.

We arrived home from California just in time to celebrate my birthday. It had to be the best birthday I've ever had. If I said that last year as well, then just accept the fact that my life just keeps getting better. The morning was split, partly with my knitting needles, working on sweaters for my granddaughters, and later with a wonderful novel. It's Melissa Mayhue's newest Highlander novel, and when she combines magic and Scotland, it's a perfect read.

John took me to lunch at the Olive Garden. We gallivanted around town for hours, then had frozen custard at Culvert's, and finally went over to the Cracker Barrel to pick up take out dinners (in case we ever got hungry that night). He did. I didn't. Mine kept until the next night. And we were home enough for just about every person I love to call and wish me a happy birthday. I think those calls, and the cards I received, just made the day all the more special. 

I had realized on our way home from California that I might be getting sick. My chest felt congested. Luckily, I didn't really get to feeling nasty until the night after my birthday. I got up during the night and took some cold medicine, and have been under the weather since, but I don't care. I'm still happy. At least I'm home. 

The Snow Shovel

"If one of you kids leaves the snow shovel outside again, you're going to sleep with it! That's a promise."

So spoke my dad. He meant it. I was the idiot who left the shovel outside the next time. It wasn't soon, but it wasn't long enough for him to have forgotten the threat, either. Unfortunately, I shared a double bed with my sister Ellen. She was seventeen months older than me, and had no tolerance for the little sister who could pull dumb stunts at home and straight A's at school.

We learned that night that snow shovels take up more room than little kids, and they never warm up. I'm thinking that Ellen either forgot about the shovel incident, since we're friends now, or she eventually forgave me. She probably forgot about it, which means that writing about this in a blog is not really bright on my part. On the other hand, seeing the new slide shows of my granddaughters playing in the snow and curled together in the little one's crib as Ashley wakes Kate up in the morning made me think back, and "full disclosure" has been one of the trademarks of this space for me.

Ellen was fairly good at getting her revenge when necessary, but I don't think she ever did anything that made me as uncomfortable as that snow shovel made her. In case I never said it at the time, "I'm so very sorry, Ellen. I was careless. I'll never do it again."

Packing Choices

When you travel by car, you have choices to make about what you can pack. Obviously, you can't take everything along, although you can bring more than if you were packing for an flight somewhere. This trip, I'm bringing my guitar and assorted paraphernalia along so I can play for some new friends at an assisted living facility in Thousand Oaks. One of the ladies there, Flo, does knitting for charity, and that's how I met her. She's a sweetheart, and I'm looking forward to seeing her again.

If I pack the guitar, though, there's really no room for my computer, since I don't have a laptop anymore. Someday I will again, but packing my computer would mean monitor, drive, CPU, keyboard—all of it. Since John will be bringing along his new laptop, I guess we'll leave the Mac behind and opt for music on this trip. 

Since we're saving money by staying in a kitchenette on base, we're packing food. The difference in the price of food between Colorado and California is shocking. Last time we bought the food in California. Big mistake. This time we're bringing it with us. Food prices here, overall, are about 60% of what they are on the coast.

Some things I can't leave home without. My special feather pillows. I get headaches if I sleep on foam. Books and audio books. Knitting bag. Writing stuff. Presents. Camera Bag. Headphones. Music. Bingo Bag. Books to donate to the Senior Center.

Poor John. I pack everything, and he loads and unloads, fitting things in so carefully. His engineering degree really comes in handy. The interior of the Tahoe resembles a geometric jigsaw puzzle by the time he gets the doors closed. 

Then we pull out and a few miles down the road I look at him and say, "Hey, honey, look at the elk! Where's the camera?" If looks could kill, I'd never make it to our destination. It's a good thing he loves me.

What Have I Been Doing?

My sister asked me last night why I never blog anymore. She said she kept looking, and there was never anything new on my blog. Actually, I realize that. As I told her, writing tends to suck me in, so I've been avoiding it.

We spent three weeks away from home, traveling to California for John to work at Pt. Mugu, and then hanging around for Christmas. Our youngest son, Ben, brought his wife Ruth, and their daughters Ashley, barely 2, and Kate, 4 months, to see all the grandparents and assorted relatives before they pack up to relocate to Amsterdam, Netherlands. He's been promoted within his company, and they'll be gone for a few years. 

Our oldest son, Tighe, drove up from San Diego to join the group, so we were nearly a complete family for the holidays. We sure missed Jeremy, but he's still a busy chef in Louisiana. Now that Tighe is moving to Phoenix, we'll truly be all over the map. It's a good thing we didn't stay in California to be close to the children, as some people strongly suggested we do.

One exciting offshoot of Ben's transfer was his successfully negotiating with his company to add something to his financial package: annual round trip airfare for each set of grandparents to fly to Amsterdam to see their grandbabies. I'm still stunned that he would think of the folks at a time like that. (Yes, I'm proud.)

People who know me realize that I enjoy crochet work, but find knitting, which I've done much longer, often frustrating. I gave a knitted outfit to each of Ben & Ruth's girls, but Kate's was too small. We got back last week, and ever since, I've had the needles flying, trying to make a new one in a bigger size before we have to get back to California. I want to get it in the mail for her before they head to Amsterdam. I get up, check my email, and spend the day knitting and doing laundry. I make sure John has plenty to eat, and work on that little jacket. It's nearly done. I still need to make the hat. We need to leave by Saturday for John's next contracting stint in California. It's a race.

So it's not that I have lost interest in writing my blog. It sits there, and I feel guilty. My manual still needs to have the final edits done, too, but I just can't start and stop. I haven't played with my guitar. I have new photos that need to be framed. That can all wait. Kate's still growing.