Coming And Going

Just a quick note on travel around The Netherlands. Everything is expensive here, of course. When I titled this coming and going I had a very good reason. Although I still haven't downloaded my photos, and we have big plans for tomorrow, so I'll try to get them all up and do some major things here tomorrow, I did want to put this little note in here. You pay for gas to get places - about $7 a gallon. Then you pay to park, about $7. We paid $10.50 each for pancakes, but they were excellent, and $3 each for water. We won't make that mistake again.

Coming and going? It's .50 euros to use any public restroom. That's about 75 cents. That's adding up for me. I just can't seem to hold it that long. The cost of diapers seems reasonable suddenly...

Is it Day 2 Already?

Since we landed yesterday, I guess this really must be Day 2, but it feels like something either more or less than that. Since I got up at 2 a.m. the morning we were going to leave, I slept on the plane better than John did, so I wasn't bothered as much by jet lag. I was hoping it would work out that way. I got an hour nap after lunch, then stayed up until nearly midnight. Today I'm probaby as normal as I ever get.

Yesterday was wonderful. Ashley was so full of questions and information. She's the girl with the news, that's for sure. I can't remember how a 2 1/2 year old is supposed to interface with adults, but I doubt there are many who do it as well. (I know, I'm sounding just like a proud grandma...) Kate's first birthday was grand, and I took some marvelous photos, but they're still in the camera. Bummer. I miss my laptop. I could have downloaded to that quickly, but now I have to figure out how to go directly to a portable drive, working from a PC, and that means asking for (nasty word here) HELP. Meanwhile, I suggest you check out Ben's blog, since he got his photos up last night.

Half an hour until midnight now, the girls are all tucked up tight in their beds. Ashley said she loves us. Kate just grins and laughs a lot. We've already eaten several things they don't sell in the States that are going to be difficult to leave behind. Not as difficult as the kids, though.

It's time to sleep so I can enjoy another wonderful day tomorrow. Blessed be the ties that bind.

Travel Day

3:21 A.M., and I'm already up and showered. I've gotten dressed, read my email and looked over FaceBook from the night. Nobody was up writing all night, so that didn't take too long. It's almost lunchtime at Ben & Ruth's home. If I work this right, I can sleep some on the plane, and by the time Kate's ready for her nap, maybe she'll let Grandma sleep with her.

On second thought, maybe she'd play with my nose and never go to sleep. That sounds more likely from what I remember about having one-year-olds of my own. They sleep best alone. Grandmas, on the other hand, like to snuggle.

Am I excited? Well, I'm up at this time of the night in somebody else's home, using their computer and being very quiet so I don't wake up them or their dog. You figure it out.

Counting My Blessings

After moving to Colorado, I realized that if I got up before daybreak and stood on the deck as the stars disappeared, just counting my blessings one by one, I would still be there running through my list when the sun set. Day by day, life has just gotten better for two of us in our small corner of this paradise on Earth.

This morning I woke up early again, filled with the realization that today we'll put the suitcases I've so carefully filled into the Tahoe and take off for Aurora, a suburb of Denver, to spend the afternoon and evening with Dick and Carol, friends we see far too little of, even though they live only an hour away. They're putting us up for the night, and will then drive us to the airport for our trip to The Netherlands tomorrow morning.

As I thought about the trip, an old Bing Crosby song from the 40s started running through my head. My dad used to sing it. What didn't he sing? He was such a fine guitarist and had a great voice. His music is one of my finer childhood memories. Anyway, the song goes like this:

Counting My Blessings

When I'm worried and I can't sleep,

I count my blessings instead of sheep

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

When my bankroll is getting small

I think of when I had none at all,

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads,

And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds,

And I fall asleep counting my blessings.

If you're worried and you can't sleep

Just count your blessings instead of sheep

And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings.

.-.-.-.-.

So I stood on the deck and thought of my sons, so grown and good, such a joy to me—blessings, though scattered and not seen nearly enough. We had such a good visit when Tighe was here last month. Jeremy's getting married on December 27th, so I'll have Elisha for a second daughter. Blessings. Ben and Ruth have our two granddaughters, Ashley (2 1/2) and Kate (1 on the day we land) the furthest away of all, but we climb aboard a plane to see them tomorrow. Blessings.

We leave behind a home we love, neighbors who will look after our place, friends who will pick us up at the airport when we return and keep us overnight so we don't drive home jet lagged. More blessings.

We're bringing along all our Christmas presents, so I won't have to pay postage on them, and isn't that going to be a blessing to our budget in December? My sister Ellen is coming for a week-long visit just seven days after we return home, and there's another one.

I could continue. It would be so easy, because that's pretty much the life we live. It's not all sunshine and roses, of course, but it's the best life I've ever lived, and there's no one I've ever met I'd trade with. There's nowhere else I've ever seen that I'd rather live. Nobody else I'd rather be—and it took me a long time to get there, I promise. Besides, sunshine and roses are overrated. I'll take the thunderstorms and wildflowers... and the the wild adventures. And here comes a big one.

Here we come, Kids!

Two Days and a Wake Up

The luggage is packed, except for last minute things like my headphones, the iPod charger and cell phone charger—things we use every day and can't pack until it's time to walk out the door. Everything else is packed. The suitcases are weighed and all come in under the required limit. We're definitely not paying any penalties. It's down to two days and a wake up, but the wake up will be at our friends' home in Aurora, a suburb of Denver.

I won't be getting a complete night of sleep tonight. I didn't last night because of dreams. Tonight I won't because of the Perseid Meteor Shower. That's right, it's another nighttime sky show, and I'll be sitting on the deck between two and three in the morning, drinking my homemade cappuccino and looking heavenward. I love living in the country where you actually have enough darkness at night to see how glorious the stars can be.

Tonight they expect about 200 shooting stars an hour at the Earth's most dense movement through the filament of dust that's kicked up by the parent comet, Swift Tuttle. The only thing you need to know, though, is sit down in the dark in the middle of the night and look up. Be still and listen to the music of the stars. Watch them dance.

Maybe tomorrow I'll think of something else to put in the suitcases. I'm pretty sure I'll take a nap. I'll read the guide books again on The Netherlands and Belgium and Cologne, Germany. Life is good.

The dreams that kept me awake last night? I had two of them, both variations on the same thing: I dreamed my brother Kenny was coming here for a visit. I guess I'd better call and make sure he knows we're heading across the Atlantic for almost a month...

Apples and Wine—Anonymous

My friend Sherman send this to me, and it's the sort of humorous wisdom that should be shared, so I'm doing that. I also thought it would be good to follow it by some quotes of marriage that pertained to the subject. I've always enjoyed reading quotes.

.-.-.-.-.

Apples and Wine

Women are like apples on a tree. The best ones are at the top of the tree. Most men don't want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt. Instead, they sometimes take the apples from the ground that aren't as good, but they are easy. The apples at the top often think something is wrong with them, when in reality, they're amazing. They just have to wait for the right man to come along, the one who is brave enough to climb all the way to the top of the tree.

Now men—men are like a fine wine. They begin as grapes, and it's up to women to stomp them until they turn into something acceptable to have dinner with.

.-.-.-.-.

Socrates: "If you get a good wife, you'll become happy; if you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher."

Groucho Marx: "I was married by a judge. I should have asked for a jury."

Jimmy Durante: "My wife has a slight impediment in her speech. Every now and then she stops to breathe."

Milton Berle: "A good wife always forgives her husband when she's wrong."

And I'll end with my favorite...

Rita Rudner: "I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life."

The Best Misaddressed Email I Ever Got

I'm not the only person in the United States to have my exact name. I learned that a few months ago in a most bizarre and wonderful way. I received an email from a young man writing to his sister, saying he had arrived safely in Afghanistan, and was going to be lucky enough to be able to stay in email contact. He asked her to remember to keep him and his buddies in her prayers and please remember to email once in awhile.

What he didn't realize was that her name and mine were the same, but I was not the sister he thought he was writing to. I answered that letter and told him that I would be delighted to write to him, keep him and his buddies in my prayers and remember their sacrifices while they helped safeguard my freedom. I asked if he had a better email address for his sister, and let him know a little bit about me.

We've since been writing back and forth. It's been almost like having another son. His sister even sent me an email. I got a note from him tonight. I want to share part of it with you... "I really appreciate the email. It has been hard the last several weeks as we are losing three to four Marines a week here. I never thought I would be in a place with such an extreme difference in climate. Where we are in Kandahar it is averaging 110 plus degrees."

He went on to let me to know how much all of them appreciate the notes and letters people send. It made me start thinking about wrong numbers and misdirected email. How easy it would have been to just throw it out. I'm so very glad I didn't.