33 Years!

It was 33 years ago today that I moved into my home as a young bride. This house is full of a lot of memories that are very dear to me. These walls have seen many changes, both in the family that resides here, and the interior appearance.

I had the thrill as a young 24-year-old to pick out all the colors for carpet and wallpaper, and all light fixtures, cabinet/drawer knobs and handles, and mirrors. It was an exciting experience. The house was finally finished and ready for us to move in on July 15, 1974, just one month after our marriage. There were many trees in the back yard, but none in the front. We planted the crepe mytles in memory of Chezzy's son who died in a car accident, and an oak tree, and three pines. They are so large now that they obscure the front of the house!

Being 1974, you can imagine the color scheme. The carpets were avocado green, with an orange shag in the playroom. The kitchen wallpaper was a busy, bold pattern of large green, yellow, and orange flowers. Now, 33 years later, the kitchen is on its third wallpaper design and in need of a fourth. Actually, I hope to remove the wallpaper all together, texture the walls, and add a delightful color of paint.

We did a total remodeling in 1989 and 1990. All the earth tones were replaced with pastels in blue, pink and green. I went crazy with the country look, which I am so tired of, but it will have to do until medical bills are paid. The pool was added in the fall of 1979, and it, too, is in need of repairs. Any home, no matter what the age, is subject to repairs.

A few times I've thought about selling this house and buying something else, but the sentimental attachment I feel for this home takes over and I dismiss that idea. It's the only home Angela ever knew until she entered the dorm and college life, then married. My entire marriage to her father is cherished within these walls. My ups and downs, my transitions from wife, widow, to wife again. My young mother status to that of a middle-aged grandmother, about to see the arrival of her ninth grandchild.

This is the home where my three children got their learner's permit, dressed for their first date, had numerous sleepovers, scurried to the den on Christmas mornings, and graduated from high school and college. This house has prepared for three weddings with nervous brides and mom, and the pool which once gave hours of enjoyment to my children and their friends, now welcomes my grandchildren. I've always wanted a home with a history. I have it now.

Robin and I have spent the past nine years together in this home. Occasionally, we will discuss a possible future beach house or country home, but for now we remain content. As our life changes, our needs might change, too. A move to another house might happen someday. We never know what the future holds. I do know, however, that it would be hard to say goodbye to home.

Note: Part 3 of Our Story will appear tomorrow. Thank you all for your comments and interest.

Happy Anniversary, Angela & Clayton!

I give this woman, Clayton

To be your wedded wife.

My last child, my precious daughter

To forever share your life.

I give her unreservedly

For I know you realize

How deep and strong and gentle

Shines the love within her eyes.

Please take the love she offers,

It's deeply rooted in her heart.

And know she'll always cherish

The tender love that you impart.

I give this woman, Clayton

In ivory satin, pearls and lace.

Amid love songs and scented flowers,

A gentle glow upon her face.

Take her moods and sensitivity,

Give her wings so she can fly.

As you take the time to know her

Your wants and needs she won't deny.

I give this woman, Clayton

How I wish her Daddy knew!

He'd said no man was good enough,

He's missed the joy of knowing you.

I feel so blessed and grateful

For the training that you had,

The special molding and direction

Given by your Mom and Dad.

I give this woman, Clayton

Remain steadfast by her side.

I'm so thankful God is once again

The Father of the bride.

1996, for my daughter, Angela.

Our Story - Part Two

As the grief recovery seminar entered its third week, it was time for Cheryl to share her story with the group. I already knew we both had Polish last names and that our husbands died in June from cancer. I did not know the similarities would continue as she, too, talked about her fairytale marriage to Tony.

Suddenly it seemed as though the rest of the people in our group had dissipated as Cheryl and I continued eye contact, sharing our story - as Cheryl talked, I nodded with tears stinging my own eyes, listening to someone tell me what my whole life had been about. Her husband with his Polish heritage, their age difference, her role as nurse and caregiver, and how Tony dressed as Santa Claus at Christmas and passed out candy to all the kids. My own husband had been dubbed the "Candy Man" because of all the candy he filled his pockets with before he went to church. The kids knew and were always waiting for him.

As Cheryl described the love and adoration she had received from Tony, I realized I wasn't the only woman who had ever perched on a lofty pedestal. Cheryl had been there, too. As she relived Tony's final moments, I could feel the horrible ache of watching Chezzy slip away from me. So much of Tony's character reminded me of the man I had loved. He was romantic and passionate. He was the giver of gifts and compliments. He was generous and loving and always ready to listen. She could have been describing Chezzy. And what was so incredibly unbelievable was the respect both men demanded from their mothers-in-law: "I'm Mr. Polack".

"He actually said that?" I asked Cheryl some time later. "Mr. Polack? That's exactly what Chezzy told my mother to call him!"

She confirmed that Tony had actually said it. Both men with their wonderful sense of humor asked for a little respect when calling them a Polack.

Cheryl told us that night that Tony had died from multiple myeloma, a cancer affecting both his skull and spine. Our husbands had died 22 days apart. We would learn later that "22" was a number we had in common as we revealed our birthdays: January 22 and February 22. Cheryl will proudly let you know I am 13 months to the day older than her. And the age difference between our husbands and us? Fourteen years and thirteen years. Both couples married in 1974, moved into our new homes on July 15, just three years apart, and Cheryl and I spent what would have been our 19th anniversaries as forty-two and forty-three year old widows.

I finally approached Cheryl at the end of that third meeting and told her she was right, I couldn't believe the similarities. We continued talking until we were in the parking lot. We began sitting together at the seminar, and I met Cheryl for lunch at a cafeteria close to her home in De Soto, then followed her home for more sharing and crying.

"Tony was a MP in the Army," Cheryl told me.

I stared at her. "Chezzy was, too."

"He grew up as a Catholic," she went on. "There was a time when he wanted to become a priest."

"Chezzy, too," I said as my eyes grew wide. "His Dad didn't want his only son to be a priest and, frankly, I can't imagine him being one."

"I can't either," Cheryl said, and we both laughed.

But in those early days, laughter between us was very seldom as we leaned on each other for understanding and support.

Our Story - Part One

Note: Our Story is one I've always felt needed to be told. Although many variables are in place here, it's mainly a story of how all the circumstances at the time led to a lasting friendship. It includes the mention of pain, loss, uncertainty, and fear, but it is about Friends.

"My name is Peggy and I lost my husband to cancer in June."

It was August 19, 1993. I'm convinced that I was introducing myself at a grief recovery seminar out of divine intervention. Yes, I'd planned on attending; I needed to learn how to cope with my loss, discover what was expected of grief, and how to continue living my life without my beloved husband. What I hadn't expected, was to have my world further rocked earlier that day with devastating news about my company. This, at a time when I was in the middle of moving the business to a new location due to circumstances out of my control.

I was shaken to my core with the news I'd learned. That news is not important now, except to reveal how I almost didn't go to the seminar. I remember driving there, out of a need to confront my grief, yet my mind so boggled by the day's events. I'll never forget how my foot shook so badly as I tried to keep it on the gas pedal as I headed to Duncanville for the seminar. The thought of food made me sick and I arrived there with an empty, churning stomach.

Much of that first meeting was a blur. The counselor went around the room asking us to give our name and tell who we lost, and when. There were a few who had lost a spouse like me, others who were dealing with the passing of a parent or other family member. In my muddled mind, I clearly heard one introduction and related to her. I could feel her pain.


"I'm Cheryl and I lost my husband to cancer in June."

I lost my husband to cancer in June. Besides saying almost the exact words I'd said, she also caught my attention when her voice, choked with tears, broke as she shared that one sentence. I knew instantly that we were in the same place, feeling the same loss, and hoping the seminar would show some magic way to take the hurt away.

After the introductions, the counselor explained the need to tell our stories, over and over if need be, so that healing could begin. She started with the first person seated in the semi-circle and asked that they tell their story. This continued until time to close the meeting. To my surprise and relief, my mind released some of its shock and preoccupation as I listened to all the expressed pain that surrounded me that night. I was definitely not alone.

I left that night without speaking to anyone, not even the woman who had caught my attention because we shared the same loss. I've learned that grief can be so draining. I wanted to reach out, but I discovered many times that I felt I had nothing to give. I was an empty vessel.

The following week, our second meeting, it was my turn to tell my story. I told about a fairytale marriage that had been cut short by pancreatic cancer. I told about the sheet metal business I'd been left with, not the ideal company for a woman. I shared my hurts and those of my children, how I became a nurse over night, and about my husband's Polish heritage, our age difference, and how none of it was ever an obstacle in our marriage. As the meeting ended, a man in the group told me how much he admired my strength and courage to continue running a sheet metal business in the absence of my greatest support. I thanked him, and left. There was so much on my mind that I still hadn't spoken to the woman named Cheryl.

The third week of the seminar arrived and it was Cheryl's turn to tell her story. Before she began, this woman who had never met me before turned to me and said, "You won't believe the similarities in our stories."

She had my rapt attention and I was stunned by what she revealed.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Juliet!

Little Juliet

If heaven sent an angel

To fill a special place,

I know it would be Juliet

By the sweetness in her face.

With her delicate little features

And her big chocolate eyes,

I'm sure our little Juliet

Is an angel in disguise.

She loves being a girl

Who wears a pretty dress.

And sometimes she's just a toddler

Who has made another mess.

Juliet is a Daddy's Girl,

She's completely won his heart.

And often clings to Mommy

If she fears they'll be apart.

Yes, if heaven sent an angel

To spread love and grace,

I can see a heavenly presence

In Juliet's glowing face.

Happy 2nd birthday, Juliet. Memaw loves you so much!

Bandera Bound (I Wish)

Problems are mounting every day,
I'm anxious now to run away.
My mind's no longer safe and sound,
How I long to be Bandera bound.

Work's become a major stress,
Bills are more, money's less.
I need a dose of my BB,
Bandera's where I long to be.

With daily naps and games to play,
It keeps the tension far away.
It's a happy time with treats galore,
Bandera! I keep wanting more!

A haven of peace and solitude,
No bill collectors being rude.
Just pleasant talk with my BB,
Bandera's where I long to be.

With medical bills out of mind,
Like other debts, all left behind,
My tension finds a blessed end
When spending time with a cherished friend.

If heaven had an earthly site,
No more troubles, no more fight.
I know exactly where I'd be,
In Bandera with my BB.

Happy Birthday, Camryn!

Happy birthday, Camryn,

You're someone I adore.

And with each passing birthday,

I grow to love you more.

Today you're "Darling Fourteen",

Oh, how time has flown!

Our precious baby girl

Before our eyes have grown.

You have such a tender heart,

And there's beauty in your smile.

Your character is genuine.

Only goodness, nothing vile.

You apply yourself at school

And make us all feel proud.

You bring a ray of sunshine

Where before were only clouds.

You have learned that beauty

Is inside as well as out.

Sincerity and gentleness

Are what Camryn's all about.

Happy birthday, Sweetheart,

Enjoy your special day.

And know that you are loved

Even more than I can say.

July 8, 2007, By Memaw

Another Pick-Me-Up

Patty was over for a visit this evening and I told her about Robin standing me in front of the perfume counter and what I chose. Then, we sat down with coffee and she reached in her purse and said, "here's another pick-me-up". I see a perfume box and my heart starts racing. It's a brand new fragrance and I just love trying something new.

It's the latest from the Estee Lauder Pleasures line, called Pleasures Delight. It is a delight. It smells wonderful. Pleasures and Pleasures Intense are two of my favorites, and now I can add Pleasures Delight. I was not that pleased with Pleasures Exotic and never got any of it. Oh boy! I have two new bottles!

Now, I need to invest in a large china cabinet to keep them all. I have two small hanging cabinets that are packed, and one large space of my vanity is so full that some bottles are stacked or hanging precariously off the edge. What a problem to have. I'm like a drunk in a liquor store!

A Pick-Me-Up

Robin called me at work yesterday and told me to come home, prepared to leave again for a pick-me-up. He knows well the repercussions I've been dealing with at work from the machine being down. Although it is fixed for now, the down time caused a substantial loss of money. Operating until receivables increase has been tough. This isn't a new situation, I've dealt with this problem many times. But it does get old, and it wears me down.

Knowing me as he does, Robin took me straight to the perfume counter. I enter into some kind of heavenly bliss when in the presence of so much perfume. It is a passion of mine, an indulgence that my friends and family satisfy. I immediately start sniffing all the different fragrances, but with an idea that I know what I want and need to replenish.

Patty had loaned me a bottle of Pure Poison to try. I loved it and wore it four days straight, an act that is very unusual for me. I do not have a signature fragrance, but prefer having a variety of scents. Thus, explaining my 125+ bottles of perfume, few of which I bought for myself. I can thank Patty for most of them since she shares my passion for good smells.

Since Robin wasn't crazy about Pure Poison and after I checked out the price, I decided to get Oscar de la Renta. I had a teeny bit left in a bottle and it's a fragrance I enjoy wearing once in awhile. Robin assured me the price didn't matter, but being the considerate person I am, and the fact that I wanted more Oscar before I ran out, I went the cheaper route.

It surprises me that Oscar de la Renta has gone down in price. When I first started wearing it years ago it could only be purchased through Neiman Marcus and the real perfume was over $200. It was packaged so beautifully and the bottle had a crystal top. It became my favorite fragrance for awhile with its fresh, powdery scent. Now, it can be bought in a simple spray bottle at CVS and Walgreens. So, what used to be some fancy stuff has now been reduced to the level of musk and Tabu. Almost.

When I wear Oscar to work, my son, Ron, tells me I have "an old woman smell". Okay, it isn't the latest in fragrances, but old woman? He has opinions about my other perfumes too. Once in awhile I will hear that my perfume smells good. Most of the time, though, he politely asks, "what is that %@#& you're wearing?". I've been forced to tell my son that he wasn't on my mind when I selected my perfume for the day and I'm sorry it offends him. For very selfish reasons, I wear perfume for myself. I even wear it to bed. I even wear it to bed when Robin is out of town.

So, today I have that "old woman" smell and I'm enjoying it very much. Maybe tomorrow I will wear my latest Prada or Insolence, but for now I am enjoying a pick-me-up by my thoughtful husband who knows which buttons to push most of the time. Thank you, Babe.

Happy Anniversary, Jerry & Sharon

Allison's in-laws, Jerry and Sharon, are celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary this weekend with a party hosted by their children.

As part of the celebration, Allison collected tributes from their friends and family, recent and not-so-recent pictures of their life together, and compiled it all into a beautiful scrapbook. Now that the secret is out - they were presented the scrapbook last night - I can share the poem I wrote for the occasion. My daughter, Angela, suggested that I post it and I said I would after the scrapbook was revealed.

Jerry is a pastor and much of their life was traveling around the country and ministering in various churches. Their 40-year marriage produced three children and five grandchildren (so far?). Happy Anniversary, Jerry and Sharon. May the Lord bless you with many, many more years together.

Take This Journey

Take this journey with me
In the early morning light.
Our future shines before us,
Hold my hand and squeeze it tight.

The path may not be easy
As we travel far and wide,
But God's directing every step
And you're close by my side.

Take this journey with me
As we proclaim the written word.
Share a ministry from heaven.
The dearest ever heard.

Together we'll have a family,
Our lives will be complete.
As we love and lead and cherish
Three little sets of feet.

Take this journey with me,
Life is sweeter when it's shared.
Embrace the love that's offered,
Know how much I've always cared.

And when this journey's over,
Our eternal home's in sight;
Praise God He traveled with us
From morning unto night.

A Date With Camryn

As our custom is, Camryn and I shopped this afternoon for her upcoming birthday. We went to Northeast Mall to visit some specialty stores that she likes. She found a cute top, but didn't model it for me in the store since my camera bag was slung over my shoulder. I bought the top and told her grandmas are supposed to embarrass.

Next, she wanted to browse Victoria's Secret. Yep, I have a granddaughter - two, in fact - old enough to suggest a trip to VS. She picked out two tubes of lip gloss in yummy flavors. When we got in the car, she immediately applied bubble gum lip gloss.

We left the mall and went to splurge at Chili's. We ordered chips and queso, burgers and fries. As a special birthday treat, Camryn had a chocolate shake to go. Robin had told her over the phone not to belch in the restaurant and I'm proud to say that Camryn acted like the lady she is.

Camryn was sporting a brand new Coach purse, compliments of her Mom and Dad for her 14th birthday. Weekend plans include a gathering of friends to stay at the Gaylord Texan. Once she's back home on Sunday, I will take her the traditional homemade chocolate ice cream that I always make for their birthdays.

I always have such a good time on these outings with the grandchildren. Spending quality time with each one is a blessing. And I love my part in making their birthdays special. Camryn is a joy and a beautiful girl, inside and out. She's looking forward to entering high school the end of August. Our pretty little girl is growing up. Thanks for a wonderful afternoon, Camryn. I love you dearly.

Happy Birthday, America

With the deluge of rain we've been having, Robin and I made no concrete plans for July 4th. Since we both work, staying home and being lazy sounded great. I usually don't get a day off from laundry, so this was a treat in itself.

I slept late and coffee was ready when I finally got my lazy self out of the bed. I downloaded two more games of the hidden object variety, and Robin and I played them for awhile. I tease him that his ADD kicks in before he can finish a game and he tells me I'm addicted because not only do I finish them, I play them over again.

In the afternoon Robin suggested that we find a Dairy Queen and get a sample of the waffle treats we've seen on their commercials. What could be more American than Dairy Queen? But they are hard to find unless one visits little country towns. Robin got on the internet and found one in Arlington, much to our surprise and delight. They have three flavors to choose from: chocolate sundae, strawberry, and turtle. We both chose turtle. The waffle bowl is rimmed in chocolate then filled with vanilla ice cream, which is garnished with caramel sauce, chopped nuts, and whipped cream. Not bad.

Another American staple is meat and potatoes. Tonight we ate prime rib and baked potatoes at Steak & Ale. Yummy. When asked if we wanted dessert we told our waiter we had already indulged. Like the saying goes: Life is short, eat dessert first. We did.

Tomorrow will be work as usual. But we enjoyed our day together, doing simple things and loving every minute of it.

A Visit With Sophia

Randee and Sophia stopped by today for a short visit. I love it when I have one-on-one time with the grandchildren. We had bought a little soft doll for Sophia that giggles when you push her belly button. I've always loved baby laughter so I bought the doll immediately.

Sophia was all dressed up and had a pink bow in her hair. I should have gotten a picture of her beautiful mother who was also dressed up and had just performed at a church with Kindred Voices. A lovely visit, just too short.

Jordan and Riley Are 2!

Robin's twin grandchildren, Jordan and Riley, will turn two on July 5. We attended a family birthday party in their honor at the home of Uncle Robin Jr. and Aunt Sarah.

They really got into the gift unwrapping, especially Jordan. But then, girls are usually into that sort of thing. Their Aunt Angie made cupcakes for them and decorated them in many colors.

Robin Jr. was in charge of the grill and he dished out hamburgers and hotdogs. He prepared many delicious appetizers, too. This was our first time to see the home they are renting and it was lovely. They have worked hard to get it fixed up and decorated.

Thank you Robin and Sarah for having us over and for the good food. Happy birthday, Jordan and Riley!

Happy Feet

Patty treated me to a deluxe spa pedicure gift certificate, which I happily redeemed yesterday. The soothing legs and feet massages were heavenly. Relaxing in a vibrating chair wasn't shabby either.

I opted for the French pedicure again because it lasts so long and is very versatile. I don't have to change polish to match what I'm wearing. This time they put a dainty flower on my big toes with a hint of pink and a tiny rhinestone in the center. I feel so girlie!

While there, I had my eyebrows waxed again. Next week I will have another laser hair removeal treatment, compliments of my beautiful daughters for Mother's Day. Thank you girls and Patty! I appreciate all the personal attention!

Robin's Gellin'

Robin's feet were tired and swellin',

In his eyes the tears were wellin'.

I was so concerned I kept yellin',

"You and your shoes need to get gellin'!"

Robin was horrified that I wanted to write a post about his new inserts for his shoes. Not that he's embarrassed to have the new accessories, but because the gellin' commercial is so irritating. I agreed, but told him that is what makes it so funny. He cringes now when I ask if he's gellin'.

He's happy now is what I'm tellin'

'Cause the drug store now is sellin'

Cushioned pads to stop the swellin',

Hallelujah, Robin's gellin'!

Caught In A Mouse Trap

A couple of weeks ago I opened the pantry and noticed mouse droppings. Later, I discovered a tiny chew mark in a new bag of chocolate chips. I informed Robin that we had a mouse visiting our pantry. He immediately set a mouse trap. We checked it daily, but no mouse.

Well, we caught something last night. I opened the pantry to retrieve something I needed while cooking dinner. There was suddenly a loud SNAP and pain in my right foot. It felt like I'd stepped on fragile glass that splintered into my foot on impact. I looked down, expecting to find shards of glass and blood all over my foot. What I found was the mouse trap clinging to my flip-flop. Apparently when I jumped from the shock and pain, the trap let go of my foot but stayed with my shoe.

My thoughts went to Jude who picked up an activated mouse trap in my parents' pantry a few months ago. It also snapped on his fingers and he dropped it right away. He looked somewhat embarrassed, but not necessarily in pain. Now I know the big boy was holding it in. The bite of a trap hurts! It really felt like glass going into my foot.

Once I recovered, Robin and I laughed over it and he's been teasing me about how he caught a big rat. He told me this morning I should blog about the big rat that was caught in our trap. So, here it is, Robin. A laugh once in awhile at my expense is okay. However, there is a pesky mouse still on the loose.

Here Comes The Tooth Fairy!

Thomas, my oldest grandson, lost his first tooth last night. I was on the phone with his Dad when I heard Thomas's squeal of delight at finding his loose tooth had separated from his gums after biting into a stick of string cheese.

When I saw him earlier that day he had proudly showed me how his tooth would wiggle when he touched it. He took it as a sign of how big he was getting. Wow, about to enter first grade and a missing tooth - that's grown up!

He awoke this morning to look to see if the Tooth Fairy had remembered to stop by. His tiny tooth was put in a pill bottle so it wouldn't be lost and the Fairy placed two dollars in the bottle with the tooth. Notice his handsome, toothless smile. Congratulations, Thomas! You have paved the way for Jude and Ashton.

More Flowers, More Dirt

Apparently Robin thinks I had a wonderful time planting flowers so he rushed out and bought more while I was at church. This time we planted begonias at the mailbox planter. Robin has put me in charge of watering them. He's in charge of telling me when they need water since I have a bad habit of making my indoor plants beg. When they are slumped over as if in prayer, it reminds me that all living things need water.

I was really touched by Robin's interest in adding color and beauty around our house until he told me the act of planting would keep me off the computer. Then, in exasperation, he told me, "I bought you flowers to plant to keep you busy and away from the computer and here you are blogging about the flowers". Sorry. Such is the nature of blogging.

We added leftover flowers to the planter by the pool so we now have an assortment of flowers there. I will keep you informed about their growth in pictures. Or not. Depends on how well they survive under my care.

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

I hope Robin and I aren't singing this old ballad in a few weeks after our recent attempt at gardening. I came home from work to find many bags of top soil and two large flats of flowers. While Robin cleaned the pool I emptied bags of soil into the flower planter, then asked him why I was doing the hard part. Those bags are heavy!

Once the soil was even and smooth, we arranged the flowers and checked the spacing before pushing them gently in the damp earth. Now, we're hoping our thumbs are greener than we think they are. Neither one of us is given to gardening.

I wish gardening was my cup of tea. I love lush lawns and colorful blooms, but I want to admire them after someone else has tended to them. I equate gardening to camping. Why leave the comfort of my home to go outside and rough it? It's never made sense to me. I have a comfortable mattress, indoor plumbing, and central air and heat. To give all that up to sleep in a tent, on hard ground, would be torture. The lack of a bathroom is even more unthinkable.

So it shouldn't come as any surprise that I don't relish getting my hands in dirt, wiping perspiration, and feeling the aches and pains in my back as I empty another bag of top soil. I actually had dirt under my fingernails. Robin commented that he'd never before seen my hands covered in dirt. I assured him he probably hadn't.

I must admit, however, that once the chore was completed, I showered and cooked dinner, then looked outside and felt proud of our simple gardening. I just might tackle the planter around the mailbox next. But Robin will be lifting the bags.

Happy Birthday, Ashton!

Our Ashton

On the first day of summer

In the year two thousand and three,

Little Ashton entered the world

And the hearts of his family.

His big blue eyes, his handsome smile

Keep us hypnotized,

His loving, gentle presence

Has greatly blessed our lives.

Heaven must have rejoiced

When God made this little boy,

A mind so sharp that he uses

A calculator as a toy!

Numbers are his favorite

And he finds them any place,

From grocery lists to temperatures,

From Earth to outer space.

We stand in awe and wonder

At our young genius guy,

Whose knowledge is so vast

That his limit is the sky.

We thank our heavenly Father

For in His wisdom knew,

We'd be happier and richer

All because of you!

Happy 4th birthday, Ashton. Memaw loves you so much!

A Big Fish Story

This poor unfortunate fish did not have a good day. Not only was he being reeled in for dinner that night, but a shark decided it looked pretty tasty too. Fellow fishermen on Robin's deep sea adventure caught this fish and were trying to reel it in while a shark kept eating parts of it. I'm told the lower half of its body used to be a foot longer before the shark got it, but we all know how fish stories go.

It's bad enough that he was going to be eaten anyway, then have a mean old shark grab a few free bites. If I'm going to be dinner, I'd rather be dead when I'm served. Being eaten alive is a cruel way to go. That's what happens when you swim with sharks.

Slumber Party & Father's Day

This past weekend was wonderful! For all you young mothers out there who feel your free time is either limited or non-existent, take heart. Life isn't over when the nest empties. Never believe that age determines your quality of life. There is much to be said about hitting middle age and having the time to do those things that interest us.

As long as we roll with the punches and accept that our children are growing up and we find new excitement in every stage of their growth and our own, we will find happiness. When a child marries and leaves home an era ends, but another one begins. Not only is their life taking a new turn, but ours can too. We just need to know how to look for the silver lining when things change.

My new thrill during hunting season, business trips or a fishing trip like this weekend, is hosting a slumber party. Patty and I may plan all sorts of activities or we may be lazy. Since we had so much rain this weekend we did less browsing (although we always fit that in) and more relaxing at home with good books, games, and conversation. Saturday evening we watched the fat rain drops in the pool while enjoying coffee and cinnamon scones. There were times we were each doing our own thing but it was still great. No cooking, no rigid schedules, no nothing. Just doing what we wanted. The time passes so quickly and we enjoy every minute of it.

On Father's Day I drove to East Texas in the pouring rain to Gene and Rita's house for burgers, potato salad, baked beans, cookies and two freezers of ice cream - chocolate and vanilla. It was a smaller crowd and it enabled us to visit more. We insisted that Sugar, the guest of honor, go through the food line first. He and I competed on the ice cream and I don't know which of us ate the most. My scales could probably tell me.

Sugar hit the jackpot on clothes. Most of us gave him shorts and shirts. The last family gathering found him in white satin shorts with an elastic waistband and white shirt. Mother shook her head as she told us he can't buy for himself. In his defense, Sugar insisted the satiny shorts were all he could find without joining the younger generation and buying the baggy, long shorts. Anyway, I think he can now retire those shorts or use them for lounging wear.

Mother told the story of when she was heavily pregnant with Donna and she had to get on top of the house to get me. I was three and had climbed a ladder that was left leaning against the house. When she discovered what I'd done, I was already on the roof and having a grand time. Three-year-olds don't know the danger, only the fun of such a climb. So, Mother had to climb that ladder, get on the roof, and grab me. She successfully carried both Donna and me back to safety. Sorry, Sissy, if you've lived with an unexplained fear of heights.

Gene and Rita's log house is nestled within a grove of big trees that keep out the noise. There were no sounds of cars or planes or sirens. It was quiet and peaceful with a light rain.

When I made it back home, Robin had already arrived from Galveston. I'd left him a new camera case on the table with a note from me and our foster cat, Weasil, telling him what a wonderful foster Dad he has been. It was great seeing him again after his four-day trip. He ruined it by telling me he'd missed my cooking, so I guess it's back to the kitchen. All slumber parties must come to an end.

Love Letters

"Writing love letters in the sand . . .", the hit by Pat Boone in the years of my youth. Only thing is, Robin has the sand and I have the love letters.

Robin is in Galveston with his son for a few days of deep sea fishing. I came home from work and went to make my usual after work coffee. There was a note that said "I love you" in the coffee canister. I thought that was sweet. Robin is not given to writing notes or sending cards, so I consider this a keeper. When the coffee was ready, I opened the cabinet for a mug and there was another love note. Okay, an inkling of suspicion is seeping in. This is not the man I married.

Still, I revel in the thoughtfulness and feel a little guilty that I was looking forward to a night at home alone with a good book. Not just a good book, but a comfortable, faded lounging gown that only I appreciate. So, I head to the bedroom to change clothes and there is another note propped up among my bottles of perfume. Yes, he knew I'd be into the perfume. Then it's time for dinner and I remember the leftover salad and lasagna in the fridge and lo and behold, there is a note on the salad! By now, many thoughts are going through my head. I am female, after all.

Why the sudden thoughtfulness? Does he plan to be a naughty boy on this trip and is buttering me up? He quit drinking so I'm not worried about bar hopping. Was he missing me even before he left for the coast? Nah. Is it because I baked banana nut bread for him to take along? Was he remembering that our first date was in Galveston and he got all touchy-feely over it? No, that's not Robin.

I decided to stop trying to guess why my husband would suddenly put pen to paper and tell me how he feels. It's much better to enjoy the attention and not attach any negative thoughts to it. He knows the past weeks have been hard on me with the machine problems at work and money dwindling. He knows, too, that I'm happy about this trip and that he gets some time to enjoy himself. I take enough trips with my friends that I could never begrudge him this time on a fishing boat. I'm happy, too, that I'm not on that boat with him. I'd be sick and it wouldn't be pretty.

So, I thought this would be a nice post for my blog, letting the women in my life know that men can be spontaneous and surprise you when you least expect it. I grabbed my coffee and settled at the kitchen table in front of my laptop. Guess what I found when I opened it? A note on the keyboard that said "I love you". Maybe I should check under the toilet seat.

Thank you, Robin. I love you too.

P.S. Finally sat down with my book and found another note where my bookmark was.

Viva Las Vegas

Robin and I are returning to the scene of the crime. Or close enough to it. We were married in Vegas nine years ago and although we aren't staying in the same hotel, we're still in Vegas.

We booked a resort at the Hilton Vacation Club which is on the Las Vegas strip. We'd hoped to get a two-bedroom condo, but were only able to get one. This will teach us not to wait so long to plan and book our vacations. Now, if we invite anyone to join us, they will have a queen sleeper sofa in a roomy living room.

We're anxious to visit the local sights, including Lake Mead and the Boulder Dam which I haven't seen since I was a child. In those days, it was called Hoover Dam. The back roads in Nevada should be interesting too. And, of course, there's a pool at the condo.

We will arrive on Sunday, September 16, and stay a week. Don't freak out, Angela! I know your due date and suspect a date will be set for you in late August, but I'm here for you just the same. Robin would probably have more fun if he took someone else along anyway!

Many dates were already taken up and I thought it funny that September 16 was open. That's because that's the date I was admitted into the hospital during our last vacation week. I'm hoping history doesn't repeat itself and this year's vacation pictures won't include some of me in a hospital room with a tube up my nose.

In other news, Robin is leaving this week to spend Father's Day weekend deep sea fishing off of Galveston with his son. That means slumber party time at my house! Come on over, girls!

In Loving Memory

Fourteen years ago today, on my mother's birthday, I lost the love of my life. I don't want to think about that day and all the pain involved. Instead, I want to remember the man he was and the difference he made in my life.

I know what it's like to be envied. Any woman who witnessed how Chezzy treated me would comment on how wonderful it must be to have a husband like that. It was incredibly wonderful! I wasn't just loved, I was adored by him. He showed his love in so many different, amazing ways. I'd find little love notes in my office when we worked together. Especially if he went out of town, he knew which files and drawers I would use the most and hid his loving thoughts there. And before going to work, when I was still home raising our children, I'd find notes and gifts all around the house. It was not unusual to find a gift in the clothes hamper, under the kitchen sink, in the pantry, or in a bathroom vanity drawer.

My most memorable birthday with him was when I turned 30. I went to the mailbox that day and there were 30 birthday cards from him, a sweet combination of funny and romantic. I still have those cards and the envelopes that were addressed in many clever, romantic ways. The day could have ended on that note and I would have felt pampered beyond words. But Chezzy had more in store for me. He took me to dinner at Steak & Ale after Donna arrived to get the kids to babysit. Imagine my surprise when I walked into a private dining room at the restaurant and saw all my family, Donna and the kids included, and a group of friends and co-workers. Chezzy bought steak dinners for 40 people to celebrate my birthday. It was a beautiful day that I will never forget.

Even though Chezzy knew how to keep the sparks alive in a marriage, I think I loved him most of all for the way he adopted my kids into his heart. We were a family of five and we all belonged together. So few blended families have that connection and I thank God for giving me a man who could love so deeply. These relationships define him more than anything else. Many years after that awful day on June 4, 1993, I have had customers and vendors alike tell me how much Chezzy talked about his family and loved them. What greater compliment could anyone hear? It showed how much we were on his mind and in his big heart.

I lost my husband just 12 days before our 19th anniversary. Those 19 years weren't long enough. But those 19 years were so full! How blessed, how fortunate, how beautiful to be loved by such a man. His memory will always be alive within me and I look forward to that glorious day when we will meet again on the heavenly shores.

Happy Birthday, Mother!

We celebrated my mother's 81st birthday yesterday at their home, a place we lovingly call "the farm". Today is her actual birthday and I want to wish her a happy, healthy one. One thing I greatly admire about her is her stamina. Even though it was her birthday, she pitched in and did most of the work. She made the patties for hamburgers and Donna grilled them. She also made the baked beans, chocolate ice cream and did all the slicing and cutting up for "the fixins'". And I can't fail to mention the two cakes! All very delicious, but can't compare to the work she does during holiday meals.

Her freezer was loaded with her homemade wheat bread and we were welcome to take home as many loaves as we wanted. With all the kneading of dough she does, her arms are strong. I believe her talent for making bread and her desire to keep her family well fed is the secret to her stamina. I admire and respect her for all the years she had stood in front of the stove and prepared wonderful meals for us.

Mother was my favorite babysitter when my children were growing up. I knew she loved them and would take care of them. They loved going there too, to be pampered. Now that I feel my age more I can't believe I left them with her for a week on several occasions! But what a comfort knowing my children were in safe hands.

The picture of mother was taken yesterday as she proudly displayed her painting from Angela. She was showing it to everyone and telling us she knew the perfect place for it. The new room addition, their sun room, is in pretty spring colors and the painting will fit perfectly. She is thrilled with it and kept the box closed until we arrived and she could open it in front of us. She will be sending Angela a thank you note, but asked that I tell her in the blog how happy she is to receive an Angela original!

Happy birthday, Mother. Enjoy your day and may God richly bless you with many more years as the grand matriarch of our family. We love you.

Cheryl's In Town!

What a wonderful surprise to see Cheryl walk into my office this morning! I knew she was in town but we'd already accepted the fact that hers and Sid's schedules might be too hectic to fit in a small visit.

They attended the wedding and reception of one of Sid's cousins, and the graduation ceremony for one of his nephews. Sid's sister lives here and they spent a lot of time with her and extended family.

Needless to say, I was thrilled that they came by my office for a short visit. They had both lunch and dinner plans with family, so I was happy to be squeezed in. Cheryl and I had agreed that this time in Dallas was needed for Sid and his family and that as long as we have Bandera, all is well with the world. I did commit her to the extra three days we are offered since we travel to Bandera in the off-season. Imagine, 10 days in Bandera with my BB!!! That's a lot of Yahtzee and junk food! And naps and talking and laughing.

They will fly home to Pensacola tomorrow. We'll be back to chatting on the Messenger. Thank you, Cheryl and Sid, for dropping in and making my day!

Perverts, Listen up!

All of you perverts are sick, sick, sick! I'm referring to those of you who get some deviant form of sexual gratification out of innocent pictures of nude children. I don't like to call it child pornography because the two words don't go together. YOU are the porn freak, not the child.

My current outrage stems from a recent revelation that someone close to me was found on a website for sexually sick maniacs. I'm infuriated that these perverts know how to access decent family sites where parents record beautiful childhood moments through words and pictures. They scan these sites for the cute pictures we post of our children and use them for their own sick purposes. It is a personal violation of immense proportions. You do not have the right to take a picture of someone's precious child and turn it into something ugly.

Anyone who feels sexual desire for a child should be locked up permanently. There is nothing sexual about a child in the innocent years of childhood. Those who think there is, have a serious problem with selfishness and criminal tendencies. Studies reveal that these perverts do not respond to counseling. They can't be rehabilitated. Do we let them freely roam the streets and internet because they can't help themselves? I say NO in a big way. Millions of children are more important than those who satisfy their insane appetites in this way. I don't care if they have a mental wire loose somewhere, I still don't pity them. They should be punished and removed from society. They are a danger to others.

We have all captured pictures of our kids in the bathtub, or a sweet bottom on a soft blanket, or any other antic we find them in. These are innocent moments we want to keep of children who grow so fast and soon leave this moment in time. The pictures aren't sexual. And a loving parent who cherishes the innocence of such a picture doesn't have the mind of a porno freak. There is no thought that these pictures could end up on a pornography site, their purpose violently distorted. Unfortunately, when such a violation occurs, we have to begin thinking about the dark side of humanity and how it affects our own lives.

Adult porn disgusts me too. It's totally selfish, aimed at those who need instant gratification. But adults can make their own decisions about the direction they want to go. If they want to view sites where other adults have willingly displayed themselves for the world to see, fine, go there and enjoy. Satisfy that deviant hunger you have. But do not go after our children. They don't want to be a part of your morbid fantasy. They are too busy enjoying childhood that shelters them from people like you.

I wish there was a way to prohibit sites from exploiting our children. It is not their right to have such a place. The internet can be a wonderful tool for reaching the world and gaining unlimited information. It can also be abused by acts like this one. What can we do to better protect our children?

Until a solution is found, I just needed to let all these perverts know that they are sick, they need to get over their teenage fixation over the naked human body, and focus on something besides their body parts. Children are off-limits and if that is your personal preference, my hope is that everyone one of you will have your computers confiscated and your sick minds locked up permanently. If you're a threat to our children, I have no sympathy for where you end up. You, the pervert, deserve the worst.

Directions For Dummies

I realize that manufacturers need to cover their back side, but that often leads to a ridiculous list of dos and don'ts for their products. I'm referring to the instruction manual that came with my new can opener from Weasil, the cat, for Mother's Day. Robin was reading some of it to me and we were laughing over it. Yes, we need a life.

Did you know a can opener is not supposed to be placed inside a hot oven? Hmmm. I've never considered doing it, but now that you mention it . . . . A nice melted plastic base with metal garnish and perhaps a finishing touch of mushroom sauce? Serving up that dish would entitle me to "Homemaker of the Year".

Do you suppose there are people who would think it was a neat idea to put their can opener in a baking dish and slide it into the oven? I admit there are a lot of wacky people in the world, so who knows? Personally, I prefer eating what was in the can that the can opener opened, instead of the can opener itself.

Another bit of genius instructed the consumer to not try to open an aerosol can with the can opener. Come on. I just wanted that last little drop of Lysol to disinfect the cutting blades on the can opener. No harm done.

To be honest, if I were making small kitchen appliances such as a can opener, it would never occur to me to tell someone not to bake it. Where does that idea come from? And, I've never considered opening an aerosol can once it stopped spraying. It's pitched in the trash and added to my grocery list.

Of course, lawsuits are rampant in this country and a manufacturer must assume we're all idiots. That's the only explanation I can find for such bizarre instruction manuals. At least reading through it was entertaining and I just might have found a new genre of interest. Or maybe it's given me an idea for dinner tonight. A change would be welcome.

Sissy Sussies

In our family, if you're told you're getting a sussy, you know you're getting a surprise. All the women in the family get in on the fun. Especially corny is a "sussy for Sissy", which is an expression used by my sister, Donna, and me. Donna and I enjoy getting sussies for each other.

I brought a sussy to the farm yesterday for Donna. I'd bought a cute and comfortable pair of gold sandals and thought she'd like a pair too. When I arrived with them, she was barefoot and waiting. Then she surprised me with my own "sussy for Sissy". She had bought me two very cute tops. I'm always excited by a new article of clothing and couldn't wait to wear one to work today. Of course, the size and fit is always perfect. I really need Sissy to do all my shopping (with her credit card, of course!). Tomorrow I get to wear the other new top. I feel so special!

And speaking of special, I was touched by a gift Donna gave my mother for Mother's Day. Mother wanted matching book ends to put in the bookcase my Dad built in their new room addition. The purpose of the book ends was to give my two books a prominent place on the shelf, surrounded by the two book ends. They did stand out and it meant so much to me. Thank you Mother and Sissy! I love you both!

Mother's Day At The Farm

We had a wonderful day at the farm with my parents even though the whole group was unable to attend. Our intention was to take the cooking responsibilities away from my mother, but she did make a chocolate cake and chocolate ice cream.

Allison and I made the beef and chicken chimichangas, which she deep-fried to a sinfully fattening golden brown. Those were topped with an avocado sauce, sour cream, salsa and queso. Allison also made pinto beans while I made black beans and tortilla pinwheels. Donna made the Spanish rice and some delicious chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies. Rita brought the peach ice cream which was divine. We will not go into the amount of ice cream and cookies I sampled!

Lunch was served from the kitchen but we carried our plates into the new sunroom my Dad, brothers, and Ron built on the back of the house. Dad even planned a ribbon cutting for Mother since she has long awaited this new addition. With their new table and a card table, there was plenty of room for us to enjoy our feast.

I spent a lot of time holding Sophia. That was a good Mother's Day gift for me. She even laughed for me a few times. Baylee had fun loving on the dog and donkeys. Jude, too, had a good time at the farm except for his allerigies that kept him sneezing and rubbing at his eyes, and the episode with a mousetrap. He wondered what it was and picked it up. Snap! It got him. He was a little embarrassed by it, but no tears. He's always afraid he is worrying us and makes light of his accidents.

My lovely daughters, Allison and Angela are treating me to laser hair removal for Mother's Day. I'm anxious to go to my free consultation and set up the treatment. Years of electrolysis has cleared away most of my unwanted hair, but there are areas on my face that need attention before I start scaring the grandchildren. I'm ready to get started and I'm very thankful for this thoughtful gift from my girls.

Being a mother is rewarding and I thank God for the children and grandchildren I have been blessed with. My life is complete.

My Mother's Day

My son, Ron, told me he didn't know what to get me for Mother's Day so he said he would bring us dinner on Saturday night. That sounded like the perfect gift to me and I looked forward to his arrival. He assured me it would all be homemade and fresh, and it was. Robin and I feasted on a delicious pasta dish, Caesar salad and French Bread.

Ron makes his own pasta sauce using lots of tomatoes and garlic. He said he put 13 tomatoes into the sauce he brought to us. It was so yummy with a rich flavor. It was such atreat not having to cook our dinner tonight. Ron knew I'd be cooking for the Mother's Day celebration at the farm tomorrow and figured I didn't need the added hassle of feeding Robin and me. Thank you, Ron! The meal was wonderful. Robin grabbed the camera and took a picture of me with two of my boys and the pasta.

Robin gave me a pair of red and white sandals I'd had my eye on and even our Foster cat, Weasil, got in on the Mother's Day festivities by surprising me with an electric can opener. I guess he heard me swearing at my manual one this week when it froze on me and wouldn't even make a dent in a can. It's come in handy with the cooking I've been doing for the farm. Thank you, Robin and Weasil.

Tomorrow's post will include pictures of Mother's Day at the farm with my mother and family. Happy Mother's Day to you all and enjoy your day. A special wish for Cheryl who is in North Carolina to see her nephew graduate from Duke University with a law degree. What a proud moment! Come back safely, friend.

It's Allison & Brian's Birthdays!

My beautiful daughter and her husband have a very unique situation in that they share the same birthday. When they started college there was a gathering of the students to get better acquainted. They were separated into groups according to the month they were born. As they mixed and mingled with others who were born in May, they discovered they had the same birthday and possibly discovered each other then too.

Robin and I had the honor of babysitting their three precious children while they went to dinner to celebrate their mutual birthdays. This picture of them was taken that night as they prepared to leave for dinner.

I didn't have the privilege of raising Brian so I can't share any sterling moments from his childhood. I will say that I admire the man he is, I love his sense of humor, and I will forever be thankful for the loving husband and father he has become. He lives with four people who are so dear to me and I feel confident knowing he is with them. Thank you, Brian, for your part in this beautiful family.

May 10 stands out so vividly in my mind because on that day I welcomed my first girl. At the time, I thought I would just have the two kids so it was important to me that a daughter followed my son. I awoke in recovery and my doctor was there checking on me. He asked if I'd learned the gender of my baby. I told him I hadn't. He said, "you have a little girl". World War III could have erupted, my hair could have fallen out as unsightly warts covered my entire body and it would still be the most glorious day of my life! "I get to buy pink!", I squealed.

Allison continued being a joy all the days that followed. Not only was she a beautiful blonde, blue-eyed doll, but she was funny, easy-going, agreeable, and so easy to raise. She has never given me a moment of concern as to the direction her life was going. If we said no, she accepted it. If we gave advice and instruction, she lived by it. One of the greatest compliments I've heard her give me when she was talking to someone else was, "I loved it when my parents grounded me because I got to spend the weekend with them, doing what they were doing." How many teenagers can say that with any conviction? Those words meant the world to me and still do.

Today, Allison is, of course, still a beautiful woman inside and out. I admire her strength, I admire her as a mother to my grandchildren, and I admire her character. Her children are so fortunate to have such a loving, fun mother. The rest of us are fortunate, too, to have her in our lives. She's so family-oriented and her nurturing extends to us all. I thank God for her and for blessing my life with her sunny presence.

Happy birthday, Allison and Brian. May this special day find you happier than ever, and counting your blessings for all God has showered upon you. Just as we, your family, praise God for the wonderful people you have always been and continue to be. Have the best birthday ever, with all my love.

Spoiled & Pampered

As a Mother's Day indulgence, Patty surprised me with a deluxe French pedicure, complete with foot massage. She called to tell me she had made an appointment for us and to be at her house at a certain time. When I got there she directed me to the salon where she gets her nails done. We relaxed in our vibrating chairs while our feet enjoyed a whirlpool bath.

From the knees down, our calves and feet rejoiced in a wonderful massage, first with an exfoliant, then a soothing cream. A stone smoothed away all calouses on the bottom of our feet, and broke through some skin on my ankle but I didn't let that stop the massage. The place would have to be on fire, with the fire almost licking the edges of my chair, before I'd stop any kind of massage.

We both opted for the French pedicure since it was so neutral and would go with all our clothes. I even gave in to having my eyebrows waxed for the first time. After years of electrolysis, I was surprised I'd relent and allow waxing. It looks great! They are perfectly shaped now.

From the salon we further indulged ourselves by going out for Mexican food. After that feast, we were ready for pajamas and coffee. Robin was in Houston on business and we grab every opportunity to have a slumber party. It was a great evening and full of the girlie fun Patty and I enjoy. We love the pampering and buying fun girl stuff.

Now, I'm ready to tackle the meal Allison and I are making for my mother's Mother's Day celebration in East Texas. And, later, I will report on our Mother's Day activities. My son has told me what he's doing for me, and if it actually happens, I will broadcast it to the world!

A Little R & R - Divine!

Patty and I took four days off to just get away. It really didn't matter where we went as long as we went. We tossed around several ideas, then at the last minute we opted for Tyler.

We booked a room at the Hampton Inn in Lindale. A lovely grove of trees were beyond our window. We ate at many wonderful restaurants, shopped for clothes, jewelry, perfume, shoes, and books. Our evenings were spent in bed with books or the TV.

Our room was spacious so time spent there wasn't as confining as one might think. We had two double beds, a mini refrigerator, a small microwave, and a big desk. The hotel chain has updated the rooms to include beautiful, fluffy pillows and duvet with matching dust ruffle. I loved spreading out in my own bed and enjoying the comfort.

Since the trip was thrown together quickly (but was a perfect one), I failed to pack a camera. Patty thought to bring hers, along with a huge bag of flip-flops and her ever-present can of Lysol. She will provide the pictures for this post, which I will add when I receive them. Thanks, Patty.

There's nothing exciting to report. Our outing was everything we wanted it to be, a relaxing time away from schedules and a home where we are constantly jumping up to take care of something. We got plenty of rest and still brought home some treasures from our shopping sprees. We arrived back home on Sunday early enough to unpack and do laundry. Yep, sounds like home to me.

My friends and I sound boring, but how happy I am that none of us are party animals who have to be entertained. Our friendship is entertaining enough. We're already trying to decide where to spend our next long weekend. I considered Marble Falls on the Colorado River, but I don't remember seeing a mall there. Oh well, we can bring books. When do we start packing, Patty?

Bottoms Up!

Robin had the honor this weekend of experiencing that wonderful procedure called a colonoscopy. The test itself is something else, yet the day before is even more fascinating. It's a day of fasting and special liquids. Along with the coffee Robin loves, he was allowed to indulge in a salty mixture that was guaranteed to keep him in the bathroom and his colon clean as a whistle.

Being the loving wife I am, I was very supportive and concerned that he remain as comfortable as possible. First, I invited him to sit with me on his fasting day at a nice restaurant while I devoured a juicy filet mignon. Secondly, I suggested that he ask the doctor if his head was up there. Being the loving husband that he is, he appreciated both shows of concern.

We arrived at the Veteran's Affairs Hospital Saturday morning and waited a couple of hours before they could get to him. They had an assembly line going on and each one had to wait their turn. Also, being the VA, I wasn't invited back to wait with Robin so I was unable to get the pictures I wanted - him lying in a bed in a hospital gown. So, the pictures I was able to get came after we got back home.

Other than a few pockets of diverticula, Robin was given a clean bill of health, along with some very flattering pictures of his colon. I was surprised to see him enter the waiting room so soon. He informed me that had he been put to sleep for the procedure, the wait would have been longer. You weren't put to sleep??? I asked. "No. The recovery would take two hours." I had the day set aside for this and waiting two more hours, and knowing he was comfortable, would have been acceptable.

Robin admitted there was some discomfort as the scope moved through his colon, causing some pressure in his abdomen. You think? I woke up briefly during my own procedure and believe me, I don't like the idea of being alert during a test like that. Okay, Robin might not have been playing with a full deck during this first-time colonoscopy, but he has assured me he will be put to sleep the next time around. Good idea.

I stopped for coffee and a Dunkin' Donut cinnamon roll on the way home to keep something in his stomach until we could get real food. He did quite well and slept part of the afternoon.

The big highlight for me during all this was a phone call from my daughter, Allison. Before I could reach the phone the night before Robin's test, the answering machine clicked on. We heard her say, "Hi Mom, Hi Crapper." Of course I picked up the phone laughing!

P.S. Robin's favorite motto during this? "Be smart, don't fart."

Armed and Dangerous

The horrendous tragedy this week on the campus of Virginia Tech has again raised the issue of gun control. Those in favor of that type of legislation claim that our country would become safer if strict gun laws were in place. The rest of us believe that when a coward decides to go on a killing rampage, he will find the proper weapon to carry out his purpose. No law of any kind will stop him. He doesn't care about laws.

Therefore, it makes sense to me that those of us who could one day become potential victims should be armed and dangerous. One doesn't just sign a name to get a concealed handgun permit. It requires hours of classroom instruction and performing on a shooting range. To keep the permit, more time in a classroom is needed. So, measures are taken to ensure that armed citizens know how to use their weapon and protect themselves.

Consider this scenario: Suppose the professor teaching the class had a concealed handgun permit that was allowed on the school premises (we all know cowards choose locations that are vulnerable and feeds their power). Suppose every faculty member had a permit. When the first shot rang out, they would be ready to take action. I believe the devastation would have ended on a much smaller scale.

Here's another scenario: Suppose YOU are at the park with your children and they are approached by a person wielding a knife, exposing himself, or just plain acting weird. Would it feel comforting to know there was a handgun in your purse or in a holster strapped on your shoulder? It would make me feel less helpless in a situation like that. If I thought my children were in danger and their safety depended upon me, I could easily pull the trigger.

I could easily pull the trigger, too, if I happened upon a tragedy like the one that befell Virginia Tech. Strangers or not, they are innocent victims of some idiot's agenda. If the killer has no respect for human life, I don't have a problem with showing his life a little disrespect too. Vicious crimes are everywhere and decent citizens have the right to defend themselves.

The opponents of gun permits are telling me that criminals who disregard the laws anyway, will have their weapon of choice, and citizens are left empty-handed. I don't buy into that logic, no more than adding four more numbers to the Texas Lottery increases our chances to win. Being able to carry a gun does not turn a decent person into a crazed criminal. It merely gives us the opportunity to protect ourselves from those who are hell-bent on causing harm.

Of course, owning and carrying a gun is a responsible privilege that requires great care. I strongly agree that every applicant should be checked out thoroughly. The process doesn't have to be easy, but it should be accessible to law-abiding citizens.

If I ever find myself staring into the barrel of a gun, I don't want to have to say, "oh well, time to check out". Instead, I want a way to protect myself. The creep needs to know he isn't the only one who is armed and dangerous.

Sirens And More Sirens

It's been pretty exciting around our house lately. If you call tornado warnings and a police chase exciting. Maybe we just need a life.

The excitement began over a week ago when a funnel cloud was spotted and the sirens went off in our neighborhood. We were watching the weather reports which said the cloud was in South Grand Prairie, so we didn't rush around gathering flashlights and pillows for our closet retreat. The tornado never touched down and all was well. Still, there's an ominous sound to a tornado siren.

Then, we were again watching the news and saw a police chase taking place on an interstate close to our home. It really peaked our interest when the speeding truck took an exit very close to our home and sped along Carrier Parkway with the police in hot pursuit. The Speed Demon came to a stop at the intersection of Carrier and Roy Orr Blvd., at which time he abandoned the truck and took off on foot. We could hear the sirens and the helicopters hovering overhead. We watched on TV as the police wrestled the man to the ground, handcuffed him, and carted him off to jail. We never bothered to find out why the Nascar Wanna-be was running from police.

Our last encounter with sirens was Friday when a tornado was actually spotted in NW Grand Prairie. Our home couldn't get any more NW than it is. Again, the horrible sound of tornado sirens alerted us to the danger of an approaching menace. Robin stocked our closet with flashlights and bottled water, and we were ready to grab pillows and make a mad dash to the closet. I made sure that Robin understood to grab my feet if I started rising, reminding him this was a storm, not the rapture. First, we glanced outside at the sky and didn't feel that we were in harm's way. We even escaped the softball size hail that plummeted many parts of the metroplex. We truly feel blessed and fortunate.

Allison and Ron called to check on us. They hadn't missed the hail and all had gone to closets for shelter. Since all of Ron's family are motorcycle riders, they donned their helmets for safety. A tornado did considerable damage not far from them in Haltom City. Fortunately, all my kids were safe and only their vehicles suffered some hail damage. At least three tornadoes were verified.

Alas, storms are in the forecast again for tomorrow. My ear will be tuned to the tornado siren a few blocks away. It's long been said that our area is over-due for a killer tornado. The last one of that magnitude was in 1957. I lived in Irving at the time and remember my parents and the neighbors staring at the sky toward Dallas. That tornado stayed on the ground for over 30 minutes and caused a lot of destruction. I was so young then and didn't know what a tornado was. I guessed, since they were looking at the sky, that it must be some kind of airplance. Little did I know that a tornado, along with snakes, would end up being a lifelong fear of mine.

Bring on the insects and rodents. I can handle them. Tornadoes and snakes are a different story.

On My Soapbox, 5

I hate stupidity. I acknowledge that all of us have moments of total "mental pause", but in public we usually try to be on our best behavior. I'm referring to Don Imus who chose to make a derogatory comment on the public airwaves. This story leaves me with comments for several people.

First, Don: If your clever little comment had to be spoken, why not in the privacy of your own home where you and wifey could have a little chuckle over it? Why, instead, do you choose to speak those stupid words into a microphone for the world to hear? That was not a smart move and it has cost you a lot. On the upside, you are now well known. I'd never heard of you before this. Gee, notoriety is great.

Rutgers Women's Basketball Team: Get over it. One stupid comment from one stupid man does not take away from the fact that you are great athletes. It takes drive and determination to be great. You have accomplished that and no idiot can take that away from you. Brush him off and focus on what makes you a great team. There will always be those who are stupid and say stupid things. Their words do not identify who you are. How you respond, how you live your lives, do. Don't ever let a comment destroy a fabulous accomplishment. Be more than an athlete. Be proud.

Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson: Where were you when one of your bros gave drugs to his young nephews? Toddler nephews? I don't recall hearing words to defend him. Come to think of it, I don't recall any words of reprimand either. Guess you're very selective in your outspoken stands.

I Fall To Pieces

I feel like a real klutz. I'm sitting here with a sore body and even typing isn't coming easily. I fell today, on a set of steps, and I think it pretty much hit me all over.

The injuries didn't look that serious when it happened, but as time goes on, the soreness is creeping into places I hadn't known were hurt. My right palm has a puncture wound and is the least of my worries. My whole left side feels bruised. My thumb is swollen, my wrist is skinned and my elbow doesn't want to move without hurting. Blood vessels broke on my left wrist, too, and they are turning dark blue.

I can't tell you how many times I have climbed those two steps at work without any difficulty. The porch and steps are covered with an uneven layer of stone and slate which caught my sandals and caused me to trip. And I tripped right into the steps. A sharp corner of slate on one step caught my right palm. Apparently, the weight of my body bent my thumb and put added pressure on my whole left side, limbs included. It hurt, but got better. Now, though, the soreness is setting in and making me wonder if these falls are going to continue.

This isn't my first fall. I've fallen several times on damp floors at work, the cat tripped me once and I hurt my tail bone. Now this. One of my employees told me it's because I have to wear pretty shoes instead of practical ones. Maybe so. My sister Donna said I might need a rubber room, and my friend Cheryl said she'd donate blood whenever I need it. Robin expressed his sorrow over my accident but said he would be teasing me about it. Randee was concerned and I truly appreciate her interest in my well being.

I've never been graceful so these falls might occur again. I think the second question Donna asked - after making sure I had no broken bones - was, "did anyone see you fall?". I wondered about that too. Why do we care? But if anyone saw, no one came to my rescue. I picked myself up, applied a paper towel to my bloody palm, and soothed my bruised dignity. I'm sore, but I'll live to do it again another day.