Our Story - Part Six

Although there were many common things between us, Cheryl and I had our differences, too. We are of different religions and political parties. Religion and politics. Those are two subjects most people don't discuss for the sake of their relationship. Cheryl and I know our boundries and respect one another's opinion.

She believes Tony is in heaven. I believe Chezzy is in the grave waiting for the second coming. Cheryl believes our country will fare better under the leadership of a Democrat while I lean toward the more conservative side. Cheryl never had children and I have three. Cheryl was a flight attendant for American Airlines while I stayed home changing diapers. Later, Cheryl worked for the city of Duncanville and I began working with Chezzy in our business.

How are differences handled? As far as religion goes, I find Cheryl to be a very spiritual person. She claims that I put her focus back on God during her time of loss and anger. Prayer and spiritual support knows no denomination. I know Cheryl has a devotional every morning and that I'm in her prayers. She knows the same is true of me. We don't discuss religion, we discuss the love God bestows on us daily. We believe God did open a window when our husbands died and gave us this beautiful friendship. It's sharing this love together that keeps us centered on what is really important. Cheryl gives credit to God for every good thing that happens. And even though she insists that I turned her toward God again, I am in awe of her faith in areas where my own is lacking.

In the area of politics, Cheryl and I agree how we'd like to see our government run. We don't discuss the political parties themselves, but discuss the good and bad that is going on in the world today. We know the areas where we differ and there's no need to bring them up. No relationship shares the same opinion on every subject. Our challenge is to live together peacefully while respecting the opinions of those around us. Cheryl and I have never fought, have never said a rude thing to the other, and if we did it was in the spirit of joking. We can say anything to the other without any fear of it being taken the wrong way. We know each other too well.

As for never having children, Cheryl solved that problem in a hurry. She promptly adopted my children in her heart. How thrilled I was when both my daughters gave Cheryl an important role in their weddings. She, in turn, gave them the sixpence to wear in their shoes on their wedding day, just as she had done on October 4, 1974.

Allison asked Cheryl to be her wedding coordinator. Cheryl was honored. Five days before the wedding, Cheryl called me, her voice full of concern. "I just broke a toe," she lamented. "How will I manage getting the wedding party assembled to walk down the aisle? And what about rehearsal?"

As it turned out, Cheryl was there and successfully hobbled around and did her job to perfection. At the rehearsal, when she saw signs of Allison's nerves hitting a breaking point, she rallied everyone together and ordered them to perform their duties right so Allison could have a beautiful wedding. And, so it happened.

Later that month, I called Cheryl with unbelievable news: "I just broke my toe," I told her.

"Win the lottery," she said. "I'll be next."

When Angela's wedding arrived seven months later, Cheryl was touched when she was asked to
be an honorary mother. She was escorted to her seat, just as I was, and we both felt the joy of watching "our" daughter marry the man of her dreams. Her active participation in the lives of my children has meant so much to me. I honestly believe her joy would match that of Chezzy's.

I'll never forget the day Cheryl called to tell me that she'd heard noises in her chimney and had called someone to investigate. "You won't believe this," she said. "Four baby raccoons were in my chimney." A few months later, I called Cheryl and asked her to listen as I put the phone close to the ceiling in the playroom. "What does that sound like?" I asked her. "Raccoons," she told me. Sure enough, I had three baby raccoons pulled from my attic. Again, Cheryl said, "One of us needs to win the lottery. You know the other one will win, too."

The dating scene was a very odd time for Cheryl and me. After almost nineteen years of marriage, dating someone again, opening our hearts again, held a combination of excitement and insecurity. The Bible clearly states that when a spouse dies, the remaining partner is free to marry again. Why, when it's Biblical, is so much guilt involved? There's a feeling of betraying the memory of our husband, and a desperate need to fill a void. Studies have shown that the happiest of marriages find the widow or widower anxious to be back in that same, safe cocoon. Still, the guilt is present, and the awkwardness of dating as a middle-aged woman.

The most memorable of our dating experiences centered around the cell phone mounted in my white BMW. Cheryl and I would go to dinner, then grab the phone when we got back in my car. She'd call her answering machine at home to see if Sid had left a message. Then, it was my turn and I'd call my answering machine to see if Robin had left a message. We were giddy when we heard their voices. It was like opening a gift on Christmas morning. And, just as we had shared the pain of loss, we now shared the adjustment that being on the dating field presented. It was another necessary step in the healing process. We knew that getting on with our lives in no way diminished what we had shared before.

My first date with Robin was when I met up with him in Galveston for fun in the sun. Cheryl was returning that weekend from a cruise with Sid. I was supposed to pick her up at the airport. I asked her friend, Kate, to fill in for me since I'd be in Galveston. At this point, Cheryl had no knowledge of Robin. He was a supplier of mine and had asked me out while Cheryl was on the cruise. On my way home from Galveston, I called Cheryl to make sure she had been picked up and was at home, and to describe my wonderful weekend. She didn't give me the chance. The minute she heard my voice, she demanded, "Who the hell is Robin?"

That question showed how protective we'd become with each other. Both of us had become a lifeline to the other, and we constantly made sure there would always be a safe connection. I remember Cheryl's fear when she learned I was going to drive in an ice storm to my sister's house for Thanksgiving dinner. At the time the roads weren't that bad and I assured her I'd be fine. I skidded off the road and hit a guard rail. Cheryl was hysterical when she learned about it.

It might seem that Cheryl and I depend on each other like we depended on our husbands. Humans are very social creatures and we all depend on those in our lives to add to our happiness and well-being. Of course we'd be devastated if we didn't have this friendship, but we have proven that we have what it takes to go on. It's amazing the strength and adaptability one has when faced with changes that are beyond their control. Yes, we struggled through those times together, but the individual pain was our own, and we couldn't walk that road for the other.

"You don't make mistakes in my eyes," Cheryl told me once. "You merely have life experiences."

Those words still fill me with comfort. Cheryl was there to be my friend, never to judge me. She knew the emptiness - she was living it herself. She knew of the vast void that we often filled with the wrong things, temporary things, in our need to feel whole again. I don't want to think about how it would have been had I faced all the changes in my life without Cheryl by my side, knowing each step I took, she was on the same journey with me. We had gotten each other through a painful time in our lives and the experience had bonded us to a friendship that rarely exists in the world today. I trust Cheryl with my life and I know she has the same faith in me.

With healing comes the rebuilding of lives that had been in limbo as we let grief run its course. The time came when we both fell in love again and we were going in a new direction. Cheryl moved to Florida to marry Sid, but the distance between us can only be counted in miles.

Humiliating Your Husband And . . .

. . . causing him public embarrassment.

By guest blogger: Dee

My husband is a great sport. He's also very gullible. This great combination makes for a wonderful target. I set out about 3 months ago to perform the ultimate in public humiliation on my husband and this is how I did it:

- First off I got to know my husband’s routine, specifically that he plays poker every Friday at lunch with a group of friends at his place of employment.

- Second, I began to plot a way I can infiltrate this testosterone circus and reduce my husband to a puddle of estrogen.

- I came up with a plan that cost me a mere $2.00 involving his cell phone.
I did a dry run with my own cell phone.

- On Thursday evening I stole his cell phone and implemented my plan, it went flawlessly.

- The following day at 11:30am my husband congregated with the men at his place of employment – leave your purse at the door. They began to deal the cards and playing a round of "Texas Hold’um"

- At precisely 11:40 am I phoned my husband.

- At precisely 11:40 am my husband was inspecting his cards for a winning hand when he heard "It’s Raining Men" blaring in the room:

It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!

- It's Raining Men! Amen!

I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get

Absolutely soaking wet!

It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!

It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!

Tall, blonde, dark and lean

Rough and tough and strong and mean

Everyone looked around the room to see where the commotion was coming from. My husband and the person seated next to him looked at each other’s phone belt clip. My husband asked, "why is your phone playing that gay song?" His neighbor then replied "that is your phone playing that gay song!"

When my husband finally answered his phone all I heard where wails of laughter. My husband simply asked "did you need anything, or did you get what you wanted?"

"No, that is all I needed" CLICK

There are a few things that you need to keep in mind when making this successful:

- Order the song from the target’s phone. If you order it on-line a text-message is sent to the target’s phone asking for confirmation.

- Make sure the volume is up high

- Don’t change the ring tone for all calls, just ones made from your number. That way I could control when the ring would be heard for the first time. Unfortunately it was also the last time. He had the ring tone changed by the time he got home.

- My husband (target) was the butt of all jokes for the longest time and I was the subject of worship among his friends. Even though this prank happened about 2 months ago, I just got this photo from one of his co-workers, a doctored photo with my husbands cute little face enjoying the "rain".

Thank you, Dee, for the laugh!

Special Delivery - Love

One of the many blessings of having grandchildren is the adorable little notes that come in the mail.

Ashton wrote his own thank you notes this year for his birthday gifts. How thrilling it was to open it and find his words in his writing! He sent one to my mother and she, too, said it was a keeper. It was so sweet and meant so much to me.

We received another note in the mail this week from Jude. He'd called me to tell me the mailman would be bringing me a letter. He was really pumped about it. When we received it, we called and told him and he really got excited and wanted to know what the letter said. We told him it said I love you (actually, as you can tell, it's I then U, then a heart). He asked me to keep it to remember him by.

Thank you, sweet boys! I will definitely keep these notes because they are so sweet. But I assure you, I need nothing to remember you by. You are in my hearts all the time. I love you, guys!

Happy Birthday, Donna!

A heartfelt Happy Birthday to my beautiful sister. What a joy it's been having her in my life. She has a lovely alto voice and we used to harmonize while doing dishes together. It made the chore so much easier. We swapped clothes, shared thoughts, laughed and cried together.

My Sissy is such a good person! I admire her strength, for she has gone through some bad times and survived. I admire her work ethics - she's always been a valuable employee, and now a wonderful asset in the business she owns with her husband and a partner. She's a spiritual person with so much goodness in her heart. And where she has really touched my own heart is by the way she has worn her title of "Aunt" so perfectly. What a positive influence she has been in the lives of my children and they adore her.

Isn't this picture of her so beautiful? She's always had this gorgeous smile and laughter that I have envied, but I still love her very much. Happy birthday, Sissy! May all your dreams come true!

My Little Sister, Donna

I really don't remember

When she arrived upon the scene.

And I was much too young to know

What her presence there would mean.

But at some point I noticed her

And we've bonded through the years.

Through childhood and adulthood,

Sharing all our hopes and fears.

My little sister, Donna,

Has made my world a better place.

Inside, she's just as beaitiful

As her outward style and grace.

From little girls to women,

How we've grown along the way.

From dolls to very grown-up cares,

She's in my heart all through the day.

My precious little sister,

My friend above all others.

Imagine having lived our lives

With only our three brothers!

In the role of the Big Sister

She has often played the part,

Giving love and understanding

When I had a heavy heart.

We've been there for each other

And I know we'll always be.

My little sister, Donna,

Oh, how dear she is to me!

Our Story - Part Five

The Void

There is a void that's deep and vast
Where temporary joys are cast.
My lame attempt to fill the space
That was once your own special place.

There is a love you helped to grow,
Still in the void, nowhere to go.
It can't be shared or returned,
Or disregarded or even spurned.

It hovers there, a lingering ache,
Needing you, but it's too late.
This cold and lonely empty pit,
Will it ever fill, a perfect fit?

Life is never as it seems,
There are no more hopes and dreams.
What's good today, it soon will pass,
For nothing really good will last.

There is a void, I feel it still!
Without you I know I always will.
I try so hard to fill that spot,
My pain reminds me that it's not.

Within that void where my love stays,
Remembering the joys of yesterdays;
I hold you close within my heart,
Where my love lives, we're not apart.

In loving memory of Chezzy and Tony.

All who had attended the grief seminar were invited back in the fall for a one-night meeting on how to handle the holidays. Cheryl and I were there. Like everyone else, we had wondered how we'd get through those first holidays without the one who had been such a big part of them.

Tony and Chezzy really got into Christmas. Cheryl and Tony had a tradition of sitting in the floor around the tree on Christmas morning and taking their time with the gifts. As each one was opened, a story was told about why that particular gift, the shopping spree, and all the excitement that surrounded the giving of that gift. Chezzy usually brought his gifts in on Christmas Eve, each uniquely wrapped, and so many of them that I was opening gifts long after everyone else had finished. It was not the absence of gifts that concerned us, but the love and attention of the one who had shopped for them. That Tony and Chezzy were missing an important family celebration tore into us, too.

Weeks before Chezzy died I happened to think of his Christmas stocking with "Dad" on the cuff. I burst into tears over a simple stocking. It would not be hanging on the fireplace with the others and that thought was more than I could bear.

Another concern we had was Christmas cards. How were we going to send out holiday greetings without putting our husbands' names on them? That very subject was brought up in the seminar. Our counselor said that if the thought of omitting a name hurt too much, don't send cards this year. How simple! We hadn't thought of that and it relieved one burden for us. No Christmas cards from us that year.

Cheryl and I had other ways of helping each other with the "firsts". Angela and her Daddy would shop for our Christmas tree every year, and decorate it while I busied myself with Christmas shopping. Cheryl came over on that first Christmas and helped Angela and I trim the tree. And, on Cheryl's first wedding anniversary without Tony, I sent her three roses to her work. She'd told me how he sent a rose for every year until it got so expensive, and then he would send three every year. I enclosed a card with the flowers that read, "I know Tony would want you to have these."

I've mentioned how pampered Cheryl and I were. Although it makes for a wonderful life and marriage, there are negative consequences. Being carried around on a rose petal does not prepare one for the solitary life of a widow. Tony had always enjoyed paying the bills, had his own organized system, and Cheryl never had to worry about it. Now, she did. Chezzy had always filled my car, taken care of simple things out of love, and was the backbone of our business. Cheryl and I now had all the responsibilities that we once shared with our partner. The adjustments were both agonizing and rewarding.

I picked up the phone one day and heard Cheryl's excited squeal. "Peggy, listen to this! I bought a new vacuum cleaner today and I assembled it all by myself!"

One might think it silly to sit on the phone and listen to the roar of a vacuum cleaner. I didn't think it was silly. The sound I heard meant that Cheryl was taking steps to build her new life. It meant that she had accomplished a job that Tony would have done had he been there. It was progress that I heard, not a vacuum cleaner.

Some time later, I called her and told her I'd ordered Caller ID and connected it to my phone all by myself. Cheryl ordered one, too, and called me with the same announcement. It was during this time that I began to give myself a weekly challenge. It usually involved going to dinner by myself, or any other activity that made me uncomfortable. I felt awkward going to a nice restaurant and asking for a table for one. It's such a simple thing, but it was a challenge I needed to meet. In time, I was able to boldly ask for a table for one.

Cheryl introduced me to Yahtzee and it quickly became our favorite game. We'd sit at her table and play for hours. We still do when we take our annual vacation together. In those early years, we'd play our game and it was often interrupted with conversation and we'd forget whose turn it was. It was often interrupted by tears, too, and we'd sit there and revisit the beautiful life we once had.

Here's a sample of some of the conversations we'd have:

"When I was growing up in Michigan, I had this dog named Kookie . . ."

"Kookie?" I'd ask with a shocked voice. "I had a calico cat named Kookie!"

Another time I told her I had asked my parents for a sewing machine as a graduation present. Cheryl's mouth dropped as she told me she had also received a sewing machine for graduation. It was mentioned because we thought it an odd request for a gift, but we'd asked for the same thing.

"Chezzy loved to read," I told Cheryl. "He read mostly biographies or history related books."

"Tony did, too. He was especially a World War II buff and had a collection of books on it."

"Chezzy had a biography on Hitler, and other books about the war." We just stared at each other, shaking our heads.

"I used to be a bedwetter," I confided.

"I was, too," Cheryl said.

"I stopped at age seven. How old were you?"

By the look on Cheryl's face, I knew the answer before it left her lips. "Seven."

"Why are we still surprised?" I asked her.

The depressing task of sorting through medical bills and insurance policies, probating a will, and sending death certificates to everyone who required it, was another chore Cheryl and I shared. And sharing it made it so much easier. Cheryl had one insurance company refusing to pay Tony's medical bills. Because of his disability, he was also covered by Medicare. As often happens when two insurance companies are involved, one wants to put the burden of paying on the other one. When it didn't happen, the hospital was demanding payment from Cheryl.

"Don't pay them," I told her firmly. "You have paid every premium and that insurance company has to cover the medical bills."

To our relief, the problem was finally solved to Cheryl's satisfaction and she was relieved of the debt. Discussing these issues with someone going through the same thing is very comforting.

Thankfully, the time came when the phone calls in the middle of the night were less frequent, and we could be heard laughing instead of crying. Healing was taking place. There were still bad days ahead, but we were making progress. We started spending so much time together doing fun stuff like shopping, eating out, and having sleepovers with many games of Yahtzee.

A really delightful evening was one we spent being frivolous. We had pictures made at Glamour Shots. They did our hair and really caked on the makeup and we looked flawless through the filtered lens. We really strutted our stuff in feathered boas and jewels. Afterwards, we went to dinner at Spaghetti Warehouse. While waiting for a table, we were able to examine ourselves in the big mirror mounted near the entrance. This might be the first time that real laughter erupted from us. I don't know if the lighting in the restaurant was different or what, but Cheryl and I looked like we'd just gotten off work. And not very reputable work, at that.

And, although we felt as if we had discovered every similarity between us, we soon found out that if something happened to one of us, it would happen to the other one. This wonderful, comfortable, solid friendship, at times, looked like one big joke.

Our Story - Part Four

Writing is my therapy. When I'm down I become reflective. Putting my feelings on paper, usually in poem form, is a sweet release for me. My tears are never close to the surface and I hold things inside. Writing seems to open me up. During this time, I compiled them all into notebooks, and gave to family members. I remember a comment my son, Ron, made after receiving his collection of poems.

"Mom, some of these sound like they were written by a manic depressant," he told me.

"I think some of them were," I admitted.

The poems that dealt with grief were shared with Cheryl. I knew she could identify with the feelings recorded there. And it was comforting to know that not only had the writing helped me, the reading of it would help Cheryl.

Give Me Time

Please give me time to mend and heal,
The pain I've known is deep and real.
I know my progress might seem slow,
But it takes time to heal and grow.

My loss has been too great to bear,
I need your patience, love, and care.
I know a smile will soon replace
The frown that's now upon my face.

There's beauty in my falling tears,
They'll make me stronger through the years.
I have to grieve and wonder why,
Please be patient while I cry.

There was a man I cherished so,
It hurts so much to let him go!
A part of me has surely died,
And now is buried by his side.

Give me the time to sort it out,
I struggle still with fear and doubt.
Remember time will soon erase
The pain that's etched upon my face.

I know how anxious you must be
To see me where I used to be.
I also want this hurt to end,
Give me the time it takes to mend.

I know someday I will awake
And eagerly the day I'll take,
But until then, please let me feel
The pain that only time can heal.


I wrote the following poem especially for Cheryl and me. It's a poem of hope, of progress, of fear, and a goal to reach.

On Eagle's Wings

Someday I'll soar on Eagle's wings,
Aiming for a distant cloud.
I'll be strong and self-assured,
Free of my cloying shroud.

I've already begun to practice,
My feet barely leave the ground.
Still I forge ahead in faith,
For I am upward bound!

These present fears and worries
Will be buried in the past.
I'll be filled with hope and courage,
This weakness will not last!

So carefully I spread my wings
And consider that first leap.
The valley below is frightening,
My resolve begins to seep.

My hold on life's been tenuous,
It's a worn and fraying thread.
How I must regain my confidence
If my wings I dare to spread.

Slowly I gather up my wings
And try them on for size.
I fear they're much too heavy
To keep me in the skies.

I discover all that bulky weight
Is loneliness, fear and doubt.
My load will be much lighter
When I throw these burdens out.

Soon my tears will be no more,
I'll be strong instead of weak.
For I will soar on eagle's wings
Up to the highest peak.

Today my step is slow and small,
But oh the confidence it brings.
Look up! For I've decided
I'm about to spread my wings!

Our Story - Part Three

The grief recovery seminar, which was held in a Catholic Church in Duncanville, ended and each of us left with the tools we'd learned about grief and the healing process. Cheryl and I were the luckier ones. We left with a friendship that was instant, yet neither of us knowing just how concrete and lasting it would become. The similarities broke the ice between us, but our mutual respect and, yes, our strong need, began to further cement a friendship from heaven.

Cheryl and I had plenty of support through our network of friends and family. We had so many loved ones looking out for us. They were ready to listen and offer words of comfort. There was still that urgent need to share with someone who was traveling the same road.

The dictionary's definition of a widow is too brief. A widow is a woman who has lost the other half of self. If she and her husband were one, she now feels like a freak sometimes. Where she once fit in as a couple, she is now on the outside and wondering where she belongs. Every aspect of her life has changed. Responsibilities are no longer shared. Burdens are now carried on one set of shoulders. She's surrounded by emptiness and feeling all alone. Even the intimacy of lovemaking, ordained by God within a marriage, is not only absent but now a sin. Cheryl was facing all these obstacles, too. I'd start to share something with her and she was right on it, telling me she was feeling the same way. We needed that type of understanding.

The following weeks and months found us on the phone in times of crisis, or sitting around Cheryl's kitchen table with our hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. It was not unusual for one of our phones to ring in the middle of the night and hear crying on the other end. We told our stories to each other so many times that we had them memorized. We could finish each other's story, but we didn't. We had learned that it should be told whenever the need arose.

"I'm back at square one," Cheryl said through her tears. "I've made no progress at all."

"Yes, you have," I reassured. "You're just having a bad day and those are to be expected."

A day or two later I'd call Cheryl with the same announcement, that the pain was as great as it had been on that first awful day, and she would remind me that it was a moment that would pass. "Give in to it," she'd tell me. "You'll feel better." We always did feel better.

I remember calling Cheryl one day and she was crying when she answered the phone. She told me she had finally felt like cleaning house and was dusting a music box. I could hear the faint sounds of Edelweiss, which she told me was Tony's favorite song. Again, I gasped as I told her it was Chezzy's favorite too. Three years later, the day before Cheryl left for Florida to begin a new life, we sat in the middle of my king-size bed and shared Christmas. She presented me with a gift I will always cherish: a music box playing Edelweiss. We let the lovely melody fill the room as we both sat quietly with our own private thoughts and tears.

Then, there was the time Cheryl called me and found me crying. "I'm making spaghetti," I explained. "I went to the pantry to get the pasta and found a package of Kluski. I'd bought it to make for Chezzy. I never made it for him, Cheryl!" I sobbed.

"Oh, Peggy, you will never believe what I'm holding in my hand right now. Kluski!" We were shocked.

Our first big outing together was to Dallas to see the musical "My Fair Lady" with Richard Chamberlain. That night she met my Dad who was in town to do electrical wiring on the building my business would occupy. She also met my children who have grown to love her dearly. They see the friend she has been to their mother and count her a blessing.

A blessing she is. Even more today than she was 14 years ago. We've shared so much together and we've helped each other heal. How God must have known we needed a friendship such as this one. I often laugh and ask Cheryl, "Who would have thought that a Seventh-Day Adventist from Grand Prairie and a Lutheran from De Soto would meet at a Catholic Church in Duncanville?"

Cheryl has always described our friendship the best: "When a door closed, God opened a window."

How true that would continue to be as Cheryl and I faced the years ahead.

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.