Tag! You're Sick!

I'm sick! And I'm sick of being sick! Somehow those nasty cold germs or sinus infection germs or maybe bronchitis germs got to me and here I am, sniffling and hacking away. OK, I couldn't find a picture that shows me REALLY sick because noone wants to get that close to me to take a picture, but you get the idea. Maybe it was those lovely older ladies at my mom's nursing home. If so, then obviously the paper towel to open doors didn't do the trick. Then again, it might have been the "extend the right hand of fellowship" drill at church where half the congregation had to pause to wipe their snot-filled noses before they could shake hands. All I know is that my daughter is getting married in 9 days and right now I sound like someone who has smoked 3 packs of cigarettes and downed a quart of whiskey every day for years. This is NOT a good thing.



On top of that, I've been trying to write about my son's wedding for weeks now and, for some reason, have hit a writer's block on that. Don't ask me why! It was a lovely wedding and I'm so happy that Laura and he are now married. So why can't I seem to get them past the rehearsal dinner? Good grief! I can't even get my own son to the church in a timely manner. If I didn't have that ringing in my ears, I would be able to hear my mother's voice in my ear saying, "Pull yourself up by the bootstraps, girl, and get it done!" OK, OK....how about if I just throw you some little snippets to give you the flavor of the festivities?


Our two children and their fiances spent time together before the ceremony bonding and having fun teasing each other about the upcoming ceremonies. Our Laura is getting married in March of this year so her time is coming up soon. Our daughter's Jason was feeling the Texas vibes almost as soon as he stepped off the plane and looked over that open vista. Yup, he had to go get a steak and a belt buckle. For the rest of their time in Texas, it was a standing joke as we referred to the "power of the belt buckle." We are still daring Laura's Jason to wear it with his wedding ensemble in March.

The photographers took lots of pictures prior to the church service. There was a small chapel off the main sanctuary and that is where we all gathered to take the wedding pictures while the first
service was going on in the main sanctuary. Of course it was fun to watch all the different branches of the families lobbying to get their groups together for pictures. Gotta think of those Christmas cards, you know! Me? I was just enjoying the dynamics of the whole business and especially liking the smiles on the faces of the bride and groom. Since the wedding ceremony was actually part of the second worship service, we had to keep an eye on the clock to make sure we all got into the sanctuary on time and found a place to sit.



The wedding was wonderful. Each of the parents were able to participate by leading special readings that had been picked by Jason and Laura and then the congregation joined in response.
Laura's sister, Andrea played the trumpet at the beginning and at the end. When the vows were said, the immediate familywas able to stand at the front of the church with the couple in support, which was extra meaningful to me. I only started to cry then and George slipped a tissue into my hands. And then, the newlyweds were introduced to the congregation and they proceeded out to the fellowship hall for the reception.
The reception was a hoot. James, Jason's youth pastor from our church, was the emcee. He had the different tables doing things like having to sing the theme from Gilligan's Island in order to head to the buffet line. I'm sure there weren't many there who had ever had to sing for their supper before. And after the food, we got to tell stories about the couple. Hearing the different relatives sharing funny experiences and just things from their hearts was really a blessing. There was even a story from youth camp that James told about Jason that I'd never heard before. The Song of Solomon, Jason? Really!


And then they were heading off on their honeymoon. We all walked back into the reception hall, tired but happy and now faced with the fun of cleaning up afterwards. As shoes were kicked off and work clothes replaced dress suits, suddenly a ripple of laughter could be heard. David, Laura's dad, had just gotten a call on his cellphone from Jason. Apparently our blissful newlyweds had driven off into the Texas sun and only just realized that they didn't know how to get to the ranch where they would be spending their honeymoon.


"Are you heading west?" asked David. "OK, then just keep driving and I'll go find Mom and get the directions."


Two sets of parents looked at each other and we shook our heads. "Kids!" I thought. "They are adults but they're still kids," and my mind flashed back to the day I had wanted to pin Jason's name and the directions back to our house on his shirt when he headed off to kindergarten.


"Lord, they're in your hands now," I prayed and went to find a broom.

Hi-Ho, Hi-Ho...It's Off to Work We Go!

So having made it to Texas safely and having met the Byrne family, we all turned our focus now on preparing for the wedding. Of course, it wasn't all work and no play. We did manage to squeeze in a dinner at an awesome restaurant out at Kemah where we merrily clinked knives to glasses so the couple would kiss.

"This is just not right," bemoaned Papa Byrne. "They aren't married yet."

I don't think anyone heard him or if they did, they didn't let on because the clinking continued....as did the kissing. Afterward, we spilled out of the restaurant and took a walk along the boardwalk. Spying a merry-go-round, some in the group decided to get the lovebirds on it for a ride. Off they went, around and around, and someone called out, "A kiss, a kiss.....give your bride-to-be a kiss."
Easier said than done when you are on a merry-go-round. It's a wonder that any of my pictures were in focus that night because I was laughing so hard as I watched Jason lean in for a kiss that turned into quite a gyration as he found his animal moving up and Laura's steed moving down or vice versa. Even funnier was that they had both been required to put little seatbelts on so twisting and turning wasn't even helping much.

We also had time to eat at a great little Mongolian BBQ place where you got to put whatever you wanted to eat in a bowl and then you handed it to the chef who dumped it out onto a huge metal drum. Just a few swipes with his wooden stirrers and the meal was ready to be slid back into your bowl and delivered into your eager hands. Yum yum! With food like this, it was a wonder I could still fit into my mother-of-the-groom suit.

Meanwhile back at the reception site, Joyce, Laura's mom, had us all working like a well-oiled machine. She had been working on the organization of the wedding and reception and had been gathering supplies for weeks. Faster than you could say "Almost Married", she was quickly transforming the church's gymnasium into a beautiful reception hall. We all rolled up our sleeves and lugged out banquet tables, set up chairs, found the tablecloths, ....but wait! Did I say "set up chairs?" Ah yes! We STARTED to set up chairs but then someone who is more obsessive-compulsive than me decided that all the chairs at a table should match so we began to scramble as we tried to sort the black upholstered chairs from the wine-colored upholstered chairs and then figure out what to do with the sand colored chairs. I could tell that Grandpa Byrne thought this was an exercise in futility and my muscles were inclined to agree with him but soon we had other problems to worry about.

The tablecloths had been folded up and stashed away until the tables were in place. We grabbed the first tablecloth and set it on the table and backed away to see how it looked. It looked wrinkled. Now I figured that once you got the candles on the table and the decorative greenery, let the cloths "rest" on the tables overnight, added 10 people with their place settings, and turned off the main lights, leaving everything in beautiful candlelight.....those wrinkles weren't going to be very prominent. But Joyce thought we should iron the tablecloths. I could see her point. I mean, she had worked hard to find those tablecloths and they were lovely. So someone found an iron and then a place to plug it in, spread the tablecloth on the floor, and began to iron. Ten minutes later and only a few feet finished on the tablecloth, I could see we were going to have to bring our pajamas and spend the night if we kept this pace up. It was then that I had a brainstorm.

I'd been lusting over one of those nifty clothes steamers for several months. Santa hadn't read my mind because one didn't appear under our Christmas tree. This might be just the excuse I needed to strike while the iron was hot, so to speak. Certainly a steamer would be a lot faster than trying to iron so many tablecloths with one or two irons. Without hesitation, I volunteered to head off to the nearest store and purchase a steamer to speed things along. Whee! I was going to get a steamer after all. George and I headed off and found a beaut at a nearby Target and soon we were back at the church, unpacking that baby, filling it with water, and setting up a steaming post in a back room.

Once I got the hang of it, I started to crank those tablecloths out. Grandpa Byrne occasionally popped his head in the door to see if I had passed out from the heat but I was doing fine. Even though the windows in the room wouldn't open and the steam was creating a sauna effect in that small enclosed space, I was having a blast. If there is one thing I don't mind, it's a little heat. Besides, maybe I could sweat off a pound or two before the wedding.

By the evening of that first big workday, we had the tables up, tablecloths on, and the candles on the tables.

The men had even finished the flowered arch that was going over the columns above the cake table. The next day would be a cooking day and then the big family dinner that night of Thai food, in lieu of a rehearsal dinner. My mouth was already watering.

The Porterfields Meet the Byrnes - Pre-wedding

Just over a week ago we flew down to Texas for our son's wedding. We headed down early so that we could have a few days to meet Laura's parents and relatives and help out with the wedding preparations.


I have to admit that I was a little nervous as we packed our bags. I had hoped to lose 40 pounds prior to our departure and the wedding to bolster my self-confidence (at heart I'm pretty shy) and to NOT be forever immortalized in the wedding pictures as the "overweight one." What was I thinking? Somehow I managed to forget the fact that we had Thanksgiving and the Christmas season between the engagement and the wedding....always a major "chow-down" challenge for me PLUS I tend to eat when I'm nervous. OK, I tend to eat when I'm happy, too, or sad or worried or glad or....well, you get the point. Just about the only time I don't have a problem with wanting to eat is when I have a case of the stomach flu.

In any case, George and I, in all my chubby glory, flew on down to Houston and stepped off the plane into glorious warmth. We weren't in Kansas anymore, Toto. This was Texas and it didn't feel like winter at all. This was a good start to a happy occasion.

We picked up our rental car and headed over to meet Laura's family. We'd talked to them before on Skype but this would be our first face-to-face meeting. I hoped we would do Jason proud and not embarrass him before his future in-laws. And I hoped we would like Laura's parents. I really shouldn't have worried. After all, we had met Laura and quickly discovered why Jason was head-over-heels in love with her. She was delightful. She had obviously been raised in a loving, nurturing home. The door opened and we were welcomed with open arms. In quick succession we met Laura's parents, her sisters, an aunt and uncle and three cousins, her maternal grandmother, her paternal grandparents, a sister's boyfriend, and one friend from Canada. During the course of the evening, several things became readily apparent.


One, this was an affectionate family. They liked to hug on each other. This was so unlike our backgrounds. I don't think George's family ever showed emotion around each other when he was growing up. In my family, I don't have any recollections of my mother ever cuddling me. I do remember my father picking me up off his lap around age 5 and setting me down on the floor and saying, "You're getting to be a big girl now. I think you're too big to be sitting on my lap." To this day, I remember how crestfallen that made me feel. So when my children were born, I was really looking forward to giving and receiving hugs from them. Unfortunately, my dear daughter was never much of a cuddler and her mantra as she grew older became "don't touch me." Luckily, our son Jason was the cuddler so I had at least one fellow feeler and hugger in the family. Now here we were surrounded by huggers. I was amazed and happy that Jason was gaining such a family and envious, all at the same time.


Two, this family was an active family. They apparently were very good tennis players. Laura, the cousins, and friends participated in a type of sumo wrestling, for wont of a better description. When I first met Grandma and Grandpa Byrne, they mentioned that they had been able to fly out to Texas early because they didn't have to do their ski patrol duties that day because of the unseasonably warm weather. I didn't think I had heard them correctly. I mean, this was an older couple. They almost could have been old enough to be my parents.


"Did you say 'ski patrol'?" I asked confused.


"Yes, we're on the ski patrol," they responded.


"Ski patrol, as in sking down a mountain?" I continued.


"Right, we've been on the ski patrol for awhile now. We really enjoy it.", they assured me.


Wow, I thought. Later I found out that they sail, have scuba dived, and are a lot peppier than I am. They both had amazing energy during all the wedding preparations and Grandma Byrne plays a mean game of Scrabble. But more on that later.


Three, they had a lot of relatives and a lot of nicknames for each other. I'd return to the house we were staying at in the evenings and work on a little flow chart that I had drawn up in an attempt to figure out who was related to whom, what their names were and what they were actually being called. I was doing pretty good, too until the night before the wedding when a whole group of new relatives arrived with children in tow. Abandoning the flow chart, I drew back to my second line of defense......smiling and waving.


I think it was the second day we were there that someone mentioned how much the ladies in the family enjoyed playing Scrabble. Jason had told them that I had played Scrabble a lot also, so soon I found myself sitting at the table with a Scrabble board in front of me and some very intense players surrounding me. Now let me just say here that over the years I've played a LOT of Scrabble games with my mother. It was always her game of choice. I usually couldn't come up with a good enough excuse to get out of it so we'd play and the game would sometimes drag on for what seemed like hours. In an attempt to speed things up, we developed our own rules, like playing with 9 tiles instead of 7 and letting players take back and reuse a blank tile if they could substitute the actual letter it was representing. But that wasn't the way we were playing Scrabble here. I racked my brain, trying to remember all those "Q" and "Z" words that Mom had on a list in the old Scrabble box. In the meantime Grandma Byrne was taking every Triple Letter spot that I opened up, Mom Byrne was coming up with obscure words that meant who knew what but actually existed and Aunt Pam was circling helpfully and offering to look up words in the dictionary for us.


I flashed back 40 years and heard my brother say, "Yeah, go ahead and look it up in the dictionary but you'll lose a turn."


"No one looks up a word in the dictionary unless their word is challenged and then they lose a turn if it isn't in there," I heard myself telling the ladies. I still lost, big time! But hey, it was fun. I hadn't played Scrabble since macular degeneration had claimed Mom's eyesight and I'd actually missed it.


That night, back in our temporary quarters, my brother called.


"Well, you've met them. So tell me, who's more normal.....them or us?"


I laughed, thinking of my kooky family growing up. "Well, John, I'd say it's definitely them," I replied.


"Oh, darn," he sighed. "See you on Saturday."


"And John," I continued. "Behave yourself when you get here."


"Don't I always?" he laughed and then I was listening to the dial tone.

The 'Name Game' or...Double Trouble!

A curious thing has happened in the Porterfield household. Our children seem to be multiplying. First it was our daughter who announced that she was engaged, back in September. Then, in that same month, our son started mentioning a young lady who was going to be coming out to Canada for an orientation that he was helping to organize. This young lady's name had been creeping into his conversations more and more since the past spring.

Shortly before she was due to arrive in Canada, Jason informed us that he was hoping to have the opportunity to see how she felt about entering into a committed dating relationship. I was thrilled. I'd been praying for something like this since his college days. But I figured that God was going to have His work cut out for Him, given Jason's unique calling and chosen lifestyle. You see, Jason doesn't believe in materialism, hates shopping, strives to live a simple life, has a burning passion to help the urban poor and outcasts, and wants to live amongst them AS he ministers to and befriends them. There aren't many young women who don't like to shop, don't care about things, and wouldn't mind living in a slum voluntarily. But Jason had managed to find one. Even though I knew hardly anything about her, I DID know that she was alive and breathing, and was filled with the love of the Lord and that was good enough for me.

Two weeks later, Jason called to tell us about his "awesome" girlfriend and how it had come to pass that they were now dating. It was a special story, filled with Divine providence, perhaps an angelic encounter, and a happy ending. I won't go into it here as they really should be the ones to share it. However, the conversation continued that day on the phone.

"So, Mom, since you are always telling me that I don't keep you informed about things, I'm telling you now that we looked over her work schedule at the hospital and really, the best time for a wedding would be in January or August. I'm thinking that January would be better because then that would give me the chance to really spend the first months of our married life in Wichita supporting her during a very stressful time. If I can be supportive during such a stressful time as a doctor's residency, then I figure we can survive anything."
I did something I rarely do. I sat there without saying anything, my mouth open and my mind racing through the mental playback.....grabbing the three main points: wedding, January, Wichita.

"Um, Mom, are you OK? Aren't you going to say something?"

"Son, you've done something that few have ever accomplished. You've left me speechless," I stuttered. But then, all cylinders started firing. "You did say 'wedding,' right? Are you talking January of 2008 or some other year? And are you talking about Wichita, Kansas or some Wichita in Canada?"

"Right, I'm talking about a wedding. I'm planning to ask her to marry me. And it will be this coming January. I'll be moving to Wichita, obviously, because she needs to finish her year of residency," my son continued. "I'm planning to fly down to Kansas in a few weeks and meet her parents and also propose."

"Oh, my goodness. This is fantastic. Congratulations! I'm so excited for you. Wait until I tell your father! Keep us posted and tell Laura congratulations, too."

Yes, you read that right. My son is now engaged to a "Laura." So our daughter Laura is marrying a "Jason" and our son Jason is marrying a "Laura." And that is where the fun begins because now we find ourselves in the middle of the Name Game.

We've already decided that there is no easy way to differentiate between the Jasons. Both of them have been called Jay or Jase at one time or another by family and friends. So we have resorted to prefacing their names with "our" Jason and "your" Jason.

Now we have two Lauras. My husband helpfully pointed out that we wouldn't be in this predicament if we had followed our original idea to have Athena as our Laura's middle name. Since Jason's Laura's last name starts with a "B", we could have simply said Laura "A" and Laura "B". Yeah, well that would have only worked until Laura "B" got married.

"How about Dr. Laura?" my husband suggested. Hmmm, Naw! Sounded too much like a talk-show host or an advice columnist.

Jason's Laura sweetly told us we could call her "Lola", a family nickname. But I was a drama major and English major in college. I immediately thought of the musical "Damn Yankees" and the song "Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets." I just couldn't think of my future daughter-in-law as the devil in red fishnet tights.

A good friend of mine was quick to point out that if I entered senility early, I'd at least have a good fighting chance of calling out a name that someone would respond to. Thanks, old friend!

The actress in me slipped through several characters, trying on salutations on the fly. There was the Southern Belle calling out "Honey" or, if I really wanted to lather on the cornpone, I could call them "Honey Chile." How about the British "Luv?" There was even "Little Private Porterfield" from the childhood game I used to play with the children when I'd slip into drill sergeant mode and hold mock inspections in their rooms. There was only one problem with that idea. Neither Laura was little anymore and I wouldn't be inspecting their rooms.

For now, I've just decided to call them both "Laura", both "Daughter" and both blessings from God.

The View from the Streets

My son, the minimalist, called several weeks ago and the conversation went something like this.

"Hi, Mom. How are you and Dad doing? How's Grandma?"

"We're doing fine," I replied. "What's up with you?"

"Oh, not much," he casually offered. "Craig and I are going to be homeless next week. What do you hear from Laura?"

"She's doing OK. Working har.........What?" My brain put the brakes on. "What do you mean, 'homeless'?"

"Well, I mean homeless, you know...living on the streets. Nothing to worry about," he nervously laughed.

I know this laugh. I've heard it before, usually right before he tells us things like he's going to drive cross country by himself in a high-mileage car...or he's going to live in the slums of SE Asia somewhere for a month....or he wants to learn to sky-dive.

"And would you like to tell me WHY you are going to be homeless next week?," I probe.

"Well, Craig and I have been praying about this and we think it would be a good thing to voluntarily be homeless for one week and really see how the homeless live, what resources are available for them. It will help us build relationships with them to help minister to them later."

"Mother Teresa didn't go out and get AIDS so she could minister to AIDS victims in India," I point out.

"Did you ever hear of Father Damien?" he asks.

"Does a doctor have to have the disease in order to treat the sickness?" I counter. "Even Jesus slept at the homes of friends."

On his birthday, I couldn't help but wonder how he was going to celebrate. In my mind I pictured him pulling his birthday meal out of a dumpster. It was not a pleasant thought. Nor was it pleasant to realize that there are many mothers' sons and daughters who might be doing just that on their birthdays in slums around the world. The week dragged on with occasional emails from him when he'd get to a library computer.

Finally the week was up and we got another call.

"Hey, I survived," he announced.

"Are you OK," I asked. "You sound a little hoarse."

"Yeah....talk about irony, though. I was fine living on the streets but once I got back into a house, I got sick," he remarked.

The boy needed a review of the life of germs and the course of an illness which I started to give him but then I decided, "what's the use?"

"So, any other special challenges while you were living homeless last week?

"Well," he drawled, "we did discover that grassy parks are not good places to sleep."

"Why? Did you get bit by a tick?" I asked.

"No, but just as we had laid down our pieces of cardboard and had settled down on them to sleep, we heard this 'swishing' sound and suddenly realized that some automatic sprinklers had begun watering the grass. Our cardboard was ruined.....just soaked!" he ruefully laughed.

I thought back to 25 years ago, when I'd stick my head in his nursery to make sure that he was warm, dry, and fed. Don't all mothers wish this for their children?

"I'm glad you're home, Son," I whisper as I send up a prayer for those who don't have a roof over their heads.

Destined for Texas?

Our travelin' son, Jason called me several days ago in the middle of the day. I almost had a heart attack as I scrambled to find my cellphone. Knowing he was traveling crosscountry and not expecting him to call before evening,I figured that he must have an emergency.

"What's wrong?", I gasped into the phone.

"Texas coffee is terrible," he replied. "You'd think they'd have good coffee in Texas. I mean, if it's black and hot and it's in Texas, it should be good, shouldn't it?"

"Honey," I laughed. "If it's black and hot and in Texas, you must be drinking oil."

The dear boy reported that he'd gone to 3 gas stations before finding one that had coffee and then it was only half a pot and looked like it had been sitting there for several hours.

"And they don't even have coffee machines here, Mom," he bemoaned. "Not even a capaccino machine."

"Son, you need to get off the freeway and find a nice cafe. One where the waitresses have pencils stuck in their hair and call you 'Hon' and pour you steaming coffee out of endless fresh pots. That's where you'll find good coffee."

Well, I guess he'll just have to wait to sample good Texan cuisine until we move down there. Yep, we are destined to be Texans. We're shirttail Texans right now, as it is. My husband's father was a direct descendant of early Texas pioneers. We've been dreaming of making the move to Texas for some time now and I'm more than ready. I've been ready to move out West since I was a kid. While other girls played exclusively with dolls, I was riding the range with the Lone Ranger and Tonto and tracking bad guys with Sky King. Even as a teen, I could have cared less about soap operas.....I loved westerns. I used to saddle up the old oil drum outside the farm house and sit in that saddle for hours imagining that I was riding the range.

So if you happen to see a red Pontiac Vibe with a Pennsylvania license plate heading across the Texas plains piloted by a dreamy-eyed lady singing exhuberantly while clutching a coffee pot in one hand, with a white dog in the back seat followed by a gray-haired guy in a gray SUV loaded with yarn, you'll know we've made in to our new home state.

Hairball Shawl

I found the smaller gauge loom at the local craft store today so decided to buy the longer one to try a prayer shawl on it. This particular shawl is for a lady who has recently had knee surgery. I had asked her husband what some of her favorite colors were but he said he had "no clue." I went home and asked my husband in amazement, "How in the world would a spouse NOT know what colors their wife liked?" To my astonishment, my dear husband of 27 years said, "I wouldn't know what to tell someone if they asked me that question." Good grief! Men really ARE from Mars.

So I decided to try to find some Homespun in a colorway that would be neutral enough that she wouldn't mind it. In other words, a safe color. Well, it looked safe enough in the store. So I brought it home and started it on the loom. My goodness, the more I worked with it, the more depressed I got. What was going on? This was supposed to be a shawl to provide comfort and cheer, not one to depress the poor lady. I looked at that skein and the more I looked at it, the more I realized that it reminded me of dried hairballs. There was absolutely nothing attractive or pleasing to me about those colors.

Now the shawl below the "hairball shawl" is another prayer shawl I recently completed for another friend who is recovering from surgery. Now those are cheerful colors. Reminds me of Spring. I LOVE color. Half of the fun of knitting or crocheting something is seeing the play of color as the fabric develops before your eyes. Now I'm all in a quandry. Do I continue with the depressing colors, knowing that I'm going to be struggling with the joi d'vivre through three skeins of the stuff or do I return the other two skeins and pick something that I like? I'm definitely leaning toward the latter.

In my case, at least, it is true what they say about color having a huge impact on your emotions!
Speaking of emotions, I woke up this morning all jittery knowing that our son was heading off on his great adventure today, driving coast to coast on his own. Thank goodness that he had the presence of mind to take his old car into a good mechanic before attempting this road trip because he discovered that the clutch needed to be replaced. So at least that has been done. I've been praying for safe travels every time he has come to mind today, which has been often.

And that got me to thinking about squeaky wheels. Yes, my mind works in tortuous circles. I was thinking about how it always seems that the high-maintenance child is always the one that gets the most attention, while the chld who is self-sufficient and plugging along reliably sometimes can seem to get short shrift. That probably isn't fair. We have a lovely daughter who is talented, highly intelligent, a hoot to be around, and we love her dearly. But I haven't mentioned her much in this blog because she has been steadily working away at her job and on her Masters' degree without creating much of a stir while our son, on the other hand, has kept us jumping trying to keep up with all the twists and turns that his life is taking lately. He's been the "squeaky wheel" and consequently has taken a lot of our focus and attention. However, Laura deserves no less. So, hat's off to an amazing daughter who makes us proud to be her parents each and every day. We enjoy every tidbit of her life that she shares with us and are so happy that she lives only an hour and a half away. It gives her the space she needs but lets us see her regularly. We love you, Laura!

What's a mother to do?

It's been a busy day. I spent most of Saturday at a scrapbooking workshop from 9:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. I'm happy to report that I'm now working happily away on my own heritage album and have scrapbooked and journaled my pictures up to my middle school years.

Now we're getting into my "ugly" stage though. Yikes! Whatever happened to that cute little girl? And where did that bucktoothed geek come from with the tightly permed hair and the glasses with side fins that could compete with a '62 Chevy? I certainly wasn't part of the "cool crowd." Looking back on it now, though, I think it was a blessing in disguise. By not having an active date life (ok, I didn't have ANY date life) and by having to get by on my brains, personality, and imagination, I developed a rich inner life and a great appreciation for the friendships that people can offer above and beyond their outward appearances. This is a good thing. Because now that I'm approaching my '60s....I seem to be entering another "ugly" stage only this time those side fins are firmly entrenched a good six inches below my waist on both sides and they aren't sporting rhinestones either. It's the dreaded "Van Rossum Hips." Sigh! I always knew they'd catch up with me, sooner or later. I don't have buckteeth any more. Two sets of braces took care of that. Now I'm just trying to keep my teeth. At least I don't have the permed hair again. Although I AM feeling like tearing my hair out, thanks to our son, Jason.

Yes, the dear boy called us two nights ago to say that he was going to be coming home sooner than planned. This is a good thing. Then he casually mentioned that he would be driving home. This is a bad thing. You see, he's planning to drive from Los Angeles to PA in an old Honda with almost 200,000 miles on it, no working AC, side mirrors that I think are duct taped on right now, and he plans to camp along the way to save money. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry. I think I did both. Life was a lot simpler when I was a preteen.

Little White Powerpuff

Well, I dropped off Fresca today at the groomers to get her summer clip touched up. I know some purists will think this heresy but she loves being a "naked" pup, we love the fact that she doesn't shed and doesn't get all matted with that dense undercoat that never seems to fully come out, no matter how much I comb her out, and she prances around like circus poodle when she's clipped. It just seems to be a win-win situation. Even the kids, who were dead set against me having her shaved down, have now both admitted that they like it this way. The only thing I had them change this time was to give her less of a "bubble-head" look. I thought that looked rather silly last month.

Then I headed over to the office to work on some statistics for a funding pitch and to go over the interlibrary loan notes for the new faculty briefing I'll be giving next week. Can't believe that I'll be heading back to work in less than two weeks. Where did my summer go? Ha! I do believe that I can hear all the students plaintively asking the same thing. Little do they realize that their teachers and educational workers feel the same way.

I have a big scrapbooking crop coming up this weekend so must get busy on some more journaling for my heritage album. I'm up to 201 pages completed on the summer scrapbooking challenge. The trouble is that I'm getting distracted with prayer cloths to knit and crochet and now hats to make on my new knitting looms.

Jason called from California to ask about substituting milk for cream in a Chicken Tika Marsala recipe and I gave him some cooking tips on that. Gee, it's nice to be needed, even for cooking advice. Take that, all of you who complained about my creamed corn chocolate cake recipe! So you got the corn skins caught in your teeth when you ate it. Hey, the frosting was delish! You can't have everything.

Son today, Gone Tomorrow

It's been a quick visit from my #1 son, Jason. He flew in from California a little over a week ago to help me drive out to Michigan. The plan was that we would help my brother get Mom's house ready to put on the market. It's been sitting empty for almost 5 years and it's time to sell it.

Jason flew into Baltimore and DH George and I drove down to meet him. From there it was a quick hop over to pick up daughter Laura and her boyfriend for supper before heading back up to PA. It was great to see the two siblings have the chance to catch up on what's been happening in their lives. It was a "proud mama" moment.

Of course I had to take a book along in the event that I'd find myself waiting awhile in the airport. I would have taken my knitting needles but a book is so much more portable when wandering a terminal, don't you think? This one was the Dog Whisperer's book. Yes, I have an errant dog named Fresca who you'll be hearing more about, I'm sure. Happily, I didn't have long to read before Jason came striding out of the gate looking tanned and healthy, considering he's been living and working with the L.A. urban poor. I WAS a tad worried. All right. I was a LOT worried.

The next day our adventure was to begin...the trip back to the land of my childhood. Michigan! But more on that in my next post. Suffice it to say, the best-laid plans of mice and men "gang aft aglay"