The Truck

Sometimes. . . . . . .

We have a thing here where we try to wave goodbye to family and friends as they leave.  Most of the time we make it.  However, this morning, we missed waving to the Boy.  Ittty Bitty, Turtle Dove and I were standing at the door waving goodbye to their Mommy.  I made the comment that we had missed the Boy this morning.  Itty Bitty said:  "He drove his truck."  Not sure if that was justification for missing him or not.  But, she continues on:

Ittty:  "He won't let me drive his truck." 
Me:  "Oh, yea?  He won't let me either."
Itty:  "He'll let Rease drive it."

Pause ~ thinking. . . . .(never a good sign)

Itty:  "He won't let me."
Me:  "Well, you're too little to drive  his truck."
Itty:  "Well, you're too old!" 
Me:  "I'm not too old!"
Itty:  "I can drive it.  I drive Annalynne's all around."

If she doesn't stop telling me I'm O.L.D., I think I may start believing it!  Maybe I'll even act it!
Now let's just move on to normal, everyday things like, I don't know, singing?

Happy Birthday, Little Boy Blue!

Be still my beating heart!

My Little Boy Blue is turning four

He stole my heart the minute I walked through the door

Such a tiny thing at two weeks old

I looked at him and felt my love unfold.

I would bring him home, oh yes I would

But only if his Mama said I could

So I shall love him here from the Eastern Shore

My Little Boy Blue, who's turning four.

Love you to Infinity and Beyond!

Mom-Mom

Happy Birthday, Matt!

Happy Birthday!

All grown up.
Arm pit hair ~
Schooled  ~
Married ~
And now a Proud Papa!

I'd say you're well on your way to wonderful life!

Not Much Time

The Little Itty Bitty Girl is obsessed with the fact that I am old 62.  She reminds me often that I'm almost 100.  Often.  Yesterday was no different, but she threw a stick in my spokes  before reminding of that fact ~ again.

She was home with me "recovering" from a little stomach bug.  Nothing good was on TV and I only let her play her Kindle for so long.  Out of boredom she did her spelling assignment on the computer using Spelling City.  I figured it would keep her up to par and she wouldn't have a lot of make-up work to do.  After that we perused  Netflix for a movie.  She loves the Tinker Bell movies and settled on "Tinker and the Neverbeast".  Apparently this "beast" was testy, then friendly, then not so nice.  The woodland fairy that befriended him in the beginning fell victim to his fury.  I'm not sure she really "died" or what.  I just know it was sad and she wasn't moving.  And then something happened (I missed that part) and she was moving again. 

This prompted Itty Bitty to ask me if dying was like sleeping.  I said,  a very deep sleep, I guess you could say.  She said "Yea, that's what I was thinking.".  I told her though, that the soul leaves the body.  She said she knew that.  (alrighty then).  Then came the kicker. The stick in the spokes that brought me to a halt.  She nonchalantly told me: "You don't have much time."  What? What do you mean?  (I knew where this was going).   "You're old." she says.  "You don't have much time left. You're almost 100."

Knock me over with a feather.  I've had the "almost 100" conversation with her before, but not the "not much time" one.  That was unexpected to say the least. Un-nerving.

That's it!  No more deep conversations with this girl!   Not any time soon, anyway.

In My Dreams

Dreams are funny things.  They can be triggered by any one or combination of events in our daily goings and comings. It could be as simple as a conversation, a movie, or late night snacks.  Or it could be as deep as one's longing for distant family, a combination of the three afore mentioned, a fear,  or a need for resolution of an event to which there was not much control.

I had a dream the other night that I'm sure was triggered by the last cause I mentioned.  An ongoing heartache triggered by an event of which I had no control.  Someone very near and dear to me became very angry with me.  Mean and hurtful things were said.  Conversation ceased. A love that I would die for dropped me like a hot potato and didn't blink twice about it. A shunning.  I have been at a loss as to how to resolve that issue, ease that pain, but to no avail.  I love this person.  I would never intentionally do or say anything that would spur such a reaction.  That cause was not mine, yet I've had to own it, bear its weight.

My dream was bittersweet.  I finally was able to talk to That One, but on the condition that the object of the "shun" would not be discussed.  A short three second dream that would ultimately end in a warm  hug and tears on my part.  I'll take that for now.  I'll embrace the hope for resolve.  I'll let that dream by my comfort. And I will pray for healing.

Home Base

 According to Goldilocks:

"Mom-mom's house is home base.  When you are here no one can touch you.  Kind of like tag. It's where you go to be safe. They can chase you and hoover around home base, but they can't come onto home base.  You are safe.  But once you leave, you're fair game. Anyone can get you."

This was said to the Mama Bear yesterday while laying in my kitchen floor with her hands to her head in dread.  She'd been here since she got off the bus and dropped her things by Papa Bear's.  I knew why and watched the above scenario unfold after she told  Mama Bear her dilemma ~ as she had told me:

*Papa Bear got an email from Teacher stating her concerns about Goldi's academic situation.  Seems Goldilocks has been slacking a bit.  And. .  . she's had her phone on in class.  And Teacher had to rearrange seating for chatting reasons. Definite no-no's.  I scolded her about the phone and raised my eyebrows about the rest.  Apparently I didn't raise my eyebrows loud enough, because she told Mama Bear I didn't yell at her,  I just listened.  Oh, the joys of Grand-parenting.   But back to Papa Bear.  He texted our Little Goldilocks (while she was still in school) to say he had received the email and they would discuss it further when he got home. *

Thus the reason for the wringing of hands and the comfort of "Home Base". She wasted no time getting here, and stayed 'til the last possible minute.   Mama Bear wasn't any the more happy with her.  I felt like I needed to squirm.  Don't know why ~ . . . .  But I will say, I was glad I was on "Home Base" myself.  I did take the Mama and Papa Bear's sides.  We can't let our girl fall to the way side.  She needs to be held accountable. 

She got her phone taken away and she can't come to Mom-Mom's until her grades come up.  Now, WHAT did I do??  Seems to me she wasn't the only one to be punished here.  Yes, I am complaining, and whining.  And venting.  So much for taking the parent Bear's sides.  Pft. 

Oh, and in honor of today:  BEWARE THE IDES OF MARCH!!!!
Who is your Brutus?!  I think mine is the Bear parents. 

Happy Birthday, Sarah-Sponda!

It's hard to find the words to say

To a strong young woman who's

Making her way,

Who's decided to grab onto  life by its

Woolly mane

And jump aboard that moving train

To wherever God may choose to send her

Not letting the bumps and bruises

Influence or hinder

Her goals she's set before herself,

Rearranging them like books

On life's massive shelf.

As God points a new direction

Her goals may vary, but not

Her affection

For the One who holds her beating heart

The One who's held it

From the start

No matter which door her choice will be

It's clear to see

Who holds the key.

Happy Birthday, Sarah

I love you with an infinite love.

Mom-Mom

A Dying Art In the Form of A Surprise!

Everyone loves surprises, everyone.  That includes Yours Truly.  I don't get them often, but when I do they are "The Ultimate In Surprises"!

This past week I was trying to surprise Hopie with a picture and a conversation from Her Person here on the Shore.  But, wouldn't you know it, the Cyber Bully kept deflecting my message.  It took help from all angles to succeed.  I'm sure as I look back it was a Divine intervention, because  Hopie ended up calling me and in the course of our conversation she asked me if I had been to the Post Office. Nope, nada, not the past few days.  Why?  As it turns out, something was waiting patiently for me.  The sender of the parcel I understand was  not so patient.  I sent a runner to retrieve the mail, and low and behold, there it was.  Like a diamond in the sun!  Gleaming up at me.

  Names and addresses have been blocked out to
protect the innocent.

Life is full of Surprises.  My little gleaming nugget was from a new found love.  The Boy that belongs to Hopie.  He's a keeper if ever there was one!  They go together like peas and carrots.  (tee-hee)

I opened up my little nugget and found the "mother lode" nestled inside:

And when I say mother lode, I'm not talking about the candy.  Although, if you know me at all, you know I am passionate about dark chocolate.  The darker, the better, I say!  And this Boy knows it!  Did I say he's a keeper?  Hopie, you better treat this boy right!  The mother lode? ~ was the L. E. T. T. E. R.

Hand written.  Proper form.  "Dear" and "Love".  THE dying art in the form of a surprise.  I shall cherish it always.  Al. Ways.  To think someone not blood related (other than my G0-To-Man) would think of me is so heart warming.  His Daddy raised him right.  Papa should be proud as a peacock!

I'm proud of him and I didn't have a hand in bringing him up! 

Just goes to show you.  When you think the world is submerged to its eyeballs in technology some caring youth gets it. What life is really about.  Connection.  Caring.  And doing.

Love that Boy!

I've not written a heart felt, deep thinking, no nonsense post in quite some time. It seems life has thrown her monkey wrenches in my plans at the most inopportune times. 

My days are filled with a one year old.  She is not the "monkey wrench", per se, but she stalls my plans, (my plans are not her plans.) I'm like a plane in a holding pattern. I know where I need to go,
but have to wait for the Tower (AKA: Turtle Dove) to allow me to proceed. I circle and wait, and finally with my landing gear out, I descend into the 5 o'clock hour. I roll to a jerky stop and hug my passengers as they exit the rear door.  By that time I am as worthless as a plugged nickel.

I can barely pull dinner off, let alone write on my blog.  If I didn't have everyday chores on top of cooking, I might have some free time.  Maybe.  I don't know.  Who knows, really?  Who? Not me, that's for sure.  Those two things, dinner and chores, are monkey wrenches. (Two of many.)

At any rate, it has been a hard start to a new  year.  Death cane calling.  Families weren't prepared. No one sees The Grim Reaper coming.  That is how he operates, unannounced and, most assuredly, unwelcome.  He doesn't discriminate. He's not picky.  And he's on no one's schedule. 

It's now well into March. I have to so much on mind and heart to write about, but not sure that I could find the right words even if I found the time.  Time.  They say it heals all wounds.  Does it?  Or does it just soften the pain?  At any rate, I know I will find the time when I find the words.  And I suppose that is the frightening part.  When the words come.  Because we know, when the words come, they will open wounds and leave way for pain to follow.  Again.  And  no one wants pain. Especially pain of the heart. 

Speaking of the heart.  My Boy and I were talking last week.  About the heart and how it responds to emotional situations.  He said (in his infinite wisdom) that if the emotional pain were severe enough it could cause the heart to stop beating (AKA - heart attack).  He said there were these "heart strings" within the heart  and they could break given the right circumstances.  It goes to show, one could literally die of a broken heart.   Don't know why I felt it important to share this.  I guess it causes one to ponder life's oddities and the complexities of the body and soul.

I suppose I should run along.  I have a ton of no-nonsense things that need to be done while the Little
Turtle Dove is sleeping.   And I need a fresh cup of octane, I mean coffee.