When blogging isn't an option, my recommendation is to be your hubby's sidekick while he works on some projects around the house. You can steady posts, pass tools, take pictures, bring water, take pictures, fetch things, take pictures, take pictures, and take some more pictures. It'll be sure to impress him.
Photo will enlarge
Now we have a new mailbox and the crack in the foundation has been fixed. That's a very good thing. While I didn't impress him too much, he certainly impresses me!
Home. I so love it. I believe that everyone everywhere loves home. My thoughts and prayers are with all those whose homes have been wrenched so cruelly from them. Watching the news anymore requires tissues handy.
This is the season when much of the country is struggling with tornado damage, flood damage or drought. It's a country of extremes where even the weather participates.
All the while, I take comfort in simple, simple things...my Mother's Day carnation from John that perfectly matches the coral in my spring wreath, a morning mug of coffee brewed to perfection and served with a kiss, the furbabies, the birds outside my window, the lush new greens, the tree canopy blocking my views, the hum of the furnace (wait a minute...the furnace is on again?), even the screen before me that connects me to the larger world.
As you can clearly tell, I'm just rambling. Thinking. Wondering. Dreaming. Hoping. Praying. Believing.
Would you believe that this season, more than any other, makes me restless? I never know whether to stay or go. I feel conflicted as if I could or should do something else. Do you have seasonal restlessness? ☺
Just a few refresher points to fill in the background story for new readers and for those readers who don't remember every detail of every blogger's life. (I am always surprised by those readers who do.)
Point 1: John and I like spending time in the cemetery. We do not find this morbid; we think of it as spending time in a park.
Point 2: The grands are 5 and 4. The baby grand is quite a handful.
Point 3: John and I are not spring chickens. We are not middle-aged. We are old.
Point 4: The grands have new bikes. And helmets.
Point 5: My son had his wisdom teeth removed last Friday.
Point 6: The baby grand is quite a handful.
When the weather turned to something resembling spring a few days ago, I began to dream about taking the boys bike riding in the cemetery. It's larger than their driveway; the roads are paved; there's nearly zero traffic. It sounded like quite the lovely plan.
Their parents were fine with the idea considering one couldn't think straight and the other was busy as could be caring for the one who couldn't think straight.
So it was with great anticipation all the way around that the boys arrived with bikes, helmets, and high hopes. First, we'd go out for supper at our local eatery and take it from there. They were told that if they ate good suppers, it'd be bike riding time. They nearly ate the restaurant down. I had to assure them that, if they were full, it was okay to quit eating. Since their eyes and tummies were bulging, they welcomed the news.
Baby Grand was a bit of a handful at the restaurant because he was more interested in the booth behind us than what was going on in our own. Never fear. This nonni straightened him right around each time dangling bike riding like a carrot ever before him.
We may be idealistic, but John and I are not stupid. We knew that there had to be rules so we began laying them down on the block and a half to the cemetery and again when we arrived. The boys would listen. They would stop when told. They would pull off the road if a car came. They would keep circling around to allow us to catch up. They would not go fast. They would not go fast and put their brakes on just to lay skid marks. They would not ride on any graves.
Too many rules?
For three minutes everything went according to plan. We walked briskly and kept up nicely. Then Baby Grand put on a burst of speed and made it to the corner taking a sharp right. "Stop." "StOP." "STOP," I bawled. Baby grand looked back and saw me bringing up the rear and took off in another burst of speed wearing a little Baby Grand grin.
Thinking quickly (perhaps for the first and only time), I scampered across the corner leaping past gravestones and markers "Oops, sorry, Mr. Reynolds...Excuse me, Hazel" until I nabbed Baby Grand. He was some surprised as he never expected me to come out ahead of him.
Again the explanations, which now included, "This is your last warning. If you don't listen to Nonni, you won't be riding your bike." He seemed to understand; at least, he nodded his head at all the appropriate places.
I turned him around and headed him for the back of the cemetery, the safe side. And off he went in a little cloud of Baby Grand dust.
For a while I kept up nicely. Really I did. John and the Older Grand were happily spending time way on the other side of the cemetery.
It soon became obvious that Baby Grand was not going to STOP. He was chugging his way up a steep incline. It wasn't long before I became aware of another chugging going on to my left. I looked and there was John jogging along. He shot me a what the heck are you doing look, which I responded to with lots of huffing "He is not going to be able to make that hill!" John huffed back, "Oh he's going to make the hill all right. Look at him!" Sure enough, sturdy little legs were still pumping along as the bike climbed ever higher.
The good news is that John reached Baby Grand just as he and the bike crested the hill. Baby Grand did not crash down the large embankment 70 feet away. I arrived seconds later as did Older Grand.
"That's it, Buster. You're not riding your bike anymore today." A nonni knows her limits after all.
John walked the bike back. I walked Baby Grand back. Older Grand rode his bike back somberly.
Later Older Grand told me that riding in the cemetery wasn't that much fun because he was terribly worried about his little brother. Me, too. Me, too.
Baby Grand and his dad
Baby Grand is a dear little boy. He is also autistic. He began going to a special school last summer and goes year around with no more than a few days off. He'll be going all summer this year, too. We are delighted that he is responding well to all that he has been taught, that his vocabulary grows by leaps and bounds, that he responds appropriately to hugs and kisses. He is not the one making the mistakes. I am. I hope that some wonderful spring day in the future, we can try bike riding again. I'll be taking along extra helpers. I have learned my lesson.
First of all, before I forget, thank you so much for your comments on Recipes and Dishes. You gals are smart and there are plenty of great ideas for storing recipes and dishes. I like the idea of storing dishes in an old unused freezer. Why not? Very convenient. And I like the idea of having a laptop in the kitchen for pulling up recipes saved on the computer. Guess I'd better start saving my pennies.
Second of all, before I forget, thank you to all those who sent an encouraging email yesterday. You knew it had all the potential for being one of those bittersweet days. It was so special to know that I was being thought of and prayed for. At one point, I found myself smiling as I thought that my own mother never knew a Mother's Day without her mother being a part of it. Whenever I am tempted to think of all the things my grandmother and mother are missing, I remember that Heaven is filled to overflowing with comforts and loved ones; I am immediately consoled. Nan and Mother are well and more alive than they ever were on this earth and enjoying Heaven and being with the Lord.
Your prayers were answered, too. I received a call early in the morning, before eight, and a confirmation call at nine saying that "the gang" would be arriving in half an hour. They did. They stayed much of the day. We had great fun and all reflection time was done together. This was sweetly comforting.
As you know, I often provide the mosaic dud on Monday. This Monday, I am not thinking of these mosaics as "duds." (After all, a gal should not call her children and grandchildren "duds." They are just meant more for my regular readers who might be interested in such things.)
My grands have visited twice since Friday. They fell in love with R*ee D*rummond's Charlie the Ranch Dog. Their dad, my son, had all his wisdom teeth removed last Friday so the grands came this way to provide him with some respite and a very attentive nurse. Charlie was the hit of the day both Friday and yesterday. My son is a pretty laid back guy, with meds, he's even more laid back than usual as you can see from this video and his editorializing in an Irish accent??? (It certainly isn't a Maine one.)
Yup, makes me laugh every time.
Brenda shared in earlier comments that PW did an entire post on the making of Charlie. I found it *here.* There is good information for anyone who has ever thought of writing a children's book.
Okay, I'm easy. This one makes me laugh, too. You can see how the baby grand gets into this story.
Reading C*harlie the Ranch Dog
Auntie listening in
The grands are quite smitten with their auntie and her long hair. Here's another video that makes me laugh.
Return tomorrow to read more about our adventure in the graveyard. Ai yi yi...
Have a happy afternoon!
Edited to Add: Oops! Forgot to post date. Oh well, these things happen.
Azaleas in bloom are plenty dreamy and especially so after the winter and spring we've had. I still couldn't resist adding extra touch of dreamy with this hazy edges treatment.
Hope that your Mother's Day was wonderful. Mine was. Some of it was even spent outside in a spirited game of Keep-Away, which is a story for another day as "dreamy" and "keep-away" are not two birds of a feather.
Linking to Mary at Little Red House. I understand that Mr. Linky won't be up until ten this evening. Still I'm being whisked off so will visit most tomorrow. I am looking forward to it!